#hot chocolate should not warrant this

[theartichokesarepurple]

had the world's most concentrated cup of hot chocolate yesterday. #sorrynotsorry

[mydreamchapter]

the angel of warmth

pairing: yeonjun x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff with comfort!

word count: 3k

age rating: mature - mdni

tags: pet names, implied sex, reader was going through a shitty breakup

The morning air came with a chill bite, but it stood no chance against the pleasant heat radiating from the sleeping angel next to you. Yeonjun was like a mug of hot chocolate; warm and sweet, comforting in the cold, cozy, so delectable you wished you could drink him. So you tried to, in any way possible, turning toward him and wrapping your arms around his waist to spoon him, and gently kissing the spot where his neck met his back. He stirred slightly from the sensation, but was definitely still asleep. You could probably fall back asleep too, if you wanted to, but the mug in your arms was comforting in a way that you felt you had to be awake to fully appreciate. So you nestled your cheek against his back and gently tangled your legs with his, drinking in his warmth with your whole body through his soft blue sweatshirt and sweatpants. 

“Honey,” he said, and you could feel the depth of his morning voice in your cheek. He found your hand and slotted his fingers between yours, his palm against the back of your hand. “Honey, you’re so comfy.”

“You’re so comfy, angel,” you said.

“But it’s not fair,” he said, and you could hear the pout in his voice. “You could keep me in bed forever.”

“Lucky you, we both have the day off.” 

“Thank god,” he said with a sigh, and pressed his back against you more. He hummed happily. 

Yeonjun wasn’t always there in the mornings, but he always happened to be there when you needed him the most. You’d been scared about the one-year anniversary since the terrible breakup you went through last winter — you’d never felt colder and more alone when it happened. Things had fallen apart with so little warning that you always worried everything was always capable of falling apart so suddenly the same way, again and again, no matter how good things seemed to be going. 

But right then and there, you were just happy to have someone this wonderful in your arms. 

“How are you feeling, honey?” He asked knowingly. 

—

Yeonjun was the first person you called after the breakup. You had been so distraught that you left your shared apartment with your now-ex into the heavy chill of an early winter evening in just the sweatshirt and pants you’d already been wearing to wander in the night and try to clear your head, your now-ex’s car now off-limits, and called the first person you could think of. 

Yeonjun was your closest friend in this city; you met at a painting club when you thought you should take it up as a new hobby. Of course, you weren’t very good, because you’d never been much of an artist, but it seemed like the intimidatingly gorgeous man next to you already had a background in art and was picking it up really quickly. You quickly discovered that he wasn’t actually intimidating — when you struggled and got discouraged, he would give you little tips and encouragement, and brighten your mood with his smile and the faint scent of whatever soap or perfume he had that smelled like sweet cinnamon. Things had blossomed into friendship after you kept coming back to the painting club week after week, always sitting next to the handsome face you knew would encourage you. You thought maybe that was just his personality, maybe he was always this nice to everyone, but he didn’t interact with the other people in the club nearly as much as he talked to you. You exchanged numbers one day when you knew you’d be gone on a trip with your partner the following week, so that he could send you a picture of his own painting of the week when he finished it. 

So when your life started falling apart before your eyes with your ex in the center of it, it was instinctual to call him first. He’d known you were dating someone happily, and he knew a few base level details about your life, but nothing vulnerable that would have warranted him driving out into the city to pick you up so you could stay at his apartment for the time being — which is what he did. 

“You don’t have to show me your pity,” you’d said when you sat down in the passenger seat, “you didn’t have to do this.” But when you arrived at his apartment, he gave you a blanket, a warm sweatshirt fresh from the dryer, and he washed a bowl of blueberries for you to eat with honey while he made you hot chocolate. 

Of course, all you could do that night was cry; on and off, on and off, while Yeonjun stayed by your side. “You don’t have to do this, it’s not necessary,” you kept repeating, but you put on the sweatshirt, you clung to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you ate the blueberries and honey, and you sipped the thermos of hot chocolate. 

If you’d known him better at the time, you would have spilled your guts, and vomited out all the hurt you were feeling and all of the terrible things your ex had just spewed at you before shutting you out completely. But you were scared to talk and look at all of it, scared to acknowledge what had happened even though the consequences of it were following you at every moment, and you didn’t even know where to start; so you sat on his couch and cried for hours, and he never left your side except to make you another hot chocolate once you had finished the thermos. 

He offered to hug you that night, once. But you weren’t really keen on people touching you other than romantic partners, especially when you felt as vulnerable as you did in that moment. Even someone as beautiful as him. You explained this to him, minus the beautiful part, and he made sure to keep a line drawn between you that wouldn’t be crossed except for you reaching for the tissue box in his hands.

When you moved to this city to live with your partner, you didn’t know anyone else. You were ready to start a fresh new life, away from your toxic past and the ghosts of terrible people haunting you, so you could meet new people and find a happier life with your partner. But you always struggled making friends, and Yeonjun was the only person you’d managed to befriend in the full year since you’d moved here, aside from your ex’s friends that probably wouldn’t want to talk to you anymore. Yeonjun was the only person you had now in this city. Sure, there was your boss at work and your coworkers who knew you, but they weren’t the type of people you’d prefer to spend your free time around. 

The day after the breakup, your ex made it clear you were no longer welcome in the apartment, and gave you one day to move out. With nowhere else to go, Yeonjun cleared up a corner in his apartment for you to put the few things you decided to take with you, and told you his couch was yours to sleep in for as long as you needed it. You reiterated that he didn’t need to pity you, didn’t need to sacrifice space in his own home or take time out of his day to make sure you were okay, but he just shook his head and did it anyway. 

The morning of day three at his apartment and day three of you calling out of work, you finally asked before he left for work for the day. “You barely know me. Why are you doing all this for me?”

He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we’re strangers; you’re my friend, of course I would want to help you during a tough time. And who else would? You said you don’t really have other friends in the city,” he said, and you frowned. “You have a good soul. It shines through your paintings, it’s clear in your attitude. You deserve good things.” You wanted to argue, but you knew it wouldn’t be fair. If he wanted to help you, that was his choice. It’s not like you had begged him for help or anything, either; all you had asked was for him to be a listening ear about your breakup. 

He stuck some bread in the toaster oven, left blueberry jam, butter, and honey on the table, and left for work. “I’ll make you another hot chocolate tonight,” he said.

That night, when he put down the thermos of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of you, you said quietly, “can I ask for a hug now?” The temperature outside was dropping day by day, and every moment you spent alone you could feel yourself dropping, too.

“Of course,” he said, and he sat down on the couch next to you to hug you; this is when you discovered how it wasn’t just his soul that was warm. You buried your face in his chest, trying not to cry again, feeling frail and weak, clinging to the warm body in front of you that was holding you tight in his arms. 

“They were sick of me,” you finally admitted, still hiding your face in his chest. “They had all these problems with me and never brought them up even once. Never gave me the chance to fix them. Just got fed up and gave up, no second chances. And now they’re gone. I keep thinking that maybe if I give them time, it’ll click and they’ll realize how unfair they’re being to me, that maybe they’ll learn to communicate their frustrations in a healthy way,” you said. Yeonjun rubbed your back slowly. “It hurts. How could they just hide how much they were growing to hate me until it was too late? I thought we were fine and dandy, I thought maybe I’d propose to them next year. But they let their frustrations fester so much that they decided nothing was worth saving.” You were quiet for a moment. “Even if they did realize they’re in the wrong, no matter how long I waited, I don’t think they’d come back to me.” It stung like hell to admit, but you felt it to be true deep in your bones. 

“I think it’s for the best,” Yeonjun said slowly. “You deserve someone who cares enough about your relationship to put effort into keeping it healthy. You deserve to be cherished, not tolerated. And you deserve the opportunity to grow.”

You let him hold you like that for a long time, soaking in his temperature and letting him comfort you. It was the first time you’d let anyone other than a partner hug you in years. He still smelled like cinnamon, too, especially from up close, and you realized it was his perfume scent. You’d spotted the bottle in his bathroom before but hadn’t thought to look closely at it.

“Cinnamon,” you said, without explanation, just trying to ground yourself in the moment. 

“Do you want cinnamon in your hot chocolate? I have cinnamon sugar.”

You pulled away from him to look at his face, the low lighting in the room casting shadows on his face that emphasized his perfect features. Maybe he really was an angel. You drank cinnamon hot chocolate that night, and he made it for you like that from then on. 

On morning number four, Yeonjun accidentally slept in late. Couldn’t sleep from work stress, he’d said. You watched him make himself a coffee and pour it into a travel mug he’d take to work. 

“You always make me hot chocolate, but you make coffee for yourself,” you pointed out. You felt like there should be a question behind the statement, but you couldn’t figure out which question to ask. Did he not like hot chocolate? And if so, why did he always make it for you? He never offered coffee, did he think you didn’t like it? Why was hot chocolate his first instinct to make for you when he picked you up from the middle of the city that night?

“My mom used to make me hot chocolate when I had a bad day as a kid. I hope it’s comforting for you, too,” he said simply. “The coffee in the morning is to help me get through the day. And I’m really going to need the extra boost today.”

So that evening, when you knew Yeonjun would be home soon from work, you decided to make him a hot chocolate. You’d watched him do it enough times that by now you knew where the chocolate and the sugar was, and you knew which mug was his favorite, and you knew how long he warmed up the milk. So when he walked in and put his things down, exhausted and totally beat, you handed him the hot chocolate, and he just looked at you in surprise. 

“Can I hug you?” He asked, and you nodded and took him in your arms.

Yeonjun really was like an angel, one who’d fallen out of the sky to look after you in your hardest moment. You were looking at his face and your hands were on his back, but you swear you could almost see the halo and feel the feathers sprouting out from his back. 

You definitely thought of him as an angel when you were finally able to find a new apartment and he helped you move in, find new furniture, and get settled. 

You still thought of him as an angel every time you met at the painting club again and he offered his gentle words of advice and encouragement. 

You still thought of him as an angel a few months after the breakup when he spent the day after Valentine’s, what he called “St. Single’s Day,” driving you around the city and showing you his favorite spots, something your ex had never even done since they never seemed to have the energy to show you anything other than the bare minimum.

You still thought of him as an angel the third evening in a row you spent at his apartment that March, not even needing to ask what he wanted from the takeout place a few blocks away or if he was hungry in the first place, because of course he was hungry, the man had a black hole for a stomach; but this time when you came through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers of cheap Chinese food and he cracked a joke about you being a perfect partner, you felt your face flush. You caught yourself staring at the pout of his lips while he scrolled on his phone after all the food had been eaten during commercials in the middle of Wheel of Fortune.

You still thought of him as an angel that May when you kissed those lips for the first time on an evening walk by the river downtown, and he sighed happily into your mouth, his lips soft and eager and heavenly on yours, his hands gentle but wanting against your skin.

You still thought of him as an angel that August the first time you let his warm hands wander up your legs while you sat sideways in his lap watching a cheesy romcom on the couch, his fingers traveling slowly between your thighs, and then up to your waistband and down again inside your underwear while you gave him small encouraging kisses, his brown eyes drinking in the way you melted under his heat, clinging to him as you sighed his name into his ear over and over.

—

And you still thought of him as an angel now, on the one year anniversary since your ex broke up with you. 

“I feel warm,” you answered, and noticed the morning light from the window shining a backlight on Yeonjun’s golden hair. He turned to face you. His hair was perfectly tousled from sleep, in a way that you wished you could preserve its perfectness and its soft backlit shine in your memory like a picture. But you also wanted to touch it, so you reached behind his ear and tangled your fingers in his hair to pet him. This made him smile, his soft cheeks plumping up in the most kissable way. So you did; you leaned in and kissed his cheek, and he turned his face until he caught your lips with his own, and pulled you close. You kissed him eagerly, wrapping your legs around his, and he tugged your hair gently in response.

It still hurt, though. Being abandoned the way you were abandoned last year doesn’t just heal in an instant, or even a full year. You still felt hesitant to call Yeonjun your boyfriend; even just saying the word still made you feel terrified. 

Yeonjun could sense your thoughts start to wander through your kisses. “Hey,” he said softly, breaking away, and ran his thumb over your cheek. “Hot chocolate?” He offered. He hadn’t made it for you in several months.

“With cinnamon, please,” you said, and he got up.

“All I ask from you in return is to not let the bed get cold,” he said. 

“Aye, aye,” you said, and sprawled your body across the soft sheets. 

You wished it was easy to just let the past go. You wished it was easier to just move on from the pain. You weren’t sure where the future would take you, but you hoped it involved blueberries, honey, hot chocolate, cinnamon, and the angel of warmth that fell from heaven.

a/n: thank you for reading my first fic on tumblr! this was totally self indulgent so i hope it was enjoyable in some way to you too :) let me know if you liked it!

[thezombieprostitute]

Hey! Merry Christmas (if you celebrate, if not, then an amazing day anyway.)

Would you be up to writing a cute little fluffy thing with Jake? Like really fluffy, supper, amazing, most fluffy? Maybe where you’re having a not perfect day but knowing that Jake is waiting with his homemade cookies or hot chocolate and the best hugs ever?🥺🥺

If not it’s fine too! Hope you have an amazing day!🥺❤️

Jake wakes up in the middle of the night and reaches over to where you should be. He frowns when he finds your side of the bed empty. Slowly, carefully, he gets out of bed to find you, making sure to put on his glasses so he doesn't trip.

He finds you in the living room, sitting on the couch, facing away from him. Your eyes are focused on the Christmas tree, all lit up. He thinks he sees your eyes glistening in the light and gently touches your shoulder, getting your attention.

"Oh, sorry babe," you tell him. "Just...just couldn't sleep."

He sits next to you and holds you tight in his arms. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I'm just...this holiday used to be so much fun and now it feels like it's all just stress, you know?" He nods as he gives you a gentle squeeze. "I'm too tired but also too awake and I'm feeling so...I don't even know."

Jake kisses the top of your head. "I have an idea, if you're up for it."

"Yeah?"

"Let's wait up for Santa!"

"What?"

"Like when you were a kid? We get ourselves all sugared up and declare we're finally gonna catch Santa in the act!"

You giggle at the idea. "Where are we gonna get enough sugar?"

"I was gonna save this for a surprise tomorrow," he says as he gets up from the couch. "But I think this warrants an early gifting."

He returns from the kitchen with a box of homemade sugar cookies, each with frosting!

"Jake! You made those?! They're my favorites!"

"Yup. It took me all day, but I knew it would be worth it."

You wrap your arms around him and give him several kisses of appreciation.

"And I've got the stuff make hot cocoa," he adds, when you finally let him breathe. "Real hot cocoa, not the powder stuff."

Your eyes soften with happy tears, "thank you!"

"So, you're up for joining me in waiting for Santa?"

"Hell yeah! We're gonna get on the naughty list, but it'll be worth it!"

Jake takes your hand in his. "Partners in crime!"

Just as you and Jake both knew, the two of you overdosed on sugar and ended up crashing on the couch soon after, smiles on both of your faces.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[liillyliilly]

Anything For You

nishinoya yuu x reader words; 1309 synopsis; he'll do anything for her, it's as simple as that

Second hand embarrassment would surely be the death of her. Had it not been for Yachi and Yamaguchi being there with her, she might have just melted into the ground. Standing on top of a lunch table was Nishinoya Yuu, and he was singing, no, more like serenading her.

With burning ears and a pit growing in her stomach she tried to urge Nishinoya down from the table.

“Yuu, please get down from there.” She rapidly and repeatedly motioned her arms to the ground next to her, but Nishinoya just shrugged, smiling brightly at her as he took a deep breath and practically screamed the lyrics of the song.

“I love you baby, and if it's quite all right, I need you baby, to warm the lonely nights.” His singing voice wasn’t half bad, it was just that his dancing and singing on top of the table warranted a lot of undesired attention for her. Trying to make herself seem smaller, she crossed an arm over her chest and tugged on her earlobe with her other hand.

Eventually he got down from the table once he had finished singing, the students in the courtyard clapping and whistling for him while he gave numerous and boisterous bows to accept the praise. She tugged on his hand, the action asking him to sit down at the table.

“Did ya like the song?” Nishinoya put his face up close to hers, once she gave him a small peck on the lips he nodded and straightened up his back in satisfaction. He slipped his fingers in between hers and began eating his lunch with one hand, not wanting to let go of her grasp.

“It was a very nice song Yuu.” In response to the words Nishinoya brought her interlocked hands to his lips and he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

Nishinoya felt pride swell within his chest, the joy of both making her flustered and happy with his energetic performance seemed to be the cause of his sudden burst of confidence. The rest of the day running by without any problems, people seeming to forget Nishinoya’s effort to make her flustered.

Once she had gotten situated at Nishinoya’s house, sipping on her mug of hot chocolate, he felt the urge to sing again. Much quieter this time. His head resting in her lap, scratching and playing with his hair softly while the TV mindlessly hummed by.

“I love you baby, and if it's quite alright,” He lets out a yawn before pulling a blanket over his body a little bit more, continuing his mumbled singing in his tired state, “I need you baby to warm the lonely nights.”

“I love you Yuu.” She leaned down and kissed his temple and he grinned before rubbing his face into her thighs a little bit more.

No one quite understood Nishinoya and his girlfriend, an amazingly talented 3rd year volleyball player with his side character girlfriend. Nishinoya never made her feel like a side character though. With all the side quests he takes her on, she feels like the main character in her life.

The theme park date probably wasn't even in the top ten best dates she and Nishinoya had gone on. And she raved about that one for at least a month. However, sometimes, his drive surpassed her's when it came to unique and life altering experiences.

Really though, sometimes, his energy was just too high for her.

Nishinoya really liked having a girlfriend. He especially liked all the benefits that came with having a girlfriend.

He had someone to pour his love and attention onto. But at times he found it difficult to give her just his attention, instead of his teasing. In hindsight, she really should have told Nishinoya what was acceptable for him to do in public. One of his favorite things to do was to nibble and bite down on her neck and ears. Especially when she was just casually talking to her friends.

It was the Friday before a short break from school, but she was busy chatting with her fellow club members. Nishinoya had finished volleyball practice over an hour ago, but his girlfriend was still talking. He admired her ability to keep a conversation going, but he really wanted to go back to her house to finish their show. It was the finale episode and he had to know if the main character would finally kiss the love interest.

Nishinoya walked up behind her and wrapped her up into him, resting his hands on her hips and gripping them slightly.

“Hey.” He mumbled into her ear, before starting his attack. Starting at her ear he started to toy with her earlobe by biting down on it softly with his teeth. Y/n’s friends had stopped talking and had started to slowly back away. But she kept talking so they felt obligated to stay, even though she was getting visibly flustered. After getting bored with her ear, Nishinoya started peppering kisses all along her neck.

When he started to lick her neck, Y/n waved goodbye to her friends. Nishinoya muttered a ‘finally’ under his breath as he kept biting and licking over the expanse of her neck and shoulder. Turning her around to hug her better and have her pressed against him, Nishinoya slowly backed up against a wall. Unsatisfied, he spun them around so she was against the wall.

“Yuu!” She pushed him away lightly, he still kept digging his hands onto her hips. He rolled his eyes before slipping his hands to the small of her back.

“What?” He brought one hand up to pinch her cheek and then hold onto the side of her face. His pinkie finger tracing her jawline.

“You can't do that in public.” She whined. Nishinoya knows she wouldn’t have lasted much longer as soon as he started to run his tongue along her neck, wanting her to bid her friends a goodbye so he could better access her mouth.

“Do what exactly?” Nishinoya tugged her back into him before talking into her ear, “What did I do that was so wrong?”

At this point, Nishinoya completely forgot their show, this was a much more entertaining episode in his own life than the fake lives on the television.

She felt her whole body heat up. Her mouth gaping as she tried to come up with a retort. “You, well, you, I was trying to, well, you kissed me!” She stuttered.

“Like this?” Nishinoya rubbed his nose against her neck before moving up to softly kiss her face, evenly spreading them across her cheeks and forehead. “Or like this?” He sunk his teeth onto her shoulder, licking and drawing his teeth across any open space.

“Neither of those Noya.” She held back a grin as she ran her hand through his hair, the gelled down strands somehow breaking out of their gel cage and becoming soft. Nishinoya licked his lips before he went to bite down on her bottom lip. Tugging it lightly and looking at her with his big brown eyes, she opened her mouth to grant him access.

“Thank you.” He whispered before slanting his lips over hers. He sneaked his tongue into her mouth and ran it along the slick inner lining of her cheek. He had to stop kissing her so he would smile against her lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now please Yuu, keep kissing me.” She impatiently rushed the words out, trying to get him to hurry up. She put both of her hands into his hair and yanked it backwards to mess with him. The action causing Nishinoya to hiss, the air pressed tightly out between his teeth.

“Anything for you.” He pulled her shirt so she bumped into him. “Anything.”

[madhatterbri]

Snowed In | Hangman A.P.

Summary: 7.) Getting snowed in and can’t leave the house with our cowboy, please, and thank you. 18+.

Author's Note: Taken from my prompts list found here. I hope I make the queen of smut proud.

Requested by: @magicalbuttertarts

Hangman Adam Page Masterlist

AEW Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @new-zealand-chic

As always, requests are open! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. ❤️

Y/N should have known that evil gleam in his eye meant something else. The scene before her looked simple enough. A fire in the fireplace, a mug of hot chocolate, and a couple of pillows on a blanket on the floor. His sweet, innocent smile lured her in.

She sat in front of his open legs. Her head rested against his chest. Adam offered her the mug of hot chocolate. The hot mug warmed her hands. They snuggled into each other as he watched her drink it.

"We didn't have enough mix," he pointed out.

"Why don't we share?" She asked.

A smirk popped up on his lips. He grabbed the mug from her and placed it away from them. "We can warm up another way,"

Adam pressed his lips to hers. His hands cup her jaw. He slides his tongue into her mouth. The sweet taste of hot chocolate draws him in more. His hands slide down to the small of her back to keep her close to him.

His lips travel to the sweet spot around her ear. Her head moves to grant him more access. Adam takes advantage. His lips roam the new territory going back to the old spot when warranted.

The bottom of her night shirt starts to lift. His hands caress her body, paying special attention to her chest. The nightgown is lifted up completely. Tossed over the couch and forgotten for now.

"Beautiful," he whispered. The only light in the room came from the glow of the fire. He could see the blush on her cheeks. She'll deny it, though. Her body was just hot from the fire.

Y/N laid on her elbows on the blanket and pillows. He followed after her. Placing himself between her legs, his knees pressed between her inner thighs. His arms out at her sides. He steadied himself with one arm. His other hand gripped her breast.

"Ad-am," she moaned out the moment his lips latch to her nipple. His tongue swirls around while he sucks. The other breast is given the same treatment. Satisfied with his work, he continues lower.

A trail of kisses begins at the valley between her breasts. Propped up on his knees, he lowers her pajama shorts the lower his lips go. By the time he is at the top of her underwear, her pajama shorts have met the same fate as her shirt.

"How did I get so lucky?" He asked while taking in her nakedness. His body is lowered to lay between her legs. Adam's head now between her legs.

Y/N smiled. She always asked herself the same question when it came to him.

A gasp slipped past her lips the moment his thumb rubbed against her slit. She attempted to close her legs, yet his elbows kept them spread. Satisfied that she couldn't keep him out, his fingers and tongue worked her.

When her fingers snake through his blonde hair, he half expects she's going to pull him away. They had never done this before. Sex out in the living room. He is almost surprised when her back arches. She pulls him closer between her legs.

One last lick of his tongue makes her unravel. Her body tenses around his head. One hand grips the sheets under them while the other grips his locks. She shudders and moans. The cowboy couldn't be more pleased with all of this.

Compliment after compliments are thrown her way. She takes everyone with pride. Adam sat up on his knees once more. Using the couch for stability, he removes his flannel pajama bottoms and underwear.

He wipes away her juices from his mustache and beard. His arms at her sides, he kisses her some more. Her fingers trace the scars on his body from working on the farm.

The head of his dick rubs between her folds. Her moans muffled by their kiss. Adam stops at her entrance. A gentle thrust allows him to breach inside of her. His moan becomes intertwined with hers.

Their kiss is broken off. He wants to hear her. Hear the way she feels by his actions. His name falls from his sweet lips.

"Adam, I'm-"

"I know," he assured her. "Give me everything,"

His face planted in her neck once more. Adam could feel how close she was. The way she whined for him.

When she reached her second orgasm, he placed his forehead on hers.

"I love you," he confessed. His hips stutter as he finishes inside her. Adam clumsily kisses her.

He pulls out of her. After making sure to take care of her, he comes back in with another sheet. Their naked bodies are covered from the outside world. He lays next to her. Her head rested on his chest. The young couple stare at each other. The fire started to die down. With one last crack from the fireplace, they fell asleep.

Y/N was the first to wake up. She found her night clothes and dressed herself. With the now cold mug of hot chocolate in her hand, she made her way to the kitchen.

On the counter waiting for her, an almost full box of hot chocolate.

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 6949 Tags: fluff, sap, most of this only warrants a G-rating honest, the M is for mild and largely glossed-over spice toward the end, esablished relationship, winter, cold weather, christmas market, ice skating, sleigh ride, cozy cabin getaway, mulled wine, hot chocolate, a couple of things from last Fluffbruary worked their way in here oops, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, mild and inexplicit temperature play

Notes: Written for the magnificently talented and absolutely lovely @rooftopwreck as part of the Dreamling Nation Winter Exchange. Surprise, Vi! I hope you like it! You're such a warm and friendly person, a delight to know and talk to and you can always manage to make me laugh. I'm so glad I got the opportunity to write you a fic! Working with your prompts warmth, hot chocolate, and hearth (which I didn't quite get to but there is a fireplace)

Summary: It's winter in London and Hob is interested in sharing various cold-weather human experiences with his distinctly-not-human boyfriend

On AO3

"That's cheating, you know."

Dream turns to peer at Hob beside him as they walk down the street. "'Cheating'?"

Hob gestures broadly at Dream. "You," he says with a warm smile. "Your whole outside-the-bounds-of-humanity thing, just wandering around like the cold doesn't bother you."

Dream turns his gaze forward again. "It does not."

"But you could let it if you wanted to, right?"

"Is there a reason I should want to, Hob Gadling?"

"Well. I mean. You'll stand out less if you're dressed for the weather—"

"I can alter my clothing to blend in if it will assuage your concerns," Dream interrupts. He is uncertain of Hob's purpose in this line of conversation, or what any of this has to do with him accompanying Hob to buy groceries.

"Still missing the point, duck."

"Please. Enlighten me."

Hob blows out a breath, which clouds prettily around his face in the grey winter daylight. "There's a lot of really fun cold weather things we can do, human experiences that I, a humble human, would like to share with my more-than-human boyfriend. Things that just aren't quite the same if you're immune to the cold." He grins at Dream. "And then some other things that are purely selfish—how can I chivalrously offer you my scarf to stay warm if you don't get cold, for instance?"

Dream gives a put-upon sigh. "The weather is so frightfully cold," he intones, little better than deadpan. "If only some kind individual were to offer me his scarf, that I might warm myself."

"See I know you're just faking," Hob laughs, but all the same he unwinds the scarf from about his own neck, stopping to face Dream and drape it about him gently before continuing, shoulders hunching into his own coat. "It's not just about appearances, though. Isn't your sister always telling you to take more interest in humans and the 'human experience'? Isn't that how we met?"

"It is." Dream has buried his nose in the loop of scarf about his neck; it is pleasantly warm with Hob's body heat, whether or not Dream truly feels the cold as Hob does, and it smells enticingly of Hob as well.

Perhaps there is. Merit, to Hob's suggestion.

"Well, then…let me help you have some human experiences?" Hob is looking at him hopefully. "It'll be fun."

"I am quite pleased by the 'human experiences' you share with me already, Hob." Dream lets his mouth curl smugly above the scarf, tilts his head to glance at Hob through his lashes.

"Additional experiences. Cold weather experiences, outside the bedroom." Hob shakes his head, mock dismayed, betrayed by the smile in his eyes that's fighting its way down to his lips. "Can't believe you're making sex jokes outside Sainsbury's. What even is my life."

"I will. Consider your suggestion," Dream allows, as they enter the store, and no more is said on the subject that day.

~~~ When next Dream visits Hob in the waking world, he manifests his form in much greater human detail than usual. He pays special attention to making certain he has the appropriate body temperature and all of the internal intricacies to regulate it; he releases a breath, and it clouds the air before him.

He shivers.

His usual attire is indeed insufficient in this weather. He will trust that Hob can provide him something warmer.

Just as soon as Hob returns home.

Dream could let himself into Hob's flat, or wait for him inside the New Inn even; he chooses instead to wait outside, in the cold, that he might have the full effect of whatever it is Hob wishes him to glean from the experiment.

It is only a short time later that Hob returns, and his eyebrows shoot up beneath the cuff of the hat he wears to see Dream shivering outside the door at the back of the Inn. "Dream? What are you doing out here, you look like you're freezing!"

"Observant," Dream grits out, teeth clenched to still their chattering, arms tucked tight around himself. His mood has soured considerably in the interim.

"You choose the most peculiar times to take my suggestions to heart." Hob moves close, unlocking the door. "Did you miss the part where I mentioned wanting to share things with you?"

"Hence why I am here, waiting for you."

"Bloody obstinate git, you are," Hob chides fondly, opening the door and ushering Dream inside. The warm air is a relief, and Dream unclenches slightly.

"This is. A miserable experience so far," he says, uncharitably perhaps, but 'the experience' was Hob's selling point and Dream has yet to see what so enamours him of the cold.

"Ah, well, being cold is generally miserable, yes. Which is why you bundle up to enjoy the weather, and why you don't stand about waiting outside without a proper winter jacket when there's a nice heated pub right there, you numpty. Or just let yourself into my flat next time, honestly. Come on up, I'll get you sorted before we head out."

Dream is displeased by the thought of going back out, into the cold, but he is. Trying. Very hard, to be adaptable, to flow with change, to be open to whatever joy Hob thinks he might be shown. He recalls the way Hob's eyes had sparkled when he spoke of taking Dream round to the Christmas market, he recalls the dreams he has touched of such things over the centuries and he finds that he is able to muster a modicum of curiosity to see firsthand how they have evolved in the current era.

Most importantly, he does not wish to disappoint Hob.

It is much easier to brave the cold once Hob has bundled him into a jumper that is only marginally oversized (Hob is slighter than he tends to appear) and a scarf that is softer than the dreams children spin of summer clouds, and thrice as warm. Both smell faintly of Hob, which is delightful, and does a fine job of lifting his mood again.

"Hat, or earmuffs?" Hob holds out both options; after a moment's consideration, Dream chooses the earmuffs. A thick quilted overcoat ('puffer jacket', the collective subconscious supplies) and a fashionably slim pair of warmly-lined gloves finish off the ensemble, and Dream is nearly too warm thus arrayed.

It occurs to him as they leave Hob's flat that everything Hob has dressed him in is black, in keeping with his own preferences, and the realization sparks a different, softer sort of warmth in his chest.

~~~ The Christmas market is a lively, bustling affair, bright with voices and possibilities and fairy lights twinkling in the late afternoon dusk, robust with soft snatches of daydreams that twine and brush against him the way a cat might wind itself about one's ankles. There are children dashing about, parents tugged along behind them, flitting from one booth to the next in a flurry of contagious excitement; young couples and old, solitary visitors enjoying the time alone, groups of friends laughing together and Dream finds himself smiling at the wisps of half-formed fancy that reach him in the wake of everyone who passes by. It is easy to understand, immersed in this festive atmosphere, why so many humans have such love for the holidays.

"We're gift shopping for my staff at the Inn," Hob says, "and a few friends at work too. I like just wandering around to see what I can find—easy to make it personal that way." He gives Dream a wink, rakish and cocksure with the smallest edge of uncertainty hiding beneath it. "I know you're ruler of your own realm, unfathomably More Than Human etcetera etcetera, but if you see anything here that strikes your fancy? Just say so." He tugs lightly on his ear where it peeks from beneath his knit hat, glancing up and away for half an instant. "I'd be happy to buy you anything you like."

"A kind and gallant offer, Hob Gadling." Dream lets his smile curl into a smirk, leaning into coquettish charm to cover how genuinely pleased he is by Hob's generosity of spirit. "You would woo me with gifts, with tokens of admiration, when my affections have already been won?"

"Got to keep the romance alive, haven't I?" Hob shrugs, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, mouth curved in a smile that is brilliant in its sincerity. "I'd woo you a thousand times over if you wanted. Eager to please, always seeking for more, you know me."

"Intimately," Dream purrs, leaning in for a kiss. It's soft and short and chaste, as not to scandalize the other shoppers; Dream's lips and nose are mildly chilled, as are Hob's, but his heart is very warm when Hob returns for another peck before they part completely.

They browse the stalls at leisure, Hob selecting gifts carefully for each of his recipients, Dream rifling through what he knows of their dreams to help Hob choose when he has difficulty deciding. The tote bag Hob brought along slowly fills with packages and Dream has no trouble admitting that he is enjoying their evening, despite the cold.

There is a brooch that catches Dream's eye, a pair of poppies masterfully worked in silver and transparent red enamel, set with tiny black and white 'gems' for the center of each. It is a far cry from the sort of jewelry one might expect of his station, but Dream can feel the care, the dreams, the love of the craft that have gone into the creation of the piece, and it is striking. Hob buys it for him, gifts it to him, fixes it to the folds of the wonderfully soft scarf about his neck, and Hob's regard and affection, his care, seep into the brooch as well.

"Suits you," Hob says, dimpling sweetly, warmth simmering in his eyes, and Dream smiles back with equal affection. Certainly he might have simply manifested himself something similar, grander; the value of this piece, however, lies not in jeweled splendor but in the intent that went into its gifting.

~~~ "I am enjoying our time together," Dream says, while the mulled wine vendor is filling their commemorative Christmas Market mugs and adding clove-spiced orange slices for garnish.

Hob smiles, brilliant, beautiful. "I'm glad." He reaches to flick a light touch to Dream's earmuffs. "Staying cozy?"

Dream considers. Next time he will take the hat, he decides; his ears are warm but he has seen now where he would benefit from full coverage of his head. And perhaps thicker trousers as well; his jeans do not hold heat in any substantial fashion. The cold is not so bothersome to his legs as it is to his core and his extremities, but something warmer would not go amiss.

"The cold is far more tolerable when dressed properly," Dream admits, "for which. I thank you. However—" He pauses while Hob collects the prepared drinks, then continues. "I fail to see how letting myself feel the cold enhances the experience. I would be just as pleased with our evening had I not undertaken your suggestion."

"That's fair," Hob allows, contemplatively. "Thing is—" he offers a steaming mug to Dream "—if you weren't bothered by the cold, you wouldn't appreciate this half as much."

Dream accepts, cradling the mug in his gloved hands, letting the steam rise into his face. The warmth is pleasant but the aroma is utterly intoxicating, heady and fruity and laced with an assortment of spices that bloom behind his palette as he breathes it in. He can feel how his pleasure lights his face, and Hob's chuckle confirms it a second later.

"Try it, I promise it's everything you're hoping for there. Mind, it's hot—"

Dream raises the cup to his lips, heeding Hob's warning; he blows gently across the surface and sips carefully.

He makes a sound that is very nearly indecent, eyes fluttering shut for half an instant despite himself. The flavor is exquisite, bright notes of citrus and cloves and cardamom bursting on his tongue, but the warmth—it suffuses his mouth, flows down his throat with the wine, spreads softly throughout his body. He sips again, a careful slurping mouthful, and the soft heat chases through him delightfully.

"Exquisite," he murmurs, both hands wrapped around the cup, entranced with the steam rising softly into his face.

"See?" Hob's grin is bright and wide, eyes sparkling like the fairy lights around them, and Dream cannot even begrudge him the thrill of triumph that radiates from him. "Sometimes feeling the cold is worth it."

"Perhaps," Dream allows, and sips the wonderfully warm wine again.

~~~ Hob takes him ice skating on his next visit; this time, he manifests inside Hob's flat with warm cable-knit leggings, black with hints of silver threaded through, and a slim knee-length skirt that is quilted and layered for warmth. The poppy brooch Hob gifted him at the Christmas Market is tucked into his hand and his usual grey t-shirt is all he wears above.

Hob raises an eyebrow at him. "Got it half-right, at least?"

"I would. Borrow, from your wardrobe, if I may," he explains somewhat hesitantly. "I enjoyed wearing your clothing, smelling you upon me the entire evening. It is. An experience I would like to repeat."

The slow delight that brightens Hob's face as he says it is entirely worth the squirming discomfort of speaking the admission aloud.

"Okay then. You're in luck." Hob beams at him, all but heart-eyed, and goes to rummage through his wardrobe. "Same black jumper as last time, here's the scarf, had them both on for a bit yesterday, aaaannd—earmuffs?"

"Is the hat still on offer?"

"'Course it is. Here." Hob tosses him the hat instead, a black and silver cable-knit thing with a wide cuff and a large and fluffy pom pom on top.

Dream is pleased to have recalled its appearance accurately when manifesting his leggings; they are a perfect match.

He delights in the soft lingering scent of Hob as he pulls on the jumper, as Hob winds the scarf about his neck and pulls the hat snugly down to cover his ears. Dream hands Hob his brooch to pin to the scarf (the delight in Hob's eyes to see it makes Dream doubly-glad he had brought it), and then Hob curls those warm and wonderful fingers lightly around the back of his warmly-wrapped neck and leans in to kiss him, short and soft.

"You look adorable," Hob breathes, and while that is not a word nor an image he cultivates of himself in most circumstances…this is Hob. And Dream does not mind.

"Puffer jacket's in the entry hall," Hob says then, dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Let's get you bundled up and head over to the pond."

~~~ "Have you skated before?" Hob asks, while they are lacing on their rented skates at the chalet.

"I am the king of all dreams and nightmares, prince of stories; I am the entirety of the collective human subconscious. All skills are within my grasp."

"So that's a no, then." Hob grins at him brightly. "That's alright, I'll teach you."

"I do not require instruction."

"Does his majesty know how to skate after all, then?"

Dream opens his mouth for a haughty retort to Hob's impertinence and pauses; certainly the necessary skill is available to him with minimal effort, but the idea that Hob would like to teach him is…appealing. "Perhaps," he hedges, with just enough of a pout to imply that he truly means 'no', and Hob smiles, warm and brilliant.

"Then let me help you out, duck. I promise I'm a very good teacher."

"I did not say that I do not know how," he protests, for appearances, while something in him swoons at the idea of having all the skill that Hob has honed in his chosen profession focused solely on himself.

Hob chuckles brightly. "'Course not. Still. Humor me? Let me feel useful."

"Very well," Dream concedes, concealing his delight, and allows Hob to lead him out onto the ice.

Hob is indeed a good teacher, and Dream basks happily in the casual intimacy of his unnecessary instruction, the focused warmth of his attention. Gliding over the frozen pond with Hob's guiding touch at the small of his back and Hob's other hand clasping his—he feels carefree, lighthearted, happy, and can easily understand why countless stories of young romance have featured this same activity.

Hob leads him about for a good while, offering guidance as he feels appropriate, but even when he deems that Dream has mastered the requisite balance and coordination, Dream is not at all inclined to sally forth on his own. Skating with Hob is the entirety of the appeal, after all; hand in gloved hand they glide and twirl about together, faces rosy with the cold, until the weak afternoon sun slowly relinquishes its place on the horizon to the encroaching evening.

~~~ "Here. Have some hot chocolate; it'll warm you up and the sugar will boost your energy," Hob says, as Dream is tying his boots back on. Hob had taken their rented skates to the return counter and come back with two takeaway cups, one of which he is offering to Dream.

"I do not require sustenance."

Hob rolls his eyes fondly. "Yes yes, I know, but you liked the mulled wine well enough last time, didn't you?"

"Wine is drunk for pleasure, not for sustenance."

"Same with hot chocolate. Well. It's sustenance for the soul, maybe, but not for the body." He presents the insulated cup again, waggling it slightly. "C'mon. Stop being contrary and take it. It's a vital part of the experience."

Dream is being contrary, simply for the pleasure of the way Hob pushes back. He is accustomed to the deference he receives from others as is due his station, but he very much appreciates that Hob treats him no differently having learned who he is. He is both friend and lover first when he is with Hob, and he delights in the many small ways that he can prove to himself over and over again that Hob values him over his function.

But the chocolate does smell enticing, and the memory of how a hot drink warmed his body last time is compelling; he accepts the cup with no further argument.

"It's the common dry-mix stuff, not real hot chocolate, but it's got its charm. 'Specially on the go like this," Hob offers as Dream takes a sip, and he is correct. Dream had tasted what Hob had ordered for them in the back room of the White Horse in 1789; he has encountered enough dreams to know that this is a pale version of the concoction but all the same, it is pleasant enough in its own right. It is a component of the experience he has shared with Hob and is enriched by that association; Hob was correct in this as well.

The warmth suffusing throughout him is as delightful as he recalls.

~~~ "I am. Enjoying, these cold-weather human experiences, with you," he admits as they stroll toward home. He had quietly taken Hob's hand as they left the pond and Hob has made no effort to reclaim it, carrying his drink in the other and sipping from it occasionally. Dream is doing the same, and his admission comes forth with suprising ease.

Hob grins. "It's the pleasure of my sparkling company. I enhance every experience."

"Perhaps," Dream allows with a smile, and Hob's gleeful expression softens.

"I'm glad you're having a good time, love. Thanks for trusting me."

The words warm Dream as deeply as his next sip of chocolate. You are worthy of my trust, Hob Gadling, he thinks, but what he says is, "Of course."

"I've got a great idea for our next date," Hob says then, beaming brightly again. "I'm very excited about it, but I need to make sure—" He squeezes Dream's hand gently. "Would I be able to keep you two days? I mean, I know you don't sleep and you'd probably want to check in on your realm while I'm sleeping instead of just watching me snore but there's an overnight trip I'd really love to take you on, if you're amenable? If it works for you?"

"Watching you sleep would not be the dull experience you believe it to be," Dream says first, which leaves Hob flustered and tongue-tied long enough for him to gather the rest of his words. "I would. Delight, in keeping your company overnight, in spending. More than one day at a time, with you." Lucienne would gladly see to his realm for far longer an absence, he is certain, particularly if she is made aware of why he must be away—her quiet approval of first his friendship and then his romantic relationship with Hob have been a steady source of reassurance as it progresses.

"Fantastic! Alright. I'll get it booked for a couple weekends out." Hob grins, absolutely glowing with his pleasure, and Dream is deeply warmed by the knowledge that he is responsible for putting that happiness there.

~~~ They drive a good long while out of the city when the weekend comes, the heater in Hob's car keeping them warm enough without heavy jackets for the duration. Hob eventually pulls into what looks like a farm in the countryside, and when they exit the car Dream dons the long fur-lined coat that he had manifested at Hob's direction. His boots are tall and fur-lined as well, warm and comfortable; his hands are buried in a cozy fur muff and a warm fur-lined hat covers his head. Beneath it all he has once again borrowed Hob's jumper and scarf, with the brooch Hob had gifted him pinned on, and he deems himself adequately prepared for whatever Hob has planned.

It is a sleigh ride.

They are ushered to a not-quite-traditional one-horse open sleigh, the bed of it still built to accommodate two passengers but an extension in front for a separate driver, allowing for the passengers to simply enjoy the ride. Dream very much intends to do so.

"What other surprises do you have in store for me?" he asks Hob as they settle into the sleigh. The driver flicks his reins and they lurch smoothly into motion toward the open snow-covered field.

"Just a quiet winter getaway," Hob answers, sitting up straight and laying his arm over Dream's shoulders. "We've got an hour or so to ride, and then we'll get to a little cabin in the woods where we'll spend the night. Then we'll catch another ride back late tomorrow."

Dream slouches on the plushly-padded seat just enough to fit comfortably beneath Hob's arm, leans into him with a smile. "You spoil me, Hob Gadling," he declares, soft and sincere, and Hob's laughter drifts away behind them as the horse moves from a slow walk to a lively trot along the groomed trail.

The weak winter sun is making its descent across the watery-blue afternoon sky as they go; the breeze is sharp against Dream's face, but his body is warm. His hands in the thick fur muff are warm, as are his ears and his head beneath the warmly-furred hat. His eyes sting marginally and his nose and cheeks are chilled, which is easily remedied by tucking his face into the folds of the soft woolen scarf Hob had wound snugly about his neck. It blocks the mild wind, holds the heat of his breath quite pleasantly, and most importantly it carries Hob's scent still. Dream inhales deeply, smiling, and leans further into the comfortable weight of Hob's arm around him.

The sleigh ride is uneventful, and quite pleasant for it. It is easy to feel the romantic shape of the story about them, bedecked in such finery, snuggled close against Hob, the air crisp and lively as they move from field to forest on their journey to a cozy private hideaway. There are many stories such as this in the Library, and Dream is unspeakably pleased that Hob would choose this sort of tale to spin anew with him. There will be lovemaking when they reach their destination, Dream is certain of it.

The thought warms him in more ways than one.

~~~ "Here we are. Proper hot chocolate, freshly made," Hob announces, turning from the stove in the cabin's kitchen with two steaming mugs in hand, carefully making his way to the main room. The fireplace is crackling cheerfully, bleeding wonderful heat into the space around it. Evening is falling outside and with it, new snow; Dream, cozy in Hob's borrowed jumper, is only too happy to accept Hob's offering.

The warmth is again exquisite, and the flavor is indeed far richer and creamier than what they had consumed after ice skating. Dream sips at it with relish and Hob settles on the couch beside him, smiling. "A whole night with the Dreamlord all to myself," he says, eyes twinkling. "What sort of cosmic favors does one normally have to offer to lay claim to your attention this way?"

"Great boons of significant value," Dream replies loftily, in keeping with Hob's teasing tone, but he is thinking of former lovers and their laments of his inconstant attention, and how Hob is always welcoming and delighted to see him whether it has been a week or several months. How Hob is considerate and respectful of his duty even when he is irreverent to Dream himself, how he had assumed that this overnight trip might easily involve Dream slipping away to attend to his duties while he himself slept. How happy he had been that Dream agreed to his request.

"And yet you give it to me just for the asking," Hob says then, soft and wondering and utterly devoid of teasing. "I really am the luckiest bloke."

Dream would like to say something equally heartfelt and besotted, but he is overfull of affection, of soft adoration, and his words will not make themselves known. Instead, he sets his mug on the coffee table, unfolds himself from his corner of the couch, lets himself flow into the tidal pull of Hob Gadling until his arms are around Hob's neck and their lips have met.

Hob makes the softest, sweetest sound, sets his drink aside, settles his hands on Dream's hips up underneath the warm bulk of his borrowed jumper. Dream pulls back the slightest distance, brushes his nose along Hob's, tilts his head and takes Hob's mouth again, sweet and cocoa-warm. He brings a hand to cradle the corner of Hob's jaw, licks softly between Hob's lips, kisses him with all of the words that stir silently inside him. Hob wraps him close, touches him with gentle reverence, kisses back with the same quiet intensity; and as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, the warmth between them blossoms slowly and steadily into a familiar and welcome heat.

Dream wants, with intensity, ensconced in Hob's lap and secure in Hob's arms around him; Hob so easily, so often inspires him to such wanting and it would be maddening if he did not know that Hob will always and eagerly provide.

"Got an idea," Hob gasps presently, breathless, when Dream's building tension has thoroughly infused his touches and his kisses have grown fevered and urgent. Hob extricates himself gently from Dream's embrace, slides to his knees on the rug before Dream.

The heat in Dream's core curls sharply and he turns, unfolds so that his thighs bracket Hob's shoulders. "I do not believe the proprietors of this cabin intend for sexual activities to take place on the couch."

Hob laughs, bright and beautiful. "You started it, love."

This…is not untrue. "Perhaps."

"Well, I'll just have to be careful not to spill anything, won't I." Hob winks and pulls Dream's hips forward and Dream lies back, willing and wanting as Hob opens his trousers, nuzzles him through his underwear. Hob sits back and works Dream free, then reaches for his cocoa on the coffee table behind him and takes a sip.

And then he takes Dream into his mouth and Dream jerks at the sheer heat of it, makes a stifled wanton sound as Hob's tongue strokes heavy against him within the cocoon of his mouth. It is not the simple human-sex-warm that he is accustomed to; it is hot with the drink Hob has just consumed and the difference is striking.

"Good?" Hob asks, pulling off, and Dream shivers, delighted, aflame with his wanting.

"Yes. Hob—"

Hob takes another sip from his mug; Dream holds his gaze as he swallows and when Hob's mouth closes around him again after, Hob's eyes steady on his as the heat sinks in, Dream cannot help the whimper that escapes him.

Hob smiles around him and Dream is lost. The next few moments pass in a haze of pleasure, the ebb and flow of Hob's heated mouth, Dream combing trembling fingers through Hob's hair as he goes back down after every drink, the renewed heat bringing Dream closer and closer to his peak. He makes no effort to restrain his voice; Hob has told him repeatedly that he loves to hear Dream's pleasure, loves the affirmation that he is 'doing something right down there'. So he pants and moans, clinging loosely to Hob's head as Hob's heated mouth and clever tongue bring him up to the precipice, cries out as Hob tips him over the edge.

Hob spills nothing, true to his word; when the tension falls out of Dream Hob sits back and swallows, chases it down with the last of his hot chocolate. He then tucks Dream back into his clothing while Dream lies boneless and drifting, awash in the warmth of his satiation and the warmth of Hob's affections and the warmth of the fireplace and he is. Warm. And content.

Hob touches his face, gently, and Dream returns to himself, blinks into the bright warmth of Hob's smile.

"Still with me, duck?"

Dream manages a very loose, very satisfied smile of his own. "Perhaps."

"I will take that as a compliment," Hob grins, and levers himself up onto the sofa, settling into the corner. He reaches an arm toward Dream. "C'mere."

He is beckoning Dream into his embrace, to lie against him, which. Is not the next step Dream had expected.

"Do you not wish—?"

"Later," Hob assures him, smile soft, eyes gleaming warmly in the firelight. "Right now, you're so soft, so relaxed—I just want to cuddle you, maybe read to you for a bit, let you tell me the stories behind the stories and such. And let you finish your chocolate, of course."

And so Dream settles himself between Hob's legs as Hob stretches them the length of the couch, leans into the solid warmth of Hob's body behind him, cradles the mug that Hob passes him in both hands while Hob reaches for the book on the coffee table. It is a collection of poetry and folktales from around the world, and Dream offers anecdotes from his own memories of Aesop, of Hans Christian Andersen, of Bharavi in between Hob's readings. Once he has finished his drink, he snuggles in closer, turns a little, tucks his head under Hob's chin and his arm around Hob's waist. Hob wraps an arm around him in turn, drops a kiss to his hairline, continues reading, and Dream allows himself to simply…drift. The warmth of Hob's embrace, the gentle lull of Hob's voice in Hob's chest beneath his ear, the silence of the falling snow out the window—it is all of it so quietly serene, so comfortable, and Dream cannot recall when last he felt such tranquillity.

~~~ When the book has long been put aside and the fire has burned low, and he has lain in the comfort of Hob's arms for long enough that sleep has crept over Hob some time ago, Dream stirs, and Hob wakes.

"Duck? 'M sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep—"

"I do not object."

Hob chuckles. "Naturally the King of Dreams does not object to a little nap."

Dream feels himself smiling and does not resist it. "It is no hardship to lie with you while you sleep, Hob, but your back will not thank you if we spend the whole of the night thus."

"Right you are." Hob shifts beneath him and turns; to Dream's surprise, Hob pulls him closer, wraps an arm behind him and hooks the other beneath Dream's legs before he rises, lifting Dream in bridal fashion as he stands. Dream clings around his neck obligingly, amused and warmly delighted.

"Such gallantry, Hob Gadling," he breathes, as Hob moves toward the staircase.

"Always did wanna carry you to bed properly," Hob grins, and Dream absolutely must kiss him without a second's delay.

He leaves off so that Hob may climb the stairs safely to the loft, where the bed stands laden with a thick fluffy duvet over a velvety-soft blanket and flannel sheets, a sumptuous promise of comfort and warmth. Hob sets him down, undresses them both, ushers Dream beneath the covers and snuggles in after him.

The cabin is cooling down with the fire banked, but that only makes the cozy layers of the bedding and the heat they make beneath them all the more precious. Hob has him slow and languid, ardent and tender and vulnerable in this cocoon of warmth and closeness; Dream holds to him steadfastly, clings fiercely about his shoulders, lies back and lets Hob love him.

For he knows: that is what this is. There is no doubting Hob's affections for him, nor how deeply they run. The way that Hob moves atop and within him, kissing with relentless adoration all the while, stroking reverent fingers through his hair and whispering heartfelt vows and endearments against his lips—it warms Dream through, leaves him grateful and marveling. Hob, who time and again chooses life and living, has chosen him, despite all forewarning that choosing Dream was choosing poorly. Hob loves him, wants him, wishes for his company and his happiness and goes to whatever lengths are needed to ensure both.

Hob, who clings to Dream in his sleep now, after, head pillowed on the dubious cushion of Dream's chest, smile resting soft on his lips, arms comfortably close about Dream's waist and hip. Hob, who waited faithfully when Dream missed their meeting, ensured Dream could still find him when the White Horse closed, welcomed his return without judgment or recrimination of any kind; Hob, who treasures him, warms him, looks to his well-being and wishes to share favorite experiences with him.

Hob, who seeks no power, no boon, has never asked more of him than his company when his duty allows it.

Dream looks carefully at the glowing warmth in his own approximation of a heart, in the whole of his being; tentatively, he names it for what he knows it to be, and trusts that calamity will not follow. He cradles Hob's sleeping form close, strokes through Hob's hair again and again, traces the shape of his smile with gentle fingertips.

Warm, content, he holds Hob and he drifts in his happiness.

~~~ The morning comes slow and lazy, and they are both very cozy in the bed, but eventually Hob must get up to relieve his bladder. Then, with the chill of the cabin made apparent, he starts and stokes the fire before returning upstairs and diving back beneath the covers with Dream. The rest of the morning is decidedly less lazy and quite immensely satisfying, and by the time they leave the bed the cabin is comfortably warmed.

"Shower with me," Hob offers, and Dream agrees instead of simply willing himself clean. The cascading warm water, the simple pleasure of soaping Hob's body and being lathered up in turn, the intimacy of washing Hob's hair, of Hob's fingertips then massaging his scalp and Hob's hands gently tilting his head back into the spray to rinse, these all constitute yet another wonderfully human experience that he can fully appreciate, because Hob wishes to share it.

Hob cooks them brunch once they're dried and somewhat dressed, scrambling eggs and toasting bread in only a pair of low-slung joggers with a short towel draped behind his neck to manage the ends of his damp hair; Dream watches him work, smiling, cozy in Hob's jumper and a pair of fluffy grey socks with his bare legs tucked beneath him on the barstool at the kitchen peninsula.

"Here we are," Hob says, plating him a beautiful omelette laden with spices, peppers, and roasted tomatoes alongside a slice of buttered toast slathered with strawberry jam, and Dream accepts it with equanimity. He does not need to eat in the waking world, it provides no sustenance, but the ritual of sharing meals with Hob is entirely pleasant. Hob goes to great effort to prepare things that Dream will enjoy, and Dream. Is not inclined to see those efforts wasted.

The food is good. Hob's food is always good, and especially when infused with his warmth and love, as this is. Dream savors the omelette, lingers over the sweetness of the toast—Hob has spread it with 'far too much jam' just as Dream prefers—and smiles his pleasure at Hob, who beams back with his mouth full, which is far more endearing than it should be.

~~~ "I'm so glad you let me talk you into feeling the cold," Hob says later, once they've cleared the kitchen and resettled on the sofa. Dream is in Hob's lap, hands stroking through the hair on Hob's chest, bare thighs splayed to either side of his hips. He is kissing up the side of Hob's neck, very much in pursuit of a particular goal; he forewent trousers for a reason, after all. But Hob is still talking. "Gave me a great excuse to ask you here, after all, and I'm very much enjoying all this cozy cabin sex."

Dream draws back and looks at him, amusement plainly evident in his tone. "Hob Gadling. Has all of this, your insistence on sharing cold weather experiences, been merely an elaborate ploy to convince me to come away to the woods with you for 'cozy cabin sex'?"

"Perhaps ," Hob replies, with a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows, and then he laughs. "No, love, everything we've done has been for its own sake. Including this mini holiday. I'm…" He trails off, tilts his head and tugs briefly at his earlobe. "I'm really glad you agreed, to all of it. I like doing fun things with you—I like spending time with you, full stop, whatever we're doing. But it means a lot that you've gone along with my plans and suggestions and that you've had a good time too." He grins, bright and beautiful. "The Dreamlord, Prince of Stories, King of all Dreams and Nightmares and Entirety of the Human Subconscious lets me take him on dates. Ordinary mundane cozy little human winter dates, and he even enjoys them. I am truly the luckiest bloke in existence."

His pure simple authentic joy is infectious; it seeps into Dream's body and settles warm around his heart, leaves him aglow in happiness, a soft smile on his face as he leans down into Hob to kiss him again.

He loves this man, fiercely, completely. It is he who is the lucky one.

~~~ The morning passes into afternoon and stretches closer to evening before they deign to part from one another, and then only because their transportation will be arriving soon. They dress, pack, tidy up, and Dream employs a measure of power to ensure the cabin is presentable (and sanitary) for the crew who will be coming in to clean and prepare it for the next guests.

The sleigh arrives as scheduled and Dream shrinks his form slightly as he climbs into it, the better to fit beneath Hob's arm. He settles comfortably in the warmth of his hat and his coat and Hob's scarf, the warmth of Hob's embrace, and Hob cuddles him close, tips his hat up enough to drop a kiss to his forehead and tugs it back down as the driver sets out.

I know what it is, to love Hob Gadling, Dream thinks as they go, but does not say. He is brave enough to accept the truth of it, but not yet brave enough to speak it aloud. He knows, on some level, that keeping it unspoken does not change the fact of its existence, but there is power in words all the same. Perhaps it makes no difference; Hob is technically no longer mortal, their love has existed for some time whether Dream has acknowledged it or not and no disaster has yet befallen them or humanity.

Still. Dream is nothing, if not cautious.

He moves just enough to glance up to Hob's face, and finds Hob gazing down at him with love shining plain in his kind depthless eyes; he smiles, knowing full well the same shows clear in his own face, and settles, snuggles back into Hob's shoulder to enjoy the remainder of their ride back.

The air is crisp, cold, invigorating, in a way that can only be appreciated when one has bundled up properly against it. Hob has ensured that he is, and so Dream can enjoy it.

He is. Content, warm in his love for Hob, warm in Hob's love for him.

Perhaps, one day, one of them will say it.

Then again, perhaps there is no need.

=== Started: 12/8/23 Drafted: 1/5/24 Posted: 1/8/24

Title taken from I Love the Winter Weather/I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm by Tony Bennett, which dovetailed too perfectly with the themes that developed in the writing for me not to use it

I love the winter weather So the two of us can get together There's nothing sweeter, finer When it's nice and cold I can hold my baby closer to me And collect the kisses that are due me I love the winter weather Because I've got my love to keep me warm

[maevesque]

Philos Is Closed. Pairing: Sky x Jeremiah Word count: ~1.8k @skynapple 🌻

A/N: Well, tis no surprise that I am your secret santa, haha. But I hope you still enjoy this drabble...that definitely exceeded the word count I was expecting to write when thinking of it. Merry Christmas, Madikins! ♡ May your day be filled with lots of love and joy. I hope you enjoy this as much as I had fun writing it.

Her meeting with Jeremiah was only meant for breakfast, the holiday season having shackled them to their own work demands, so any little time spent with him was more than enough for her and him during these busy times. Flower shops demand beautifully crafted bouquets and arrangements for one's beloved, and well, Wanderer's never sleep.

They find time, though, where Sky would visit Jeremiah after her work. She would stay for a while until he closed the shop and walked her home. A routine they had fallen into as the nights turned short and the days blanketed by the frosty cold. It warranted hot chocolate and cuddles every so often whenever the two could meet. 

Sky rounded the corner, the bell chiming to let Jeremiah know that someone was there.

His eyes shifted from the bouquet he was fixing up for a customer, that should arrive in fifteen minutes or so, to Sky who waved a bit shyly, their footsteps matching as they met somewhat meet halfway because Jeremiah didn't think, his body already made a beeline toward her, always happy to see his sweet flower.

"Did I lose track of time?" Jeremiah asked, brushing back her hair behind her ear with a loving smile, "do you get to clock into work later?"

Sky shook her head, smiling as she shifted her body to have her guitar peek from behind her, "actually, I'm free today." 

This made Jeremiah's face light even more, his hand finding hers as he guided her over to the counter, wanting to show her his latest work. 

"The customer should be here soon...what do you think?"

The bouquet was a classic, red roses coupled with baby breaths. Sky could always tell how well taken care of the flowers were in Jeremiah's shop by how fresh and vibrant they looked, even when they were plucked from their soil. 

"It's beautiful," she commented, her fingers reaching out to brush along the softness of the rose petals. 

Sky sat next to Jeremiah, her fingers gently strumming her guitar as he finished up the bouquet, wrapped it and just like he stated, about fifteen minutes later the customer had arrived. They thanked Jeremiah and commented on how beautiful the flower look, peering over at Sky and leaning towards Jeremiah stating just like the woman next to him.

Jeremiah's face flushed, scratching the back of his neck and let out an embarrassed laugh before his eyes turned soft and he looked over at Sky who was almost in a trance as she continued softly humming to the strumming of her guitar. 

"You're right. She really is beautiful." Jeremiah said, waving to the latter as they exited the shop. 

The shop fell quiet, but a comfortable quiet. What Jeremiah doesn't notice is Sky's inner thoughts rummaging in her head. She was free for the rest of the day, but that doesn't mean that Jeremiah can be the same, still, there had been something she had been wanting to ask. 

It was now or never.

Jeremiah, about to ask if Sky was alright, only for Sky to say she had something to say. Their words collided and they each told the other to go first, which made them both fill the store with their combined laughter. 

"I insist, Sky, you first," he gestured to her, a smile on his face as his eyes locked on her, giving her his undivided attention.

Nervousness fell upon Sky's face, chewing on her inner cheek before she released it and placed her guitar down. Her gaze shifted a bit, left and right, before exhaling, "I was wondering...have you ever gone ice-skating before?"

Jeremiah tilted his head, his gaze drifted out to the window as he thought. Throughout his many years from Philos to this...earth, it dawned upon him that—no. He had never gone ice-skating. It couldn't be that bad, right?

He shook his head and Sky's eyes lit up like the Christmas lights scattered throughout the Linkon City streets. She immediately jumped up and stepped forward, practically leaning into Jeremiah who was caught by surprise before laughing as he wrapped his arms around his lover. 

"If you're not busy...maybe we can go ice skating sometime." She said as hope twinkled in her eyes. 

And how could Jeremiah ever dispel the hope and excitement when he would literally do anything for her? So an idea popped up. He brushed her hair from her forehead, placed a sweet kiss onto it then eased away as he stepped toward the front of the shop. 

Sky blinked in confusion, tilting her head as she followed Jeremiah with her eyes, "where are you—" 

"The shop's closed now." 

"What?"

Jeremiah chuckled and strided back to her, taking her hands in his as he went around, closing up the rest of the shop. 

"You did say you were free all day today, right?"

Sky followed a bit dumbfoundedly as she squeezed his hand, blinked a few times before nodding her head, "but what about your orders and, didn't you say you'd be busy today?"

Once Jeremiah completed these tasks, he turned to her with a bright smile, brushing his fingers through her hair and twirling some strands around his fingers as he gazed into his eyes. 

"Well, I've been neglecting a certain flower of mine, I think she needs to be taken out for some sunlight, experience the joys around the city of Linkon, and...go ice skating with me, maybe?"

Sky let out a laugh and shook her head at her boyfriend's little antics, "all right...but let's get some breakfast first," she teased upon hearing their stomachs growl.

He nodded and intertwined his fingers with hers as they stepped out of the store and headed toward the cafe they had mentioned about getting breakfast at.

Little flurries brushed past them just as they reached the cafe, they ordered their usual drinks and food and conversed about their many adventures away from each other. Sky talking about the waves of Wanderers, how Rafayel had her running errands with him for his next painting, and Xavier being...Xavier, pouted when Sky mentioned wanting to ask Jeremiah if he'd go ice skating with her. 

To which, Jeremiah could not keep his laughter from spilling as he took a bite of his food. Xavier's jealousy was too obvious, but nothing malicious. It made Jeremiah reach out to take Sky's hand, squeezing it gently. He was a lucky one to be with her, and he would stop at nothing to ensure he would get to be with her for as long as time would allow it.

Jeremiah spoke in dramatics about how some of his flowers were retaliating against him, or conspiring with the flower shop's ghost. In reality, he had stumbled on the hose he had forgotten to gather, which ultimately resulted in him tripping and thus knocking over a few potted plants. 

Despite knowing the fabrications of his story, Sky found it amusing and she couldn't be any more happier hearing about these dangerous adventures in Philos. 

Breakfast ended with the couple hand in hand, stepping out of the cafe and being greeted by the soft bite of the winter air. It had stopped snowing, but the streets were still blanketed by the roofs of the buildings, shops and top of the vendors' stalls. It was truly a winter wonderland.

With their stomachs warm and full, Jeremiah looked left then right as a patch of snow dropped onto his head from the roof of the cafe, causing Sky to laugh as she swiped the flurries from his hair. His eyes filled with warmth as he watched her do so.

"Oh, right...so, I have no idea where the nearest ice rink is—"

"Don't worry, I do!" Sky interrupted and began tugging him to the direction, which he conceded with no resistance whatsoever. 

He always loved seeing how her face lit up when it came to anything she was excited about. Like a sun shining through stormy clouds, giving him the warm rays he never knew he truly needed.

They reach the skating rink, getting their ice skates as they find a spot to don them, setting their shoes to the side where they know to find them when they're done. Jeremiah is confident that it can't be that hard, even though Sky kept warning him.

So when Jeremiah steps onto the ice rink for the first time, his legs are shaking like a newborn deer trying to find its balance. Sky held onto his hand, which he in turn held onto hers like a lifeforce. It garnered a fit of laughter from her, as much as she tried not to laugh at all. 

"Not so bad, right?" Sky teased as she stepped onto the ice rink with ease, guiding the florist's hands to the edge of the skating rink, "hold onto this, it's fine...look, not everyone knows how to skate when it's their first time."

Once the florist got his balance back, he carefully let go of the edge and started to skate with his lover. He watched as others passed by them more than once. A new energy of determination fills him and he tries his luck, tugging Sky along with him as they continue skating around the ring, it was all nice and peaceful...

Until someone accidentally bumped into Jeremiah, causing him to lose his balance and flail about his arms to regain balance to no avail, his hand tightly gripping onto Sky's, taking her down with him but of course, the ever gentleman he is, broke her fall as she landed on him.

He swore he could see birds flying around as his back crashed against the floor of the ice rink, but he let out a laugh when Sky grabbed his face, asking if he was all right. And he was more than alright. 

As he gazed at Sky, he realized the light of his immortal life was right here with him. Ice skating, they never did such things back in Philos. It was new, exciting, and getting to share a moment like this with her was everything. It was simple, yes. But it was theirs. 

He cupped her chin, and cut her off during her flurry of worries as he captured his lips against hers. The kiss was sweet and warm, uncaring of the people around them as his arms moved to wrap around his waist. It felt like an eternity each time he would kiss her, and this time wasn't any different. 

He will do anything to make sure this lasts forever. 

When they break from the kiss, Sky's face is flushed and he couldn't help but stroke his thumb against the hue blossoming on her cheeks. 

"Yeah, I'm more than alright..." As long as I'm with you.

[mamamittens]

hi!! for the spooktober event, i’d like for my oc starbii (non-binary afab, they/them) to be with kuma (priest costume LOL)! starbii would be in a cute angel costume! starbii is short (4’9) and pudgy, has short lavender hair, skin is a peanut butter brown and their eyes are always sleepy/half lidded, black irises! here's their ref for better framework as well haha

starbii gives kuma a fuzzy bucket of white chocolate, twizzlers and blow pops!

kuma drinks a green tea shot and the both of them share Alice in Wonderland, Hot Damn, Brain Hemorrhage, and Starbii drinks a Pink Schnapp!

hope this was descriptive enough! thanks for the opportunity!

Vow of the Heart and Soul (+18)

This ask is part of the Spooktober 2024 Event, for context!

Summary:

Kuma had many years of service to the church in his name. Proud, faithful, and devout. And that is how he intended to live out his time of earth as well. But happenstance leads him bedbound with an unexpected presence at his bedside. A reward for all his years of service or a trial of most unusual temptation?

The promise of a soulmate from the heavens itself.

(Angel!Starbii(OC)/Priest!Kuma)

Warnings: Not entirely sure this would be sanctified by the church, Kuma is a priest and has sex, soul mates, soft sex, praise kink, and size kink (he's not 22 feet tall here, maybe shy of 8--i feared for Starbii if I kept his canon height, ngl).

Word Count: 5,416

Kuma was a devout man of faith, to no one’s surprise. Which is why he didn’t bother committing a sin by lying that his most recent injury was utterly embarrassing.

Honestly, who could take a priest seriously if they tripped while stepping down from the pulpit? The young men were quite helpful in taking him to the hospital in the ambulance, but the mortification still warranted a quick prayer later that evening.

“Alright, Father Kuma, you’re free to go home. But remember, no putting pressure on that foot and… maybe keep the holy spirit in check when going down the stairs.” The doctor quipped with a soft smile. Kuma smiled back, sighing in good humor.

“I find such a thing difficult after a sermon, but I suppose The Good Lord would hardly wish for me to injure myself further in such a manner.” Kuma conceded with a laugh. Bonney huffed, impatiently bouncing on her feet as she gripped the handle of his wheelchair.

He’d leave the hospital with crutches, but it was standard procedure to wheel out patients with injuries such as his.

“Dad—are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you? For just a little?” Bonney asked with a pout, pink hair falling over her shoulder. Most would be surprised his daughter had such an ostentatious hair color, but if The Good Lord saw fit to give her it, he was hard pressed to argue. His blessings often came in strange forms, after all. And should be embraced for the gift they are rather than suppressed or denied.

Not that Kuma really carried about alterations, either.

If tomorrow Bonney wanted ocean blue hair he’d drive—well, maybe not drive in his current condition—to the nearest salon to get her taken care of.

“I am sure, dear. I just need to get settled in. Tomorrow is another, blessed day that the Lord will guide me through as he sees fit.” Kuma smiled.

Bonney huffed but didn’t argue further. Gratefully accepting the staff’s assistance into her van.

“Alright, dad. We’ll drop by with food tomorrow. I think you still have leftovers from dinner last night in the fridge. We can reheat that so you don’t take your next pills on an empty stomach.” Bonney mused, already planning out a schedule to check on him—as to be expected of his doting child.

“That sounds lovely, dear. But you don’t need to worry so much about your old man. I am capable of using crutches to get around. I don’t even have stairs in my home!” Kuma laughed.

“Dad! That’s not the point!” Bonney protested.

True to her word, she reheated the meatloaf and helped Kuma sit at the table. Quietly, he resolved to lessen the burden on his daughter by practicing moving around on his own after she leaves. She watched him like a hawk as he ate and shuffled to the couch to watch his afternoon shows.

Any further sermons postponed until he could walk unaided—just in case.

It was clear by how antsy she was that she was about to run late for her date. But she also didn’t wish to leave his side. Fussing about his blanket as he laid on a mountain of pillows, cast propped up for relief until the pain medication kicked in.

“Go, dear. Have fun on your date. Love is one of The Good Lord’s sweetest gifts we can partake in so freely.” Kuma encouraged, his words melting her. She sighed, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“Alright—I’ll tell ‘em you said ‘hey’!” Bonney smiled, quickly dashing out of the apartment to meet her soulmate.

After so long, Kuma was pleased she had the blessing to meet her other half. The true love of her soul.

Kuma was not quite so fortunate, but The Good Lord would see fit to provide or nor at all. Either way was fine for Kuma, his heart filled with the love of God, community, and family.

The western show continued on, camera casting over a barren landscape as a sheriff of a small, beleaguered town searched for the bandits that had stolen his own soulmate. Normally, the show would have his full attention. But it was a rerun and the day’s events weighed on him deeply. His eyes falling shut as his head lolled to the side.

Eventually, he passed out on the couch.

He awoke gently to the soft touch of someone lifting up his blankets, raising them towards his shoulders from his waist. Tenderly adjusting his pillows and turning off the tv. Assuming it was Bonney, Kuma allowed sleep to claim him again, certain his daughter would tell him all about her date later.

He wasn’t wrong. The bright light of day welcoming his daughter early in the morning as she let herself in.

“Hey, dad! I see you decided to take it easy and sleep on the couch, huh? You could have texted me and I would have come over to help you get to bed!” Bonney chuckled, ruffling his messy curls.

Kuma blinked, allowing her to gently put his glasses on.

“Well, dear, after you already came by I thought it would be intruding to call you again for such a simple matter. Besides, I slept wonderfully. I remember the couch being a touch more uncomfortable but…” Bonney frowned at him in confusion.

“What are you talking about, dad? I stayed the night with my lovely gemstone—did you have a funny dream? I hear some meds do that.” Bonney mused with a thoughtful pout. Kuma frowned, sitting up a little.

“Truly? Well then… that’s odd. I thought someone tucked me in a little while I was sleeping. It felt so real… maybe it was simply the love of God reassuring me in my dreams.” Kuma huffed with a smile, turning away his worries. “Still, I should clean up a little. Did you happen to get the chair? I’m not so proud that I would turn down the assistance to spare you having to help your old man bathe.” Kuma laughed, tossing away the blanket.

“Yeah, I brought it! I’ll go set it up—are you sure you won’t need any help, dad?” She asked kindly, but Kuma shook his head.

“No, dear. I can manage—I just wished to be careful with this cast is all.” He reassured her.

Bonney couldn’t stay long, having work herself, but she did make sure he didn’t injure himself and make breakfast before leaving again with a cheery smile.

It warmed Kuma’s heart to see her so concerned about him, but he was a grown man and still capable of basic care… for the most part.

Kuma flipped through the channels, searching for something to occupy his time. Usually, he was with his congregation at this hour, but he’d been endlessly reassured that they would manage without him until he recovered. The community supportive of his temporary absence for his health. And, apparently, the fact he never took a vacation.

He settled on a nature documentary, pleased to admire the wonders of this world that God had so lovingly crafted. Though not always pleasant, there was beauty to be found everywhere one cared to look. From the deepest reaches of the ocean, to the forgotten corners of the forests. It was… delightful to learn about the creatures he shared this time on earth with, no matter how short.

Despite his best efforts, Kuma began to nod off again. Eyes drifting closed as he leaned heavily against the couch cushions.

He was awoken again by gentle hands readjusting his bedding. Shifting the pillow under his cast to support his foot better. When there was a tug on his glasses he huffed.

“No need, dear. I simply drifted off—” Kuma’s eyes opened and his voice was clipped short in alarm.

It was not Bonney before him.

Soft, round face with rounded stars on their cheeks, heavy lidded, dark eyes with lids tinted a pastel purple. Lighter purple hair curling over one side of their face with the sides buzzed, revealing pointed ears tinted the same color as their eyelids. Skin otherwise a smooth, light brown color. Not quite warmed by the sun like a tan, almost cool in tone. Bubbly pink hair almost exploding over their shoulders, sparkles of light trapped within the curls and shining independently as though plucked from the night sky.

Their dress was strange, a robe of soft pink and purple swirling like watercolors before his eyes, tied around their neck with a gold ribbon and puffing around generous hips. Thick legs cast in pastel gradient stockings with gold bracelets floating around their ankles, matching the ones around their wrists over fingerless gloves that equally matched the stockings. A gold halo emitting light over their head.

They made a small, surprised sound. A thick, fluffy tail whipping behind them. Puffy fur dripping down in a line of pastel purple hues. The main body of the tail darkening to the familiar soft purple on their eyes, a giant pink star on the side the same color as their curly mohawk.

They were strange. Visually and in purpose.

Still, they stared at him in surprise.

“A-Ah, my apologies, Reverend Kuma.” They sighed, letting his glasses go and stepping back. “I’m a little surprised you can see me… though not that surprised, I guess.”

“What are you doing here?” Kuma asked of the stranger. They blinked, tilting their head, halo following the motion cutely.

“I was sent to watch after you, Reverend Kuma. Heaven sent me to ensure a speedy recovery.” They pouted a little, putting their palm on their soft face, robe puffing out before falling down a little lower. The motion rhythmic and familiar—like a jellyfish at sea. “I’m Starbii, your guardian angel. You may use ‘they/them’ to refer to me—gender isn’t really something most angels… get.” They shrugged with a soft smile.

Truthfully, Kuma had few doubts about their nature. Their appearance difficult to fake and… their was an undeniable air about them. Holy in the way a church was in the early morning light. Graced by God in some ephemeral way. Though Kuma had some reservations. Devils, after all, were known to take strange forms to trick men off the righteous path.

Kuma was unsure if they’d be this blatant though.

“I’m a simple man of God, Starbii. I hardly require heavenly assistance to watch over me while I sleep.” Kuma smiled, certain that there would be some obvious temptation eventually if they were lying and truly a demon in disguise. Starbii shrugged.

“Perhaps not, Reverend Kuma. But they sent me anyway. Just in case, I suppose.” Starbii huffed.

“Well then, thank you for watching over me, Guardian Starbii.” Kuma accepted after a moment, watching as they flushed a little with a pleased smile.

“I-I’ll be here when your daughter is not. J-Just so you’re aware. So, if you need something… call for me.” They sighed before disappearing from sight.

And that’s how his week went, more or less. Either Bonney at his side or Starbii’s unmistakable aura of Grace close to him. His foot aching less with every day, the pain meds barely needed after the third day. Kuma suspected Starbii was helping him heal faster, but had yet to comment on it. If they were, he hardly minded.

And the sooner he heals, the sooner he could stop bothering an Angel of the The Lord.

Until one day, things changed.

 Kuma was shuffling from the bathroom, carefully swinging his crutch forward as he turned the corner. The rubber end caught on the rug and, despite normally not moving in such a manner, slipped. Cold sweat breaking out as his body jerked with the sudden motion.

“O-OOH!” Kuma gasped, pitching to the side in alarm.

But a soft weight pressed against his body, keeping him upright. Gentle hands around his chest as myrrh filled his nose. Kuma’s arm wrapping around the body next to him. Soft, giving curves meeting him as he was guided carefully to the couch by Starbii’s firm grasp.

When he was sitting, they pulled away, his hand slipping over their soft fabric and skimming their fingertips.

The instant he made skin contact, bright light bloomed between them. A golden thread binding together their pinkies, floating in loving loops in the air before fading from view.

With wide eyes, Kuma looked to Starbii to find them just as shocked as he was.

“Soul mate?” Starbii asked, eyes wide as they looked down at their hand. The thread of fade shining back into existence under their sharp focus, igniting with holy light to his own hand.

“I-I…” Kuma was speechless, unsure of what to say to his apparent soul mate.

An Angel of God.

“Huh… I didn’t even know I could have a soul mate.” Starbii mused, relaxing and looking to him shyly. “Usually, that’s a human thing, you know? But still, my assignment makes more sense with that in mind, doesn’t it?” they asked.

“…truly? Is this some test of God?” Kuma asked breathlessly, trying to make sense of things.

Truthfully, if Starbii was some demon ready to tempt him from his righteous path, they were doing a poor job of it. Only offering their gentle support when he had need of it. Still, the idea that his soul mate was an angel…

Well, hopefully The Lord would forgive his skepticism.

Soul mates were a gift, after all, and to imply a simple man like him could be gifted such a pure being?

Starbii frowned, brows furrowing.

“I see why you’d ask that. But Father doesn’t really… test like that. Not anymore, at least. Too cruel and… well, what would he even be testing?” Starbii questioned.

“If I am so corrupted I would think to taint an angel, perhaps? Though you have no gender, your form is somewhat feminine. I am not immune to such allure. And you are strikingly beautiful, Guardian Starbii. Perhaps testing if I believe I am worthy enough for an angel, of all things?” Kuma huffed, leaning back onto the couch.

Starbii snorted, shaking their head.

“Soul mates aren’t about ‘worth’, Reverend Kuma. They’re decided upon birth, before you commit any sins to be redeemed for or acts of greatness.” Starbii paused, looking at him fully. “You think I’m beautiful?” they asked, their tail pointedly swaying behind them.

Kuma smiled.

“How could I not? You have looked after me for some time now without any expectation of reward. Kind in your duty even when you could be cold and I would fault you for it none. And your colors are soft. Reassuring, even if you are strangely inhuman—as far as angels go, you could be quite frightening.” Kuma pointed out. “You look… soft. Which is a sweetness I rarely behold after all that I’ve seen.”

They flushed again, pleased and a little startled by his words.

“You flatter me, Reverand Kuma.”

“Just Kuma, please. If we are indeed soul mates in truth, you above anyone else should be permitted to address me by name alone. My title implies a sort of duty—the kind that would not suit such delicate matters of the heart.” Kuma protested softly.

They smiled at him happily.

“K—”

“Hey, dad!” Bonney called out, opening the door. Instantly, Starbii was gone. Bonney holding up boxes of Chinese food. “I brought dinner for a movie night!”

Kuma felt… strangely bereft without his angel present. But in the face of his daughter’s excitement, he silently apologized to Starbii for the interruption and waved his daughter over.

“I see that, dear. Come, you wanted to watch that new sci-fi movie, didn’t you?” Kuma asked gently.

He’d consider the matter of… his soul mate later. Starbii likely needed some time to wrap their head around it as well.

In the meantime, all his attention went to his daughter and her latest movie obsession. She had good taste in movies, but tended to favor ones that make him cry for some reason. Still, the tears were cathartic and this time proved little exception.

The both of them sniffling as the credits rolled, Bonney wiping away her tears as she looked over.

“Oh! Your crutch, it’s all the way over there—you didn’t walk without it, did you?!” Bonney suddenly turned towards Kuma. Sheepishly, he shook his head.

“No, dear, I did not! I… hopped a little. Dropped it and was afraid of falling again, I fear.” Kuma carefully responded, cutting around the unbelievable truth. Bonney smirked at that, poking his side playfully.

“Dad! You gotta be more careful!” She huffed. “So! Are you ready to actually sleep in your bed tonight?” she asked curiously.

Kuma thought for a moment before nodding.

“I think I would. If you could assist me? I can clean up a little and get dressed if you grab my pajamas.” Kuma asked, knowing that Bonney was aware his pajamas were stored in the lowest drawer of his dresser and, therefore, very difficult to access safely at the moment.

Bonney jumped up, retrieving his crutch and helping him stand.

“Can do, dad!” She laughed before zooming off.

Kuma managed to get to and from the bathroom without incident this time. Pleased to find his comfiest pajamas draped on his bed, Bonney waiting by the door and hesitating fretfully.

“I can get dressed on my own, dear. Just give me a moment.” Kuma smiled, kissing her head as he passed in thanks. Bonney huffed, pleased at the affection as she kept her back turned.

It wasn’t a… graceful process by any means. The tank top easiest to put on. But the pants required some finessing and awkward hopping to shed the old pair and pull up the new ones. Still, he managed, and all without falling onto his face.

Well, he face planted into the bed, but no one needed to know that but God and himself.

Bonney assisted him into the bed and affectionately tucked the blankets around him.

“Alright, you comfy, dad?” Bonney asked with an eager smile.

Kuma nodded.

“Indeed, dear. I think I’ll read the bible a little before sleeping. If you could be a dear and turn off the other lights before locking up?” Kuma asked, flicking on his bedside lamp. Bonney smiled wide.

“Of course—night, dad!” she kissed his cheek and closed the door.

Kuma heard her traipse around the house, going from room to room until the front door closed firmly.

Relaxing, Kuma leaned back and sighed.

Starbii…

His strange, stalwart companion was indeed enchanting and sweet. Unconventional as they may be—he’d be lying if he claimed no affection or attraction to them. Still, did he have a right to such feelings? As an Angel, are they not meant to be pure from such human sins as lust? Do he dare voice these feelings and risk tainting them—making them fall for the sin of laying with a human? In some stories, such couplings were deeply frowned upon.

But as his soul mate, doesn’t that imply an exception? Though, admittedly, he knew that not all soul mates were inherently sexual. Many people simply feeling no compulsion for such things. But as his other half—and himself very capable of being swayed by lust—would they not crave such intimacies?

If they even wanted to be by his side in any manner at all. Duty an important burden for anyone—let alone an Angel.

“…Starbii.” Kuma sighed.

A soft weight sank into the bed beside him.

Kuma turned his head to find Starbii leaning on one arm, facing him with a soft look.

“Kuma… so. I did some asking around.” Starbii informed him gently. “It’s rare, apparently, but not impossible. No mistake, either. Father is busy, so I couldn’t ask him personally, but the others agree this was intended all along. My… ‘assignment’ here for your lifetime.” They sighed.

“A-Are you barred from heaven or…?” Starbii shook their head.

“Nah, I can go back home anytime I want. I’m not fallen or cast out or anything. I just… have something to stay for.” Starbii smiled.

“And… this is what you want? To stay with me?” they nodded. “Starbii… I… what is it you want? With me?”

Starbii seemed surprised with his question.

“You mean…? Oh! That…” Starbii looked away for a moment in thought. “I’m not sure… this isn’t really something I’ve thought about before, you know. But… I think I would… like to kiss you. If that’s alright.” They asked, looking back at him shyly.

Kuma’s heart stuttered.

For a moment, old suspicions arose.

About Starbii being a demon in disguise.

But they gazed up at him so earnestly. Keeping their distance until he gave a sign he was willing too.

God, please, give me a sign that this is true. That this truly is a gift you have given me after all these years, Kuma prayed softly.

And, as though summoned by his desperate hope, the golden thread came to life. Casting off a heavenly glow and a rain of stars as it twisted elegantly between them.

Kuma’s eyes followed the delicate thread to Starbii’s pinky finger, reaching out to lift their hand to his lips as he kissed their soft knuckles. So close to their skin, he saw the gloved fabric shifted with a sea of heavenly stars and smiled.

“If you would be willing to bless me with such a thing?” Kuma asked softly.

Starbii’s smile widened as they shifted closer. Kuma’s arm sweeping around their back, pleased at how their soft body felt against his as he pulled them closer. Bending somewhat awkwardly to press their lips together.

It was soft and sweet. Lips like satin as his eyes drifted shut. The two of them moving against each other, drawing out the kiss as their senses fell away. Their tongue flicked out across his lips and he met theirs in turn. Deepening the kiss eagerly, both of them following each other in the downward spiral of passion.

Starbii moaned, shifting to throw a leg over his waist and climb on top of him fully. Pulling away to gasp for air, face flushed with pleasure as they looked down on him as though he held divinity on his tongue. Their dress puffing around their thick waist, revealing much of their soft thighs to his eyes.

“I think… I want more. A lot more.” Starbii informed him softly. Kuma smiled.

“I would be honored.” Kuma sighed, slowly placing his hands on their exposed thighs, stroking their skin above the stockings. They squirmed a little, letting slip a startled moan. “Speak the word and I will stop.” He spoke gently, tipping up his head for another kiss as they leaned down.

Their lips resuming their lost places as Kuma fondled their thick thighs. Despite his generous size compared to them, his hands nearly failed to circle the breadth of their thighs. So small… but not quite fragile. A strength in that softness that left him dizzy with need. So many found his height intimidating—he could scarcely recall a partner that did not find his ‘size’ equally as frightening.

As his tongue swept over theirs, chasing that faint taste of sweetness, his hands gripped their ass under their dress. Warm, silky skin filling his palms as he traced lower between them. Expecting to feel a thin barrier of some kind, he moaned in surprise when his fingers instead brushed across wet folds. Soft curls brushing his fingertips as Starbii moaned, arching their back beautifully, though it broke the kiss they had been sharing.

Their heavy eyes were nearly slits as they teared up, panting, trembling from his touch.

Kuma slipped one hand to the front, curling his hand beneath their pussy and teasing their wet folds. Rubbing their clit and circling their entrance as they panted in shock, hand over their mouth as they trembled. Their pussy sucking in his finger as he carefully teased open their walls. Cunt instantly clenching down on him as they came apart on his hand. Soaking him with a sweet, low cry.

“A-Aahhn~! K-Kuma~!” Starbii moaned out, swaying heavily as they rocked onto his hand. Kuma hummed, a pleased smile on his lips as he let his finger slip in deeper, stroking their pussy in firm rolls of his fingertips.

“What beauty before my eyes…” Kuma breathed out. “More, little angel?” he asked softly. They nodded drunkenly.

“N-Need more i-if I’m going to… mmmmhnnn~!” Starbii whispered softly, rocking their hips harder, letting his hand fuck them.

“It’ll be difficult, my angel. You already came just taking one finger.” Kuma warned softly.

“D-Do—ooooonn’t care~! W-Want you, K-Kuma! Want to f-feel you… deeper~!” They sighed, trembling and clenching down onto him again, dangerously close to cumming. “So big, Kuma—need more~!”

Kuma slipped in a second finger and they gasped, freezing and panting hard for air, eyes wide as they clenched onto the broad stretch. Kuma barely parted his trapped fingers and they keened, cumming onto his hand again with a soft cry. Chuckling, Kuma settled down a little and sighed.

“Think you can take off that dress, angel? You feel so hot—it must be stifling.” Kuma teased. Starbii nodded, still trembling as the grasped the puffy skirt and pulled it over their head with a firm tug, freeing their body for him.

Their body was as soft as the broad curve of their waist, plush and full. Speaking of a life lived gently—begging for his full attention in every fold and curve. But, with his injury, a full appreciation would have to wait. His gaze drifting down to the soft purple curls grinding into his wet palm as they rode into it.

“T-That feels better, thank you.” Starbii sighed, rolling their hips with less urgency now.

“No thanks are needed, little angel. The view alone is enough for me. Does it feel good? Feels good to me, your soft walls clenching onto my fingers. Not too much?” Kuma asked. They shook their head furiously.

“No! More~!” They mewled, and Kuma answered with another thick finger. Their pussy struggling to take it in despite soaking his hand past reason. Kuma gestured into their walls, as though coaxing them closer, and they cried out. “A-AHhhhn~! O-Oh! Oh, Kuma—aaaaahh~!” they trembled, collapsing onto his chest as their hips ground onto his hand still, riding out the high he provided.

Kuma’s body was burning hot now, cock achingly hard and flush with precum.

Still, he rubbed and scissored their soft pussy until their lips parted in a moan against his chest again, trembling violently before falling still. Pussy quivering in soft flutters until they finally relaxed.

“How do you feel, Starbii?” Kuma whispered, leaning down to kiss their curly hair.

They moaned low in their throat for a long moment.

“… so good. C-Can I have more, Kuma?” They asked, looking up at him with teary eyes. “I-Is it time for y-your… can I have your cock?” Kuma’s breath stuttered with shock over the lewd request.

Still, he would rather die than deny his soul mate.

“Yes—would you help free me, little angel?” He asked, kissing their forehead. They mewled, lifting off his hand and tugging the blanket off his body enough to reach his pants. Grasping the band of those and pulling them down until his cock sprang free. Their eyes wide as they stared at the dark member, tip flushed red and spilling beads of precum. “Y-You do not have too—”

Kuma was silenced by a lick of their tongue across his tip before they clambered up his body and settled over his cock. Letting him grind into their soft folds, soaking his thick cock. And Kuma could see it all.

How their pussy was forced open on the thick tip, clit grinding into him with every wet pass. Lips parting on the broad head as their thighs trembled with effort to remain raised. Kuma grasped their waist to assist, tilting their hips to press into their soft pussy. Grinding them onto him as they cried out, clenching over the tip as he struggled to slip inside.

“O-Oh, K-Kuma! G-Give it to me! L-Let me have it—s-so big, I-I—hhhahhhn~!” Starbii moaned as he finally breached their body. As he expected, they came instantly, sensitive pussy clenching onto him as he held them still. Refusing to go any further until their walls relaxed.

When they finally did, Kuma let out the breath he had been holding.

“So precious, little angel. Steadfast in taking me, does it hurt? C-Can you handle more?”

“Yes! Yes, I can—I swear—need more—so g-good—Aaaaahhhnnn~! O-Oh! Oooo~!” Starbii grasped his hands desperately as he lowered them onto his cock in small thrusts. Feeding their pussy his cock in the smallest increments he was capable of without losing all sense and hilting before they were ready.

And Starbii loved every inch of it. Face flush and nearly drooling with pleasure as they struggled to not cum with every bit of progress made.

“I’m astounded by how wonderfully you’re doing, little angel. I had worried it would be too much for you, but look at you. Almost halfway down my cock~ so beautiful and small.” Kuma sighed, lifting them up his cock until only the tip remained. Their tail thumped hard against the bed in protest before he let them slide back down again, watching as their pussy eagerly took every inch with increasing whines until they finally settled onto him fully. Cock hilted entirely within their tight cunt. “…oh. Y-You feel divine~” Kuma breathed out, clenching his eyes shut in an attempt to hold his orgasm at bay. Heart thundering in his chest.

“So… big. Y-You’re so deep, Kuma. W-Wanna move—Can I move?” Starbii asked breathlessly. Kuma swallowed hard and nodded, looking at them as their face lit up with elation. They threw back their hips in a slow roll, grinding his cock into their walls as they swayed. Moaning softly as he devoured the sight of their pussy spread on his cock, lining him with streaks of creamy white.

“Go ahead, little angel. Cum for me. As many times as you want.”

“B-Burns so good. S-So thick, Kuma—gonna c-cum—gonna—a-Ah~! Ah! A-Aaahhhn~!” Starbii threw back their head and squeezed onto his cock hard, cream dripped down his balls as they trembled. Still, Kuma held on, narrowly avoiding cumming himself. Waiting for the moment they finally collapsed onto his chest, coated in sweat and quivering in his eager arms.

“So sweet, little angel. A-Are you ready for me to move?” Kuma asked and they whined sweetly, pressing kisses to his now bared chest. His hands settled onto their ass and he lifted them up slightly. Hips canting into their overstimulated pussy as he fucked them slowly, relishing every hot, tight inch around his cock. Moans drooled onto his skin as they babbled nonsense that made his skin tingle.

The language of angels, perhaps. Undoubtably cries for more and compliments Kuma had no desire to protest against. Not when they made his cock throb with intrigue. His tip grinding against their walls as he steadily inched closer to the edge.

“—ooooo-ma~ k-k—ooo-mahn~! Ah-ah-a-ahhn~! K-oooomahn~!” They slurred, clutching his shoulders weakly as they came on his cock again, this time milking him over the edge. Cum spurting out in thick, harsh bursts as he cried out, head thrown back as his vision whited out. Hands grinding Starbii as far onto his cock as he could as they rode out their pleasure together.

When sense returned, Kuma realized his foot no longer ached.

And his cock was still thick inside their walls. Lips kissing over his chest in happy giggling pecks. Praise whispered drunkenly as he stroked their sweaty back.

“… I take it the experience wasn’t too much, Starbii?” Kuma was compelled to ask softly.

They laughed a little in disbelief, dark eyes looking up at him through wild curls.

“Too much?” They grinned mischievously, throwing back their ass onto his cock. “I can’t wait to go again.”

Kuma, despite his exhaustion, was hard pressed to disagree.

Any thought about their future—how was he going to introduce them to his daughter?!—a distant worry. His only concern seeing the limits of his soul mate in bed.

It was hardly a sin to love your soul mate entirely, after all.

[starshaped-dreamer]

café boy (s.mt)

pairing - seok matthew x fem!reader

genre - coffee shop AU, college AU, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings - reader is a lil stressed, violence (nothing worse than a punch), very minor injuries, protective matthew, suggestive but not graphic at all

w/c - 2743

a/n - happy birthday matthew! a matthew birthday special I love him so much he's climbing my bias list so fast

You'd been coming to this café for so long, but it was becoming harder and harder to convince yourself it was only for the coffee. But how could you ignore the sweet smiles of the barista, who happened to be working every time you went? His soft voice politely taking your order with a grin was a stark contrast to the toned muscles suddenly on display as he makes your cappuccino, and you found yourself subconsciously heading in that direction whenever you finished classes for the day.

The café was noticeably more quiet than usual as you entered that afternoon, and the cute barista was the only one working. You checked your phone to realise it was almost 8pm, and you had been studying for longer than you intended.

The bell at the door sounded as you entered, catching the boys' attention. He was wiping down the counter, but put the cloth away as soon as he noticed your presence. "Hi there," a bright smile donned his face as he greeted you. "You come here often, don't you?"

You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment as you realise he recongises you. "Uh, yeah, you make good coffee." He grins. "Speaking of which, I was going to order one, but I just noticed the time. Caffeine right now would be a crime to my sleep schedule."

He laughs, and you could swear the sound was the sweetest thing you've ever heard. "Lucky for you, I make a pretty good hot chocolate."

You mirror his smile, handing over your card. "Sounds perfect."

You take a seat at your usual table by the window, scrolling on your phone as you wait for the boy to make your drink. He brings it over after a short while, and you smile at the way he's decorated it with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. "Thank you, this is exactly what I needed today."

He grins. "I'm Matthew, by the way. Mind if I sit?" He gestures to the seat across from you.

You smile. "Y/N, and not at all."

He slides into the booth. "So, you're a student here? What on earth are you majoring in to warrant you staying here this late?"

"I'm a business major," you sigh. "My partner completely ditched me on this group assignment and now I'm having to put in twice as much work so I can get a good grade."

"Wow, group assignments really suck. You shouldn't give them any credit for this if you've done it all yourself."

"It's a bit easier said than done. He's a teacher favourite, one that can make or break your reputation with a single sentence. But I'll figure it out eventually. What about you? Are you a student too?"

Matthew's hand rests against his face, listening intently to every word you say. "Yep! It would be pretty silly of me to get an on-campus job if I wasn't. I'm a dance major."

You smile, and the conversation continues naturally, you both talking about anything and everything, even after you've reached the final dregs of your hot chocolate.

~

A couple of days later, you were walking to lunch before you heard someone call your name. You turn around to find Matthew, running towards you, waving his hand in the air. He was wearing jeans and your college's signature hoodie, rather than his striped apron you were so used to seeing him in at the café. The glasses that sat atop his face made your heart race.

"Y/N! Are you heading to lunch?"

You nod. "How about you?"

"Sure am! We should go together." He starts walking ahead of you, and you have to run to catch up to him.

"Where are we going?"

He turns around to face you, walking backwards with a mischievous grin. "It's a surprise. I've been wanting to go here for ages."

You laugh at his excitement; his wonderment at everything was nothing if not refreshing and cute.

You wander just off campus, until you reach a cute storefront of a café. Matthew holds the door open for you, and you gasp as soon as you set foot inside. "A cat café?"

He grins. "None of my other friends wanted to go, so as soon as I saw you on campus I knew you would agree to come."

You smirk. "I don't know if I agreed, it was almost like you dragged me with."

He feigned hurt. "You gave off cat café vibes. I thought it would be more fun as a surprise."

"It was a very nice surprise. Thank you Matthew," you said, and you meant it. You hadn't had a lot of chances to socialise on campus, and you really appreciated his willingness to spend time with you.

~

A couple weeks had passed, and you found yourself getting closer and closer to Matthew. Now you had both met properly, you seemed to find each other everywhere, whether it be studying in the library or eating lunch in the cafeteria. Whenever you both had free time, you'd travel off-campus, finding new and exciting restaurants to try.

Your favourite part though, was the Tuesday night hot chocolates, whenever you'd stay late in the library studying and Matthew was working late. Every week he'd surprise you with a new hot chocolate topping, before sitting down across from you as you both chatted comfortably. It felt good having a friend you could get along with so well.

There was only one problem, however, and that was your stupid group project. You found the workload becoming overwhelming, your late nights in the library becoming even later, and you were starting to lose time for anything else in your life.

There was one particular Tuesday night, a week before your final presentation was due, when you felt like you were at your breaking point. You'd been stuck at your laptop in the library for hours, doing so much but feeling like you were getting nothing done. You were frustrated, at your partner, at how exhausted you were, at everything. The frustration brought tears to your eyes, and you buried your head in your arms, grateful for the lack of people in the building at the late hour.

Suddenly, you felt a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Y/N? Y/N, what's wrong?"

Your head snaps up at the familiar voice, and you meet Matthew's concerned gaze as he crouches beside your chair. "Are you okay?"

You hurriedly turn your head away, embarrassed as you try to wipe away your tears frantically. He grabs your wrist gently to stop you, bringing it back down to the table but not letting go. He strokes the back of your hand softly, giving you a comforting smile. In his other hand, you spot a takeaway coffee cup, which he places on the table next to you. "I brought you your hot chocolate to go, I figured you got held up studying after you didn't show up for a while."

Your eyes widen, almost comically, as you check the time on your laptop. "Shit! Matthew I'm so sorry. It's been-" You don't even notice the stray tears that fall down your face until a hand against your cheek interrupts you. His thumb gently wipes away any trace of tears, before pulling away so he could sit down in the chair next to you.

"You don't have to apologise. Just tell me what's up, hey? Maybe I can help."

Your heart stutters, both at the unexpected physical contact and his kind words. You go to reject his offer, but seeing him so willing to help, and acknowledging just how stressed you were, you swallow, realising that maybe a little help might be exactly what you need. "It's this stupid group project. It's a lot more work to take on than I realised, and my partner still hasn't done anything. I've texted him so many times, I think he's blocked me."

Matthew frowns, and it's the first time you think you've seen him angry. "What an asshole. What do you have left to complete? I've made my fair share of presentations in my time."

"I'm having trouble researching and doing the PowerPoint at the same time while trying to cover all of these topics."

He thinks for a moment, before pulling his own laptop out of his backpack. "How about if you tell me what to look up, I can find some good sources for you and you can put the information into the presentation?"

You nod with a smile. "You're an actual lifesaver, Matthew. I'm so sorry I kept you waiting at the café."

"Hey, I told you that you didn't have to apologise. I'm more than happy to help, especially when you've just been left in the deep end like this. Now drink up, before your hot chocolate goes cold. I put extra care into making this one." He pushes the takeaway cup towards you, before pushing his glasses further up his face.

~ With Matthew's help, the time it took to finish the presentation was more than halved, and you expressed your gratitude as much as possible by paying for lunch that entire week, despite his protests. But D-Day was finally here, and you had to present it to your entire business class. Matthew had waited for you in front of the building your class was in, pressing a cappuccino into your hands, claiming he'd put his 'good luck charm' on it. You accepted it with a grateful grin, feeling extra prepared for your presentation.

But you were nervous, too. You had something extra up your sleeve for this one. You were going to expose your partner for the freeloader he was, giving zero credit to him and notifying your professor he had done nothing to help. Reputation on the line or not, Matthew had helped an incredible amount, and you would be damned if you were going to let that credit go to your partner.

So, as you finished your PowerPoint, you made sure to leave no trace of your partner's name on the final slide, denying he had helped in any way when your professor questioned you about it. You ignored the way your partner's jaw clenched in anger, proud you finally stood up for yourself.

But just when you thought you were in the clear, your heart dropped as you heard your name, muttered angrily as you left your class.

"What the fuck was that, Y/N?" It was your partner, storming towards you angrily.

"I worked tirelessly trying to do twice as much work since you couldn't bother to do anything."

He scoffed. "I have tons of other classes to stay on top of, I though for one group assessment you'd be fine on your own."

You laughed humourlessly. "Wow. I have tons of other classes too, but was more than willing to put in as much effort as I needed to to make this a good presentation. I even texted-"

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, you fell to the ground harshly, scraping your knee as you felt your cheek sting.

He had punched you.

He was going for another swing, too, before another hand came and intercepted it. Matthew was standing in front of you, knuckles white as his hands were clenched tightly into fists. He shoved your partner forward, nothing but anger radiating off him.

"What the fuck, dude?"

"You punched Y/N," his voice was the deepest and most serious you'd ever heard it. "Who the fuck does that? Now I suggest you make your way, and never bother her again, before your fate turns out worse."

He scoffs. "Whatever man. You guys are nuts, overreacting this much. If I'd known she was such a bitch I wouldn't of been partners with her in the first place. I just heard she got good grades." With that he ran away, and you had to reach out for Matthew's wrist to stop him from running after.

At your touch, Matthew crouches to face you, his expression instantly transforming from angry to worried. "Are you okay? I can't believe he'd do something like that."

You nod, smiling. "I'm perfectly fine, thanks to you. Nothing but a few scratches. Looks like I'm buying you lunch for a week again."

Matthew ignores your joke the moment he sees your knee, scratched and bleeding from the fall. "Ouch, Y/N, that looks painful. Are you sure your okay?"

You were touched at his concern as you nodded, upset the situation had forced him to be this serious. "I can hardly feel it."

His face relaxes slightly, but traces of worry remain. "Still, it would be pretty nasty if that was to get infected. We should clean it." He holds his arms out to help you stand. "Come on, I live on campus, not far from here."

~

You couldn't believe it. You found yourself in the apartment of your campus crush from a month ago, someone who you now considered your best friend, if you ignored those lingering feelings.

They were becoming harder to ignore, however, as you watch the way his tongue sticks out slightly as he focuses on gently cleaning your injury, before applying a band-aid. His focus and care made your heart melt.

"There we go. All done," he looks up to meet your eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? I can't believe that bastard would just punch you like that. All over some lost assignment grade he deserved. What kind of asshole-"

You place your hand on his to stop his rambling. "Matthew. I'm fine, I promise. Thank you for protecting me."

He smiles sadly. "I'm just sorry I couldn't be there sooner," he reaches up to cup your cheek, gently stroking the bruised area where you were punched with his thumb. "Your cheek is bruised and everything. Why would he punc-"

You couldn't help it anymore. You leaned forward, connecting your lips with his briefly to get him to stop talking. You pulled away, your cheeks automatically heating as you avoid eye contact. "I-I'm sorr-"

He leaned forward again, reaching up to cup your face with both hands as he kisses you, this time for longer, putting all the unsaid feelings and emotions into the kiss, only pulling away once you'd both run out of breath. You giggle, from shock and joy. He joins in, laughing too, as he presses his forehead against yours. "I really fucking like you Y/N."

You lean forward, pecking him once more. "I really like you too, café boy. I never visited just for the coffee, you know."

He grinned, before suddenly your lips were connected once more, this time with more passion as he went to lift you so you were seated on the kitchen counter, standing in between your legs. The kiss became more and more heated, as you thread your fingers through his hair, his hands on your waist as you both tried to keep as little space as possible between you.

After a while he lifted you again, and you wrapped your legs around him. He carried you, never once breaking the kiss, to his room before shutting the door.

~

You woke to the first rays of sunlight peeking through the blinds, suddenly aware of the warmth that surrounded you. You lay on Matthew's bare chest, his arms wound securely around you as the soft rise and fall of his chest almost lull you back to sleep. He stirs, his arms wrapping tighter around you before you feel a soft kiss pressed against your temple. "Good morning," he mumbled.

You smiled. "Morning."

He shifted so he was facing you, an arm still wrapped around your waist. "How are you feeling? You don't have a concussion, right?"

You grin mischievously. "Hmm, I'm not sure. What exactly happened yesterday?"

He gasped jokingly. "Maybe this will jog your memory." He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, pulling you ever so close.

You both smile as he pulls away. "Oh of course, I remember now."

He chuckles as you resume your position laying on his chest. "I've wanted this for so long, Y/N."

You lean up to kiss his cheek, which turn pink at your gesture. "So have I. Thank you for everything Matthew."

And every word of it was true. Ever since you met him, no person had made you feel so comfortable. And you hoped that would stay the same for a long time.

[materassassino]

2, 12, and 17 for the asks?

2. your regular café order

I don't actually go to cafés that much? I don't drink hot drinks often enough to warrant it, if I go out for food it's for an actual meal. It's usually a Coke (or at least it was, but now I try and find something else unless there really isn't anything else), I guess? I will occasionally partake in a hot chocolate if it's very cold. But I don't go out of my way to go to cafés, tbh. What's the point? What on Earth does a café have that home doesn't?

12. a thing you know you should not taste but you are still curious about

hnnnnnnnnnnnnnn uranium. Gimme the spicy rock.

17. favourite street food

Kothu parotta is fucking incredible. Phenomenal stuff, thank you Sri Lanka.

(I do hate eating outside though, especially when there's no tables to sit at. I refuse to hunch like an idiot without a table.)

Random Ask Game

[storeecbrcod]

Traces of Turmoil (Pt 1)

Ghost x Reader fic

You never understood what you did to warrant his coldness.

You weren’t sure if you had said the wrong thing, had looked at him the wrong way, or even if it was just your presence that had him up in arms. The eyes of his mask bore into you every time he would stare, dark eyes somehow so stark. Every time you even attempted more than a glance, he would turn and walk away. He would blatantly ignore you.

The skull that rested on his face over the black balaclava didn’t help, either; you couldn’t read him. You had no reference for how he was feeling, ever. It always sent a shiver up your spine, the eeriness he held. It scared others, but it was intriguing to you.

It wasn’t until you saw him staring off into space at the meeting room table that you noticed how much his eyes spoke for him. He was totally still, barely breathing, giving nothing away, but you could see his struggle in his eyes. The way his pupils were blown, emotion mixed in the brown of his iris, from a calm riverbed to a stirred flood, muddy and violent.

It took you a moment of silent staring as you tried to decide your next move: Should I stay here, let him work it out? Or should I go over there? Would he want that?

Your thoughts fought for a moment until your hand came down on the table, a bit harder than you intended. The resounding crack jolted Ghost from his thoughts, making him blink rapidly and look at you. You were still staring.

Whoops.

His turbulent eyes stared back, and you noticed each emotion that flashed through them. Distance, panic, confusion, relief, and anger.

Oh, the anger.

“What are you looking at, soldier?” he said gruffly, holding your gaze with his own. It made you fidget uncomfortably, but you were unable to look away.

“Sorry, lieutenant. Just making sure you’re ok,” you mutter, wanting to look away but feeling like if you did, he would leap across the table and strangle you. The anger was intense.

“I’m fine,” he growled, his voice and body steady and stern to tell you, but you could see his eyes. There was fury, of course, but there was the flash of another emotion you had never seen him exhibit before.

No, surely not. Not Ghost.

Silence stretched on uncomfortably as you two sat in the room, a staring contest neither of you liked but wouldn’t submit to. You, however, continued to squirm under his gaze, playing with your fingers anxiously.

Ghost sighed, finally breaking eye contact. You let out a small breath you didn’t realise you were holding as you looked away, too. It took a moment, but his voice surprised you.

“Do you experience memories of old missions, [Name]?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he was merely asking the weather. Your eyes flicked back to him, trying to read his face. There it was, that emotion again. It made you swallow thickly around your anxiety.

“Well, yes, sir. I guess I do,” you replied cautiously, your words steady but your tone unsure. He didn’t look back at you.

“Yes, well, I assume it’s quite common with our work,” he replied again.

Fear. That’s what the emotion was, fear. It made your breath hitch.

Ever since then, you’ve had this odd ability to read his eyes, see everything he felt, everything he thought, just by how the light hit his eyes and how it toiled in his irises. No matter where he was, in the sun or in near pitch dark, you could read him so thoroughly.

Calm, earthlike for contentness. Swirling, hot chocolate for thoughtfulness. Warm, buttery for mirth.

Muddy, thick for sadness or guilt or regret. Rough and uneasy for concern. Stormy and battered for fear.

You only ever saw his eyes turn bruised in fear occasionally, often when he dissociated. You also noticed that nobody, not Soap, nor Price, nor Gaz ever paid attention to his eyes. Nobody bothered to even try to read him, just assumed that Ghost would approach them with a problem if he had one, speak up. And usually, he did, when it concerned their mission or objective. He often suffered in silence, whether by his own volition or being trapped inside his own head.

So, you made it a point to acknowledge the brown specks in his eyes when they changed like the wind. A glance of reassurance, or of concern. It was often met by blank stares or surprise that made him look away, but as time went on, he became tolerant of your silent questions. Are you ok?

You never missed the opportunity, always finding a discreet moment to throw the question his way. Are you ok?

Over weeks and months of the question going unanswered, you noticed small changes in his demeanour every time you asked.

Are you ok?

A twitch of the eyelid as he looked away.

Are you ok?

A slow blink.

Are you ok?

A deliberate tap of his fingers.

Are you ok?

A small nod.

Every time you asked, it was the same dismissive answer; Yes, fine. You never fully believed it, but didn’t push him further. His trust to react to you, to not be given the cold shoulder like he used to, it was precious to you. You felt like you were somehow working towards helping him in a way he hadn’t received from the others.

“[Name], you’re staring,” his deep voice rumbled from his chest, jerking you from your thoughts, realising your gaze was drilling into him as you sat near his desk where he worked. His eyes were looking into yours; calm, earthy. Content.

“Ah, sorry sir,” you replied quickly, a small smile on your face as you rubbed the nape of your neck awkwardly. You hated it when you were caught staring, as it grew more often the further he opened up. He didn’t tell you much, but his eyes said enough to make you feel like you held something special, something not many did.

“Why do you stare so often?” he asked suddenly. You baulked, not quite knowing how to respond. You decided truth was the only way, instead of some dumb excuse he absolutely wouldn’t believe.

“I don’t mean to. I just don’t want to miss anything,” you admitted, the embarrassed smile still perking your lips. The muscles around one of his eyes moved and you knew he had raised an eyebrow.

“Miss something?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

You sighed, realising the half-hearted lie may have been a better choice. “I don’t wanna… miss anything you say, with your eyes. It’s weird, I know.”

You had never actually admitted to how you knew how he was feeling so thoroughly, and it felt odd to admit. His eyes pinned you to the chair you sat in, and you looked to the table with shame. You weren’t sure why, but you felt like you had been caught watching something not meant for you.

He stayed quiet for a long while, his gaze unwavering. You didn’t look to see what he was feeling, it was wrong. It was such an intimate thing, and you had grown to do it without his permission out of habit. A habit to look past his strict boundaries. Guilt roared in your ears.

“[Name], look at me.”

His words were simple, but soft. They were so unlike his normally cold tone and it made your heart jump. You looked up slowly, aching for a specific turmoil in his eyes, one you had never seen before, one you only imagined. And when he stared back at you, you found it, making your heart leap.

Soft, smooth like cold dark chocolate or black coffee.

Care. Acceptance.

Love.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[kyuohki]

I haven't really needed a winter coat in a long while; it still feels strange to go out in just a hoodie in what should be a 'winter' month.

September used to be the start of colder weather. The start of the Fair "season," where you had to make sure you took a rain coat with you when you went bc it was highly likely that it would be overcast and threatening overhead. You'd regularly have to duck into the barns or pavilions to wait out the showers that would pass by.

Now, you dress for the heat as if it was still late July or early August. You bring extra water with you bc the fountains are suspect and buying them at the restaurants is nearly as bad as movie concessions.

October you had to bundle up for going trick-or-treating (at most you might just need an umbrella now); frost started this month, about midway. I remember in grade school having a competition w/ a neighbor kid on who could be out early enough to break the thin ice that had formed on the puddles during the night while we waited for the bus.

This is now what September used to be, but with less rain. The anchors on the news are giddy with delight after the weather anchor explains that the next few days are gonna be in the upper 70s, despite having just done a piece on how climate change is causing worse and worse droughts every year.

November was when you really started to bundle up. Frost every morning so I went out help scrape off the car bc the district thought certain middle and high schoolers lived too close to the campus to warrant a dedicated bus. There'd be a lot of very *cold* rain; sometimes it would come down and freeze in a layer over everything. The cherry trees in our yard were absolutely beautiful one year, the ice thick and glittering over every limb.

And you guessed it! This month is barely a memory of October. Rainfall varies, but still less than normal. The anchors still cheer when the rain is set to go away. At most, there are warnings for the passes in the mountains, and every year there are less people who know how to drive in the snowy weather up there, or even own chains to help them get through.

December used to be when snow was more likely in the lowlands; walking home from school was a cold trek, but the house was warm and filled with delicious treats for the holidays. Mom made a huge effort on her days off to make sure us kids had cookies and pies and hot chocolate or tea waiting for us after school. She also worked at a wreath company and when she got home, she would give me a big, chilly hug, and the wonderful smell of pine and cedar clung to her with the sharp cold air.

Now we are lucky if it rains or storms in the lowlands. It's colder, but I can count on one hand how many times I've needed an actual winter coat in the last four years.

I thrive in cold weather, so losing it is like losing a piece of myself. And it's heart wrenching to know that I've forgotten what the smell and feel of snow is.

it is november, and yesterday it felt like it was supposed to be snowing. in boston, november used a winter month, not a fall month. it is supposed to be chilly; rarely capping over 45F. it is a sweater-and-jacket month. it is a "maybe a scarf too" month. in my childhood, november meant blizzards and sleet.

it did not snow. tomorrow the weather predicts a high of 76.

i have spent so many years of my life studying the longterm possibilities of climate change - the culmination of capitalism wreaking havoc on the bodies of people, animals, plants - but every so often i am still shocked by something small and personal.

in a hundred years, when someone goes outside in boston - will they know the feeling of "snow in the air"?

i know it's a learned feeling, a sensation that maybe only longterm experience can teach. a few years ago, i was walking with my friend who had just moved up from the south. i said it smells like snow and she gave me this look like - what the fuck. i said it feels like snow too, which didn't help. she looked up to the bright blue sky and then back at me and then back at the sky. 12 hours later, we had 3 inches. you can just tell if it's going to snow.

except i can't tell, anymore. i stand outside in a tee shirt and watch my dog dance around a lake. we're in a drought and the skin of the water has peeled back twenty meters. the lake is tamed, quiet, puddlelike and sour. my pokemon go app warns there's a weather condition in my area.

my dog gets too hot from running and sits in the water and i want to laugh about his long frame and how awkwardly he sits - and i can't. some simian part of my brain is scratching the walls. it was supposed to snow. it was supposed to snow, but now it's warm instead.

during the last full solar eclipse, the dogs and the birds and the crickets went crazy under utter darkness. we laughed at them then, promising it will all be okay in a moment. but some part of me is still locked in that long night: some animal sensation.

something is wrong, my body says. i can't afford eggs or rent. i go outside to watch a sunset and listen to birdsong. i don't bring a jacket. allergies are killing me this season, allergies i didn't have as a kid. everyone comments that halloween has started to feel strange, offkilter. that it's hard having "holiday cheer." my body thinks it's april, and then it thinks we're in september, and then june.

something is terribly wrong, she whispers. go outside. it is supposed to be snowing.

[mysteria157]

Chapter 6

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~6.5k

CW: Profanity, one instance of vomiting

Summary: You catch subtle glimpses of another side of Nanami. You both come together to meet the life you have created together. A traumatic part of your life makes itself known.

Notes: Hi! Thank you all for taking the time to read. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 I hope you enjoy reading!

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It Had To Be You Masterlist

Divider: @cafekitsune

It was rare to see Omelia look guilty about anything.

It wasn’t as if she was too proud to admit when she was wrong. She was just…rarely wrong. Maybe it was her upbringing; her parents never sugarcoated anything, and it was probably being in that environment that gave her the ability to see through others. She was hard around the edges, intimidating in every way and had no sympathy of manipulation of any sort. It kept the ones who were less than worthy away.

But even though it was rare for her, she knew she was in trouble the minute she saw your face two weeks later at work. You didn’t dull your burning glare as she shuffled into your office, a Tupperware bowl clasped between two smooth chocolate brown hands.

“I made you something.” Her words were hesitant, the natural raspy edge to them not as cutting as usual. You didn’t offer her a response as she set the container down on your desk in front of you, the sides sweating as the heat from the plastic radiated to your clutched hands next to it.

“A Nigerian special, Okazi soup. It helps with nausea and all the women in my family swear by it. Mama says congratulations by the way, she’ll call this week.”

You pursed your lips, sliding your eyes from her and down to the container of hot soup. Okazi soup was a common delicacy in Nigeria but the ingredients hard to find. Her extended family would ship Nigerian goods every month, just to make them feel closer home and even continued to do so for Ome after her parents had long since moved back to her homeland.

You tried hard to ignore the way your mouth watered as the rich smell of the soup hit your nose just from cracking the lid. The meal was easy to make, and constantly used by expectant mothers to help soothe nausea in the early stages of pregnancy.

And God did you need it.

In only two weeks since coming back home from Yoyogi, you were all too aware that another being was inside of you, growing and taking root in almost every aspect of your life. The fatigue was overwhelming, an overall exhaustion that hit you at random intervals during the day. And while the nausea was less frequent, when it did come, it was intense, and had you hunched over the toilet for what felt like hours.

You snapped the lid shut, cursing inwardly at being distracted, and sneered up at her instead. She sagged in defeat, sliding herself into the chair in front of you. Her thick kinky locks were pulled up into a high bun, her edges pristine and smoothed to perfection, silver eyes devoid of the typical sharp look you had grown used to, discomfort present instead.

“I don’t want you to be pissed at me, but I wanted to help.” You opened your mouth to protest, heat simmering at the edge of your tongue and ready to lash out at her. “Besides…he called me.”

That made you pause, your small hands curling around the Tupperware, skin getting clammy from the condensation.

“The fucker went out of his way to find my number from Gojo.”

That made you gape at her for an entirely different reason. You narrowed your gaze at her, a shocked smirk curling along the edge of your mouth.

“Why does Satoru Gojo have your number?”

“Not sure how that’s relevant right now.”

You had so many questions.

As far as you were concerned—or at least from what you had noticed—Ome had spent most of her time around Gojo insulting him with a severity that should have warranted a call from HR. In what realm would she have willingly given him a route to bothering her more?

You didn’t get to think about it more as Ome sat up in her seat, her curvy features exaggerating through her black jumpsuit. She pointed a white painted manicured finger your way.

“The point is, I was ready to cuss him out for you. I knew how hurt you were, and I had it all queued up and ready to go. But he was in shambles, y/n. He had been trying to reach you for a whole week and I...well I felt bad.”

You couldn’t really be mad at her. It was a shock to see Nanami at your uncle’s doorstep that night, but his behavior was more than enough evidence to make you realize just how distraught he must have been. You weren’t going to ignore him the entire pregnancy, but a few more days escaping reality would have been nice.

Your contact with Nanami since then was more frequent. He texted every day and always with a simple question:

How are you feeling today?

The first time it happened, your heart had jumped so fiercely in your chest you were convinced it would stop entirely. Just one question that made you wish your relationship was better. You always responded, keeping your replies simple and not too desperate. You were still mildly upset with him and you didn’t intend to give in and roll over so quickly…even if you had done so without hesitation that night weeks ago.

This morning’s text had informed you of his impending arrival to your office. A few associates from the Tokyo branch would be in Sendai for a few days to discuss upcoming projects and to flesh out more material with the one you had refused to mentally acknowledge your ‘demotion’ from. He would be staying in a hotel in the city for a few more days so that he could be present for your eight week checkup.

“Are you listening to me?”

Ome’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, your hands flexing around the warm plastic once more to ground yourself in the present. Her arms were crossed over her chest, demeanor annoyed.

“No, I wasn’t.”

She rolled her eyes in reply.

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry if I upset you. The impending duties of auntie have made me soft.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your face, her words filling your heart with a warmth you weren’t expecting. You hated how right she was. Accepting and allowing him to be present during your pregnancy was the smart move. As frustrated as you were with him, there was no doubt that you knew he could support you in whatever way you would allow.

You were happy to see Gojo and Yuji amongst the small crowd of Tokyo associates who arrived with Yaga and Nanami an hour later in one of the office’s larger conference rooms. Yuji didn’t hesitate for a second longer when he saw you, pulling you into a gentle hug that had you melting affectionately against him.

“Yuji, honey it’s only been a few weeks,” you teased, rubbing his back softly.

He was truly the softest man you had ever met, full of mirth and a thirst for the world that you hadn’t expected for someone so young. Yuji was naturally sweet and kind to everyone he met, but he seemed to gravitate around you and Nanami more than others. Why, you would never know. But you didn’t mind, his golden retriever personality always made you dote over him in a way that always made him blush.

Jin pulled him away from you, offering a reassuring smile before ushering his son back to the large table where everyone was slowly convening.

The more the words around you shifted from everyday conversation to detailed intricacies of the project you should have been on, you shrunk into yourself, ignoring the twinge of jealousy in your chest. You hung on one side of the room, content to people watch and listen to Ome speak about her last two weeks in Nigeria.

You tried to ignore the foreign twist in your chest as you watched Nanami pull from Jin and Yaga to walk your way. His black Chelsea boots looked expensive as hell, crisp grey slacks clung to long legs, a black long sleeve shirt tucked in to accentuate his trim waist, the fabric pulling slightly across a broad chest you hadn’t seen in a while. He was wearing his signature glasses, his hair parted in its usual style, thick and combed neatly.

Looking this good had to be a sin.

In the midst of your ogling, you didn’t notice the tall coffee container in his large hands. His posture was stiff, shoulders straight and unmoving as he swallowed and slowly offered you the container, a silver Cartier watch peeking under his cuff. The movement pushed that familiar scent of his cologne up your nose, your mouth pooling with saliva and definitely not from morning sickness.

“Ginger tea…it helps with nausea. You said that’s been bothering you the most lately.”

You took the tea from him, offering a gentle thanks before taking a small sip. You were already a fan of ginger tea, practically chugging it whenever you could get a chance since the nausea set in, but the delicious hint of cardamom and cinnamon on your tongue made you smile, your stomach settling as the liquid slid down into your belly.

Ome was surprisingly quiet from next to you, her eyes flickering from your back to Nanami, analyzing as usual.

She didn’t get to open her mouth before Gojo made his presence known.

“Y/n, you’re here!” He pulled you into a hug, his tall form hunched over to accommodate for your size. While Nanami’s smell was always overwhelming to you it never made you recoil. It was domineering, encapsulating your limbs in heat. But that washed away instantly when the thick scent of Gojo and whatever cologne he had on shoved itself up your nostrils. It was pungent, scraping down the back of your throat and made your eyes sting. The nausea was instant, squeezing your stomach to the point of pain.

You pushed him away playfully, patting his shoulder to cover up your discomfort. He didn’t seem to notice, his attention immediately on Omelia, bright blue eyes shining before he threw her a set of pearly whites.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say?!”

“No, I won’t get lunch with you. Yes, this is a new outfit and I know that I look great. And no, I won’t sit next to you.”

Gojo gaped down at her, his cheeks coloring as he fumbled for a rebuttal.

“You don’t play fair!”

He sounded like a child, voice whiney and tilted, but his eyes filled with excitement of the thrill Ome brought to him.

“It’s crazy that you think I’m playing.”

The nausea didn’t abate throughout the entire meeting, the sour tinge of bile sat at the back of your throat, simmering and threatening to embarrass you in front of everyone if you suddenly excused yourself. You chugged the entire container of ginger tea, ignoring the burn in your mouth as you mentally begged for relief. Your usual place next to Jin had been filled with someone else, another marketing specialist from Tokyo who’s name you didn’t care to learn. You wanted to be more angry, but the churning in your stomach was making it hard to think about anything else. By the time the meeting was over, you were the first out of the door, walking briskly to the first unisex bathroom you could find before throwing up the lid of the toilet and emptying the contents of your stomach.

You didn’t know how long you were there, the buzzing of your phone of what was probably texts from Ome had stopped a while ago but a hand on your back made you jump, a squeak leaving your lips as you whipped your head to the side to find Nanami kneeling next to you.

You scrambled for the toilet handle, flushing quickly and avoiding his gaze as the embarrassment made your cheeks heat instantly. There was no question that you were vulnerable, not expecting to ever be in this situation with him, the last thing you ever wanted was for him to see you like this.

The urge to get up and run away was quickly replaced with another bout of nausea, snapping up your throat and into the toilet once more.

He didn’t speak, didn’t pull away in disgust, but simply kept his hand on your back, warmth sliding down your clothed skin as he rubbed softly. What felt like hours were only a few minutes before your stomach had settled, a dull ache ebbing enough to make you sit up and flush, a shaky breath leaving your lungs. You felt him shuffle next to you, his knees pressed to the tiled floor before your eyes caught his unoccupied hand sliding a wet nap in your direction. You wiped your mouth in silence, watching as he tucked the small package into your purse before zipping it closed.

“Gojo?” It was a simple question that he already knew the answer to, his low voice gentle as it coaxed your attention.

“His cologne is too strong. It’s unnecessary to douse himself in that shit.”

He gave a noncommittal noise, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing your back. There was no need for him to keep going, but you weren’t going to turn away the feel of his hands soothing your tense muscles, massaging away small knots of tension.

“Most of what Gojo does is unnecessary.” The small chuckle that left your mouth from his words caught you off guard, the sound raspy and thick. “Let Omelia know, I’m sure she won’t mind having another reason to abuse him.”

Your shoulders shook from another quick burst of laughter you tried to keep in your throat. It felt odd, being with him in this moment, something as mundane as soothing a partner through morning sickness and then trying to make a joke instead of glaring and snarling at each other. You couldn’t figure out if you loved it or not.

He pulled himself up onto his feet, the hand on your back sliding along your body and away from your form until he was reaching it out for you to take. You hesitated, your mind flashing from the last time that gesture was thrown at you, drunk in a cold alley and filled with an anger that was laced thickly with lust. But as quickly the memory came, it left and you took his hand, your small one fitting seamlessly with his much larger one, letting him pull you slowly to your feet. You washed your hands in silence, your back to him that could feel the heat of his gaze on you.

“You didn’t have to come in here. I’m sure even a refined man like you can’t stand the sight and smell of vomit.”

He didn’t respond immediately as you dried your hands, choosing instead to reach for the container that was perched on the edge of one of the spare sinks next to you. He was invading your space again in a way you didn’t hate, looming and overwhelming, broad shoulders eclipsing the luminescent lights of the small bathroom you were both crowded in. Your eyes stayed locked with his as he reached for your hands and wrapped them around the container, the heat from the drink seeping into your palms.

“You shouldn’t say things that do not make sense.” Brown eyes studied yours, searching for something that you couldn’t place before he pulled away and dropped his hands from yours. “9am tomorrow for your checkup?” You nodded, your tongue too dry to move and form words. “I’ll see you then.”

You watched him leave, the bathroom door closing shut behind him and throwing silence around you as you clutched the container tighter, bringing it to your lips and letting the freshly brewed ginger tea soothe your stomach.

***

The cooing of the baby next to you helped settle your nerves as you sat stiff in the waiting room of your gynecology clinic. Her blue eyes were large, shining at you as she sucked a chubby fist into her mouth, gurgling around the skin. Her mother stroked her cheek, shooting you a kind smile before turning back to her phone.

“She’s pretty.” Nanami’s voice whispered next to you, settling you slightly as he looked at the baby. “You’re also trembling.”

“I’m nervous. What if it’s not healthy? Or if there is something wrong? What if I haven’t been eating the right things this whole time and it’s development is—”

“Y/n.” Voice a little firmer, sliding down your skin and pulling at the parts that wouldn’t sit still. “What are we here for today?”

“A general exam; blood test to analyze Rh status, blood sugar tests, genetic carrier test, my due date—”

He slid a familiar metal container to you—peach tea this time with a hint of lemon—before cutting off your ramblings.

“All of your worries can’t be worries until you actually do the tests to validate anything.” You glared at him, trying your best to convey how annoyed you were at his curt response, no matter how correct he may have been. You took a sip of the tea, ignoring the way it soothed the dull ache in your stomach. “Stop glaring, you’re scaring the children.”

The one good thing you could thank your mother for was getting one of the best female OB-GYNs in Japan who was a woman of color. It was common for people like you to have their pain overlooked and you intended to keep your physician throughout the entire pregnancy.

Dr. Reynolds talked you through every step of your appointment, answering your questions as she drew blood, updated your medical history, and helped you into a gown for your ultrasound. Nanami was surprisingly engaged, asking about just as many questions as you, revealing his own anxiety in his actions as his eyes watched Dr. Reynolds prepare the ultrasound machine. It was always jarring to see him without his glasses, but it helped your own anxiety to watch the emotions on his face without a barrier.

“Everything looks good so far. It’s far too early to see anything too detailed, the baby is about the size of a raspberry.” The words made your heart flurry with excitement, something so small was just right there inside of you, warm and safe.

You were already filled with a sense of joy as you watched the black and white image of your baby ebb and flow on the ultrasound, but the minute Dr. Reynolds flipped a small switch on the machine and the loud ‘whooshing’ and ‘thumping’ fell on your ears, time stood still. You knew that this part was coming, but to actually be present in the moment, your eyes instantly stung, flooding with tears so quickly you didn’t have time to wish them away before they fell from your lashes.

“Perfectly healthy.” Dr. Reynold’s soft voice cut through the loud noise in the room, her eyes falling on you, but you were too distracted to pay attention.

The loud sound of a swallow next to you made you turn to look at Nanami, holding back a gasp as you took in his expression. His eyes were locked on the machine, a sheen over them that had you mystified, eyebrows pinched and lips cast into a gentle smile that you had never seen before. He felt your gaze, turning to look at you and smiling a little more. His hand itched to grab yours, wanting so desperately to feel your skin on his to tether him in this moment he never expected to be in any time soon.

“July 15th. Seems so far away but I’m sure it’ll fly by.” You were musing quietly, your eyes locked on the small ultrasound copy in your hands as you both walked down the sidewalk from the clinic. The air was warmer than usual, the wind still and not adding a chill. Even if it was, the warmth in your chest as you stared at the picture was more than enough to keep you distracted.

“My birthday is on the 3rd…I wouldn’t mind sharing it.” He was teasing, trying his best to seem calm and smooth but there was no denying the unbridled happiness radiating from him. You both stopped outside of your car, quiet but not in awkward silence. “Have you told your family yet?”

Nanami’s question soured your mood immediately. You weren’t mad at him, but the thought of your mother at this exact moment had your stomach churning in a way that was making you antsy. Of course, you hadn’t told her. Besides Rory, no one else in your family knew. Your father was long gone, and your mother had cut off all contact with his side of the family before you could walk. Christmas was only a few days away and even though you wanted her to have no part of your pregnancy, telling her was the least you could do.

“No I haven’t. It’s just my mom but…well I guess I can tell her for Christmas. Could be a good present for her.”

He could hear the bitterness in your voice. “Would you like me to be there—”

“No.” You answered him too quickly, biting the inside of your cheek at how sharply you sounded. You kept your gaze on the ultrasound, using the sight of your child to hold you steady. “You should tell your family, if you haven’t already.”

“I planned to do the same during the holidays as well. Would you like to join us? I’m sure they would want to meet you and—”

“No.” You cut him off again, ignoring the prickle in your eyes at the kindness in his voice. You covered your façade with an airy chuckle and looked up at him. “My mom has this whole thing planned so…no need. I’m sure I can meet them another time.”

He was quiet again as he took in your lie, looking down at you with that steely gaze you were slowly beginning to familiarize yourself with. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he pulled out his phone from his pocket, averting his gaze for only a second to type a message. You felt your own phone buzz in your pocket and pulled it out to see an address from him, a random set of numbers in Nakameguro, just a half hour from Rory’s.

“In case you change your mind.”

You did eventually end up changing your mind almost as soon as you slammed the front door of your house a few days later.

The fact that you even needed to call your mom to make sure she didn’t have plans should have been more than enough to realize the visit wouldn’t go well. She was as indifferent on the phone as she was in person when you walked into her too large house. A little taller than you, skin a light brown and loose curls like yours pulled up into a high bun, your mother always carried an air to her that was arrogant, unnecessarily rude, and petulant in a way that drove you nuts.

Her face was always without blemish, making her look young even though she was well into her fifties. Even by herself in her large house in a rich neighborhood of Sendai, she wore a silk blouse and pressed pants as she looked down at you at her front door before walking into her house without another word.

Growing up she was far from loving, only praising you when you did things correctly—getting good grades, becoming captain of the debate team, accepting the offer from the best university in the city even though you wanted desperately to go to Tokyo instead. You were raised to do things she thought were the best for you—what to wear, what to say, what to think—you held no other value if you weren’t at the top of the ladder at your job. Because in her eyes, success was equivalent to status, and status attracted a rich husband in a rich city in Japan that would grant children of a high pedigree.

There was no Christmas tree in her white living room, the couch was starched and stiff, the floor tiled with marble, the walls littered only with your certificates and diplomas, there wasn’t a trace of your actual face in the stale and cold home.

When she did speak, it was only to ask about work and your projects, not about you or Omelia or how things were going. You were uncomfortable and angry, but you knew you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t tell her that she would be a grandmother.

So, when the words did leave your mouth over a quiet and uncomfortable dinner at a table made for ten, she offered no response, her eyes on her steak, a brow lifted.

“How? I thought you were on birth control.”

You sighed beneath your breath, setting down your fork, your appetite immediately gone.

“Mom. It just happened, okay? I’m eight weeks and I just…thought you would want to know.”

She shook off a dismissive noise, her eyes still not looking up at you. The room felt impossibly icy, making your skin feel taut and ready to break.

“Who is the father?”

“He’s a director. He’s nice.”

“I’m sure he’s nice but does he make money? Can he provide for you?” You threw a glare in her direction. She knew damn well you were more than capable of providing for yourself. At your gaze, she sighed, shaking her head admonishingly before opening her mouth hesitantly. “Is…he white?”

You felt the blood leave your face, the shock evident in your expression. It was usually a common question in black households when it came to relationships, but it was never with malice. You knew the bias in the world and the behavior to watch out for when it came to others outside of your race. That was always a given for being black and it taught you to see through the façade of what society threw at you just for breathing.

But the tone in which she spoke, almost as if she felt someone of another race was inferior of you and the family, was enough to make your stomach curl with nausea that for once wasn’t related to the baby inside of you.

“Why does that matter!” Your voice was rising, ignoring the fire that flashed in her eyes from your tone. “I’ve always known what to look out for, Mom. But I never thought you would actually care that your grandchild would be mixed with something else!”

“Watch who you’re talking to!” Her silverware dropped onto the china plate in front of her, familiar brown eyes glaring at you. “You’ve gotten this far in your life, y/n. A good job, an education, a modest house. How could you be careless enough to go and get pregnant?! Especially without a ring?!”

You shook out a miserable laugh, disbelief filling your blood. You wanted her to be a little more accepting, you thought the prospect of being a grandmother would be enough to make her a little less cold.

How incredibly wrong you were. You should have known better. You did know better, but you held onto some modicum of hope.

You stood up abruptly, pushing in your chair.

“I’m leaving. I don’t have any other reason to be here, you’ve said enough. Merry Christmas, Mom.”

You were glad you chose to see your mother on Christmas Eve on the chance she would ruin your entire holiday. Rory was quick to offer you his home a phone call later and in less than an hour you were on a train back to Yoyogi, your vision swimming with tears that you desperately tried to ignore.

Your hand hovered over Nanami’s contact, thumb wavering before you pressed the button. He answered two rings later.

“Are you alright?”

The concern in his voice made your heart give a dramatic thump, your teeth digging in your lip as you pushed away the butterflies in your throat.

“Is that offer to see you and your family still on the table?”

“Without question.”

When you smoothed down your forest green long sleeve dress with one hand at his parent’s doorstep the next day, you were more anxious than you had been in a while. You had taken such a drastic jump in only a few short weeks. The man you had thought to loathe was slowly worming himself into your life in a way outside of your control and you were already meeting his parents. Granted it was only due to the life inside of you, after all you two weren’t dating.

But still. You wanted to make an impression.

Opening the door, Nanami held in the urge to groan beneath his breath, swallowing the drool pooling in his mouth.

Even though the dress didn’t cling to your form, he could still see the curves of your hips and the swell of your breasts in the gentle swoop of your modest neckline, your exposed creamy cinnamon skin of your collar bone made his gums itch as he tried to ignore the desire to lean forward and just bite. Your curls hung loose and were pushed back with a gold headband to keep the tresses from your face. Gold diamond earrings seemed to make your skin glow, a matching necklace resting atop your cleavage that he tried to keep his eyes from wandering to. You were holding a dish covered in aluminum foil, small fingers clutching the sides as you looked up at him with a small smile.

“Nice sweater.”

The words were filled with sarcasm as you smirked up at him. Of all the things on your bingo card, you never expected to see Kento Nanami in a pair of simple dark jeans and a form fitting Christmas sweater. It was a deep red, the front decorated with a depiction of Christmas trees and reindeer. His eyes—which had been locked far too long on your chest—looked up at you before rolling playfully. He stepped to the side, allowing you to walk into his family’s house.

It was equally as large as your mothers, but far warmer. The walls a deep brown and decorated with rich art pieces and family photos that you promised yourself to get a closer look at later. The living room was open, a long sofa with throw blankets and pillows glowed in an orange hue from the lit fireplace in front of it. A Christmas tree was nestled in the corner of the room, tall and bright with lights and ornaments, an abundance of presents beneath it. Every corner of the house was filled with something that made you feel less out of place, your body relaxing by every passing second.

“I’ve already broken the news.” Nanami walked you to the kitchen, another open plan with mahogany cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and smooth features that gave off the air of wealth and cozy living. “So, I apologize in advance.”

You looked up at him, body freezing, mouth open and ready to ask questions before a loud gasp echoed behind you. Nanami’s hands on your shoulders turned you around to the source firmly, one hand not leaving and choosing to caress between your shoulder blades. You held in the shiver from the contact.

The bearer of the sound was a petite woman with shoulder length straight black hair. Her features showed the Japanese side of Nanami but you could see where he got his sharp beauty from. A straight nose, full lips, sharp cheekbones slightly curved from age, she held her hands to her chest as she looked at you. The man next to her was definitely Nanami’s father, the same height but just as slim. Not as muscular as his son but his shoulders were structured in a way that were probably broad when he was younger. His eyes were an odd shade of green, but they complimented his short blonde hair well.

“Is this her?” the woman asked, her voice low like her son’s.

“It is.”

She closed the distance between you both quickly, giving you no time to retreat, Nanami’s hand firm on your back to keep you in place.

“I brought sweet potato pie.”

You cursed silently, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. No introduction, no compliment of their home, just a stupid statement that made your ears catch the small huff from Nanami next to you.

The woman smiled at you, her eyes crinkling.

“I’m Chiyo and this is my husband Santo. It’s so nice to meet you.” You finally introduced yourself, your voice small as you took in your close proximity. Even though she was much shorter than Nanami, she loomed over you just like him. Her eyes studied yours, taking in every feature before she shook out a giggle. “You were right Kento.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, turning to look up at Nanami for an explanation before his father took over the room, gentle just like his son but commanding attention immediately.

All nerves seeped from your body with every minute you spent in his family’s home, shyness morphing into laughter, apprehension molding into confidence as you entertained his mother with teasing her son. She tried at every second to tell a story from his childhood, laughing loudly with a bashful personality that was a stark contrast to him as he shot each effort down with a firm reply, his voice sharp but face filled with a relaxation that you could add to the many emotions from him in your memory. He nursed a glass of whiskey the entire night, each sip making his cheeks pinker every chance you could look at him.

Your interaction with your mother had become a distant memory. You had wanted this from her; you wanted her to pull you into a hug as if she had missed you every day. You wanted her to insist on copies of your ultrasound to show her friends, wiping away her tears of happiness every chance she could get. You wanted her to just be happy that she would be a grandmother, proud of you for doing well in your life and bringing a life into the world. But that would probably never happen. At least not with her. At least not anytime soon.

So you soaked in the attention that Nanami’s parents gave freely, doting on you in a way you didn’t realize you had missed out on as a child, silently thanking yourself that your child would have a set of grandparents that would never make them feel unloved.

Nanami walked you outside a few hours later, the crisp late night air digging through your dress, making you shudder. The pie dish was now empty in your hands, cleaned and shiny. Chiyo had took the rest as leftovers and begged you for the recipe, putting her number into your phone and making you swear the recipe would be in her inbox before the night was over.

Rory would be here soon to pick you up and until then, you cherished the silence of the suburb, your eyes happily looking at the Christmas lights that decorated each roof.

You turned to look up at Nanami, gripping the dish a little tighter to steel your nerves. Being around him for so long in one space had overwhelmed you in a way you weren’t expecting. The small smiles from his parents’ teasing, low huffs of laughter, and uncharacteristic levels of affection for them had thrown you for a loop. Never would you have thought to see this side of him. But you couldn’t complain one bit.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you offered up at him.

“I’m glad you could come.”

A modest statement, loose in a way you recognized from that night at the izakaya but void of the anger. His hair was wild again like that night at Rory’s house, free and rugged from running his hands through it all night, untamed in a way that had you clenching your thighs together and silently wishing your uncle would hurry up.

“Your family is so nice. I wish I could say the same for my own.” There was no use sugarcoating the disappointment you held for your mother. He would have to know sooner or later.

“Not a good relationship, then?”

You chuckled dryly, shaking your head in morbid amusement. “Not in the slightest.”

He was quiet for a while, socked feet kicking a small rock on his family’s driveway.

“I’m sure it does not mean much, but whenever you feel the need—if you ever feel the need to talk…I’m here.”

Who would have thought that getting knocked up by a man you couldn’t stand would make you see just how fucking…nice he was.

You looked up at him, offering a gentle smile. “I appreciate that.”

The sight of Rory’s Sudan entering the suburb made you float back down to reality. Soon you would get in the car, spend the rest of Christmas with your uncle, and head back to Sendai the next day. You probably wouldn’t see Nanami again until your next checkup in a few weeks.

You tried to ignore the disappointment in your gut at the thought.

“Rory?”

You nodded in response, flickering your gaze up at him before looking away again. Why were you so fucking nervous? You’d seen him naked, felt him in the most personal way and yet the disappointment in your gut was beginning to pop with anxiety.

“You look nice by the way.” That made you swallow, pulling your eyes back up to meet his warm ones. You threw him a raised brow, trying hard to catch him off guard to distract yourself from blushing like a damn schoolgirl.

“Trying to impress your baby mama?”

It was meant to be a joke, but the nickname had his eyes widening fractionally before they narrowed almost playfully, a small smirk playing on the corner of his mouth before he closed the distance between you both, full lips pressing gently to your cheek before he pulled away.

Your stomach rolled, the feeling sharp and foreign with heat pooling between your legs, your mind racing for something to say as Rory’s car idled behind you. You felt Nanami’s familiar hand on your back, guiding you to your uncle’s car as he opened the passenger door for you.

Your eyes didn’t leave his, trying to keep the sudden emotions in your form hidden as he looked down at you.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.”

It was silent in the car for about ten minutes before Rory finally spoke.

“Soooo…I take it things are going well?”

He was teasing, you could practically taste it in the car. But the feel of heat on your cheek from Nanami’s lips kept you from answering your uncle the entire ride home.  

[gurugirl]

Mint Chocolate Chip Check-in 6

Summary: Sweet and domestic, a look into a somewhat typical day with MCC!Harry and y/n.

A/n: Based on this request - thank you @love-letters-to-uranus (once again!) 1.5k words

Warning: While this is all fluffy and sweet - it's still kidnapper!harry x reader so beware if you're not a fan

MCC!Harry Masterlist

Harry felt a little bad for the punishment he’d given you the day before. He had just had such a bad day that he took it out on you, and when you didn’t answer when he called, he thought the worst. Though he wound up being soft with you afterward, he still had some guilt over it. Especially because he felt so deeply for you. He sometimes took you for granted and the fact that you so easily fell into his plan. Also, it didn’t help that Harry was struggling to contain his meanness at times. Since he’d taken you in (kidnapped you) he had to work to suppress the violent side of himself. He didn’t want to hurt you but being mean occasionally was too easy. You let him because you loved him and he knew that.

So his guilt was warranted.

He found you in the kitchen making sandwiches for your lunch. Harry walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed the back of your neck, “Looks really good, pup.” He was going to make today soft and nice for you. To show you how special you were to him.

You smiled and turned slightly so you could see his profile and hummed before turning back to your task. Harry moved the hair from your shoulder and brushed his fingers over your neck before leaning over you again and putting his chin on your shoulder.

When you finished plating the lunches, Harry grabbed both plates from your hands, “Let’s eat outside. It’s a beautiful day.”

He put your plate in the shade and his in the sun. He didn’t want you to get too hot or get burned, “I kind of wanted to sit in the sunshine,” you spoke before sitting down at the iron outdoor table.

Harry shook his head, “No pup. It’s too hot out right now. You have to be careful to not get sunburned as well. S’not good for you. The shade is better.” And that was that. If Harry said you had to sit in the shade, you’d sit in the shade.

The table was near a large magnolia tree and you were covered by the bulky limbs and leaves, hidden from the blaring sun, while Harry sat in the sunny spot, squinting his eyes as he ate the sandwich you made him. There weren’t many words exchanged between you. It was nice, though and Harry kept putting his hand on your knee. You could tell he was trying to be extra sweet today after what he’d done to you yesterday. But you’d already forgiven him last night when he was soft with you afterward. You actually forgave him before that when you understood what the punishment was really all about. However, you weren’t going to complain about how nice he was being.

Harry cleaned up the dishes and then suggested you make brownies together. It was just a simple recipe but it was fudgy and rich. Harry tested the batter before you put it into the pan to bake and he smiled and touched the tip of your nose leaving behind a bit of the chocolatey goo. You laughed and moved your hand to wipe your nose but Harry stopped your motions and held on to your wrists with a big grin before pressing his lips over your nose and licking it off. You squealed in delight at his tongue licking the batter from your nose and then Harry kissed your mouth and swatted your bum (very gently, you were quite sore from the previous night), “Alright, it’s ready for the oven now, pup.”

The timer was set and the dishes were put away. Harry knew what you’d say next.

“We should watch a movie!” You spoke excitedly to Harry. He couldn’t resist your big smile and the way your eyes brightened. You were happy today. Harry felt like he’d done well to be sweet to you the day after he’d been a bit rotten.

“What should we watch, then?” He watched you scurry off into the living room as he trailed behind. You turned on Netflix and picked something Harry couldn’t care less about, but he’d let you choose this time. You deserved it. Harry dragged you into his lap so he could hold you and kiss you while the brownies baked.

You hummed and settled into his hold and kissed his neck and his chin. Harry loved doting on you but he enjoyed it when you returned that sentiment. His girl. His sweet pup loving on him. It felt like reassurance to him every time you did it. You weren’t going anywhere. You belonged to him.

When the air smelled chocolatey and your heart was pounding and you were out of breath from Harry’s mouth covering yours in hot, soft kisses, the timer beeped in the kitchen.

The brownies were steaming hot when you pulled the pan from the oven and Harry swatted you away, “You’ll burn yourself. Let me…” Harry plated the brownies and insisted on carrying the plates as you returned to the living room to watch the movie you picked out.

He had you sit right next to him and he took a bit first, blowing on the dessert and sucking in air when it burned his tongue. You reached for your plate but Harry moved it away from you, “S’too hot, pup. Burned myself even. It needs to cool a bit first.”

You pouted but Harry grasped your chin gently and turning you to face him, kissed your cheek, “No pouting. I’m taking care of my girl. Don’t want you hurt from a hot brownie. Puppy needs a little patience doesn’t she?”

He blew over your portion and you smiled. Harry was always trying to take care of you in this way. Doing little things that some might think of as a way to treat a child, but to you, it just felt like love and care.

Before letting you have a bit, Harry tested the temperature again before deeming it cool enough to put into your mouth. He broke off a bit of the edge and held it out to you, “Open.”

You parted your lips and Harry put the warm brownie on your tongue. You closed your eyes and chewed with a moan. Harry ate a bite of his and then gave you a bite of yours as you both snuggled together to watch the movie.

When your plates were emptied you tried to take them so you could put them in the sink but Harry shook his head, “Sit. Stay here,” he spoke as he got up and took the plates to the kitchen sink himself.

Just before the sun set in the sky, the movie came to an end. Harry pulled you in between his legs on the couch and brushed your hair, “Got all tangled from lying your head on my chest during the movie.”

You smiled and let Harry run the bristles down your hair and to your shoulders. It felt so nice having him dote on you. The sweetest feeling of his nearness and his care was all you could ever want.

“There we are. That’s better,” he spoke as he put the brush down and pulled you back into his chest, kissing your temple.

You both sat for a moment in the quiet, breathing one another in. Harry’s cheek was pressed to your temple and you could feel his chest rise and fall behind you as he breathed.

But, soon, Harry was nudging you forward and speaking softly, “Let’s get you some water. Probably need a little after that sticky sweet dessert. Need you to stay hydrated.”

You rolled your eyes, but not in sight of Harry, his doting was a bit extra today and you understood why. You just went along with it, though. Smiling as you stood up and grasping onto Harry’s hand as he stood.

You didn’t need all the sweetness. Not this much. But you loved it and it only made you feel more secure in your relationship with Harry over time. All the gentle touches and whispers, the kind gestures of care, the way he needed you… it all made you need him more with each passing day. There would never be anyone that could change your mind or tell you he was a bad man. Not after all this time and how you’d truly grown to know Harry. The real Harry. The one who was insecure and needy. The one that relied on your touch to feel whole. The one who wanted to give you the whole world and keep you safe from harm.

He was your Harry.

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[wooahaes]

sweet like chocolate

pairing: non-idol!elementary school teacher!seungkwan x gn!elementary school teacher!reader

prompt: hot chocolate.

word count: 1.0k~

warnings: food mention!

daisy’s notes: tell me seungkwan wouldn’t be a cute teacher tbh.

Seungkwan was almost positive you’d be a little annoyed with him by the time he got back with your cups of hot chocolate.

Every single year, the school had a small winter festival for the kids. It was usually a way to raise money with the kids getting their own tickets for free, and their parents being able to buy additional ones--plus they could put in money for the cake walk that the other teachers were running. Seungkwan, by some stroke of luck (likely due to the fact your classrooms were right next to one another), ended up partnered up with you to run a little fishing game for the kids. He’d help you hang up the shimmery blue curtain in front of the door, low enough that the makeshift fishing rod would be able to be cast over (with some help from him and the parent volunteer). One of you would be on the other side, sticking small toy prizes (ducks or little toy bears that could fit one’s palm--tiny things) onto the “hook” (magnets that you’d be able to pull off once the kid caught their prize). It was just a small game, but the kids seemed like it and that was what mattered in the end.

With a parent to take over his role for a bit, he promised you he’d bring hot chocolate when his ten minute break was over. The building was cold, and he liked the way your eyes lit up at the promise of hot chocolate.

Which... was why he was two minutes late at this point. The hot chocolate booth had been across the school, and Seungkwan was taking his time to make sure he didn’t spill a drop because the drink was dispensed into lidless styrofoam cups. He’d lodge a complaint with Jeonghan next year to do something safer, especially with a hot liquid that children would be drinking. Sure, they hadn’t had any incidents yet (and from the sip Seungkwan took, the hot chocolate wasn’t too hot), but it meant he had to walk slow enough to not bump into any wandering kids.

Yet when he came back, you were sitting on the outside, the parent volunteer inside hooking the toys (the easier job, he’d learned, since whoever was outside had to basically wrangle kids into sitting still long enough to get their prize). Your hands covered the tiny tot’s as you built excitement with your words, and he smiled to himself for a moment.

There was a reason Vernon kept telling him that he should just shoot his shot and ask you out despite the fact Seungkwan denied having any feelings for you. The look in his eyes, soft and warm and completely enamored with how gentle you were, was enough to say it. He watched the way you helped pull the line back in, gasping in fake awe at the little blue duck that was stuck to the end of it. He watched the way you easily plucked the glued-on magnet off of the toy, shoving it into your pocket before handing the toy to the excited kid, who immediately turned and showed it to his mom. The mom took her son’s hand and guided him away with a smile before lifting him up into her arms, and Seungkwan finally returned to you.

You beamed at the hot chocolate in his hands, taking your cup and thanking him. “It’s freezing in here,” you said. “I know it’s because Seungcheol didn’t want the building to get too hot, but not a ton of people are here...” 

Which wasn’t wrong--the two of you had one of few booths set up in this hallway. Therefore, you didn’t get too many people as a result. You had enough that your box of toys was running low, but not enough to warrant how cold the building was.

“My scarf is on my desk,” he said, “You can have it if you want.”

Borrow. He meant borrow. But you merely shook your head, smiling, “That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine.” You leaned back against the wall, “My love for the kids keeps me warm.”

Cheesy, but that was why Seungkwan was totally-not-in-love with you. Liked. He liked you. Maybe, if someone were to pose the word “crush” to him, he’d say that fit, too. But love? He didn’t want to confess to that yet. He’d let his heart hold onto that one a little longer. Instead, he’d let you reduce him down to a schoolboy again: heart fluttering in his chest as he wondered if your lips were as soft as they looked. His heart would leap into his throat whenever your hand brushed against his own, too.

Chan had called out your name as he was strolling past with one of the cakes that he was meant to be taking to the gymnasium, stealing one glance at Seungkwan before turning his sights back on you. “Are you free this weekend?”

Chan smiled. “There’s a cafe we could go to. It has nice dessert. And better hot chocolate than that,” he nodded toward your cup. “If you want--”

“I’m going out with Seungkwan on Saturday,” you had said, still smiling that polite smile Seungkwan was used to seeing you with.

Seungkwan’s eyes went wide at the sudden proclamation and his mind raced. Shit, did he agree to go somewhere with you? He would have remembered that, wouldn’t he? Surely, he would have told Vernon, and Vernon would have teased him over it a little because he was so enamored with you--

“Ah,” Chan said, still smiling as he took a few steps backward down the empty hall. “About time,” he turned, calling back “Have fun!” as he quickly made his way back to the gym.

Seungkwan turned to you the moment that Chan was out of earshot, “We didn’t have plans.”

“Are you free?” You asked, still smiling that cute smile at him.

“Yes?”

“Then,” your eyes were sparkling as you turned to face him fully, “go out with me.”

general taglist: @wonuziex​ @twancingyunhao​ @synthetickitsune​

[cjsinkythoughts]

Rocks, Shoulders, and Ears

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3501

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Major Angst in this one, guys, Loads of Feels (sorry not sorry), John Walker being a douche (I really don’t like the guy)

A/N: I’m SO SORRY! I promise I was planning on it being shorter, but I went a little overkill with the angst! There’s just so many feelings and not enough space in my heart and soul, so I had to pour them out here! You get to see more of Reader and Sam’s relationship in this one and there’s major Bucky Feels towards the end (in my defense, this is based on the Couples Therapy half of the episode).

I’m really hoping we get to see Bucky go to Louisiana next episode! I’m holding out for it! I have a few ideas that include Sarah, but I need the episode! Ugh! Now we have to wait a whole ‘nother week! I really shouldn’t write three chapters on one episode in one day. I just couldn’t help myself!

Anyways! Please enjoy this part and thank you so much for all your support! Seriously, it’s meant so much to me, especially after the week I’ve had! If you haven’t checked out the previous parts, my FATWS Series Masterlist is HERE, so please go read those first. Like always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Enjoy, babes!

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in Bucky’s arms after walking a few miles. And a hospital in DC wasn’t exactly what you preferred waking up to, but it’s what happened. Turned out, not only was your shoulder dislocated and your thigh was strained, but you had a mild concussion. Your arm was in a sling and your palm, which you had completely forgotten about after you wrapped it while on Bucky’s back, was wrapped properly. Luckily, your thigh wasn’t too bad, but they wanted to put you on crutches, which you refused immediately.

You had to get out of that building. You had no idea where the guys went, which was weird because you were sure they’d never leave you alone. Especially in a hospital.

You quickly snuck your way through the halls after grabbing your bag which - thank God - was left on the seat besides your bed and changing into an extra pair of clothes. 

You tried calling Bucky’s phone, the one he had specifically for you, which he always always answered. He even made an excuse to go to the bathroom once when you accidentally called in the middle of a therapy session. Nothing. You called the number four times before trying Sam’s phone.

It clicked on the first try.

“Hey. Listen, sorry for leaving-”

“Where the hell are you?”

You heard him sigh. “I was just about to explain, so hang on a second there. You weren’t waking up, probably because that concussion you forgot to mention to us-”

“In my defense, I didn’t know.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your free hand up, exasperated. “Anyways, Bucky wanted me to meet someone, we’ll talk about that when you inevitably get here, put we had a bit of trouble and Bucky was arrested-”

“What?!”

“Chill your pants, Y/L/N. Just listen. We’re in Baltimore. I’ll text you the address. Get here soon and I’ll explain the whole thing. We’ve been here for a couple hours, but there’s people on their way and we’re getting everything situated right now.”

“Okay. Fine. But you’re in trouble.”

“Don’t I know it, babe. Now hurry your cute little ass here. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

*****************

The ride from DC to Baltimore is usually an hour or so, but you’ve got resources, especially in the nation’s capital, and riding the bike you got, being able to go way over the speed limit? You got there in half the time. Being an Avenger really does have its perks.

The moment you got there, you hopped off the bike, not even bothering to turn it off, and stormed into the precinct. You headed straight over to the desk, but a pair of hands caught you by your uninjured arm before you could make a scene.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam spoke softly, squeezing your bicep gently. “He’s okay, alright?”

“Why is he-”

“He missed his court-mandated therapy session.” Sam informed you, pulling you over to where he had been sitting previously. “There was a warrant out for his arrest. They had to bring him in, but it’s fine. His therapist’s been contacted. She should be here any minute to get him out.”

Your head fell back at his words. His therapy. How could you forget? You let Bucky complain to you about it and played along sometimes, but you really did think it was good for him and you tried supporting him. Yet you made him miss it and now he’s in trouble.

“Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” You found Sam’s worried eyes, his hand coming up to hold the side of your neck. “He’s okay. He’ll be out in just a bit. It’s fine.”

“It’s my fault, Sam.”

“No. It’s not. He’s a grown ass man who made the decision to skip.”

You shook your head, holding his wrist for something to anchor you down. “No, Sammy. I brought him along. I should’ve been more responsible-”

“I know we’ve joked around about you being in charge and stuff, but…you know it’s not all on your shoulders, right?” Sam tilted his head slightly, eyebrow pinched in confusion making his eyes narrow. 

You turned your head, not wanting to look at him. You didn’t need another set of deep eyes to fall into. “Sammy…I promised him I’d look after you.”

“I know. And that’s fine. But looking after us - looking after him - doesn’t mean you have to be there to hold his hand and take the fall for him. He’s not a child. Hell, he’s a hundred years old. Tell me you understand that.”

Licking your lips, you closed your eyes and shook your head again. “I-I can’t-”

“Is that why you’re obsessed with finding Wanda?”

You frowned at his question, eyes snapping to his. “I’m worried about her, Sam.”

“I am too, but she can handle herself. And if she doesn’t want to be found, you have to let her be. I know the Avengers were your only family. I know how much Steve meant to you-”

“No.” You pulled away rather harshly, digging your nails into your palms, trying not to cry, ignoring the wound you were irritating. “No, you don’t. How could you understand my feelings for Steve when I don’t understand them myself?”

Sam always had this ability to make anyone feel important, just by looking them in the eye. It was something you always admired about him; the way his smile could light up a room, those warm eyes making everyone’s fears go away. They reminded you of hot chocolate. Something that could soothe your worries, comfort you, warm your very soul from the ice tragedy and heartache tend to big on.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of people, but with the way he was looking at you, it was hard to keep the tears from slipping.

“You loved him, Y/N. Why is it so hard for you to see that?”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t in love with him, Sam.” You argued, wiping your cheeks aggressively and turning, crossing your arms defensively.

“What do you call it then?”

It was a rhetorical question, Sam copying your movements and sitting straight to watch for Bucky coming out. A rhetorical question that you didn’t know the answer to. Because you weren’t in love with Steve. No. Maybe you had been, but somewhere along the way he passed your heart to Bucky. So why did it hurt so bad?

You refused to dwell on it anymore, clearing your throat and dabbing at your eyes one more time before changing the topic. “Why are we in Baltimore?”

“Bucky wanted me to meet someone. Isaiah. You know him?” Sam turned back to you, his warm eyes shifting into something else. Suspicion? A bit of anger? Annoyance? You couldn’t tell.

“Isaiah? I don’t think I know any Isaiahs. And definitely not here. Why? Who is he?”

Sam shook his head, eyes darting around the lobby. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You nodded, although now your curiosity had peaked and you wondered who this guy was that made Sam so agitated. While you waited, you felt your eyes drooping and you let your head fall onto Sam’s shoulder, who chuckled.

“You’re still tired? You know you slept for, like, twelve hours, right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Sam turned his head to kiss yours. “Y/N, I know you want to care for everyone, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” And with that, the subject dropped, Sam pulling out his phone while you rested your eyes.

It was another ten minutes or so before Sam’s name was called and the both of you stood up to greet the speaker. A woman, Dr. Raynor. Bucky’s infamous therapist.

And speaking of infamous. The moment you heard his voice, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it was just your brain malfunctioning. And then he was walking towards you, calling Bucky ‘Bucky’ like they were old pals and he was saving him from something terrible.

Your face scrunched up as Walker talked about stopping Bucky’s regular therapy sessions. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up-”

“Don’t call him an asset.” You snapped. “He’s a human being with needs, and therapy-”

“He’s a super soldier with skills that we need.” Walker cut in, making you scowl as he turned back to Raynor.

You scoffed in disbelief at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before he did, heading straight for Bucky, who lifted his right arm, wrapping it around your shoulders once you were close enough.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, closing your eyes and trying to relax in his hold, breathing him in.

“Are you? Should you be walking? What did-”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Promise.” You sighed out with a nod, squeezing him once more before pulling back as Raynor stepped forwards, ordering Bucky and Sam to do a session with her. You almost laughed when Sam tried refusing, a little chuckle actually leaving your lips when Bucky slumped, dragging his feet like a kid going to the principal’s office.

You followed, Bucky holding the door open for you. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course, doll.” He gave a small smile, before walking in after you, Sam letting out a, “hey!” when Bucky shut the door on him, making you roll your eyes. You let the corners of your mouth tick up slightly in amusement. Yes, they annoyed the hell out of you, but you had to admit it was pretty funny sometimes.

“I believe I asked for James and Sam, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It’s Agent, actually, and I think I’m gonna sit in.”

Raynor narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think-”

“That wasn’t a request.” You threw her words to Sam back at her, making Sam smirk. You shot him a wink as she relented with a sigh. 

“Fine. Just as a spectator. Don't interrupt.”

You raise your hands in surrender, slipping around the table to stand in the corner as your fellas sank down into the seats across the table from her.

A small puff of laughter came from you at the lack of response when she asked one of them to start. She shot you a warning look over her shoulder, but you shrugged. You couldn’t help it; it was like all those times back in grade school when a teacher asked for a volunteer to read in a classroom full of rowdy kids and crickets followed.

Once she mentioned the next exercise was used for couples, you had to laugh, making both men shoot you begging pouts.

“Y/N.” Raynor glared at you, so you controlled yourself, gesturing for her to continue.

Her miracle question did work so well, neither of them cooperating well.

She didn’t even bother with you when you started cackling after she mentioned the “soul-gazing exercise” and Bucky thanked her, Sam commenting that he would like this one. You gave a teasing wolf-whistle when they got close, one of Bucky’s thighs between Sam’s and vice versa.

“Doll.” Bucky whined at you.

“Listen here, smartass-”

Raynor cleared her throat, cutting Sam off from finishing his statement towards you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms with a smirk. After all the bickering and side taking they’ve put her through, letting you enjoy this was the least they could do, and they knew it.

Of course, this exercise didn’t work out either. A staring contest. Children. She was best friends with literal children.

But then something happened. Something you never thought would happen. Raynor asked Bucky why Sam aggravated him, and Bucky looked over to you, his eye growing sad in a way they only did when Steve was involved.

“Steve believed in you.” Bucky told him earnestly. “He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield? That is…that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing.  So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me.”

You heard his voice crack a little at the end as he slumped down in his seat, you jaw dropping slightly. You listened to the rest of the conversation, catching the way Sam grew irritated again, something that you didn’t previously think was possible, but was happening more and more now.

Why wasn’t Sam talking to you? Why was he holding all this in suddenly? And why…Bucky…he didn’t tell you that. Why didn’t he say anything? How could he ever feel…

But you knew how he could feel like that. Yes, Steve believed in him so much that he tore the Avengers apart for him…but he was the only one willing to do that for him. Yeah, you and Sam and Wanda and Clint, you all joined their side but, being honest, it wasn’t because you believed in Bucky. It was because you believed in Steve. Of course, it was different now. You believed in Bucky with your entire being, and you believed in Sam with your heart and soul, but…did either of them know that? Did they believe you when you told them? Or did you not tell them enough? This whole time you thought you were doing right by Steve - trying you damn hardest to watch out for them. But it obviously wasn’t enough. And that was on you, no matter what Sam said.

You read people. That’s what you’ve always done, that’s what you’d always do. It was the reason you earned your spot on the team. You read people and situations and could figure your way into their heads in a second. Years and years of undercover work taught you how to do that and how to protect yourself while doing so.

So why? How? How did you miss something this big? How did you miss the way Sam was holding onto something? Why did you ignore the vexation in his tone for the last couple weeks? How did you miss that Bucky was hurting that deeply? Why didn’t you do anything more for him?

You left the room before either of the boys, but you heard Sam standing up as you walked out the door.

You should’ve known you weren’t the only one holding things in. Of course they were. The difference is, you were supposed to be their rock, the thing they could hold onto to ground themselves, the shoulder for them to cry on, and the ear lent to them whenever they needed someone to listen. That was your job. It wasn’t their job. Not for you. Your rock - your shoulder, your ear - he left you. And you thought, after all he did for you, if you just returned the favor for his best friends, you’d…you dunno. You’d be closer to him, maybe.

But you couldn’t. Because you weren’t Steve Rogers. And you knew that from the start, but you had to try. You tried. And it wasn’t working. He made it seem so easy when he did it for you. Clearly you didn’t give him enough credit for dealing with all your shit on top of his own.

“Doll.” You didn’t stop walking, needing to get outside for some fresh air. “Doll, hold on. Wait a minute.”

He grabbed your arm as you made it outside, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t tell me.” You spoke quietly, your voice fragile as you stared at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes. Were you really that bad at doing your job? Did you really already fail him? He asked you to do one thing…

“I didn’t…I didn’t want you to deal with my problems.” You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, holding your face between his hands. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know something’s going on with you. You’re good at hiding your nightmares at night, but I’m better. You’re jumpier than usual. Quieter. Every time Wanda’s brought up, you turn away. And the other day? On the truck? You froze. I was watching, doll. It was just a second, but you froze. You never freeze.”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Buck-”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Not my job? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what friends do? Or am I just a job to you? I know you promised him to look after me. Is that all I am to you? A responsibility?”

You shook your head vigorously, holding onto his wrists. “No. No, Bucky, I just-”

“Do you think he was wrong about me?”

Salty diamonds ran down your cheeks as you clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. “No.”

“Did you ever believe in me? Did you ever care or was it all just because Steve? Is Steve the only reason you tolerate me?”

“Don’t say that. God, please don’t say that.” You begged quietly, meeting his gaze again. Every beautiful detail was laced with devastation, eyes imploring her to make him feel better. “Of course I believe in you. I have since Wakanda, you know that. Yes, okay, maybe Steve is why I helped you at first, but-but…I care about you, James. So much so that it hurts sometimes. He wasn’t wrong about you. Or Sammy. You both mean so much to me. Okay?”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly, nodding slightly. You both simultaneously moved to get closer, him pulling you while you stepped into his chest, arms around his waist. His arms were tight around your shoulder, holding you just as firm as the kiss he planted on your forehead.

Sam came out, planting himself besides you as you pulled away, Bucky wiping your eyes. “I feel better.” He huffed out sarcastically, making you smack him in the arm. “Ow! Yeesh. Women these days.”

The sudden siren of one of the parked police cars made the three of you look over, spotting Walker and Hoskins. You groaned. “Did he see that?”

“Hey,” Bucky caught your jaw between his fingers, shaking his head. “Who cares? It’s between us and us only. Right?” You nodded, making him kiss your forehead again, a whisper of “attagirl” against your skin. You hadn’t heard that from him in a while.

“Gentlemen!” Walker waved them over, nodding at you. “And lady.” The three of you reluctantly walked over, Bucky going to lean on the police car Walker and Hoskins were near and you hopped up to sit on the hood of the police car across from them, Sam besides you.

You got information from Walker, who was once again trying to get you to work with him, but Sam summed it up nicely, explaining that the three of you didn’t have to follow the rules he did. You started to leave, Bucky tucking you under his arms once you slid off the car, when Walker stopped you once more.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”

You grumbled under your breath as the faker and his lapdog walked off. “I’m gonna kill him.” You vowed as the three of you started in the other direction. “I swear to God, I’m gonna rip that shield off his back and use it to beat him in that stupid face of his-”

“Down, girl.” Sam jested, flicking your ear. “We need a game plan. What’re we thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed as Bucky piped up, talking about the Isaiah character - who you still didn’t know - before HYDRA entered the equation.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, tugging his arm to make him stop once he mentioned Siberia. “Do you remember Siberia? Because if you’re actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, we remember Siberia very differently.”

“He’s our best bet-”

“So you’re just going to go sit in a room with this guy?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Ye-yes…”

A beat of silence passed before Sam gave his stamp of approval, but you still disagreed. “There’s no way this’ll end well and I refuse to let you-”

You found your face between Bucky’s hands again. You really wished he’d stop doing that and just ask for your attention. You didn’t mean that, of course. You’d be held by him every second of every day if you could. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”

You licked your lips, looking around the darkened street. This was not a good idea. A bad plan - a terrible plan, really - but, unfortunately, it was the only one you had. “Dammit. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” You finally sighed, running a hand through your hair after Bucky let go of you, his eyebrow quirking.

“Is that a yes?”

Sam nodded. “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

You tugged Bucky’s hand when he nodded back and went to walk after Sam, who started walking around the corner, making him stop. “And yes. I do trust you. With everything I have, Buckaroo.”