#i put EFFORT into washing my hair???? and did it early throughout the day???

[pbandjesse]

Today was a busy day! It was a good day though. It gave me a lot of clarity on the moving front. It was a good day.

I didn't feel amazing though. I slept okay but the heat made my nose and face so dry that they were painful when I woke up. And while my throat didn't hurt as badly as it did last night I was still pretty uncomfortable. And would remain so for a lot of the day. Despite my best efforts to be positive. I just felt a little bad.

But I couldn't focus on that. There was much to do! I had woken up a few times throughout the early morning. I was pleased to see James there and touched their face and fell back asleep.

When I woke up for real I went to get washed up. James made the bed. I got dressed and felt really cute. I told James they needed a hair cut and later in the day they would cut their hair entirely to short but it's fine. It'll grow back. They are still handsome.

We would decide to go have breakfast at Southside diner. Then we would go to the museum. I was laying on the couch when we decided this. And we decided we would go in 10 minutes.

We would leave soon enough and drove over to the diner. It was a beautiful day. We got our little table and had a nice little brunch. There was a very sweet family next to us with an adorable toddler who kept stealing straws form the waitresses pocket and we were all laughing. The energy was just so nice today. I wasn't feeling amazing but I was happy.

After brunch we drove to the B&O musuem. I was excited to see some model trains. And the real trains! I was a little sad that the rideable train wasn't running today, and the workshop was closed. But the rest of it was super cool.

James loves trains and I love seeing James excited about something. The models were super cool too. I got to learn a little more how the scale sizes work. And I loved the little details. All the thought and construction that went into it. It was just really awesome.

The big trains are also always a treat. All the design and thought that went into each space. I loved our train trip across the country and I want to do it again for sure. But walking around these trains and going inside was just so fun.

It was also decorated for Christmas! We would take a few pictures. But it was just really fun. I was having a really nice time.

We went outside to see the other models and go inside the freezer train and then the army train. The caboose and the dining cars were really cool.

I was teasing James in the dining car. Pointing at things and saying. That's you. James is a small chocolate pitcher. I was a 8oz sugar bowl. We were just being silly. It was really fun. I love my husband. I love getting to spend time with them.

We finished up at the museum in the gift shop. we got a few pins and patches. Well I am assuming the patches, James would let me see, because I think they were picking one for me. They are so sweet.

We had a lot of time before our appointment to look at houses. So it was decided we would go get groceries.

We stuck pretty well to the list. James is a big list person. I am a big walk down every aisle and get what speaks to me. But I did good not putting a hundred things in the cart. Only adding peppers and ranch and chocolate milk. Everything else was on the list. Things for the week and Thanksgiving. We are making three things for Thursday at the Chang's. I'm looking forward to it. I always love seeing that part of the family.

As we were checking out James got all stressed for some reason. They said they felt like they were upsetting me bagging to slow?? I was just standing there? No idea why they got so stressed. But I kept telling them we are okay. So we packed up the car and headed home.

We weren't home for long. We got in and James put everything away. We poured a cup of chocolate milk with ice to share. And headed back out.

We would see 4 houses today. Took about an hour. But none of them were it. The first one was so disappointing. We didn't even go in. In the listing photos the house on either side looked occupied but they are now abandoned and their porches are pulling down the porch of this house and the block just was in more disrepair then I was comfortable with. Like it wasn't unsafe, but it felt like the whole street was falling apart.

So we didn't go inside and headed to the next one.

Which was so boring! Just so wildly boring. I hate row houses where the first floor is just one big room. Kitchen and everything all there like a big hallway. And the street was very south Philly to open no trees. Not one I liked much.

Off to the next. We went back to the yellow house and I still really like it. But I'm glad we saw it in the daytime. It was surprisingly dark in the middle. The skylight upstairs helped that but downstairs it was dark. We brought a tape measure and while the bedrooms aren't as bad as I thought they are still small. And there are 2 cracked windows. The biggest issue though is the basement door is 24 inches across. We wouldn't get a washing machine down there and there isn't another basement door. It's not completely off the table but there is a lot to fix up. And the next block isn't ideal. So we keep moving forward and keep looking.

The last house of the day was another boring one. It was nice. Don't get me wrong. But it was at the top of our budget and another open floor plan. On a street with no trees. It also had carpeting and the bathrooms were kind of ugly. It was not for me.

James liked the kitchen and the basement but there wasn't much else that was good. I think the realtor is getting a better idea of what we're looking for. And he said the Google doc I made is very helpful. And there is no rush. I don't want to leave the apartment I love it we aren't going somewhere I will love more.

I was tired after all of this. It was time to go home.

James got us back here and I got cuddled up on the couch with sweetp. James would get ready to go on a bike ride. And I would rest.

I had a snack. And just watched videos and had a nice evening.

As the sun started to go down James came home and would cut their hair which made me sad. But I get it. It was a bit to long and it'll grow back to a nice place again.

They made us pizza for dinner which was very good. We would hang out on the couch and it was a nice evening.

Now I'm sitting in the studio. I plucked my eyebrows. James painted their nails

And I'm ready to get showered and get in my comfy clothes. I am hoping to sleep better tonight.

Tomorrow I have work at camp. I don't really know what we're doing. But it will be fun. James is going to drop me off so they can take the car to get the oil changed. And they will come back for me. I appreciate them for handling that.

I hope you all sleep good tonight. Have a good day tomorrow. I love you all!

[xoxo-teddybear]

Viagra Prank - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: smut, f!receiving, male masterbation, needy Bakugou, sexual touching

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Summary: After a dumb argument, Y/N decides to punish Bakugou by avoiding him while he’s superrrrrr horny

A/N: NOT SPELL CHECKED

Bakugou and Y/N had been arguing for an hour already. They have been talking about Y/N cheating on him.....IN A FUCKING DREAM. Yes it really scared Bakugou and he did wanna talk to Y/N about it, but he just went about it in the wrong way and so, this led to the arguing and yelling. Bakugou knew he was in the wrong, but he was too stubborn to apologize, at least verbally. Usually, that was okay for Y/N, because at least he showed when he was sorry. But this time, all she wanted was a soft and genuine “I’m sorry.”

Instead of apologizing verbally, Bakugou attempted to make up for it through his actions. He bought Y/N another teddy bear to go along with the others he got her, bought her a bouquet of roses and gourmet chocolates, and spent the entire day with her. At night, he held you close and filled your ears with sweet nothings like “I’m so lucky I have you,” “I don’t know how you deal with me, Teddy Bear, but thank you,” and “I’ll forever love you, Y/N.”

After seeing he put a little extra effort into this very “Bakugou” apology, Y/N forgave him, but she still wasn’t letting him off the hook. She wanted to punish him at least a little, but the question was “how?” She discussed it with Bakugou’s closest friends to give her ideas.

“You could ignore him all day.” The red head said, “he has a free day tomorrow, so I can imagine he plans on spending every second of it with you.”

“Nah, since he has a free day, I would love to spend time with him too. I don’t wanna ignore him, just mess with him a little to get back at him.” You said.

“What about one of those kinky couples do? A sexual punishment. Orgasm denial, overstimula-“

“NEXXTTTTT” you, Kirishima, and Kaminari said, cutting off Sero’s nasty thoughts. Besides, you and Bakugou were that kinky couple. And you knew he enjoyed all that stuff. The freaky bastard. You were getting nowhere until Kaminari said something unexpectedly smart.

“What about viagra?” He recommended.

“What?” You questioned.

“Viagra. You can buy it at any pharmacy and just crush up the pill into a powder and give it to Bakugou in a drink. It’s gonna make this man insanely horny, and to punish him, just deny him every time.” He said sipping his drink.

“I-.....that’s perfect!” You said

“Wow Kaminari, nice plan.” Mina said.

“Thank you.......hey can I get some more boneless ice?” Annddddd dunce face is back. Someone get this boy his water.

Doesn’t matter though, now all you have to do is buy the viagra and you’re set. That night, you and Mina went to the pharmacy together and bought the pills. When you went to sleep, you saw Bakugou waiting for you in the room.

“Jeez babe, what took so long? I was waiting here for like 2 hours!” Bakugou pouted. You laughed and kissed him.

“I’m sorry Suki, but not everyone goes to bed at 8 on a Friday night.” You said taking off your jacket and changing into your pjs. You climbed into bed as Bakugou defended himself.

“Well neither do I, but I woke up mad early today.” He said wrapping his arms around you. You pecked his forehead and tried to get some sleep, excited for the next day.

“Yeah, yeah you big baby. Just get some sleep.” As you both cuddled up, you layed with a devious smirk as an unknowing Pomeranian slept peacefully above you.

——————————————————————————

That morning, you woke up early with Bakugou to work out together. As Bakugou got ready, you prepped his drinks. You placed 3 bottles of water in Bakugou’s gym bag and opened up one of them. Taking the viagra pill out, you placed it in a bowl and used the bottle cap to crush the pill to a powder. You poured the dust into the water, put the cap back on and shook the bottle. After seeing the bottle still looked normal, you subtly marked it and placed it back in his bag. When he came, ready to go you gave him the bag and you guys made your way to the gym.

After working out for a few minutes, Bakugou took a huge gulp of water. You noticed it was the bottle you marked and smiled. After a few minutes, Bakugou was starting to feel...something. He didn’t know what it was, but now he was staring at you...more than usual. Your body covered glistened in your sweat and the image of you like that was burned into Bakugou’s mind. The heavy breathing you did only accentuated his need for you and the way your body looked everytime you stretched or moved. God, he knew you were hot, but something about you today just hit different.

Bakugou walked up to you and held your waist.

“Suki?” You looked up at him with an innocent face that made him bite his lips.

“Do you wanna get outta here? I think we’re set on workouts for today, Princess.” He said while staring at your body and chest.

“Oh, sure! Let me just get my stuff and-“ you were cut off when Bakugou gripped your ass with both hands and tongued you down, he pushed you up against the wall and began grinding into you. You felt his growing erection press up against your sensitive heat which made you moaned into the kiss. This made Bakugou even needier. Unfortunately, you weren’t giving in so easily today.

“Hah...S-Suki..” you breathed out while pushing him off you slightly. “C’mon..can we at least get out of here and wash up.”

“Why? We can do that after I completely ravish you,” Bakugou smirked as he attempted to kiss you once more but you pushed him back smiling.

“Sorry Suki, but we need to get back. Okay?” You said and walked away as Bakugou rolled his eyes taking another sip of water. You both walked out but with Bakugou being a lot more handsier. You walked and he would jog up behind you and grab your ass, he would walk with his arms wrapped around your waist while standing behind you, and once you reached your dorm room, he shut the door and slammed you against it grabbing your chest and kissing you again with fervor and tongue. Sadly, once again, you pushed him off.

“Shower first Suki.” You said and walked to get some clothes out of your closet. Bakugou just sighed and banged his head against the door. He looked down and saw his friend creating a tent in his sweatpants and he let out a breath a horny frustration. Then an idea hit him.

“Shower sex?” He said hopefully like a happy puppy, and if he had a tail, please believe it’d be wagging.

“No.” Bakugou just growled and flopped onto the bed and face planted down on the cushion.

“Fineeeeee!!!!!” He complained while his voice muffled by the mattress. While you showered, you left a needy Bakugou on the mattress. He could only imagine what you looked like. Curvaceous body, covered in droplets of water, steam all around you making your cheeks red. Bakugou rubbed at his face. Why the fuck was he this horny?

When you walked out, you were wearing a small towel as you seemed to have used your wind quirk to dry your hair. Bakugou licked his lips as he walked up to your almost naked body and felt you up. He kissed up on your neck as you tilted your head to give him more access. You pressed your ass into his crotch as he grinded into you. You could hear his soft moans. His hand traveled to grope your chest and the other hand went to your clit.

“You want me to feel up on this sweet little cunt?” He asked as he pressed two fingers into you and you gasped.

“A-ah...” you moaned out as your tongue rolled out of your mouth and eyes rolled to the back of your head. You almost gave in to his desires until your phone rang, snapping you out of your trance. You pulled his hand away from you and walked to your phone but not before Bakugou tried pulling you back.

“Hey..where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you.” He said pulling you towards him.

“Katsuki..”

“Please, Princess. I need you..now.” He said as he grabbed your ass.

“Baby, seriously. Get washed up and let’s continue our day. Please?” You pouted and Bakugou sighed and gave in. He grabbed some clothes he kept in your closet and went to wash up. You sighed in relief and checked your phone only to see it was spam, but still glad it snapped you out. As you got dressed, you cursed yourself for falling so easily for Katsuki.

‘That damn Katsuki. Knowing my body, using it against me. Who the hell does he think he is being built like a Greek god like that?’ You thought as you dressed yourself.

While Bakugou was in the shower, he realized he needed to calm down. Yes he has an amazingly hot girlfriend he could fuck to settle him down, but it was clear she wasn’t down for morning sex today so he had to solve it himself.

He let his head rest under the hot water as his hand went to grab at his length and move vigorously. He imagined the way Y/N would look with her pretty mouth wrapped around his cock, swallowing all of him. How she would take his entire length in her tight little cunt, squeezing him perfectly.

“Y-Y/N...fuck..faster..” he moaned out with a breathy voice as he moved his hips, fucking his hand. He groaned and threw his head back.

“C-C’mon baby...s-shit, c’mon. Oh fuck..I’m cumming! ....a-ah!” He said as his hips stuttered and his release covered the shower floor. He sighed as he tried to regain his breath from his orgasm. It wasn’t as good as it would’ve been if it was actually you, but nonethe less, he came. Sadly, he still wasn’t satisfied.

As Bakugou walked out in nothing but a towel, he tried to get dressed but the second he saw you, his hard on returned. Oh, this was gonna be a long day.

——————————————————————————

All throughout the day Bakugou tried his best to get you in bed, and when his advances always failed, he resorted to feeling up on you or running to the bathroom for release.

You had to admit, rejecting Bakugou’s attempts had gotten harder and harder. For each time he touched you, you basically had to leave yourself hanging. You felt yourself grow wetter each time to a point where even you almost went to hide away in your room and please yourself. Thankfully, it was almost midnight, meaning the day would be over and your punishment for Bakugou would be done. Then, you both can explore your desires.

It was late LATE into the night when Bakugou busted into your room as you were watching a movie. You paused the screen and spoke to him.

“Suki! You can’t just barge in like that, you’re gonna break my do-“

“Shut up” he said as he made his strides over to you and shut you up by tonguing you down. You fell into the kiss and returned it, kissing him with just as much passion. You peaked open your eyes and looked at the time. 11:47. ‘So close,’ you thought to yourself. You reluctantly pushed him away again.

“Suki..no,”

“Suki, yes.” He whined back as he attempted to kiss you again but you stopped him once more. He was getting fed up. He lifted you by your hips, tossed you flat on your back on the bed, and used his arms to cage you in. His hands pinned your wrists to the sides of your head and his knees were pressed into the mattress at the side of your hips. He got close in your face before speaking.

“You owe me an explanation, princess. I get not wanting to fuck on busy days or during a certain time but all day? I’ve tried to get you right here where Ive wanted you and you rejected me each time. Tell. Me. Why.” He said each word with poison on his tongue. You cringed at what you thought his reaction would be, but soon came to the conclusion that you’d have to tell him at some point.

“...Punishment” you said with a hopeful smile, praying that your boyfriend won’t fling you out the window. Bakugou looked at you with wide eyes.

“What?” He squinted his eyes at you and asked.

“You were acting like an idiot the other day and it pissed me off. I accepted your apology and forgave you but you weren’t completely off the hook. So I put viagra in your drink to turn you on and deny you as a punishment.” You cringed at how easy it was for you to tell him the truth. Bakugou looked at you with a confused look, then a smirk.

“So...you drugged my drink to get me riled up so I could fuck you? Didn’t know my teddy bear was so freaky,” he said licking your neck.

“What?! No! It’s not like tha- ah!” You were interrupted as Bakugou gripped into your chest.

“Then whats it like, teddy bear? Rejection? Well you’re not denying me now. Why not?” He asked you. But you had no answer for him anyway, so as far as he knew, he was right.

“That’s what I thought,” he said while continuing the attack on your neck. “I’ve been so neglected all day, I think as an apology gift, you should let me have my way with you. Doesnt that sound fun, princess?” He said the last sentence while letting his finger press against your clothed clit. You moaned at the feeling and felt yourself growing wet.

“K-Katsuki!” You moaned.

“Please, Princess?” He asked..practically begged.

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. Enjoying the feeling of his pads rubbing into you. You arched your back and gave in, spreading you legs for him. Bakugou smirked and was quick to remove your shorts and panties. Excited, he went to feast right away. No teasing, no waiting. He’s right into it, enjoying his meal. Sucking and kissing your bud, his eyes shut as he enjoys hearing your moans and tasting your sweet nectar.

The sudden feeling of his tongue hitting you and eating you out had you shivering. The massive amount of pleasure was so sudden, you could’ve cum right then.

“S-Suki! ...m-more!” You said as your hands went to grab at his hair. Bakugou groaned as you tugged and sent his tongue right into your hole. You cried out in such ecstasy that you legs began to shake.

“Cum on my tongue, Princess. Let me taste you,” Bakugou said before he went right back in. When you came, Bakugou lapped up every drop of you, savoring your flavor. He went up to kiss you and allowed you to taste yourself.

“God I want you so bad princess..” Bakugou breathed out as he released himself from his pants and lined up with your cunt. He rubbed his tip up and down your opening and you moaned in excitement.

“Let me have my way with you, Y/N.” He said in your ear as he pressed in. You wanted and needed him now. You looked at the time and saw, 11:56. Screw it.

“Please Katsuki! Use me! Please fuck me!” You begged. Smirking at your neediness, Bakugou slammed into you. Not giving you any time to adjust, Bakugou kept to his word and had his way with you. His pace was going so fast it had you seeing stars.

“Y-yes Katsuki! F-uck.....Mm,” you cried out. Bakugou lifted your hips to hold onto you and fuck you in a deeper angle.

“Shit....like that, Princess?” He said said with a smile as he kissed your neck.

“M-more Katsuki!” You begged again. Bakugou held onto your hips and kept his steady pace for awhile. He smacked your ass and kissed you deeply, exploring every inch of your wet cavern.

“You thought it was okay to fuck around with me like this? Huh princess?” He said smacking you again. You moaned at the contact and he gripped your ass. He grabbed your legs and put you in a mating press. The new angle reached deep inside you and hit the most sensitive spots. You screamed his name as he continued to fuck you with his head thrown back.

“Gotta keep quiet now...can’t let the whole class know what’s happening in here,” he huffed out “or maybe you want them to know. Yeah? You want them to know how much of a slut you are just for me?” He teased.

“Ohhh..yesss Katsuki.” You moaned. His cock was sliding into you perfectly, making you dizzy and drunk on euphoria.

“Yeah, but you’re my slut. Right? My dirty little slut. All for me, and me only.” He said as he placed his arms next to your head.

“I’m yours Katsuki! Just yours...ah!” You clenched around him. You could feel the way his balls slapped your ass everytime he thrusted into you. The sounds of skin slapping and your wet cunt filled the air and made a melody you’d never forget. In the heat of the moment, you began to feel the familiar knot in your belly.

“F-fuck. Cum for me princess, I want you to spill in on me.” Bakugou said. He went deeper, harder, and faster. Whatever it took for your pleasure. As he went in, you felt the knot become loose as you came on Katsuki’s dick and your legs shook. You cried out in pleasure as Bakugou continued to chase his own release. After a few more deep strokes, Bakugou met his high and climaxed. He filled your womb with cum and layed there as he emptied his load. You both layed there in silence, catching your breaths as you both came down from the high.

Instead of pulling out, Bakugou stayed where he was and just leaned in closer to you.

“You done messing with me, Princess?” He asked you. You let out a breathy yes as he kissed your cheek and pulled out. He layed beside you and cuddled into you as he held you close.

“I don’t know. I’m kinda satisfied with how this turned out.” You teased. Bakugou only let out a quick laugh in disbelief at his wild girlfriend and just kissed her.

“You’re crazy.” He said while holding you closer.

“But you love me,” you said.

“Yeah..I do.” He said as he rested his head against you. While basking in the glow of the after sex peace, Bakugou realized something.

“Umm..Y/N?” He started.

“Hm?” You said in a sweet voice, with your eyes still closed and you still cuddled into his chest.

“I’m, uh...I’m sorry..for how I was acting.” He apologized. This made your eyes burst open. He was apologizing..verbally. You looked up at him and gave him a sweet, passionate kiss.

“Thank you Katsuki, but I already forgave you. Remember?” You giggled. A sound that Bakugou will forever remember. A sound he will forever enjoy hearing. He just sighed and leaned into you even more, trying to communicate all his love through the physical contact you were both having.

“I don’t deserve you, Princess” he said as his eyes began to fall heavy into a deep sleep.

“You deserve me and the whole world Katsuki.” You said with love dripping in your voice.

“You are my whole world,” he mumbled in embarrassment as a blush adorned his face as he attempted to hide away in your neck. You blushed and smiled at his little confession and allowed him to sleep. It was past his usual bedtime after all.

“Get some rest, Hero.” You said, pecking his forehead with a loving kiss. As he drifted off, you just smiled and rested your eyes as you thought about the next time you would drug his drink. This little viagra prank turned out amazing.

A/N: y’all this was so sloppy😭 it could’ve been so much better but it’s been sitting in my drafts mocking me. I just had to get it out here. I’m sorry it’s not spell checked but I hoped you enjoyed it none the less. (The smut was so bad😭😭) see you next time, Cubs💗🧸

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (23/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,018

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, funeral

masterlist

a/n: this little chapter drop!!!

The funeral was three days later.

You’d taken it upon yourself to stay in the Stark cabin, licking your wounds and mourning the loss of the man you’d spent almost a decade of your life with. You’d mourned losing him before, but this was different.

This was permanent.

There’d be no more chances to go see him in Buffalo. There’d be no more watching him paint in his home studio, seeing the life he built for himself.

You hadn’t seen Bucky since you left the hospital.

You had walked out of Steve’s room, tears rolling down your cheeks. It felt like a death march as you had to face his family, had to face Peggy, the daughter that was named after you. “He’s gone,” you’d said, hands trembling. “I…”

“Oh, honey,” Peggy had whispered, moving to hug you as her own pain welled up in her eyes.

“I have to go,” you had insisted as you quickly slipped out of her grasp, speeding down the hall. You’d left the members of your little family in the waiting room, knowing that they’d gotten to talk to him before he’d passed but still feeling so guilty because you were the last one he’d seen. The last one he’d talked to.

You hadn’t even stopped when Bucky and Wanda had called out your name. You had the car keys in your hand, since he’d given them to you at some point in the blur of the day.

You’d left him there.

The pain was unbearable.

You’d spent the past three days at the bottom of a bottle, blasting all the playlists that Tony had saved. At some point, it had switched to a playlist full of old jazz music from the forties.

You’d thrown the bottle against the wall and watched it shatter.

Sweeping it up while absolutely plastered had been… an adventure. You had the bandages on your feet to prove it.

But you’d gotten it all swept up and into the trash before moving onto the next bottle.

You’d turned off your phone after the fourth phone call and the eighteenth text.

But Bucky didn’t show up. He didn’t come banging on your door like you hoped he would, swooping in and kissing you like the prince in a fairytale.

It was monumentally disappointing.

When you arrived at the funeral, you’d thrown the car into park and then sat in the lot outside for at least forty-five minutes. You’d shown up early entirely because you knew that you’d need time to gather the courage to go inside.

You’d had to order a black dress and heels with express shipping, since you hadn’t exactly thought to pack them when you and Bucky had gone on your little vacation and you didn’t really feel like going out to go shopping.

Your mistake.

It had taken a lot of effort to actually shower and do your hair and makeup. Your ankles felt like they’d give out any moment as you slammed the car door shut and headed inside.

“Hello.”

You almost tripped over your own feet as you heard a feminine voice call out to you. “H-Hi,” you said as you finally came face to face with the woman who had your name. “I’m—”

“I know,” she said, before getting a weak laugh. “Me, too. I’ve heard so much about you. My dad… uh… He really, really loved you.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice a little stiff. You hadn’t done much talking the past few days, unless screaming out lyrics counted.

Yeah, it counted.

Sorta.

“Um… H-How is Peggy—I mean, your mom—doing?”

“She’s handling it about as can be expected,” she said with a smile as she glanced to where the Brit in question was. It was strange, seeing the woman that was named after you. She was older than you by a few years, and had a few gray hairs. But she looked so much like the perfect mix of Steve and Peggy… “But dad was getting up there… more so than any other man. They both knew it was coming. I just don’t know if mom will be able to hold on without him much longer.”

Great. Because that’s exactly what you wanted to hear.

“Here, let me introduce my siblings!” She said, calling them over before you could say no.

By the time the actual service started, you’d met far more Rogerses than you had ever wanted to.

It was exhausting. They were all so… kind. Despite everything, despite the fact that you were literally their father’s ex girlfriend, despite the fact that you were the last person their father spoke to before he died, and not his wife.

“My husband, Steve, has always been what his best friend called him. A punk,” Peggy said as she stood up before everyone, letting out a weak laugh as she glanced back at the open casket. “But he was so many things. Brave. Outspoken. Generous. Stubborn…”

Your eyes stayed on her, even though you stopped hearing what she was saying. You didn’t have the energy to listen to a eulogy.

That is, until she said your name.

“Huh?” You said, suddenly on high alert. Some part of you was aware that your team was sitting in the front row, including Bucky. You’d been too busy speaking with Steve’s children to talk to them, not that you minded that. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face them.

“Would you please come up and say a few words?” Peggy asked gently, getting down and holding out her hand to you.

“I…” Fuck. You couldn’t say no. It was a god damn funeral. “Okay,” you said after a long moment, placing your hand in Peggy’s and letting her lead you up to the podium. The sea of people staring at you made your blood run cold, your hands trembling as you gripped the wood. “Um… H-Hi…” You introduced yourself, you voice cracking. “I’ve known Steve… since I was eighteen years old. And we were together for almost a decade.” You snorted, shaking your head as you glanced back at the casket, your heart stopping for a moment when your eyes rested on his face. “I know… most of you are probably wondering why the hell I’m up here. Why the hell anyone would want their husband’s ex girlfriend speaking at their funeral, but uh… Steve helped make me the person I am today.” Your heart was hammering inside of your chest, threatening to break your ribs. “He taught me when to push myself, how to trust my instincts.” Also all things that Bucky taught you. You could feel his seafoam blue gaze on you, pinning you in place. “I know it’s cheesy… But he taught me what it means to do the right thing, even when it means standing up to someone you love and telling them so. He taught me how to keep going even when my world was crumbling.” Your heart was shattering as your eyes met Bucky’s. “He taught me to chase after what I want the most in the world, and to accept nothing but the best.” Tears were starting to roll down your cheeks. “Steve was a bright light in the world, even when he was in his darkest moments.” You gave a watery smile, your hands clammy. “Steve was not the shield, and those of us who knew him personally know that. The shield was Steve. He made it into the symbol that it is. A symbol of what every person can be, what they should be. What we should all aspire to be.” Your throat was starting to close up. “But he was showing us that even before the serum, wasn’t he? Because it doesn’t matter how small you are, or where you come from. You can make the choice everyday to make the world a little better.” Sniffling, you swallowed around the lump in his throat. “And I know I’m rambling, but I really didn’t expect to be speaking here today, so please forgive me, but I just… I never thought he’d die like this. There were hundreds of missions where I thought… this is it. This is where I lose him. I always knew he’d fight until he couldn’t anymore. The fact that he got the honor of passing like he did… what feels like a million years old and surrounded by his loved ones in a hospital… just like any other man… I can’t think of a better happy ending for him.” You took a deep breath. “But there’s someone who should be up here more than me. Someone who knew him from the beginning. From playground to battlefield and beyond, right?”

Bucky’s entire body was trembling as he slowly got to his feet and walked up to the podium. But before you could leave, his hand slipped into yours and squeezed, a silent question being asked.

Stay?

And how could he ever think you’d leave him?

You squeezed his hand back, staying by his side as he slowly started to speak. He spoke about the first time they met, all the fights he broke up.

Until the end of the line.

You guessed it really was the end. The grand finale of a life that wasn’t always easy, but was always worth it.

Watching Steve’s casket being lowered into the ground felt like a hallucination. How could it possibly be real?

The feeling that you’d gotten in the hospital was washing back over you like a tsunami. The overwhelming feeling of despair, of disbelief.

Of anger.

You wanted more time. There wasn’t ever enough time and now he was gone.

You slipped away after the funeral ended, getting into your car and just… driving. You knew you’d eventually make it back to the cabin, but you needed to roll the windows down and just feel the icy cold wind in your hair, on your skin.

Making you feel alive.

When you got back to the cabin, the sun had set, stars twinkling overhead in a brilliance you’d never see in the city.

You held your heels in your hand as you stumbled into the house, tossing them to the side as you headed for the kitchen. “FRIDAY, put on some music,” you said quietly.

“What playlist would you like?”

“Read the room, Fri,” you said simply, sighing as you grabbed a bottle of wine from the kitchen. She started to play music throughout the house, and you bit your lip as she started to play a blend of your favorites. Mostly Black Pumas and The Teskey Brothers. “Fri, can you turn on the fireplace?”

Warm light filled the living room and kitchen, flickering softly.

You didn’t bother changing as you collapsed onto the fur rug with just your wine and your bottle opener. “Dumb… cork…,” you huffed as you worked to get it open.

You were about halfway through the bottle when you heard a car pull up, followed by the slam of the door. Your mind was fuzzy as you watched the front door open and Bucky walk in. “Hi.”

He stopped in the entryway, still wearing the all black suit he’d donned at the funeral. “Hey,” he breathed out. He couldn’t help but snort as he saw the bottle of wine in your hands. “Yeah… It has been that kind of day, huh?”

When you held it out to him, you couldn’t tear your eyes away as you watched his pink lips wrap around the bottle and he took a swig.

Fuck, you had it so bad.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as you watched him stand by the end of the sofa. “It’s been… a rough day.”

“I’ve been better,” he said simply as he took another drink. “But I know I’ll feel better once you and I are speaking again.”

Your heart squeezed inside your chest as your eyes met, your cheeks flushing. “Right… I… I think we were both… frazzled… But I’m so sorry.”

Pain and Misery by The Teskey Brothers started to play over the stereo, filling the house with soothing R&B. It was one of your favorite songs in the whole entire world.

“I've been in love, honey, you know it's true… Was since that day I first laid my eyes on you…��

“Malen’kaya,” he said as he set the bottle on the coffee table, holding out his hand to you. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Could you forgive me for how I acted?”

“Love is a crazy game, baby… It's how I feel… It makes you oh, so high, but it takes so long to heal…”

You nodded after a long moment, slipping your hand into his and squeezing as he tugged you to your feet. “I can. I do,” you said, the wine making your head fill with bubbles.

“So, please, yeah, yeah… Won't you stay with me? 'Cause since you gone, it's all pain and misery. Honey, please, yeah, yeah… Won't you stay with me? 'Cause since you gone it's pain and misery…”

Something inside of you clicked back into place as he pulled you close to his chest, the two of you immediately starting to sway. Falling back into step with him was as easy as breathing, you were finding.

Perhaps even easier.

“Sometimes I curse that day of when you came along… I was happy but it's been pain now for so very long… Oh, I'm begging you, honey… Please, won't you stay? 'Cause I been so lonely since you gone away…”

“I don’t like not talking to you,” he said quietly, his lips pressing to your forehead. “Feels so wrong… Like I can’t breathe.”

Funny how you’d just had almost the same thought.

“Everyday is pain… In the end, it's hard to see… Every fateful day is oh, so sad, now that I've lost the best friend that I ever had…”

He was so warm, so comforting. Like a teddy bear.

“I don’t like not talking to you either,” you admitted as you nuzzled closer to him, breathing in the musky scent of his cologne. It was intoxicating. “Can we please never do it again?”

“Honey, please, won't you stay with me? 'Cause since you gone it's all pain and misery…”

He grinned against your forehead, his hand moving from your hip as he slid his arm around your waist to pull you even closer. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Honey, please, whoa please, won't you stay with me? 'Cause since you gone it's pain and misery…”

“Jamie…,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to gather the words you wanted to say.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He asked, resting his head against yours.

“Hey, I'm begging you, honey… Whoa… I want you to love me… Yeah, I want you to love me… I need you so bad…”

“What does this mean?” You asked as the song ended and it shifted to another. “For us, I mean?” You were starting to panic, anxiety welling up in your chest and causing you to word vomit. “Because I can’t do this back and forth, I can’t. I won’t. I won’t survive it. I can’t keep pretending like we’re just friends and that the way you make me feel doesn’t make me… doesn’t make me…”

“Doesn’t make you what?” He asked quietly, not letting you move away from his secure embrace. “Please… Because I can’t keep acting as though you’re not my everything.” He held the back of your head, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. “Please… Please, tell me you love me. Because I…” He rested his forehead against yours, a tear rolling down his cheek. “The love I have for you has rewritten every piece of DNA in my body,” he said. “It’s in my blood, my bones… You are written in my heart, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. And…” He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “And if you don’t love me the way I love you, that’s just fine. As long as I have you in my life… I’ll be whatever you need.”

“Jamie…,” you said with a weak laugh. You were openly crying, though you weren’t sure when you had started. “Oh, Jamie… Do you really think I could ever not love you?” Your nose nudged against his as you wrapped both of your arms around his neck. “If you don’t kiss me, we’re gonna have a fight.”

The smile that split open his face was blinding. The kiss he planted upon your lips was absolutely filthy. A mess of teeth and tongue and grins and giggles, a tangle of feelings pent up for so long that you were sure you’d never get them all out. You’d spend the rest of your life unraveling all the ways he made you feel, and you’d do it with a smile.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much,” you said as you pressed yourself against him. “I never wanna be without you ever again.”

“You never have to,” he breathed out as he nipped at your lower lip. Without further ado, he reached down and slipped his arm under your thighs. You let out a squeak as he scooped you up, carrying you bridal style up the stairs. “I’m gonna love you so good,” he said with a growl.

You almost hit your head on the door frame as he carried you into the guest bedroom you two were occupying, squealing as he tossed you onto the bed. “Jamie!”

“Yes, malen’kaya?” He asked as he shoved off his suit jacket, toeing off his dress shoes at the same time.

“Nothing,” you said, giggling as you started to strip down, too. “Nothing at all.”

When you two finally finished hours later, the wine had worn off, and he was asleep. You’d curled up on top of his chest, his cool vibranium hand resting on the small of your back, helping you cool off.

“Jamie?” You murmured, testing if he was asleep. When he grunted, you smiled, intertwining your fingers with his flesh hand. “I love you…”

“I love you more, baby.”

[fruitcoops]

Hello! I truly love your writing! Would you consider a continuation of that piece where Jules stays with coops for a week? Or just some snippets of what they get up to?

Here’s part 1, folks! It’s about 3k words and I’m thinking there will be three or four parts total, released over the next couple days. I hope you enjoy it!

Sweater Weather and Jules credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

“Jules.” A series of gentle knocks echoed down the stairs and Sirius smiled into his coffee cup. “Jules, it’s time to wake up.”

Regulus snorted. “Bet you five bucks he has to drag the kid down.”

“Deal.”

“Jules.” Remus knocked again, sounding more exasperated. There was a heavy sigh and the door clicked open; after a moment of quiet, someone yelped. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Go away!” Jules groaned. “An’ give it back!”

“It’s time for breakfast, get a wiggle on. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“I’m cold.” More rustling noises followed before Jules appeared at the top of the staircase, bundled in Remus’ sweatshirt—which was really Sirius’, but it didn’t matter—and scowling. His bedhead was outstanding.

“Bon matin,” Sirius said with a smile when Jules sat heavily in the chair next to him and put his forehead on his arms. “How’d you sleep?”

“I don’t like your fiancé.”

“Oh?”

“He’s mean.”

Sirius winked at Remus as he rolled his eyes and pulled a cereal box out of the pantry. “What did he do?”

“He stole my blankets with no warning.”

“That is such a lie,” Remus scoffed. “I knocked on your door for five whole minutes before I came in!”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Sirius said, walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Reg owes me five bucks now.”

“Sweet, we can get more Oreos.”

“Oreos aren’t on your diet plan,” Jules sulked as Remus passed him a bowl of cereal and milk.

“How do you know?”

Jules mumbled something and shoved his spoon into his mouth. The night before had been hectic, with Sirius driving the Hope and Lyall to the airport while Remus helped set Jules up for the night. Regulus came back from hanging out with Leo around ten pm; by that time, Jules was still wired for sound at the idea of a week-long sleepover. He finally went to sleep around eleven thirty and Sirius and Remus crash-landed into bed, exhausted.

Practice was going to be hell.

“Why do we have to wake up early, again?” Jules asked around a yawn.

Sirius ruffled his hair as he sat down again. “Practice starts at ten. Eight o’clock is not early at all.”

He squinted at him, confused. “How early do you usually wake up?”

“Seven, seven-thirty.”

Jules shuddered and turned back to his cereal while Remus plonked himself down in Sirius’ lap with a coffee cup, looking moments away from falling asleep again. “Children are exhausting. Why did we get two of them?”

“Hey!” Jules and Regulus said in unison, clearly offended.

“We’ve got terrible judgement,” Sirius laughed.

“Older brothers are the worst, right Jules?”

“Totally. Are you coming to the rink with us?”

Regulus shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, I’ve got college stuff to work on. Want to help me with paperwork?”

Jules made a face. “I’ll pass.”

“We’re leaving in forty minutes, okay?” Remus said, stretching his back as he stood up and left Sirius’ lap cold and empty. “Jules, please take a shower.”

“I smell fine!”

“You didn’t take one yesterday or the day before. Scoot.” Jules rolled his eyes and got up. “Don’t give me that look! And put your bowl in the sink.”

Sirius and Regulus shared a glance as Jules put his stuff away and trooped up the stairs. “Hi, Hope,” Regulus snickered.

Resignation overtook Remus’ face and he sighed. “Fuck. I’m turning into my mother already. Reg, you should take a shower, too.”

“I smell fine!” The withering look from both Sirius and Remus made him raise his hands in surrender and wander off to his bedroom. “I’m nineteen, not nine!”

”And yet we still need to babysit you,” Sirius called back. Finally, they were alone. He hopped up to sit on the counter and grabbed Remus around the waist as he passed by, pulling him back for a hug. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning.” Remus kissed him gently, bracketing his hips with his hands. He looked tired, but happy. “I’m actually pretty excited to have Jules stay with us. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Ne rien. It’s good to have people here.” They kissed for a moment longer, listening to the shower running upstairs and Regulus’ rummaging noises down the hall. “I swear to God, he’s like a raccoon.”

Remus laughed and leaned his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder. “He definitely sounds like one.”

“At least his room’s clean.”

“Cheers to that. He’s heading back tomorrow, right?”

“Mhmm. Dumo’s been bugging me for, like, three days.”

Remus hummed, wrapping his arms around Sirius and snuggling into him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. We’ve only got a little bit of time before Jules is out, so we should get dressed.”

Remus groaned, but released his limpet hold. “That was so close to a perfect sentence.”

Sirius paused just before hopping off the counter and raised his eyebrows. “If we have extra time…”

“Come on, you,” Remus laughed, tugging him off the counter by the hand and hurrying toward the stairs.

---------------------

They arrived at the rink at 10:05, and Sirius began bracing himself for the inevitable chirping as soon as he stepped out of the car. Jules bounced on his toes in excitement as they walked toward the building, laden with their hockey gear and still a bit frazzled from the mad dash out of the house.

“Is this the munchkin?” Moody asked when Remus knocked on the door to the PT office.

“Yep.” Remus looked down at Jules, whose eyes were wide and more than a little nervous as his grip tightened on Remus’ jacket hem.

“Alastor Moody,” he grunted, holding a hand out that Jules tentatively shook.

“Jules.”

“Wanna see how bones work, kid?”

Instantly, his nerves disappeared. “Yeah!”

Moody winked at them as he led Jules toward the joint models on the far wall and Sirius let out a slow breath. “He’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so. If anyone can drive Moody off the wall, it’ll be my little brother,” Remus murmured as they headed off down the hall.

The yelling started the second Sirius opened the locker room door. “You’re LATE!” James shouted, grinning from ear to ear. “Hand over the badge, Captain.”

“We still have fifty minutes until practice starts, shut your face.” Sirius socked him on the shoulder and set his bag in the stall.

“What, pray tell, was the reason for this tardiness?” James leaned over and batted his eyelashes.

Remus rolled up a towel and smacked him on the ass with it. “My little brother.”

“Jules is here?” Leo perked up on the other side of the room, and Sirius saw several of the guys look over in excitement, as if they were hiding him in one of their bags.

“He’s staying with us for the week since my great-aunt passed away.”

“Shit, Loops, I’m sorry.”

Remus shrugged. “I never met her, but my folks went back for the funeral. Moody said he’d keep an eye on Jules during practice.”

“Lupin, Black, you’re late,” Coach Weasley said from the doorway, giving them a look over his glasses. “Do we need to have a conversation?”

“No, Coach,” Sirius said as he pulled his pads over his chest.

“I hear you’ve commandeered my head PT for the day.”

Remus shook his head. “If Jules starts bugging him—”

“I’m kidding, Loops.” Arthur’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Moody loves kids. This’ll be good for his disposition.”

Finn snorted. “Can’t get any worse.”

“I expect all of you on the ice in twenty. Any stragglers are doing laps outside!” Arthur slapped the edge of the doorway before ducking out into the hall again; his sneakers squeaked on the freshly-washed floor and Sirius stifled a laugh as he finished buckling up.

The five minute delay did not have a terrible impact on his pre-practice rituals, which he took a  moment to be grateful for—they had a scrimmage planned, and he didn’t intend to lose. Once warmups were over, they moved into running plays, until finally the whistle blew and Coach called out the teams. Remus ended up on the other side and he slapped Sirius’ ass with his stick as he passed him, grinning over his shoulder before stopping next to Dumo.

Jules and Moody came out to watch a few minutes in; Sirius caught a glimpse of his wide eyes when he saw the speed of the game and smiled to himself. Everyone else seemed to notice the new arrivals as well, because their effort doubled and suddenly the plays were running smoother than ever.

Showing off for a ten-year-old, he thought with a shake of his head. Talk about baby fever.

Remus sped through the defense, weaving back and forth until he was nearly face-to-face with Sirius. His whole face lit up and he braced; when Sirius went to check him, he dipped sideways at the last second and slipped the puck right through his skates, catching it on the other side and zipping toward the goal at top speed. The goal light went off and Talker whooped, checking him in celebration.

“Lupin! Where’s that been all season?” Arthur demanded, though he was laughing. “Christ, guys, thanks for finally waking up!”

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” Sirius asked as they headed back for the face-off.

“You think you’re the only one who skates in the basement?” Remus said with a cheeky grin.

The whole rink buzzed with energy throughout the rest of the scrimmage—once or twice, Sirius realized even he was showing off a little for Jules, who cheered louder than fifteen thousand fans whenever someone scored.

Arthur shook his head when the final whistle went off. “Everyone say ‘thank you’ to Julian.”

“Thank you, Jules,” they chorused. Jules looked like he was about to die of happiness.

“I need to get him in here more often,” Arthur muttered as they headed to the locker room to change into their gym gear. “Let’s get that energy for every practice, okay? Not just the ones with Little Loops.”

“What are you talking about?” Kasey laughed.

Arthur fixed him with a look. “Don’t bullshit me, Winter, all of you were showing off for the kid.”

Remus blushed all the way to his ears, and the rest of them mumbled some half-assed excuses until they were shooed away. “I put the new schedule on the mirror,” Sirius called over the noise. “Try to pay attention to it for once.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Logan reached up and patted him on the shoulder as he passed; Sirius dragged him back into a headlock to ruffle his hair. “Ow, fuck, okay!”

Logan did not, in fact, stick to the schedule. He was far too busy tossing the lightest medicine ball they had with Jules, who staggered slightly whenever he caught it. Both looked absolutely thrilled.

Sirius, on the other hand, was glad for the opportunity to do a fair bit of ogling while he spotted Remus—who stuck to the schedule, Sirius had never loved him more—until he finished his bench-pressing rotation. He was strong before being a player, but now…well, it was safe to say he could sweep Sirius off his feet literally and figuratively.

“Re, Re!” Jules ran over when Remus finally sat up, then paused and made a face. “You’re sweaty.”

Remus pulled him in for a hug, making him shriek and wiggle to get out. “I am, yeah! Isn’t it great? Here, lemme just—”

Jules flailed, but he couldn’t get out of Remus’ hold in time to avoid the head nuzzle that plastered his hair up on one side with sweat as the guys laughed. “Ewww!”

“Did you need something, buddy?” Remus asked at last.

“Well, now I need a shower.” Jules grimaced. “I was going to ask if you guys actually do ice baths.”

“Of course we do!” Kasey cut in before Remus could quickly divert the topic. “And your brother loves them.”

Sirius had to turn around to muffle his laughter as interest lit on Jules’ face. “Really? Can I see?”

Kasey opened the door dramatically. “Right this way, Little Loops.”

Two of the ice baths were full when they arrived and Sirius did not miss the pained look on Remus’ face at the sight, nor did he miss the devious smile on Kasey’s. Jules hurried over to one and looked over the end, practically sticking his whole face in. “Woah.”

“Pretty cool, huh? You want to know what the best part is?”

“What?”

“Oh, Christ,” Remus muttered.

“Loops, will you do the honors and make sure your darling little brother has a good time?” Kasey asked, the picture of innocence. Remus sighed and stood next to the ice bath, silently begging Sirius for help with his eyes as Kasey motioned Jules over. “Alright, so you take one of these, and then you have to be super careful as you aim. Lucky for you, you’re learning from the best.”

Remus winced as the first ice cube smacked him in the side of the head and gritted his teeth as the second went down the neck of his t-shirt. Sirius schooled his expression into the mildest, sweetest smile he could muster. “He’s not doing anything,” Jules whispered. Remus began taking deep breaths.

“He will.”

“Try me, Wint—oh, sh—” Remus muffled a squeak as ice went directly down his spine. “Hoo, boy, that’s cold.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you censor yourself,” Kasey said, amazed. “It’s uncanny.”

“Are you done?”

“I could do this all day, but it’s my turn to make dinner tonight and Nat gets hangry if I’m late. Good game, Little Loops.” Kasey and Jules high-fived and Remus shook his shirt out; no less than four ice cubes clattered to the ground.

“Young man, you are in such big trouble,” Remus growled playfully as he swept Jules over his shoulder and began tickling his knees. Sirius dodged the squirming legs and held the door open for them as they walked back into the hallway. “You’re okay hanging out with Moody while we get our stuff together, right?”

“Yeah! He’s got the coolest knee statues.”

----------------------------------

Dinner was anything but a quiet affair; all three of them had taken a nap when they got home, then had a dance party in the kitchen while Remus taught Jules how to actually cook chicken so nobody got food poisoning. Sirius was torn between begging them for the details of that particular story and wanting to stay as far away from it as possible.

Regulus and Jules got into a fierce game of footsie under the table that only ended when a small foot—he still didn’t know which one it was—slammed into the base of Sirius’ knee, hard enough that it would certainly leave a bruise. “Ow.”

They both froze, shared a look, then silently went back to eating. “Practice starts at nine tomorrow,” Remus said around a bite of broccoli. “That means wake up time is six thirty, okay? We’ve got a game on Thursday and it’s super important that we’re not late again. Reg, what time are you heading out?”

“I was thinking noon-ish? That way I can get my stuff set up while Dumo’s still at practice. Don’t want to bother him.”

Jules turned to him with the biggest, saddest eyes Sirius had ever seen. “You’re leaving?”

“I live with Dumo, remember?” Regulus hesitated. “I’ll be at the game, though.”

“Can I sit with you?”

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to placate him, and he turned back to his chicken happily. Sirius nudged his brother, giving him a significant look, which was met with an eye roll that couldn’t quite cover the fond flush on his face.

Jules and Regulus took care of the dishes after dinner and Sirius stretched out on the couch to the sounds of the kid’s excited chatter as he recounted the day’s events. Remus flopped down on top of him, settling between his thighs with a contented smile. “Today went well.”

“Yeah, it did.” Sirius began running his fingers through Remus’ soft hair. “I think Moody is about thirty seconds away from adopting him.”

Remus laughed against his chest. “I think so. It’s pretty cool seeing him so excited about PT stuff.”

“It is.” There was a slow sigh and Sirius raised his eyebrows. “What was that about?”

“I just realized that even though Reg is leaving tomorrow, we won’t have the house to ourselves for six more days. It’s been two weeks.”

Sirius closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the armrest. “Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. Think we can dump him on Dumo for a night?”

“We can handle six days, right?”

“Yeah, totally.”

There was a beat of silence. “This is going to be difficult.”

“If we make it to the three-day mark, I say we break open the Oreos as a reward.”

“Sounds good to me—oof.”

They both groaned as an extra hundred pounds of person squished on top of them. “Dishes are done!” Jules chirped.

“Did you wash your hands?” Sirius wheezed, blinking the dark spots out of his vision. Remus’ chin was digging into his upper ribs.

“Yep! Regulus wants to watch a movie. I think we should watch Jurassic Park, but he says it’s terrible—”

“He what?” Remus raised his head slightly and craned his neck to look back at the kitchen. “Regulus!”

“What?”

“You don’t like Jurassic Park? I thought you had taste!” Remus pushed off the couch and Jules wrapped all his limbs around him like an oversized koala. “We’re watching it tonight and you’re going to like it. Come on, baby, we need to make sure your brother has culture.”

Two hours later, as the credits rolled and three people snored gently, Sirius smiled to himself. He could handle a week of this.

[kookdbean]

unbothered

a/n: another addition to so it goes! just little snippets of acts of service between jungkook and oc. this takes place over the first school year together. also, if you guys have any ideas for more drabbles, pls send them in! enjoy! warnings: mentions of food consumption, coffee consumption, hints at students family life.

series masterlist

i.

It's Friday, the end of the second week of school.

The past three days, Jungkook and you have been arriving at the same time. You'd wait for one another, catching up from the day before since you parted. He'd crack a joke about how he wasn't sure what tires him out more, his roommate's stupid shit or waking up early five days in a row.

Today, you're running twenty minutes behind; twenty-five minutes before school started.

Teeth brushed and face washed were your first two priorities this morning. You were able to throw your hair up into a messy updo; not having enough time for the full routine, only patting moisturizer into your skin. It would be enough to make it seem like you put some effort, right?

It's after you've parked, backpack hanging over your shoulder, tote bag hanging low from your hand, that you spot Jungkook's car and freeze.

Did you leave him waiting?

Clocked in, you make your way to drop off your belongings in your room as fast as you can. No one stops you in the hall, a small sigh of relief leaves you. Who knows how long Ms. Lee Ji-Wan, a second grade teacher who literally beams sunshine, would have kept you if she spotted you.

A moment, just a small moment you allow yourself. A moment where you're not rushing yourself, worried about being somewhere, in the comfort and stillness of your classroom. Hand rubbing your nape, head slowly rolling out to the side. Just a moment.

And it's not ruined, not when you hear three soft knocks on your door before sliding open.

Jungkook's head is poking in, his wide eyes searching the room before settling on you. His eyes quickly look you over before he allows himself in, door closing behind him.

"You didn't wait, did you?" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, your hand moving down to rub your fingers against your collarbone.

"Not long, no," Jungkook reassures you, not staying still.

"Jungkook," you frown, reaching over to your desk for your coffee, that you realize you forgot when your fingers wrap around nothing, balling up into a loose fist.

"Here," Jungkook laughs, moving his hand from behind his back. An iced coffee.

Hands instantly clasping against your chest, big eyes and a hopeful tug of your eyebrows; your facial expression reading, "is that for me?" Jungkook laughs, holding the coffee out to you, shaking it to show you that it's real, and it's for you.

"I got here just before you, actually. I was in the mood for some expensive coffee and figured you'd like one, too," Jungkook explains, that smile never leaving his lips.

ii.

The end of a meeting is always such a relief.

The quiet, exciting buzz that comes with the meeting being called to it's end, almost like an exhale that relieves your body from the weights of the world for just that moment; weightless and carefree.

The chairs being pushed away so teachers could stand, the sound of shuffling paper and occasional crumple, quiet chatter while some people gathered together, others just making their way of the room. Talk of lunch plans, upcoming events (personal and 'professional').

That was feeling is what you look forward to at the start of every meeting.

It's the feeling you relish this moment. Tae-yeon rubs your forearm, telling you she'll see you after the day ends before rushing off to join Jae-eon, physical education teacher. You look after her, standing up, watching as the pair makes their way out of the room.

You turn back towards the center of the room, eyes scanning the room until you spot Jungkook.

Jungkook's not in the spot he deemed as his unassigned assigned seat during meetings, but at the front of the room, talking to the principal. His body language is animated; his papers on the chair closest to him, hands moving regardless of close they are to his body. You could see how his eyes widened and his tone came off as serious, passionate.

You can't help but watch. You can't help but wonder what he was so passionate about, what he was sharing with the principal.

You can't take your eyes away, not until they bow to each other and the principal is turning towards you, to make his way to the exit behind you. Quickly, you duck your head and a quiet wish leaves your lips, "have a good day, sir."

"You waited," Jungkook simply says, your head turning upwards and eyes automatically moving to his face.

"Yeah," you hum.

"You didn't have to," Jungkook reassures with a small smile, folding his small stack of papers in half and tucking it under his arm. He makes his way towards you, hand gesturing towards the door.

"Yeah, but I wanted to. We always go to lunch afterwards," you state.

"Oh," Jungkook falters behind you. He watches you make your way to the door, turning midway when you don't feel his presence.

"You wait for me," you shot back, a teasing look on your face.

"Yeah, because I haven't been sucked into a teacher's clique," Jungkook defends jokingly.

iii.

You're looking over the math worksheets from this morning, red pen in one hand, chopsticks handling japchae in other.

"This is DEAN" playlist on Spotify plays softly from your computer. You hum, in tune to the music and to the taste of the japchae that your roommate, Sana, made last night.

You don't hear the door open, your face down towards the container of noodles. Cheeks full and puffed out, you throw your head back, a quiet moan, eyes closed. God, you loved noodles.

"You okay?" Jungkook laughs, taking you by surprise.

Head lowering to look at him, your eyes are wide and don't bother chewing, just watching as Jungkook gets closer.

"I thought you had lunch plans," you struggled, slowly chewing and swallowing, repeating the process until your mouth becomes empty again.

Jungkook laughs again, reaching over to twist the cap off your bottle of juice open before handing it to you.

"Take it slow."

You wave him off, taking a sip, eyes looking him up and down.

"You didn't met up with your friend... Seokjin?" you ask curiously, hoping you got the name right.

"I did," Jungkook nods and taps his finger against your desk, "but Jin-hyung had something come up."

Your lips pout, brows furrowing, "Sorry. I know you were looking forward to it."

"It's fine, I know where he lives," Jungkook cackles, placing a small container in front of you, "but just as I promised..."

"Is this the cake he made last time?" You gasp hopefully, pulling yourself closer.

There's a glimmer in your eyes, it makes Jungkook laugh quietly, shoulders shaking and nose scrunching up as he nods.

"He gave me some extra after I mentioned that I shared it with a friend from work," Jungkook smiles, popping the lid open.

What you didn't know about Jungkook that his hyung(s) did was that Jungkook only shared food with people he really cared about.

iv.

Since the days Jungkook and you used to just magically show up at the same time to school and wait for each other so that you could enter the building together (neither you or Jungkook know that the other peeked at the time when they realized that arrive at that time, thus the new addition to their daily routines), you've both had the other's phone number.

First, texts were exchanged when one of you decided to go for a coffee run, always asking the other if they wanted something.

Then came the texts to tell the other that you were running late (you showed up ten minutes before the school day started just to find that someone turned on your computer).

Following that were the texts that came in the evening. The "what was the name of the website that you those pens?," "what was the dish you mentioned Namjoon made for dinner?," the "I have roommate cake and coffee tomorrow morning!!!"

You remember the first time Jungkook took a sick day, after the winter break, after you'd deemed yourselves friends and not just coworkers.

You're in the teacher's lounge, lips hovering over your water bottle. You're pretending to pay attention to your phone, thumb scrolling against the screen as if you're on social media, but in reality, you had your conversation with Jungkook opened. Subtly trying to type out everything you were hearing in the teacher's lounge.

"before you call me a child, I just have to say... you chose the wrong day to be absent, mr. jeon."

Jeon Jungkook: what is this? are we fourteen? are you trying to get me to wonder what the day is like without me?

You scoff to yourself, trying to bite back a smile.

Jeon Jungkook: when I woke up again this morning, it was already 10am, and the first thing that popped into my head was that it was two hours into the school day and math is almost over.

A laugh leaves your lips, the noise from the nearby teachers becoming quiet as they looked over at you.

Eventually, your texts ranged throughout the entire day. From the morning texts asking if the other wants coffee, texts swapping recipes in the late afternoon, to just asking about weekend plans and just...talking to one another.

v.

"I'll have you know, Jeon Jungkook, that my Saturdays are sacred," you gushed, waggling your finger jokingly.

Jungkook snorts, pushing the cart past you, leaving you standing there. He throws a quick glance over his shoulder at you, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

"No one forced you to tag along," Jungkook points out.

"You're right. But, you also know that I cannot and will not turn down a lunch invitation," you sigh dramatically.

"Ah, so when you see my face, you see a money bag?"

"Didn't you hear? The way to someone's heart is through their stomach," you sigh, hand over your chest, walking closer to where Jungkook's stopped.

Jungkook's looking at things that he can gift the students in the after school art club. You both had already gotten little gifts for your respective classes, but Jungkook had told you that he wanted to give his art kids some supplies so that they'd be encouraged to keep doing art; supplies that parents couldn't afford or in some cases, didn't want to purchase.

"I have three students who go to high school next year," Jungkook murmurs to himself, scratching the back of his neck, "but I don't want the rest of them to think I don't care about them."

"What were you planning on getting for them?" you ask gingerly, hands running over the different sketchbook covers.

"Taehyung was able to get some good quality mixed media sketch books from the art museum. They hold workshops every week and he found some extras," Jungkook turns to look at you, a hint of a soft smile, "so I was thinking a basic watercolor set, some pencils, color pencils?"

"Mmm, maybe leave the water colors for the ones going to high school? Not that you don't trust the younger ones, but water colors seems like some more responsibility," you comment.

Jungkook hums back in acknowledgement, moving to stand next to you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at his proximity, your heart racing when you catch his scent.

"You added erasers and sharpeners?"

"Pencil set."

"Hmm," your eyes scanning down the aisle. You spot chalk hanging at the end of the aisle, hand reaching out to pat Jungkook's bicep before quickly moving down the aisle. Adjusting your bag onto your shoulder, you dramatically gesture towards the various packs of chalk.

"Not only can they make art in their sketch books, but out in the neighborhood," you try telling it to him like a salesman at a car dealership, "art that can be remade, reworked. Sidewalks, driveways, whatever!"

Jungkook can't fight off the laugh as he doubles over, his laugh echoing around him.

His laugh is contagious, it might be your favorite sound. It has you breaking character, your laugh joining his; a symphony that could bring crowds together, one that people never wanted to stop hearing.

"What? It's not good?" you defend yourself through giggles.

"Did I say something?" Jungkook chuckles, pushing the cart towards you, carefully placing several packs of chalk in.

"Did I win myself some dessert?" you turn away to peek at the other aisles.

"That already came included with the lunch offer. You, my friend, have won yourself something even better."

You realize Jungkook's movement until you hear his voice right in your ear.

"You get to pick one thing from the store and I'll buy it for you."

You shiver, stepping away from him, overwhelmed. You try to brush off the way the back your neck heats up, your heart beats a little faster, your hands get a little clammy. Just a moment to compose yourself, yet, a moment becomes too long when the hairs on the back of your neck fall back down and his scent is no longer surrounding you.

You look up with wide eyes, watching Jungkook make his way into the aisle that had "acrylic and oil points" written at the top.

"Wait!" You call out, trying to catch up to him, "you can't judge what I pick!"

tagging: @yslkook

[superbadassnatural]

The One With The Morning After

Summary: Y/N has to deal with the aftermath of a night filled with booze, sex, and questionable choices. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 3,143 Warnings: mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, a bit of smut, hangover A/N: this was written for @smol-and-grumpy​’s awesome challenge “SuperFriends Tittle Challenge”. The prompt is the title of this story of course. Hope you all enjoy it!

(x)

Few rays of sunshine struggled to get past the blinds and illuminate the room. As the warm light ghosted over your face, your eyes fluttered open. You blinked a few times before taking in your surroundings. A thin white sheet covered your body. You lifted it only to notice you were naked. You felt disgusting as if you had sweated the whole night.

Turning on your back, you noticed the guy you spent the night with was still there. He was on his side, his back to you. The sheet only covered his lower half. Fresh scratches covered his back. You didn’t have to put your tired mind through much thinking to know you were the one who caused them. As much as you wanted to see his face to at least have an idea if you had picked it right, you didn’t want to wake him and deal with the whole morning after thing. One night stands are good. You have fun and most of the time you get off. The problem was the morning after itself. Unlike most people, you thank god when you wake up and the guy has already left or when you wake up first and leave without explanation. The whole ‘it was good, I had fun’ was annoying. Every time you had to put an extra effort to not roll your eyes.

It was frustrating, to say the least when you didn’t even remember the guy’s appearance. You could only hope a glimpse of his face would come back to you. You took one last glance at him before getting up. You nearly choked when your eyes landed on the small scar on the side of his hip. There was no way in hell you wouldn’t recognize that scar. You were the one who stitched him up back then. Clothes formed a trail on the floor, you scooped them up and dressed as fast and as quiet as you could. Your heart was almost leaping out of your chest by the time you walked out of the room.

Outside of the motel, you allowed your breath to even and your heart to calm down in your chest. His car was parked only a few feet away. You ignored the shining impala and made your way back to the bunker. It wasn’t the first time you came to this particular motel so you knew the way.

It was early. Dean never wakes up before noon after a night at a bar. You had enough time to get home, shower, and take a nap before he came back. You could only hope he’d remember as much as you did. Nothing. The thought of ruining your friendship with Dean had your palms sweating. It was undeniable that you felt something for him. Those feelings were buried way too deep and throughout the years you learned how to live with them. He didn’t make it any easier on you though. Dean was constantly flirting with you. In the beginning, it was tough to be around him. Dean’s a flirt. Every now and then he’d give you his signature smirk and wink followed by a flirty comment. Although it caused a weak in your knees, you figured it was best to keep your feelings to yourself rather than risk losing him.

Arriving at the bunker, you made your way to the war room, hoping to find one of your best friends. There was no sign of Sam. You figured he’d either be on his morning run or making breakfast. It wasn’t even eight yet, so he must be home.

“Hey you,” you smiled, leaning on the fridge.

“Hey,” he greeted as he finished making his sandwich. “I didn’t expect you to be back already.”

“Yeah, I know. Just missed my bed I guess.”

“Dean’s not home yet. Did you hear from him?”

“Nope,” you were grateful he had his back to you and wouldn’t catch you lying.

“Do you want me to make you something?” He turned to you, hazel eyes widening as they roamed over your entire body. “You okay? You've been crying?”

“What? No, of course not. Why?”

“Your mascara or eyeliner, I don’t know, is a little smudged.”

“Oh,” your fingertips touched the skin under your eyes softly. You left in such a hurry that you didn’t even look in the mirror. “Guess that’s what happens when you sleep with makeup on,” you shrugged. “Alright, I’m gonna take a shower then take a nap. Trust me, I need it.”

“Okay, you do you.”

You headed straight to the shower. The need to wash off the guilt and fear of ruining your thirteen-year friendship grew stronger by the second. You could only hope those feelings would be dispelled down the drain along with the stink of alcohol and sex. The water felt good on your tired body. You didn’t take long in there though. Every cell in your body claimed to be in bed again. You needed at least two more hours of sleep to survive the rest of the day. That and being away from Dean for twenty-four hours both physically and psychologically. Mission impossible.

Your eyes fell closed the second your body hit the soft mattress. Memory foam hugged your limbs, lulling you to sleep.

The headboard banged against the wall. Your mind was in a haze of alcohol and pleasure. Dean’s groans sounded distant. His hands were all over your body. His thrusts were erratic as he searched for the final push. You arched against him, breasts pressed to his firm chest. He whispered soft praises against your skin as a wave of pleasure consumed you.

Your eyes shot open as you sat in bed abruptly. Beads of sweat covered your forehead. Pulling the covers off, you got up, making a beeline to the bathroom. You washed your face in an attempt to get rid of the images of last night. It was in vain. The mirror only reflected how screwed you were. As if the images and the sounds running wild in your mind weren’t enough, your cleavage was covered in hickeys. You closed your eyes and suddenly you were back in that cheap motel room.

Dean’s lips kissed and sucked every patch of skin they could. Your hand shot to his head, fingers tugging at his hair. He groaned against the curve of your neck. His lips descended to your collarbone. Dean marked your skin as his hand squeezed your breast softly. He drunkenly mumbled “mine” against you.

Shaking the memory away, you turned off the tap and headed to your room. It was early which meant you had high chances of not seeing Dean. You just needed to eat and take a pill for the pounding headache. Then you could come back and hide in your room for the rest of the day. Pulling on a hoodie, you made your way to the kitchen.

“You’re awake,” Sam greeted. “Thought you were gonna sleep for the rest of the morning.”

“Yeah, me too,” you sighed, turning on the coffee maker before grabbing some bacon in the fridge for you to cook. “I wanted to, but I had a bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you shrugged.

“I found us a case,” he announced as you sat in front of him with a plate and a mug in your hands. “Omaha, Nebraska. I think it’s a spirit. A quick salt and burn will do it.”

“Good. When do we leave?” you asked, munching the crispy bacon.

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“And, uh, do you mind if it’s just you and Dean on this one? Eileen and I have a date tomorrow and uh-“

“Yeah, s-sure. I don’t mind going alone with Dean. I mean… Why would I mind? It’s not like we haven’t been on hunts just the two of us.”

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” you tried to keep your voice as normal as you could, but failed miserably. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the one acting weird.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “I need to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Last night I didn’t come home because I was with Dean. After you left the bar, we had a few more drinks. A lot more. And we slept together.”

“Finally,” he breathed out and you gasped at his reaction. “I just don’t understand why you guys went to a motel instead of coming home.”

“The motel was closer and we were kinda in a hurry.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said as you finished your breakfast.

“Why didn’t he come home with you?”

“I panicked when I saw him sleeping next to me. I practically ran out of the room. I think he won’t remember a thing. At least I hope he doesn’t.”

“Why? You’ve known each other for thirteen years. You have feelings for each other for at least ten. I’m surprised it took this long for something to happen.”

“You don’t understand, Sam,” you shook your head. “I can’t ruin my friendship with him. I can’t risk that.”

“Of course you can. You’re just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Dean asked as he walked into the room. You nearly gasped. He shouldn’t be back already.

Dean was sporting a hickey on the right side of his neck. You felt your cheeks heat up at the sight of it.

“I’m afraid of spiders and I can’t kill them,” you said fast before Sam could say anything.

Dean only hummed, opening the fridge and grabbing a pot with overdue food. He put some in his mouth but spat most of it, grimacing. A chuckle left your lips at the scene.

“What you got?” he mumbled, turning on the coffee machine.

“Salt and burn. Omaha, Nebraska. Should be easy for you and Y/N.”

“You not tagging along?”

“Nah, got a date with Eileen,” Sam smiled.

“You’re finally getting some,” the older Winchester teased. “Y/N and I can cover it. We are a great team, right sweetheart?”

He gave you a wink. You wondered if he remembered anything of your activities the previous night.

“Right,” you clicked your tongue.

Dean grabbed his coffee and sat beside you. He stank of alcohol and sex. He should’ve gone straight to the shower but he didn’t. He was still in the same clothes as last night for crying out loud.

“Dude, you smell terrible,” Sam grimaced.

“That, Sammy, is the smell of a man who had a crazy night of hot sex. You should try it sometime.”

Fuck, he remembers, you cursed.

“You’re disgusting.”

“No, I’m not. It’s a shame I had what was probably the best night of my life and I don’t remember shit. Not even her face. She left without a note. She could at least have left her phone number somewhere. But she did leave this bad boy here,” he pointed to the purple mark in his neck.

You could only hope neither of them would notice your flaming cheeks. He was so close. You were afraid he’d take one look at your face and all the memories would come back to him. You were afraid he’d still be able to smell his scent ingrained in your skin.

“I do remember some things though. Hmmm, some really good things,” Dean nearly moaned as he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. Sam quickly glanced at you, hazel eyes wide before staring back at his brother. “Whoever she was she surely knew what she was doing to me. Her body was trapped under mine as if she belonged there. Her hands all over my body, exploring it. Oh, and her skin felt so good under my touch. That I remember damn well.”

You fought hard to repress a moan. The words rolled out his tongue in a sensual song. Your thighs clenched unwittingly. Though you were as much aroused as you were embarrassed. He was saying all that in front of his brother after all. Sam didn’t want to know anything about Dean’s activities, but the look in his eyes told you he was having fun seeing you suffer.

“And she smelled good too. So fucking good. I swear that if I close my eyes, I can feel her touch. I can even hear her soft moans. What wouldn’t I give just to know her name.”

“Maybe you should try asking the bartender if he remembers her face or even her name,” Sam suggested and you kicked his foot under the table. “I’m sure he might remember something.”

“She felt absolutely perfect,” Dean completely ignored his brother. “The way her fingers tugged at my hair, making it hurt just a little. Then her legs wrapped around me and… fuck,” he growled. “That was mind-blowing. She clenched around me so tight-”

“Dude, too much information. You should keep that to yourself,” Sam interrupted his brother while you prayed neither of them had listened to the small groan that left your lips.

“All I’m saying is she was too fucking hot. I wished she could’ve had the decency of leaving me her number,” he sighed. “If you guys think this hickey is the only thing she left for me, you’re wrong. She might not have left a note, but she did leave some real sexy marks all over me. Hmm, I love it when they mark me up. So damn hot.”

“Dude-“

“And if I concentrate hard enough I can still taste her in my tongue,” Dean smirked.

“That’s enough, man. I’m gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

Dean chuckled at his brother’s reaction and took one last gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.

“Excuse me, but I, uh, I’m gonna take a nap. I’m tired,” you hurriedly stood from your seat. “I’ll catch with you guys later.”

As you disappeared in the hall, Dean’s grin got even wider as he shook his head. Sam scoffed, realization dawned on him.

“You remember, don’t you?” Sam asked his brother, a smile on his lips.

“Every single detail,” Dean nodded with a smirk.

“Dude, you aren’t worth a penny.”

“What can I say? I love seeing her squirm.”

“You should go after her.”

“I am,” Dean said. “I’m just gonna give her some time to pull herself together.”

Sam nodded. Silence fell between the brothers. Each of them lost in their own world. Dean tried to come up with a way to approach you without making it weird. Sam tried to erase the images his brother put in his mind. The younger Winchester was sure he threw up in his mouth a little. Dean had given him a share of traumas concerning sex when they were teenagers and now this?

Dean got up from his seat and before he headed to your bedroom, he placed his mug on the dishwasher. He was about to leave the kitchen but stopped and glanced at his brother.

“You were the only one who didn’t score last night, Samuel,” he teased and Sam rolled his eyes.

Three soft knocks on the door startled you, dragging you out of your trance. Mumbling a “c’mon in”, you straightened yourself at the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, peeking his head through the door.

“Hi,” you smiled, a thumping beat of your heart in your chest.

Dean made his way to your bed and sat just a few inches from you. His thigh brushing against yours.

“How’re you feeling?” He glanced at you but your eyes were fixated on the closed door.

“Really tired. You?”

“Exhausted. Don’t know if I should take a shower or a nap.”

“I think you need both,” you smiled as a chuckle reverberated in his throat.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he clicked his tongue, green eyes falling in his hands as he rubbed them together. “You know, I must confess that you did rock my world last night.”

“You remember?” You stared at him wide eyed only to meet a crooked grin on his lips. “Of course you do,” groaning, you buried your face in your hands.

“How could I ever forget?”

“We had a lot of drinks. A whole lot.”

“Yeah, guess I just needed to get my ass drunk to finally go after something I wanted.”

“Don’t do this, Dean,” you pleaded, staring into his forest green eyes.

“I thought last night meant something, you know? I thought it would change things between us for the best. I couldn’t believe I was the only one feeling something. Not with the way we look at each other and the constant flirting and the way we hold each other. Now imagine my disappointment when I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Dean, I-“

“I thought you were gonna be there. I thought we were gonna talk and figure things out between us, but you didn’t even give me a chance. It felt as if you regretted it, as if what happened between us was a mistake,” his voice was low, barely upon a whisper.

“No, Dean, I don’t regret it,” you shook your head. “It wasn’t a mistake but we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why? Why shouldn't we have done it? Give me one good reason why.”

“Because we are friends and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“We were never friends, Y/N. I feel something for you from day one. And I know you feel something for me too. Now you either-“

You captured his plump lips in yours. His eyes widened and it took him a second before kissing you back. His hand cupped your face, thumb caressing your cheek. The gentle press of his lips almost made your heart leap out of your chest. He pulled away a little too soon for your liking. Dean placed a small peck to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

“Now I either what?” You giggled, opening your eyes and finding his still closed.

“I don’t know,” Dean chuckled. “Guess this changes things, right?”

“Mmhmm,” your hands were on each side of his neck as you pecked his lips.

“Good.”

“I hate to tell you but you need a shower.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said sheepishly, his hands were on your waist as he moved you to straddle his lips. “But I think you should come with me. You know, that whole save water, shower together thing.”

“Hmmm, I’ve kinda already showered.”

“Do it again. I promise you won’t regret it,” he smirked.

“I thought you said you hated shower sex. You said it was too complicated.”

“I don’t hate it. It is complicated though, but I’m sure we can work things out,” he grinned, standing up with you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “‘Sides, you ought to see all the damage you caused last night.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Winchester.”

I’d love to know what you think of this one!! Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Note that if your name is crossed, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you :(

Forevers: @hobby27​ @thewinchesterandreidwhore

Dean Sweethearts: @maya-craziness​ @akshi8278​ @herfalsegod​ @witch-of-letters​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​

[writerwrites]

Yuánfèn | 02

Ch. 2: Retrouvailles: “An overwhelming feeling of happiness caused by seeing someone after a long separation.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Word Count: 3.3k Chapter Warnings: Smut - 18+ Only - Minors DNI, male masturbation, one night stand mentioned but not detailed, slow burn, grief, fluff

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Complete Masterlist

The first week Steve took it slow, only texting you when you texted first or if he hadn’t heard from you at all. He’d taken your advice, balancing his time between preparing the team for another altercation with the Maximoff twins and finding out as much as he could about them. It was a welcome distraction from the lack of news on his hunt for the Winter Soldier. Natasha was the only one that seemed to notice that he would periodically glance at his watch or his phone and go quiet for a moment before getting back to work. When she finally cornered him, he felt like he should have seen it coming. Arms akimbo and eyebrow quirked, she called him out with no hesitation, “You’ve got a secret.” 

“Don’t we all?” Steve could immediately feel the regret in challenging her, busying himself with packing up his bag to head to his room and shower after a long morning of training. Nat didn’t hesitate to follow suit, tagging along with her own bag as she took long strides to keep up with him, even slipping into the elevator before he could. “How’s the search for the Maximoff twins going?”

Nat stood in front of the panel before he could select a floor. “Who have you been texting? Finally ask that SHIELD agent out, Sharon, or is the moping about a certain fossil?” She raised an eyebrow, her fingers tapping her arm impatiently.

Sighing, Steve reached behind her and hit the button. “Neither. I’ve just got a lot on my plate.” Before she could make another snarky comment, he asked. “Clint went home. Did you check in on him?” Though he didn’t use the tone of encouraging her to mind her own business, as he respected the effort she was putting in to build their friendship, he couldn’t help but hope she’d drop the subject.

“Yeah, I’ve checked in. Clint���s good, just like Doc said he’d be. Cho’s kind of a genius and it’s a relief to know that there’s someone that can piece us mere mortals back together when we’re out there saving the world with you.” Steve nodded as he listened, like a captain listening to a report on one of his troops, but his shoulders went ridged with her comment about Dr. Cho. She reminded him too much of Tony and not enough of Dr. Erskine. Luckily, it went unnoticed as she stepped out of the elevator with him and they walked toward their rooms.

There weren’t many memories in Steve’s life, even before the serum, where things simply went black. Taking a beating from his brainwashed best friend was one of them. Steve could picture the metal arm pulling back, the sting of pain as the bones in his face shattered over and over, and could even recall the conversation between swings, but he knew there were moments that were just blank from the concussion- especially after Bucky pulled him from the water. The fading image of him walking away, the ache of being put onto a stretcher, the gentle touch of small hands on his swollen face as the hum of medical machinery tried to pull him back to reality. It didn’t happen for days, but there were moments when he could still hear her talking to him or someone else in the room and always gave his hand three small squeezes before saying her goodbyes.

Steve had been in his head, remembering the music that woke him up and Sam waiting there for him. They’d stopped at Steve’s door, closest to the elevator, and Natasha pretended not to notice how quiet he’d been until she finally added, “Clint’s probably going to take another week before coming back to work, but we’re going out for drinks tonight. Are you thinking about coming with us this time? Might help you clear your head.”

“I’ll think about it.” It was a surprisingly genuine response. He didn’t need to get drunk to have a good time with friends and knew Sam could use the break from hunting a ghost and was itching to see Nat again. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that if he said yes that Kristen from Statistics would be there and he wasn’t going to open that door, let alone walk through it.

“Aren’t you full of surprises today.” With a slight smirk she kept walking toward her room, calling back, “We’re heading out at eight. Take a nap old guy.”

By the time he was alone in the shower, the idea of going out with the team seemed all the more appealing. Regardless of Natasha still trying to set him up with random colleagues. He was lonely and reaching one of those breaking points of needing to find some comfort to balance out a minute sense of normalcy to his bizarre life, be it good conversation or bad sex. The water cascaded down his toned body and he brushed away the beads of dew and bubbles of soap that trailed down the lines of his muscles before reaching for himself. A part of him that was still very much stuck in the 1940’s hated this need, always feeling some level of shame in finding comfort in the palm of his hand. Typically, these moods resulted in an act of non-sexual frustration, a stress reliever that was easiest to address with his fist and a punching bag.

He told himself that he wasn’t the kind of person to think of someone in particular that way during the solitary act. When he did ‘indulge’, his thoughts had always trailed back to the singular heated kiss with Peggy Carter. But now, with one arm on the tiled wall and the other stroking his length, Steve took an uncommonly slow pace and his mind went to the little things that he’d thought about over and over throughout the week. Small warm hands on his skin, her hand in his. How small would her hands look wrapped around him? How soft would she feel? The smell of her hair and the way she clung to him in a simple hug. Did she know how warm she felt as she held on so tightly to him? Steve gripped himself more tightly, strokes still slow and steady, as he worked out the loneliness with a twist of his wrist. Thoughts passing from little moments and his own stolen glances. The sound of her little hums when she was thinking or satisfied with a solution she’d come up with, how she always bit her lip when she was in a room full of people. Then there was the way she held her breath every time she managed to make eye contact with him as his hands moved over the lace panties she'd passed him to pack. Was she always wearing something like that under her scrubs? Did she do this, think about him getting off to the thought of her in them? The thought of the doctor slipping her hand between her thighs while she wore nothing but lace, scrolling through their messages, and thinking of him finished the soldier off. A long deep groan of her name echoed in the bathroom as he made a mess of the shower wall and floor.

Steve was panting, exhausted but satisfied, as the water washed all evidence down the drain. Slowly, he started to realize what he’d done, but the familiar weight of guilt couldn’t settle in as he realized he wanted something other than a past he couldn’t have. As he dried off, Steve tried to rationalize the thought away, they’d had a nice moment between two colleagues and she was undeniably pretty. It was easy for his mind to drift there, he thought, to think about someone who was naturally beautiful and kind when they were so wholly unaware of it. As he got dressed, Steve put a pin in it, telling himself that even if there was a little spark, she needed a friend. That thought alone seemed to settle the decision to go out or not for him. He chose to drag Sam along for Nat’s sake and make the most of it all.

Sam and Nat were hitting it off well, making Steve wonder what was really going on between her and Clint. The pair of them together had been a force and, despite not feeling ready to date- especially someone as modern as Lilian-with-a-lip-piercing from Accounting, he found himself heading out with her for the night. She was chatty and outgoing, and he found some relief in her questions about his past or job. It stopped him from having to open up on a deeper level when that wasn’t what they were doing. What they were doing was rough and exhausting. She was vocal about what she wanted; hair pulled, ass spanked, fast thrusts, and a firm no kissing rule. He obliged, getting his pleasure from the sounds of her own and his name on her lips, but by the third round she was exhausted and he was left thinking about how he’d never made love to a woman.

Slipping out of Lilian’s place with less awkwardness than he’d expected, Steve checked his phone. He still hadn’t heard from you all day, and it was 2 am in New York, which meant a new morning for you in Spain. He wondered if he should’ve asked Sam for an update on Bucky at the bar, but hesitated to reach out and ask at this hour. Despite socializing and the workout he’d just had, he was too in his head to go to sleep. Spinning his keys around his finger he found himself riding his bike over to the small, quiet apartment with books and a hungry fish.

As if you knew he’d turned up in your space, he heard his text tone just as he was screwing the top back onto the fish food. “I know you said that if I needed anything, to just ask. Probably didn’t expect a text this early and I’m guessing you’re probably asleep… this is so dumb and a big ask, but…” Steve stared at the screen, eyebrows drawn together as he wondered if the smartphone had eaten a text or had some feature that shortened longer messages that he didn’t know how to open. He watched the typing bubbles pop up again and waited, taking a seat at one of the two bar stools at your kitchen counter, the other containing a pile of your neatly stacked mail from the week. “I know I didn’t think I’d get through the goodbyes alone, but I managed. Thanks for the encouragement. It's everything else that I realized I just can’t do alone. The packing… all the pictures. There’s so many memories and I can’t take everything back to my place in New York- my place is just too small.”

Steve clicked the ‘call’ icon and waited for you to pick up on the other end. He thought about his mother’s funeral and how Bucky had been there for him, told him he knew he could manage alone but didn’t have to. His stomach twisted with emotion and then the call went to voicemail.

You didn’t expect him to see your panicked messages until later in the morning. You sat there, runny nose and bleary eyed, staring at the name on your screen. Five minutes, just staring, no text response, no new call- and then he was back, a FaceTime call this time. Pulling your hood over your head so he couldn’t see how disheveled you were, wiping your face on your sleeve, you answered with your face hidden mostly between your knees where you rested your chin and the hood. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” The apology that excluded the ‘I’m sorry’ was still very obviously an apology.

“You didn’t.” You were unconvinced, his hair was a little mussed, clothes wrinkled. He could tell that it seemed like you hadn’t fully thought through what you were going to ask of him, so he offered up a different question.“What do you have left to do in Spain? We’ve managed to stay out of trouble over here, just for you.”

The soldier tried to study your expression, noticing the glimmer in your eyes that wasn’t just from the sunrise. “I have to pack up what I want to take home. I was thinking I could get a scanner and digitize the pictures, but I don’t know how long that will take.” You let out a puffed up sigh, “I don’t think I have the heart to sell the place, but I’m so bad at taking vacations that it seems like a waste to keep it.”

“Don’t sell it. If your gut is telling you to keep it, go with your gut. There are other options, AirBnB or renting it out.” You sniffled, burying your face further in your arms and legs, leaving Steve to stare at the view behind you. “I know I’m getting a sideways view here, but it looks really beautiful.”

That managed to squeeze a small smile out of you as you nodded and turned the phone toward the balcony to give yourself a moment to wipe away the tears and snot once more. “Yeah, under any other circumstances it would be a proverbial paradise. You probably need a vacation more than me.”

“You’re probably right.” Steve laughed softly, trying to coax you out of what looked like the tail end of a lot of crying. “Send me the location, I’m curious what’s around the place.”

With a long hum you sent him your location. “Not going to send Stark tech to stalk me, are you?”

“I’m sure if Tony wanted to keep tabs on you he was already doing it.” Steve clicked on the marker and looked around the place, its stone streets and little shops. “Doesn’t look like there’s any modern shops, as cute as all these little places are. Where are you going to find what you need to scan the pictures?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Just using my phone’s camera, I guess.” You looked at him as you watched the colors reflect off his face, blues and greens that mirrored the same flecks of color in his eyes. He probably didn’t even realize how beautiful he could look just staring at a phone. You relaxed a little, having someone to talk to for the first time in a week and let out a quiet yawn. “Is 8 am too early for a nap?”

Steve laughed and your face ached as you nearly smiled again. He bit his bottom lip, tempted to tell you that it was nice to see you smiling when he knew your heart was hurting, but he could already hear how cheesy it sounded and instead, chose banter. “Is 2 am too early to still be awake?”

“Go to bed. You know the second that you all even think you know where the twins are you’ll be on a Quinjet to find them. You can’t be pulling all nighters, even if you’re a super soldier. Doctor’s orders.” You added with a small smirk.

“Even if I headed back to the Tower this very minute, I bet I’d still beat Nat back. I think she left the bar with my friend, Sam.”

You knew Sam, just a little from one brief patch up. He had the same charm Steve had, clever and driven. “Nat and Sam? Good for her. He seems like a great guy and he could keep her on her toes.” With his phone so close to his face you couldn’t help but wonder, “Wait, it’s too quiet for you to be at a bar. Steven Grant Rogers, are you FaceTiming me from the bathroom of an O.N.S.?”

A part of you wanted to laugh, the thought of Steve just sleeping with some random person from a bar. Another part of you, the one that had a hint of a crush on the sweet guy who helped you when you were desperately in need of a friend, felt a pang of jealousy. “I’m not sure what an O.N.S. is, but I’m actually at yours feeding your nameless fish and named plants. You really got to figure out a name for him before I do.”

Somehow, a smile found your face, this big hero wanting to name a fish and zipping over to your place to feed him at 2 am. “If you’re too tired to head back to the tower, you can crash at my place. It’s late, you look like you could fall asleep at any moment. The bed’s clean, towels are in the bathroom cabinet, and coffee and it’s fixings are right over the pot. I’m not fancy enough for a Keurig, sorry.”

You watched him stop scrolling, his eyes meeting yours as you rambled. He didn’t look tired, he looked disheveled but perfect, as always, but it was cute to see him try to flatten out his hair nevertheless. “You forgot about the books.”

“I thought that was a given.” You stuck your tongue out before yawning one more time. “I’m serious though, best to stay off the road if you’re tired. Besides, the bills are paid even though no one’s there to use anything. I’ll probably be gone another week.”

Steve sighed, not in some defeatist way of you being right but, to your surprise at the mention of how much longer you would be gone, “One more week…”

“Feels like I’ve been gone for months.” You looked away, eyes stinging as the weight of your reality settled on your shoulders again. There was no one left in this world to actually miss you. The truth was that despite being in this beautiful place, you couldn’t help but feel all the more hollow and alone in it. If it wasn’t for the little check ins you would’ve never managed to drag yourself through the house, to the lawyers, or out to the shops to eat. “I’m not texting you too much am I?”

“Not at all.” He replied quickly, then worried it might have been too fast. He could tell you were off somewhere else, wondering if you heard him or if it even mattered. The way you clung to him just a few feet away from where he currently sat, a tight hug now in the forefront of his mind. Before he knew what he was saying, the thought spilled out. “I wish I could give you another hug. I know it’s not easy to do this alone.”

The confession choked you up, sniffling you nodded, “I wish you were here to give me a hug too. A1 hug game, big guy.” Despite the tacked on joke, tears silently spilled from your cheeks and you were eager to get off the phone so he didn’t have to hear the incoming wave of heavy breathless weeping. “Get some sleep, Steve. I’ll keep texting signs of life.”

He nodded, eyebrows knit together with concern and curiosity, “We’ll catch up soon, darling. Goodnight.”

Steve took you up on the offer, showering and climbing into your bed somewhere around 3 am with one of the other books that had been stacked on your bedside table. He hardly comprehended a single word, replaying the conversation as he drifted into a heavy sleep, overwhelmed by the sense of happiness in just seeing your face through a screen as he was surrounded by the comforting scent of you. For the first time since seeing Bucky, he didn’t dream of his best friend falling off the train or the dance he never had.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would love feedback from you. Do you think these two miss each other? Are they crushing or just some horny adults? We shall see, we shall see!

Also, if it wasn’t obvious: In this house we stan bisexual Cap and ship Sam x Nat over Bruce x Nat.

As my followers know I have an obscenely demanding job, but I always try my best to keep you posted on if there will be a delay in a chapter posting. This series should be posting every Sunday until it finishes. Also, while I do keep Reader vague, I’m a Latina writer and I write fics I want to read.

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics​​

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to my overall tag list.

[whatifidontwanttobethesavior]

Bonded

Cadmine slept fitfully the first night in her new home, her brow furrowed and face streaked with dried tears that had fallen from her eyes for a good while before she had finally given in to her body’s exhaustion. She had ached in more ways than one as her new husband had kissed her hand and instead of lying with her in the manner of which a man did with his wife, Vidmir had left her. He had told her she was tired, and that they had all of eternity for such things, but Cadmine hadn’t been able to help feeling a bit… disappointed? She knew that she should have been relieved, that most women would have been glad for the chance to rest properly after such a long day but before Cadmine knew it, she had broken down in tears. Her heart had ached inside of her chest, though whether it was from the beginnings of the change slowing it down or the fact that her husband had decided not to stay the night with her Cadmine couldn’t tell. It could also have easily been homesickness, having to sleep in a new place that she had never been to before or a yearning for her parents who had always bid her a good night before she’d gone to bed. She had stained the satin cover of the pillow beneath her head, the crimson material darkening even further beneath the wetness of her sadness. Eventually she had grown cold without Vidmir’s presence beside her and shifted on top of the covers, fighting with them until she had been able to squirm her way beneath them. It was warmer under the blankets and Cadmine had fallen asleep at last, her hair sticking to one cheek, her hand brought close to her face. She nuzzled against the flannel of  her husband’s pajama sleeve, breathing in the scent of him and causing a fresh flood of crying to be released from her eyes as she felt a sudden yearning for his presence. She wasn’t sure why he had chosen to go elsewhere for the night. Even if he had decided that being with her physically wasn’t something they needed to do right away, she still would have felt better to have him lie beside her. The red room felt much larger, more empty, and a lot more foreboding without him there.

When Cadmine woke it was to the swish of curtains sliding across a rod and the smell of food. She stirred, rolling and rubbing at her eyes, her hair an absolute mess on her head she blinked, trying to take in her surroundings. She was confused momentarily, the place unfamiliar at first until she remembered. She had been married last night. This was the home of her husband, her home now, and this was the room he had given to her. The handmaiden, Gunhilde, had just opened the large velvet curtains, letting in the light of the moon, brightening up the dim settings. Cadmine knew that with the change her eyes would adjust in time so that she would be able to see much better with limited light but at the moment, she welcomed the addition. She was able to more clearly see the room now but even so, she could have done with a few more candles. Or some electric lighting but an old castle like this simply didn’t have such a thing.

“Good morning, my Lady.” Gunhilde greeted in Cadmine’s native tongue, the sound of her words reassuring to the young wife. Cadmine managed a small smile as she began to press back the blankets a bit, but Gunhilde rushed forward holding a bed tray to place over her lap instead. Fine china sat on the gleaming wooden surface, plain white pieces with simple golden rims. Cadmine stared down at her favorite breakfast, a simple piece of sourdough toast with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese and topped with thin apple slices. There were also scrambled eggs and some bacon off to one side, as well as a cup of what smelt like her favorite morning tea. “The Lord said you might be quite tired this morning and to not put you through any unneeded strain. I do hope your night went well, Lady Nezhdanov.”

Cadmine blinked, surprised for a moment as she registered her new name. She had heard it the night before of course, but it hadn’t quite clicked until now that her name was no longer the same as it had once been. She was a married woman and thus, had taken her husband’s surname as her own. How did one even go about spelling something like Nezhdanov? Cadmine would have to learn. Looking up from the tray across her lap, Cadmine’s eyes fell upon Gunhilde, looking all the world like almost every other handmaiden Cadmine had ever had. She wore the usual uniform of a dress and apron, stockings and good shoes made for working in, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. In a way, it was comforting for Cadmine and she felt her nerves easing a little bit, though her eyes flitted towards the door, wondering if her husband was awake yet.

“It was fine.” Cadmine stated simply, turning her attention back to Gunhilde. “Have you eaten? I’m not very partial to eggs if you’d like them.”

“Ah yes. Your parents said that, but the Lord wanted to make sure you got enough of your energy back. Neither of you will be able to partake in any blood except one another’s until after the change is complete, as is the tradition.”

“Oh, right...” Cadmine sighed, looking down at her tray again and noticing the severe lack of her usual blood slushie. It pale in comparison when she remembered the absolute ambrosia that was Vidmir’s blood though. She didn’t know if a slushie would satiate her ever again in the same manner of which it once had now that she knew what it was like to drink fresh from the vein of her husband. “Is he awake, do you know?”

“I’m afraid not. Master Lucero said he was not to be disturbed but you are welcome to do as you wish throughout the castle until you are ready to retire back to bed for the night.”

“Oh.” Cadmine felt a wave of disappointment wash over her, the realization that she probably wouldn’t be seeing Vidmir again until it was time for him to return to this bed. They would drink from one another again and then… what? Was he going to take her as his? Or perhaps he would decide upon that first so they still had enough energy for feeding left. The memory of his lips upon her neck the night before, the way his teeth had sunken into her flesh and then the pleasure that had forced away the pain of his venom. Just the thought of it had Cadmine’s cheeks heating with color, her thighs tightening beneath the red blankets. She had desired him and even now, as she pondered the idea of becoming one with her husband, Cadmine was both nervous and excited. Surely tonight. He had probably just been too exhausted from yesterday’s busyness to continue. And afterwards, he would stay with her. They could lie together, close in that way couples were supposed to. For now, she would simply have to be patient until he came for her.

“After you’ve eaten, I can help you dress and we can do whatever you please, my Lady.”

“Alright then.” Cadmine agreed. She lifted the toast and bit into it, relishing the familiar taste of her usual breakfast. She ate it down heartily, wanting to have plenty of strength for tonight, sipping at her tea. When she was finished, Gunhilde removed the tray and set it off to one side. She moved to the large wardrobe and tugged it open, revealing Cadmine’s usual assortment of dresses. They were pretty things, but very old fashioned if she was to be honest. However, she was still happy to see them at the moment. “May I have the green please? The light one. I do believe that is my favorite.”

Gunhilde appeased her, pulling the sage colored dress from the wardrobe on its hanger, lying it down on the bed. It took time and effort for Gunhilde to figure out how to help Cadmine dress and get into her wheelchair. Cadmine could do most of it on her own, though the many buttons down the back of her dress made things more difficult than they had to be. At least she didn’t have to deal with a rotten corset and back brace today. That had been demolished by her husband in the limo the night before. Her leg braces, however, were more familiar and easy to put on, not making her feel so confined and helping her stay upright easier when she stood up to get her dress down and then, sit in her chair. She leaned back into it with a sigh, letting Gunhilde do up her hair in it’s usual tight bun with a cover. When asked what she would like to do, Cadmine frowned and then shrugged, suggesting maybe they could go exploring a bit. The handmaiden agreed and rolled her out of her chambers, heading down a long hallway that was still more dimly lit than Cadmine would have liked. It was a good hall though and the thin wheels on her old chair moved easily along it, not catching like they tended to on most things.

“Gunhilde, may I go fast?” Cadmine asked after a moment, reaching down to grab at her wheels’ handrails. Gunhilde laughed.

“It’s your house, my Lady. Master Lucero said the Lord was very clear. You can do whatever you desire.”

Cadmine smiled at that and then pushed herself forward, using her arms to get herself going much more rapidly than before. She’d never been allowed to race about back home but it was something she did enjoy. Going slow had never been fun for Cadmine but there was always the worry that she’d fall out of her chair if she raced about. She couldn’t run, so it was the closest she could get. She released a bit of a laugh as she reached the end of the hallway and found herself in the main entrance hall full of paintings from last night. Gunhilde had picked up her own pace to keep up, holding her bun a bit to keep it in place but she had a smile on as well. She wasn’t all too much older than Cadmine to be honest, only in her early twenties. They ended up racing circles around the entrance hall for a bit, Cadmine only getting caught on a rug every now and then when she wasn’t careful and nearly sending herself toppling because her chair couldn’t handle  it. Soon after though, they picked another hallway and started down it, intent on getting the lay of the land for now. Cadmine wanted to figure out where all the main rooms were so she wouldn’t get lost.

[amostimprobabledream]

And He Walks With Flames (Dabi x Reader) - Part One

They say humans, in a strange, ironic twist of fate, owe their magic to demons. A thousand years ago, they walked the earth, wreaking destruction and chaos wherever they tread. Humans were no more than meat for the slaughter, or glorified playthings for their amusement. The first generation of humans to fight back against their monstrous oppressors did so by a peculiar, ancient magic. A power that could repel demons and bring hope to all humanity. A terrible war raged for the fate of the world and the humans managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. The demons were banished to their land of origin, sealed away in defeat. But seals don't last forever. While historians argue on how literal these legends may be, there is no denying that ancient creature have begun to stir, appearing in our world again with growing frequency. And soon there might- The last paragraph was torn away. "Oh, for god's sake," you tsk. Sunlight pours through the large, high window of your lecture room, dust motes dancing in the golden rays. Though you were engrossed in your book, once you look up, the spell is broken, and the clear sky outside once again has your eyes wandering to it. It seems that you are not the only one getting distracted, either - even the professor keeps tapering off at the promise of an afternoon outside in the gorgeous spring weather. "Well," the professor says, shuffling the papers in front of her. "That's all for today. Please revise over the material and we'll discuss it in further detail next time. You are all free to go." You're only too happy to comply, putting your things away and scrambling to your feet. Everyone else is hurrying to get outside, pouring down the stairs to the doors, chattering to one another as they go. Normally you love going to lectures, but it's just too nice outside to be cooped up indoors. You push open the doors and step outside, a muted sigh of pleasure leaving your mouth. Your university, the Royal Academy of Magic, has the reputation for being tough, but so far, you've been enjoying the work. Learning about the different faces of magic, its uses, and the history of it, it's all so very fascinating to you. You've been able to use magic since you were young, but it's studying it here that will really help you unlock your true potential, and hopefully give you a concrete idea of what to aim for with your career. So far there are so many options a magic-user might do that it's been a little overwhelming trying to decide. As you cross the lawns, grass crunching beneath your feet, you decide to swing by your dorm first to drop off your books - they may contain a lot of knowledge, but damn if they're not heavy - your mother pointed out that you've developed something of a slouch since you started studying here. "I'm back!" you call as you push open the door of your dormitory. "Huh?" Kendou looks up from her bed, where she has a couple of books sprawled out next to her head, notes scribbled in the margins of her notebook as she looks over her textbook. Her red hair spills down her shoulder, coming loose from its signature ponytail. "You're back early!" "Yeah, they let us out sooner than I expected," you reply with a shrug and a small laugh, dropping your bag on your own bed and stretching, wincing as a kink in your shoulder pops. "Oh, well, that's good timing, someone came by earlier with a message for you," Kendou says, pushing herself up into a sitting position, apparently deciding your arrival is a good a reason as any to take a break from studying. "Your mother wants you to go down to the Imperial Research Centre to get your father." "Did she come by here?" you ask in surprise. Normally your mother arranges to meet you after lectures or seminars if she wants to see you during the week, and she's a rather busy woman besides. "No, she left a message at the front desk and someone passed it along," Kendou shrugs. "But she also said you guys are doing something tonight, right?" "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten all about that!" you say, feeling silly that it could

possibly have slipped your mind - you love it when you get to go out for a meal with your parents and often it means one of them has some exciting news to share. "Thanks, Kendou, I'll head over there now." She grins and gives a little wave. “No problem!” You suppose it's fortunate that the Imperial Research Centre is only a short walk from the campus and that you're very familiar with the place, since your father's been working there for so long. Anyway, it's a pleasant walk, the way there is lined with rows of trees that are only a week or two away from growing from dark to light pink and shedding their blossoms. When the street is in full bloom, it's like there's been a wedding. You even find yourself humming as you walk, breathing in the subtle smell of flowers on the breeze, wondering to yourself if the blossom trees were planted before or after the buildings were founded, but either way, whoever was responsible for them made a good call. The Imperial Research Centre is a peculiar building, made of blue stone and with a roof that boasts four conical points, one in each corner, making it resemble a castle from bygone days just plopped in the middle of the city. There's an aura of mystery to it, too, hinting at the all-important, life-changing work that’s always going on inside. If ever cutting-edge technology is released to the public, odds were that the Centre had a hand in making it. The building is cooler on the inside than it is outdoors, powered by a system designed to spread cool or warm air throughout the entire building, depending on the system. You approach the front desk, wishing that you'd thought to bring a jacket, because it’s always cold in here during the warm seasons, and the receptionist glances up on you with a slightly dismissive expression on her face. It's probably because she thinks you're an overeager student or some hapless intern, it's very rare a researcher your age would be able to work here. "May I help you?" the receptionist asks in a cool, professional tone. "Yes, I'm here to see my father," you reply. "He's one of the vice executives here." You give his surname, and the woman pauses. Is that a trace of nervousness you can see? "He's downstairs in Containment Room 1A," she says, checking a sheet of paper on the desk, which is littered with various papers, random pieces of stationary and one of those magitech intercom systems that they use. They have something similar at the Academy too, though of course, the Centre get the most high-tech version of everything. "All right, thanks," you say, turning to head for the elevator. "Wait!" the woman cries out and you glance back, confused. "I'm sorry, but you can't just walk through here, especially to the lower levels! You don't have the clearance and it can be dangerous." You scoff in disbelief. You have visited your father here before, many times, and this has never been a problem for you before. You always just tell them who you are and then get a visitor's pass. You even know some of the codes to the doors, thanks to waiting around for your father to finish work so often. "Well, please can you have someone go fetch him for me?" you ask, going to reluctantly perching on one of the chairs in the waiting area. "Can't it wait?" the receptionist asks impatiently, and maybe it can, but her attitude is starting to piss you off, so you shoot her a frosty smile you've perfected after watching your mother pull a similar face at people who don't meet her standards. "No, it can't." The woman sighs but she dutifully presses a button on the intercom system and speaks quietly into it for a moment or two, while you idly pick at a loose thread on the chair you're sitting on. She then glances back at you, eyebrows raised. "A messenger has been sent down to speak to him. Hopefully he should be upstairs shortly." "Thank you so much." you reply sweetly, the last words with heavy emphasis. After that, the two of you sit in a mutually frosty silence, with the woman sorting through paperwork on her desk and occasionally

directing people who approach her desk to the correct floor (which seems redundant to you - why can't people just read the clearly printed sign on the wall next to her desk ?), while you flick through some glossy magazines without actually taking in a single word. But you're not leaving until you've spoken to your father. Minutes tick by and you start drumming your heel lightly on the floor, leg jiggling with impatience. You wonder if the woman just lied about sending a messenger down to the Containment Room in an effort to pacify you, in the hopes you'll just get bored and leave. You grit your jaw at the thought, ignoring how cold you're getting, sitting here doing nothing. After maybe ten minutes, a man in a lab coat approaches the front desk, leaning over to speak to the woman. "Kino, could you come with me a moment? Hannah can start her shift." "Oh, I'll be right there!" Kino says, flustered, getting out from behind the desk and following the man as he walks briskly down the corridor, without a backwards glance at you. No doubt her replacement will be along any moment - perhaps she's running late? But you don't plan on sticking around. As soon as the receptionist rounds the corner, out of sight, you spring up and walk briskly across the room to the elevators, stabbing the button and stepping through the doors. You don't bother to fight the smile that spreads across your face as the doors slide shut. ~ "Father?" There's always something slightly creepy about the lower floors. The orbs lining the walls that are designed to keep the machinery running in case of a power shortage cast an eerie glow in the corridors, washing everything with a pale blue light that makes it seem far colder than it actually is. It reminds you a bit of walking through a tunnel of ice. Your boots click on the stone floor as you follow the lights to Containment Room A1. Finally, you reach the double doors leading inside, flanked by two windows each side. You can see your father inside, his back to you, so you rap on the windows. Nothing. You try again with more force, hurting your knuckles, but he still doesn't turn around. Perhaps it's soundproofed, so whatever's out here can't disturb whatever's going on in there? You glance at the keypad next to the doors, but you've never been to this particular room before so the code for the doors on the upper level is unlikely to be the same one for down here. Then you see movement, shadows beneath the crack between door and floor, and the doors slide open with a mechanical swish and two scientists in lab coats come out, comparing notes and murmuring together excitedly. You slip inside before they can slam shut again, unwilling to stand outside in the chilly corridor for any longer than necessary. "Father!" you call out as you enter. But then you stop dead in your tracks. Ahead of you, trapped behind some kind of containment field...is a monster. "What-?!" you hear your father say in surprise at his daughter suddenly marching through the doors. "What are you doing in here?!" But you don't answer. You can't look away from what's in front of you, even if you wanted to. You know without being told that this is a demon, but it's certainly not what they looked like in any of your history books. A tall, humanoid being that is undoubtedly male and you can tell from where you’re standing that he’s tall. The demon's huge, black wings arch out from behind him, reminding you of a bat. Two horns jut out from a crown of spiky black hair, but aside from that, you're surprised by how… human he looks. Your cheeks warm up as you notice he is shirtless, peculiar burn marks covering over half of his body and seemingly crudely stitched together like a patchwork doll. Despite that, he's impressively sculpted, sinewy muscles on full display and you know that demons were said to be uncommonly strong. Your eyes drift further down, and you spot a whiplike tail wrapped around one leg, topped with a pointed barb at the end, like a club in a game of cards. His arms are in restraints and so are his

ankles, yet he doesn't seem stressed in any way, leaning against the back wall of his holding cell as though he's waiting for something. "What...is this?" you breathe out, finally turning to your father. "This is our latest research subject," your father replies beside you, also staring at the demon, though his expression is surprisingly somber, considering just how amazing it is that they have been able to capture and contain a demon. You've never seen a live demon before, and something tells you that the one before you certainly isn't any garden variety one. "Director Fuji is very excited about this. It's not every day you see a demon this high ranking." Slowly, the demon stirs, raising his head a little. You're perfectly safe outside the containment field, as well was the multiple other safety measures both inside the cell and out of it, yet the sensation of being watched makes your flesh break out in goosebumps. From beneath spiky fronds of hair, the demon's eyes - so blue they almost don't look real - stare right at you, his gaze alone rooting you to the spot, laying all your defenses bare and leaving you feeling bizarrely naked before that look. Watching you without once blinking or breaking his gaze, his lips part in a sneer to reveal two rows of teeth, the fangs sharp and white as an icicle. You find yourself holding your breath as your father speaks again. "Sweetheart, meet Dabi."

[genesisrose74]

Sun-kissed

A/n: If you can’t tell, Hinata is my favorite sunshine ever, and I adore him with my entire being. Here’s a little something for him because it’s always missing Shoyo hours - there are manga spoilers from around chapter 371 onward though, so be warned!

Pairing: (Brazil timeskip!) Hinata x Reader

Word Count: 2070

*******

The blazing sun of Rio set below the horizon, allowing a taste of salvation to wash over as a cooler breeze swept the bustling city. You sit perched on a plush bed, with brush in one hand and a blow dryer in the other. A towel snugly wraps around your body, but it’s quickly opted out for soft pajama shorts and a flannel that smell uncanny to tangerines and sunscreen. The scent invades your senses like a summer’s afternoon spent at the beach, and you welcome the comforting feeling that settles in your body as the oversized fabric ends at your thighs.

Idly scrolling through recommended shows on your laptop and humming softly to a relaxing song reverberating throughout the room, you don’t register the sound of the front entrance being unlocked nor the shuffling of feet in the living room. When you finally think you’ve decided on something to watch and go to pause your music, the bedroom door opens and filters a warm glow of light into your sitting space.

A smile graces your features when you recognize the figure leaning on the doorframe, his brightening presence ever more highlighted by the rays of the living room behind him.

“Is that my flannel?” he grins, taking notice of your chosen apparel.

“Why hello to you too, Shoyo,” you reply with an air of sarcasm, although the glimmer in your eyes indicates him to your amusement.

The Karasuno alumni pads over to the bedside before unceremoniously flopping onto the mattress, his unruly hair even more of a mess from the baseball cap he’s likely had on all day. “Hi, angel.” His greeting is muffled by the comforter below him, but you can hear well enough what he says. You stifle a laugh and reach a hand over to smooth out his tousled locks. “Tired?”

He groans in response, turning his head to face you with a pout. “Sand is stupid sometimes.”

“If you say that, the sand isn’t going to like you very much.”

“Too bad, it can deal with my annoyance in stupid sandy silence.”

Hinata props himself up on his elbows to examine your setup, a cheeky smile returning when he toys with the fabric of the flannel you decided to wear - yeah, most definitely his.

“You’ve sure settled in nicely,” he notes.

“And you’re sweaty as heck and lying on the bed,” you retort, eyeing his drenched athletic shirt as he splays out on the mattress.

He hums in acknowledgment, but makes no effort to move from his position, instead resting his chin on his palm. He gazes at you with bright eyes.

“Wanna shower with me then? Conserve some water?” he proposes, and you snort at his attempt to sell the idea.

“I just took one actually, but good sales pitch,” you grin while gesturing to your damp hair, still slightly wet despite using the blow dryer earlier.

He whines like a puppy being denied attention.

“Well that’s no fun,” he mutters.

His other hand skims over the back of your own, pulling it towards him and placing a gentle kiss on your palm.

“Did you already eat?” you inquire as your thumb strokes his cheek, temporarily choosing to put aside the fact that the he wanted to distract you from his (very necessary) shower. “Pedro brought back some dinner before he went out to study, so there’s still some left in the kitchen if you want.”

“I got something before I came home, but thank you,” he gives you a hazy smile. “Sleep well today?”

“Yeah. That early morning arrival at the airport ended up working out, since I woke up at a good time this afternoon.”

“If you’re up for it tomorrow, I can show you around the city. Maybe sit at the beach for a bit while I practice too?”

Your eyes light up at the idea, and Hinata chuckles at your excitement. “That sounds nice.”

The male leans towards your face and presses a soft kiss to your lips, full of tender affection and pure warmth. Gentle touch grazes the side of your face to pull you closer, skin on the pads of his fingers quite rough, but his touch still captivating you easily. That scent of sunscreen and sandy shores strengthens with his proximity, and you poke his chest with a giggle after grasping the strength to pull back.

“Don’t think I don’t know your games, sunshine. Shower,” you insist, drawing out the word.

He groans, rolling off the side of the bed and trudging towards the bathroom, snagging some clothes from his drawer to change into. “I was this close to making you forget.”

“Sure you were.”

He was very close to making you forget, actually, but you don’t tell him that.

The gentle cascading of water sounds from the bathroom connected to Hinata’s room, and you turn your eyes back to your laptop. Pressing play on one of your sitcoms, you relax into the many pillows stacked from behind and pull your boyfriend’s flannel even tighter around you. Despite declining his offer to shower earlier, you find yourself sneaking a glance at the bathroom doorway more than once, already missing the soothing warmth he brought with his mere presence alone.

During one of these occasional peeks at the door, your eye catches the glare of a picture frame sitting on a nearby desk, and you smile fondly at it from across the room. Even without being very close, you can tell it’s a graduation photo from the striking amount of orange in the frame, some being Hinata’s hair, and the other being a giant bouquet that he gave you after the ceremony.

You had your arms thrown around him, flowers clasped between your hands near his waist, and both of you were smiling like idiots in the shot. The photo was one of your favorites, and it was proudly on display in your room back home. In return for the bouquet, you gave him a big crow plushie - a gag gift that you didn’t expect him to hold on to for long, but you soon found out that wasn’t the case when it appeared in a facetime call during his first week in Rio.

It reminds me of you, he had said, hugging the stuffed animal tightly to his chest.

The bathroom door opened abruptly, promptly breaking your attention from the photo on the desk. You hadn’t even realized that the shower water had turned off until now. Hinata ruffles a towel over his hair, bringing his mop of orange locks back to its more typical volume, despite it being just as damp as your own. He’s only in a pair of sweatpants, and you are definitely not complaining at the sight of a shirtless Shoyo, sun-kissed skin and toned body very much on display.

Thank you, beaches of Rio.

“See? It feels nice being all showered up,” you nod approvingly, trying to keep your eyes from raking over the male’s upper body - you’re failing quite miserably. Fortunately, for your sake, he decides not to comment on your staring.

“I know, you’re right,” he sighs out, “I just wanted to catch up on lost time with you.”

As he situates himself back beside you on the bed, you give him a quick peck on the nose that leaves his ears a light pink. Even after all this time, he’ll get flustered at the smallest of affectionate gestures with which you surprise him.

“Well, you’ve got me to yourself for two whole weeks, so there’s plenty of time,” you point out.

“Kenma was really generous with all that vacation time at once.”

“There’s a backup editor that he’s been looking to test out on the channel, so he told me to take a break while that happens.”

Kenma - AKA Kodzuken - is indeed your boss, and a very great one at that. He lets you handle all the video editing for his channel, and you’re also invited to come along with him on business travels whenever you’re able. He knew you’d been working diligently when it came to your job, and saw testing the backup editor as a perfect opportunity to give you a break.

When he heard you were planning a visit to see Hinata sometime soon, the former Nekoma student practically forced you to take a vacation and ‘check in on my favorite sponsor’.

You constantly call him Shoyo’s sugar daddy, at which point he’ll chuck his cat plushies at you, but he doesn’t necessarily object either.

“What’re you smiling about now?” Hinata inquires, poking at your cheek.

“I just remembered something funny,” you wave it off, knowing Kenma would come after your ass if you said anything referencing the streamer’s nickname.

Hinata slides over and pulls you into his side, and your head instinctively lands on his chest. The gentle thrum of his heartbeat resounding in your ear relaxes you immensely. His hand traces lazily from your shoulder blades down your arm, and he takes your hand in his own with a squeeze.

“I missed you like crazy, you know,” he murmurs, and you feel like you’ll start melting into a puddle at any moment.

“I missed you too. So much,” you respond, earning another squeeze to your hand.

“Want to stay in my room instead of the guest one tonight?”

You nestle yourself into him even further, eliciting a chuckle from the Karasuno alumni. “Yes please.”

The both of you remain that way for a long time, barely paying mind to the show on your laptop. Warm hands glide gently through your hair, and you trace small patterns on his arms as he does so, just basking in the long awaited presence of his light, that sun-kissed skin so inviting against your fingers.

•••••

The next thing you know, the sound of birds coaxe you awake, eyes fluttering open to find strong arms wrapped around you. A pair of legs are intricately tangled with your own beneath cloud-like sheets, and steady breaths gently fan against your neck. You spot your closed laptop on the bedside table in front of you and realize that you must have fallen asleep at some point last night, Hinata likely taking care of things and getting you properly into bed.

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of him gingerly placing you under the covers, before quietly getting in next to you. Elated emotions from said imaginations only grow when you feel lips pepper the back of your neck in soft kisses, notifying you that your boyfriend is also up.

“Did I wake you?” you ask quietly, hand reaching back to smooth out Hinata’s messy bed hair. You didn’t even have to be facing him to know that the orange strands were sticking in every direction.

“No, I was already half-awake,” he rasps, voice not yet void of its morning grogginess. You find that you missed the sound of it more than you initially realized.

You turn your body around to face a sleepy Hinata, a hazy grin playing at the corners of his mouth as you let out a yawn.

“Morning, pretty thing,” he chuckles, before stifling a yawn of his own. “Breakfast?”

“Five more minutes,” you groan. Limbs latch around the orange haired male like a koala bear, a lazy attempt to keep him in bed for just a while longer. You know that Shoyo had picked up a habit of getting up and ready for the day at early hours, but you were determined to make him stick around to cuddle - if even for just a moment longer.

A lingering kiss is pressed to your forehead once you’re settled again, and you can sense Hinata’s face breaking into a sunny smile. “That’s perfectly fine with me.”

Even if every blazing star in the sky fizzled out and ceased to shine, you’re certain that wouldn’t matter to you. All the warmth and light you’ve ever needed or wanted could be found in your reach - encasing you in a love so raw, yet you knew it would never burn you. Sun-kissed skin embraces your entire being, and you hardly notice the incoming daylight streaming over the streets of Brazil.

[timextoxhajima]

Member: juyeon bec idk

Genre: fluff and lots of uwu because i’m feeling it :<

Category: Playlist Feels One Shot

Word Count: 1.7k

“time will be frozen for us”

most people associate something with someone. 

be it the watch your father gave you, or the stuffed plushie that your mother used to play with you before you fell asleep. 

yours was the sound of the door clicking open, even when it’s past midnight. 

usually you would’ve rolled yourself out of bed and ran for the door like you had five seconds left to live, but the ache in your back and the mild headache throbbing inside your skull was making the regular chore too much of a hassle.

“i’m back-- oh?”

you take a deep breath, legs warm under the blanket and the night light of your room painting the walls an amber yellow. the shuffling of his feet against the floor tells you he was walking towards the bedroom where you were stuck to your bed, and you look up at him, one arm under the pillow.

he looks down at you, his blank expression quickly replaced with worry and concern when he realises you wouldn’t be in bed on any other normal day, especially not when he’s returned from his busy schedule.

“are you... okay? i was expecting you to jump on me or something when i walked through the door,” he doesn’t bother to put his bag down, his free hand dropping his keys on the nightstand next to the bed near to you. 

the feverish sensation washes through you with each small breath you took as he presses his palm onto your forehead, and flips it over to press the back of his hand.

“aw... no,” he kneels down next to you and lays his head on the mattress, pulling your hand into his. “are you aching anywhere or is it just fever?”

“my back’s aching and my head’s going to kill me if it doesn’t go away soon, otherwise i’m fine.”

juyeon pouts and trails his eyes from your face to your fingers, playing with the edge of your nails while you let your fever runs its course.

“okay, well...” he pulls away, and him taking his warmth with him makes you feel slightly empty. “i’m gonna go make you some tea before i hop into the shower and--”

“noooo juyeon,” the whine was so annoyingly apparent, you couldn’t stop the laugh that ran up your throat as you reached out and grabbed his wrist.

juyeon smiles and chuckles at your whining, thumb reaching down and brushing your forehead. “no tea? what is it you need then?”

you gulp and start to press and play with the veins and knuckles on his hand. “i want to go out and see some stars.”

his face brightens, but dims back into confusion and disapproval, despite the smile never once leaving his lips. “stars? it’s one in the night, sweet pea. and on top of that, you have a fever.”

“what if i said i knew stars would make me feel better?” your other hand finds his wrist and you gently tug on it, your neck slowly aching from the need to look up at him even though you were lying down. he scans you from head to toe, and he watches you with skepticism while you fiddle with his hand.

“pleeeeaaaassseeeeeeee?” pulling up his palm to your face to let him hold your cheek, the pout on your lips only making you wonder if it was the fever talking. 

you see a flash flit across his pupils, and he sighs in defeat, his heart completely giving into what you wanted instead of what you needed.

“yay,” you giggle and use his arm as a support to sit yourself up. 

“but we are coming back once your ache starts to worsen and if you sneeze -- just once -- and we’ll come back immediately, okay?” he helps you off the bed and he hands you one of his sweaters to pull over your already thick, baggy shirt. “you’re lucky my schedule tomorrow isn’t in the morning.”

you bare your teeth in mischief with a smile, and the sight of him wrapping his fingers around the car and house keys makes you feel instantaneously better.

the pick-up truck was given to you by your father, and that was the thing you associated him with. he’d always wanted to get you a nicer, newer car, but all the memories you had with your parents in that old vehicle was just priceless. 

you were lucky your boyfriend knew how to work his way around cars, else your father would’ve sent the pick-up truck to be dismantled. 

juyeon throws some pillows and blankets into the backseat of the truck while you get in the passenger’s seat, and it wasn’t a surprise to see him climbing onto the cargo bed and spraying some disinfectant on it.

the drive to the field nearby was nothing short of juyeon telling you how his day went; and you couldn’t help but laugh at eric falling off the chair during the vlive they did in the evening. 

the boys weren’t the only ones who actively teased him about it. 

it wasn’t long before the pick up truck rumbled it’s way through the tall grass of the field and away from the trees that lined the roads. you were short of sticking your entire head out the window like a dog, the cold, midnight wind brushing past your skin and leaving light, delicate kisses. naturally craning your head to look upwards, you immediately start to gape and wander at the beauty of the little markings the heavens provided you. 

once in the middle of the field, juyeon pulls the car into parking and turns off the engine. you walk round the car and open the backseat to take some of the pillows while he took the blankets, and the both of you throw it into the cargo bed. he picks you up and you crawl under the blankets, eyes starting to glue themselves to the breathtaking view of the sky. 

the entire vehicle jerks when juyeon hops in on his own, and he crawls under the blanket with you, arm sliding under your neck and around your shoulders to hold you close to him. 

your right ear presses against the left side of his chest, and his slow heartbeat becomes music to your ears, alongside the peaceful chirping of crickets in the grass all around you. 

juyeon had brought you out to stargaze on your first date, in this very spot, with this very pick-up truck, and it’s been your favourite place to heal since then. you don’t remember a time coming here without juyeon either.

the scent of grass and dew filled your nostrils and the gentle breeze was making it all the more easier to breathe. you would’ve caught a cold if you were alone, but the blankets coupled with the warmth you were feeding off juyeon was enough to make you forget about your fever. 

“if you’re uncomfortable or you feel your fever getting worse, we’re going home, alright?”

he whispers into your hair and pecks you on the crown of your head, his free arm reaching behind his head to prop it up atop the pillow. your left hand circles around his stomach, and your legs start to tangle with each other’s under the blanket. 

“i could totally sleep right now,” you smile into the material of his hoodie, and you snuggle into his comfort as if you weren’t already glued to him like tape. 

“it’ll be really funny if we both fall asleep here and we’ll get cooked by the morning sun when we wake up tomorrow.”

you laugh at his comment, and your eyes automatically open again to revel in the gorgeous sight of faraway planets and stars. 

you stay quiet against him for how long, you weren’t sure. time always seemed to fly past like it was nothing when you were with him. though it made you sad sometimes, to know that every second couldn’t be pulled into eternity, but you also knew that juyeon must’ve been someone special for you to feel so happy with, you couldn’t feel the effects of time. 

his gentle fiddling with your hair and circling on your shoulder drives you further into bliss, the scent of him starting to mix with the calming dewy scent of nature. 

if only this really could be your eternity. the things you’d do to drag this moment out forever. 

time did it’s job and continued running relentlessly, and juyeon squeezes your shoulder to tell you that it was now three, and you needed to get home to rest up properly.

you were reluctant at first, but wherever juyeon was, it would be home to you.

juyeon lets you shower first, so by the time he was in bed with you, your spirit was already half gone into the wonderland of dreams and cotton candy.

instinctively, you lay your head on his chest again, palm flat right next to your nose and his arm absorbs the warmth of your neck, fingers resting on the skin of your shoulder. 

“are you feeling better though? after seeing the stars?” his voice rumbles through his chest, and you grin to yourself upon knowing that you heard it through his skin. 

“i don’t need to see stars to feel better, i just had to find an excuse so the both of us won’t pass out so early.”

you feel him shift his head and a small laugh exposes itself as little bursts of air into the crown of your head.

“aw,” he cooes, kissing you on the forehead. “i’m sorry i’ve been so busy these few weeks. my schedule will definitely lighten up in a month or so, so please bear with me, would you?” 

you hear the apologetic tone in his voice, and it breaks you a little. angling your head upwards, you push yourself up with enough effort to peck him on the lips for comfort.

“i’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes,” you return to your previous position and snuggle even harder if it was possible. “even if it takes a million years.”

his left hand finds the one that was on his chest and he interlocks his fingers between yours, the sensation drilling warmth and bliss throughout your entire nervous system.

“if that’s your way of saying ‘i love you’, then i love you too.”

[shortythescreen]

Better.

Summary: The reader has been having a rough mental health week. Their partner, Bloodhound, doesn’t fix it all but they try their best to be there for them. 

Pairing: Bloodhound/Reader. 

Warning(s): Please be mindful going in that there are pretty vivid descriptions of a depressive episode! Including the reader having not showered, not doing laundry, having issues sleeping. Bloodhound is not a ~fix it~ for the reader’s depression but their presence definitely helps the reader cope. Gender neutral reader. 

Author’s Note(s): A commission for my darling @useeer​! He was having a rough time and wanted some Bloodhound being there for the reader! This is very light and fluffy and soft but the beginning IS describing a depressive spell so be mindful if that is triggering to you!

This week’s been rough.

You haven’t done much, which is probably not helping, but… Doing things is just so hard sometimes. Finding the motivation to do things is so hard. Things done without motivation feel empty, skeletal. Like you’re a ghost without legs, floating towards the laundry hamper that has been sitting in the corner of your bedroom for the past two days, clearly overflowing. Your ghostly hands phase right through the basket whenever you try to pick it up and it’s exhausting to exert the effort to make yourself corporeal.

Not that you’re not exhausted already. Sleep has been elusive -- to the point that you’ve been randomly napping throughout the day. At night, you lie away, stare at the ceiling, and think about everything from how yogurt doesn’t make any sense to what if a meteor were to crash into the earth right now. Your schedule’s all kind of fucked up, past late-night gaming, past late-night phone calls.

To top it all off, your legs feel like lead whenever you get up to shuffle into the bathroom. Usually it’s just to take a piss but sometimes you stare at your shower curtain and pretend it’s mocking you. Come on, I know you wanna shower. It’s just a little water. What’s so bad about a little water?

That’s on worse days, though. Today, you’re curled up on your couch, scrolling through Instagram, and, well- at least you got out to the couch. Maybe you’ll even turn on Netflix and put on a show you won’t pay attention to. That’s progress, right?

Sure, you’re kind of greasy, and scrolling through Instagram and watching dog videos that half make you want to cry in joy probably isn’t the healthiest way to deal with your… you don’t want to call it an issue but it feels like an issue. Issues. Whatever, you’re out of your room.

The sound of a knock jars you from the daze you’re in and you lift your head. You haven’t ordered anything recently, so you doubt it’s a package, and most of your friends are busy during the week with work, and school, and… Other things. It can’t be them kicking in your door for answers about why you’ve been so absent.

Your partner, Bloodhound, should still be on World’s Edge. That’s only added onto the shittiness of this week. All you’ve wanted to do is curl up under their arm, breathe in the smell of pine, and wood, and all that other stuff they can never seem to wash out of their skin. You told them so on the phone when you first felt your mood start to spiral.

They promised you that you would be able to do that when they got home. That they would like nothing more than to hold you to their chest, to kiss your cheeks and pet your hair again. The affection they only saved for you they let out over the phone and while it made you feel a little better, it almost made you ache even more for their presence.

But they have a job. Well, kind of. A calling. A duty. You’re not sure what word you should use for Bloodhound’s place as an Apex Legend but you don’t want to undermine it. You know it means more to them than it maybe does Octavio, or Elliott.

You glance back down at your phone. Bloodhound isn’t due back in Solace City until Tuesday and it’s only Monday, your phone tells you. Wonder who it could be.

You push yourself out of the hole you’ve steadily worn into your couch when you hear another quick, polite knock on the door and yeah, that sounds like Hound’s knock. It makes your tummy flutter, little nervous tingles. Maybe they’ve come home early? You shuffle over to the front door and creak it open slowly, squinting at the sunlight that instantly filters into your living room.

“Bloodhound?” You intelligently blurt.

Bloodhound is… dressed down. They’re free of gloves and in place of their helmet is a black, cloth face mask, with the fan logo for when they call upon the strength of their Allfather, or whatever crazy magic they do in order to become the beast of the hunt. They’re not even wearing their goggles – instead choosing to don their rare, round red glasses. The sun creates a halo around them, like they’re a fucking angel or something. It feels like they are.

“My love,” they say, and you can hear the smile in their voice. It makes your own lips twitch up, makes you peer shyly up at them through eyelashes. They open their arms and it’s easy for you to fall into their embrace, to inhale the earthy scent that you’ve come to associate with them. God, you missed them.

They tighten their strong arms around you and while your house is already kind of chilly, you relish in how cool their skin is. You twist your head into their chest, letting their heart thump against your nose.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow,” you whisper, voice muddled by the mouthful of their shirt you have. They only chuckle, swaying you lightly from left to right, their nose nudging into your hair.

“I was not,” says Bloodhound, “but I missed you.”

Fuck. You sniff, beating back the tidal wave of feelings that well up in your throat. Your fucking partner is the best. For all they are the beast of the ring, the Apex predator, they are also yours. Finally, you release them, shuffling out of the way to let them inside.

The door shuts and without the sun, you realize how dark the house has been. They reach up, tugging the mask from around their ear and suddenly you can see their plump lips, the gold stud that sits on their cupid’s bow.

“Sorry I’m not more…” You motion vaguely down at your sweatpants, the oversized graphic t-shirt you’re wearing, “you know.”

Bloodhound waves a hand. “You needn’t apologize for such things, beloved.”

You guess it’s not all that much of a surprise to them anyway. You and Bloodhound had spoken on the phone three days into their week on World’s Edge. You mentioned you weren’t feeling great, that everything was starting to feel far away even though you hadn’t moved.

They fold their mask in half, resting it on the table next to the couch. Then, they glide into your space, their presence as welcome as a cool breeze on a hot summer day, or the soft hum of a generator turning on during a storm. They take your chin between their thumb and forefinger and then you meet their copper eyes that you swear are all knowing.

“Why don’t we take today to be with one another, hm? I missed you while I was away.” They whisper and their opposite hand slides over your cheek. You wince. How long has it been since you last showered, let alone washed your face?

Bloodhound echoes your thoughts. “When last did you bathe?”  

You don’t know what face you make but it must not be pleasant because it gives them all the answer they need. The hand that passed over your cheek finds the nape of your neck and they guide you towards their waiting lips, pecking your forehead delicately.

They detangle from you and begin to busy themselves around your home. They pull a towel from your hall closet then they disappear into your room. Less than a minute later they emerge with a pair of shorts and a sweater you don’t recognize right away. Your heart pangs when you realize it’s theirs.

They sling the towel over their shoulder as they return to you and you could weep at their tender eyes, at the way the little smile has never disappeared from their lips. Like they’re happy to be with you, no matter how shitty you feel. Their fingers weave through your own.

“Come,” they insist, and you are helpless to obey. They guide you into the bathroom, setting down the items they gathered in a neat pile on top of the toilet seat.  They pull back your shower curtain and bend over the edge, fiddling with the knobs of your shower before spray begins shooting onto the bottom.

They roll a sleeve up, turning their head to face you as they stick their hand beneath the water. “You will have to be certain it is warm enough for you.”

“Or cool enough. Your showers are hot as hell, Hound,” you say, your lips quirking up. Bloodhound narrows their eyes at you before childishly sticking their tongue out.

“I like to defrost sometimes,” they say and you actually laugh. They beam back at you, gliding over when the water is to their liking and kissing your cheek. “I will be waiting for you when you finish, elskan.”

They kiss your cheek and you sigh, missing their lips as soon as they’re gone. They close the door with a gentle click, and you set to work ignoring your bully of a shower curtain.

The hot spray feels great – though you do wind up turning down the hot and upping the cold just a little. You feel a lot better after you’ve showered. Once you’re clean, you put on Bloodhound’s sweater, and make your way back into your living room.

Bloodhound has tidied up in the time it’s taken you to shower. It’s not spotless, but there’s not garbage sitting on your coffee table anymore and you think you can hear the washing machine running. You’ll have to poke your head into your bedroom to be sure.

“Elliott suggested a film for us,” they tell you from their place on your couch. You hum, shuffling over and flopping into their side. Your arms wrap around their middle and they place an arm over your shoulders. You’re not sure but you think you feel them relax a little more too, like they’re as relieved as you are that they’re back.

“What film?” You murmur, your cheek squished against their chest. They nuzzle their nose into the visible part in your hair.

“Something having to do with cowboys? I believe he said it was a ‘western’.” They say and you snort, your shoulders moving with the motion. They turn their head, resting their cheek on top of your head, and their red curls tickle your skin.

“Are you feeling better, elskan?” They ask you, softly, gently. There’s no expectation in their voice, only genuine curiosity. Maybe a little concern.

“Yeah, a little,” you say. They nod, and the hand that’s been resting on the arm of the couch find yours. Their large fingers wrap around your bandaged knuckles and they drag them up to their lips, gently kissing the tops of them.

“Would you like to talk about your week? You mentioned not feeling well earlier than I was able to escape,” they say. Their use of the word escape makes you chuckle and you shake your head, twisting your chin up to watch them press the backs of your fingers against their cheek.

“No, babe. I’m already feeling better having someone here. And having showered… Thank you for getting away. I know it was probably a pain in the ass.”

Bloodhound shifts beneath you and you adjust, moving into whatever position they’re trying to get you to. You wind up half sprawled out on their body, your legs long on the couch behind your, your chest against theirs as they stare deeply into your eyes.

“I would do anything for you, beloved,” they whisper, like the words are just for you and they can’t risk anyone overhearing them. “I am only sorry I could not be with you sooner. I would have liked to hold you on your sleepless nights.”

“Even if I kept you up?” You whisper.

“Even if you kept me up. Though Artur is quite grumpy when deprived of sleep,” they tell you sagely and your head drops onto their chest, shoulders shaking with laughter. 

[mostlycompetentwriter]

God’s Menu (one-shot)

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Seo Changbin (SKZ)

Warnings: Language, and some mentions of smut

Genre: Enemies to Lovers AU

Word Count: 9K

Summary: Y/N is a critically-acclaimed chef at New York’s premier five-star restaurant, The JYP Organic Cafeteria. However, when a new restaurant across the street begins attracting attention (and paying customers) because of it’s young and handsome head chef, Seo Changbin, Y/N grows furious at her dwindling reviews. When she confronts this new chef, she’s appalled to realize that he’s nothing short of arrogant, and they both engage in a fierce competition to determine who the best chef really is in NY.

A/N: I wrote this in one day, such a crazy experience, and it’s all thanks to Changbin. Also, why not, I’ll dedicate this to @lordseochangbin​, the biggest Changbin Stan I know on this site.

The art of cooking involved a delicate sensibility that I had taken great pride in perfecting, especially after I graduated from culinary school. Thereafter, I worked tirelessly as an assistant for some of the greatest chefs in New York City, and I had the pleasure of working next to them under their great tutelage. Subsequently, their talents and well-intended advice shaped my own style of cooking, and my finely-tuned skills helped catapult me to the very top of our industry. 

Likewise, I gained instant fame when I became the head chef at JYP’s Organic Cafeteria in the heart of New York City. People from all over the state came to my restaurant to try my cooking, and word spread fast about my immediate rise to stardom. As such, I started modeling for cooking magazines while receiving warm reviews from even the staunchest food critics, and I had a legion of fans in the form of paying customers who often lined the sidewalk outside of the restaurant to wait for an available table.

I also had some of the most promising chefs working directly under me. For example, my sous-chef, Bang Chan, was a very skilled man when it came to experimenting with some of our more expensive offerings. He had a natural talent for measuring ingredients, even without the assistance of a recipe, and his taste was nothing short of exquisite. His assistant, Felix, was a captivating presence among the staff, and he moved around the kitchen like he had been born to cook for the hungry masses. Felix also had a knack for cutting with his impressive collection of knives and cutlery, and he enjoyed trying the recipes that Chan and I worked tirelessly to perfect. 

There was also Han Jisung, our kitchen’s pastry chef, whose delicious cakes and sweets were touted as some of the finest cuisine in North America. He prided himself on making the best cheesecakes, and our customers enjoyed a variety of unique flavors that could satisfy even the pickiest of palates. Jisung also never hesitated to include fun and interesting additions to our menu, even if that meant he had to stay up all night to prepare the ingredients. 

Finally, our saucier, Jeongin, brought a degree of youthful exuberance into the kitchen, and he was adept at evolving his soup recipes and incorporating the freshest ingredients from the local marketplaces. He was always smiling, despite the recurring dinner rush, and he was quick and efficient with his hands, especially when handling our ingredients.

Together, we formed an intimidating team, and I was excited to continue growing our successful restaurant while bringing our talents out of state and to the rest of the world. Of course, it was important to perfect ourselves at this stage in our evolution, and tonight would be another step in the right direction. As such, when I glanced out the window overlooking the main dining room, I immediately spotted the important food critic talking pleasantly with one of our waiters. “Jeongin!” I shouted to attract the younger’s attention.

“Yes, Chef,” he returned, pausing next to me at the revolving doors. 

“Tell everyone that the critic is here,” I said. “And make sure that I cook her order.”

“Of course, chef,” Jeongin agreed, and he addressed the rest of the kitchen with a commanding presence that made me feel proud because he had once been too shy to elevate his voice.

In the meantime, I started to prepare my station, ensuring that everything was clean. “Felix,” I said, turning to the silver-haired chef as he tossed up a pan of vegetables. “Get me the best ingredients and tools.”

Felix smirked, returning the plan to the stove before bowing slightly. “Right away, chef.”

Meanwhile, I carefully adjusted the sleeves of my apron, pulling them high above my elbows. For the most part, I was fairly consistent with my cooking, but I always put in extra effort when it came to potential reviews that would show-up in distinguished magazines. It was a well-known fact throughout the city that, in our competitive line of work, those reviews meant everything to the clientele we targeted. Thus, whenever a critic came into the restaurant, I liked to handle their meal preparation myself with the utmost attention.

“The order from the critic, chef,” Jeogin announced, following Felix with a bright smile.

I took it from him with a long exhale. “Garlic butter chicken,” I read. “I could do this blindfolded.”

However, I was somewhat relieved about the order because chicken happened to be a specialty of mine that I often took extra care in preparing. It was the first dish that I ever perfected in culinary school, and it often earned me the most acclaim when I was nothing more than an apprentice. And I’m sure the critic in question expected something truly mouth-watering, which is why I started immediately with every ounce of my concentration focused on the task at hand.

The first step was to clean the chicken thoroughly, and I usually requested that Jeongin wash the ingredients, but I was serious about preparing this dish myself. Next, I seasoned the chicken with an appropriate mixture of salt and pepper before allowing it to simmer on the stove while the butter melted in a separate skillet over medium heat. The familiarity of my movements was both exhilarating and reassuring.

Yet, despite just starting the early stages of the dish’s preparation, sweat was perspiring against my forehead, falling in long rivulets down the sides of my temples. It was a mixture of the kitchen’s oppressive warmth and my own nervous anxiety that combined together to create a fascinating effect on my person. But I was undeterred by any obstacle. 

Instead, I turned to the sauce, recounting the ingredients inside my head: garlic, red pepper flakes, and hot sauce (a special invention of mine). Afterward, I had to sauté the heady mixture for 30 seconds until the garlic became aromatic. I grinned triumphantly because the smell was nothing short of delectable, and I could practically taste it on my tongue as the flavors excited all five of my senses. Finally, I deglazed the skillet with the chicken broth and brought it to a much lower simmer. “Stand back,” I said, throwing the ingredients together inside a separate pan and tossing it above the heat to ensure that every piece of chicken was evenly coated with the delectable sauce. “Jeongin, it’s time for plating.”

“Yes, chef,” Jeongin said, hustling to the surrounding shelves of our finest decorative serving dishes, assisting me next to my station as we carefully plated the chicken specialty. I watched as the delicate lines of steam rose from the top before requesting that our waiter bring the food to the awaiting critic.

With a steady exhale, I joined the rest of the chefs as watched the waiter disappear out the revolving door before we all crowded together to observe the critic’s reaction from the window. “She looks impressed,” Jisung remarked, and I smiled at his comment.

In the proceeding moments, the critic unfolded her napkin over her lap and reached for her fork and knife, studying the dish with close scrutiny. I swallowed hard when she lifted a bite to her awaiting mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she appraised my offering. Thankfully, I knew that it was successful when her eyes lit with a familiar warm glow, looking down at her plate with evident pleasure. As if on cue, everyone around me started clapping at once, and their shouts of praise and encouragement certainly fed my ego while we watched the critic enjoy the remainder of her meal.

It was another successful evening.

In the mornings, I often walked to the restaurant because the weather was nice this time of year, and I was left alone with the company of my thoughts. However, after such a grueling night of dinner prep, I was also excited to see the fruits of my labors in the form of a new review that might appear at any moment courtesy of the satisfied critic who left the restaurant with a grateful salutation. My stomach was practically doing somersaults just thinking about it, and I was in a fairly good mood when I saw the JYP sign shimmering up ahead in the distance.

However, as I grew closer, I realized that there was also another sign for the previously empty building across the street, and it stood a little taller in comparison. Consequently, I paused outside the recently renovated space, peeking in through the glass window to discover a restaurant set-up waiting inside. “When did this get here?” I wondered, taking a step back to appraise the building. The enormous banner across the front spelled out the name of the establishment. “Dwekki.”

I released an exhausted sigh because I wasn’t ready to process the implications of what this might mean for JYP’s business. However, I was caught off-guard by the unexpected sound of approaching footsteps. “Doesn’t open for another hour, sweetheart,” came an unfamiliar voice.

I turned around to confront the man whose attitude clearly exposed his underlying arrogance. “Excuse, me?”

He smirked, and it made him look even more handsome. In contradiction to his dark-colored eyes, his blue-tinted hair glowed beneath the sunlight, and his arms crossed over his broad chest to experiment with the limits of his thin t-shirt. “We don’t start serving lunch until 11:00.”

“I’m not interested in eating here!” I glowered.

“That’s a shame,” he replied, and I was taken aback by his flirtatious tone, watching as his eyes appraised me.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted an autograph, then you should’ve just asked,” he replied, and I instantly recoiled.

“I work over there,” I said, jutting my thumb behind me. “I’m the head chef for JYP.”

“Really?” Changbin asked, and his eyes reflected a newfound interest. “I’ll be more formal, then. My name is Seo Changbin, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” I said. “I’m Y/N.”

Changbin chuckled. “It sounds like you don’t like me, Y/N, which doesn't seem right since we just met.”

“Well,” I huffed. “I always like to keep an eye on potential competition.”

“Competition?” Changbin snorted. “Sweetheart, there won’t be any competition when they taste my food.”

I bristled at the challenge. “Is that so?”

“I have the best cuisine,” Changbin said. “I’ve been told that my food is the best in New York City.”

I gasped at the insinuation. “Listen here, Changbin, I have the credentials to back up my food! I’ve been voted Food Critic Magazine’s most promising chef for three years in a row.”

“Well, it was a good streak while it lasted,” Changbin said, and he seemed amused by my inability to offer some kind of witty comeback in return.

“Fine!” I managed. “I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

“I look forward to it, sweetheart,” Changbin replied, and I held my breath when I pivoted around, storming away from the horrible man with a new purpose guiding my steps.

Graciously, I found Chan waiting outside of JYP, looking up at me with a bright smile that disappeared when he realized that I wasn’t happy. “What happened?”

“There’s a new restaurant opening across the street and its chef is a complete asshole!” I shouted, fumbling with the restaurant keys in my hand. “He thinks he can say those things to me? Nobody’s food is better than ours!”

Chan blinked twice. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s a war, Mr. Bang!” I declared passionately, holding the door wide open. “We’re going to prove that man wrong!”

Chan sighed because he was already used to my dramatics. However, what he didn’t realize was that I was serious about the declaration, and I had no intention of holding up the white flag of surrender anytime soon!

Of course, despite my initial confidence, it was hard to maintain my earlier enthusiasm when, after a week of operation, I had started to notice that more people were wandering into Changbin’s restaurant and ignoring JYP. “His food must be killer,” Jisung remarked off-handedly one day, wincing when I slapped him on the back of his head. “What was that for?”

“He’s the competition,” I seethed, pacing back and forth in front of the open window at the front of the restaurant. “It’s just because he opened recently and people are curious.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jisung huffed, rubbing his head with a pout.

“We’ll just have to keep a lookout,” I insisted, and I knew that I sounded mad when Jisung hesitantly took a step back away from me.

“Aren’t you taking this too far, Y/N?”

“Too far?”

“Woah! You know that I’m just kidding!” Jisung chirped, anxiously power-walking his way back into the kitchen while I continued to maintain my post as JYP’s head chef and silent guardian.

Eventually, I returned to the kitchen since I was expecting the usual dinner rush to commence. However, the longer that I spent chopping way too many carrots without a ticket request for our finest appetizer soups, the more I began to realize that something was amiss. I reached for Felix’s arm and drug him away from the others. “Why aren’t we getting any ticket requests? Is the waitstaff missing people?”

“Not exactly,” Felix said, and his eyes darted back and forth as if he was withholding valuable information.

“Well?” I insisted. “What’s happening?”

“There’s not many people tonight,” Felix said, and he quickly tried to reassure me when he noticed my sharp intake of breath. “It’s Monday, Y/N, and most people don’t like to eat out when they have work the next day...”

But I ignored Felix’s attempts at rationality, leaving the kitchen with heavy steps to instigate some preemptive sleuthing of my own. “What the hell?” I grumbled, crossing my arms when I noticed that there was some sort of commotion going on outside. Yet, when I stood in front of the window, I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What’s wrong with these people!” I exclaimed, watching as the line outside of Changbin’s restaurant continued to grow even longer.

“I heard it’s good,” Han offered unhelpfully, and I didn’t even notice his approach because I was too distracted by the horror-show playing right in front of me. My literal worst nightmare coming to life with one preemptive swoop!

“This is terrible!” I said. “We’re losing business t-to them!”

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Jisung said, laying one hand on my shoulder. “Most of our regulars are here.”

“It’s not okay!” I said, shaking off his hand aggressively. “We need to get to the bottom of this!”

Jisung flinched when I turned around sharply on my heel, finding my way back to the kitchen where I clapped my hands together loudly to attract everyone’s attention. “Listen up, people!” I started. “The place across the street has just become enemy number one. That means we need to investigate! We have to infiltrate the restaurant and figure out what the hell is going on!”

“Y/N,” Chan sighed. “Is this necessary?”

“Oh, it's completely necessary! We’re going undercover,” I said, pointing between Felix and Chan. “You two are coming with me.”

Chan shook his head. “Y/N, do we really have to do this?”

“Yeah,” Felix whined. “You’re just gonna do something embarrassing again.”

I offered them both a glare. “Do you like working here?”

“Yes, chef!” Felix immediately shouted, holding up his hand to his forehead in a military salute.

Chan rolled his eyes. “I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“We’re losing customers, Chan,” I said. “We need to figure out why.”

“But do we really have to go over there?”

“Can’t Jisung go instead of me?” Felix asked, jutting out his bottom lip like it might garner him some kind of sympathy.

However, I was completely set on my resolution. “You’re coming, Felix, and we’re going to get justice for JYP!”

“Justice for JYP!” Jeongin shouted while raising his fist in the air to demonstrate his solidarity with my outrageous claim.

In the meantime, I had removed my apron, dusting the flour from my jeans while grabbing my purse from the backroom. “Now!” I said, dragging a reluctant Chan and Felix behind me as we exited the restaurant through the back door.

I had never been more determined in my entire life!

“How many are in your party?” the hostess asked when we stepped inside Dwekki for the very first time.

“Three,” I replied while scrutinizing every feature of the interior.

“One moment please,” the hostess said, leaving her podium stand to enter the dining room. I stood on my toes to look inside, but I only caught a faint glimpse of an overhanging chandelier before the doors closed again.

“Fancy,” Felix remarked, but I ignored him while observing the main lobby.

“How pretentious,” I muttered, taking in the elegantly tiled marble floors and freshly painted white walls. 

“Says the person who charges 30 dollars for chicken,” Chan retorted.

“Whose side are you on?” I asked him, but a potential argument was quickly interrupted by the hostess who re-emerged from the dining room.

“Right this way,” she said, grabbing three menus before encouraging us to enter the literal lion’s den.

Immediately, I decided that I didn’t like Dwekki. It screamed money and finesse, and I wasn’t impressed with the elegant set-up, disregarding the shimmering fountain and the open kitchen that revealed dozens of chefs working tirelessly to prepare their dishes.

“Thank you,” Felix said politely when our hostess brought us to a small table near the kitchen’s entrance, offering us our menus before returning to her post outside the dining room. “You guys, it smells like chocolate in here,” Felix said, whining when I reached over to whack his arm with my menu.

“It smells like desperation to me,” I said. “Look at all this unnecessary decor. Who the hell needs a water fountain in the middle of their restaurant?”

“I think it’s nice,” Chan said with a sarcastic attitude on clear display.

“You’re the worst sous-chef,” I told him.

“But what would you do without me?”

“I’d put another ad in the paper,” I said, and he gasped in dramatic fashion that was clearly meant to mock me. 

Meanwhile, I had barely noticed the arrival of our waiter until his voice interrupted my playful banter with Chan. “Good evening, folks, welcome to Dwekki, my name is Hyunjin and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to start off with an appetizer.”

“What do you recommend?” I asked, taking note of Hyunjin’s taller stature and the way he tied back his long hair into a neat style. 

“Our chef’s choice is the scallops,” Hyunjin replied, and I inwardly groaned at the mention of the restaurant’s chef.

“Yes, that’s fine,” I said, and Hyunjin had barely left the table before Felix was opening his mouth again.

“He has literal angels working for him, Y/N,” Felix said. 

“Do you really have to say that?” I asked.

“He certainly has class,” Chan added, and I felt their betrayal deep inside the center of my chest. “Do you think he might recommend his decorator?”

“Our restaurant is more family-oriented,” I said, bringing my water glass to my lips because I was suddenly parched.

“He’s coming back,” Felix whispered, and I was taken aback by Hynjin’s reappearance, holding a bottle of wine in his hands.

“This is for you,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Pinot noir!” Felix gasped, snatching the bottle from Hyunjin who barely flinched.

“Compliments of the chef,” Hyunjin explained, and I hesitantly glanced over my shoulder to see Changbin watching us from the kitchen’s entrance. I returned my gaze to the table, fanning my flushed skin. “He also insisted that you should try tonight’s house specialty.”

“That’s fine,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally left us alone.

“Does he know who you are?” Felix asked curiously.

“I ran into him the other day,” I said.

“She nearly had a heart attack,” Chan said. “It was the day we declared war or something on this place.”

“Like battleship?” Felix asked, and I actually regretted not listening to his plea from earlier to have brought Jisung along instead. At least my pastry chef was entertaining.

“The food is probably mediocre,” I said. “Nobody can have an ego that big unless they’re compensating for something.”

“Y/N,” Felix teased, raising his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not whatever you’re thinking,” I said, wincing at the idea. “Look, I know that you both think this whole thing is stupid, but the restaurant is really important to me, and I care when our customers start eating somewhere else.”

“Is it really about the customers or your pride?” Chan asked, and I hated it when his questions turned philosophical.

I tossed my menu in his direction. “Study the dishes, Chan. We’re here to gather important intel.”

Chan smirked, but obeyed my command, browsing quietly while Felix took his job too seriously and started capturing screenshots using his cellphone. Meanwhile, I leaned back in my chair with a heavy heart because it was starting to look like we were hopelessly outmatched. I mean, just the interior of the dining room itself was far more impressive than our cafeteria-style, and I was actually envious of that stupid fountain because it looked magical underneath the stupid chandelier.

Thankfully, the arrival of our food temporarily paused my morbid thoughts, and the smell of our appetizer scallops actually had my stomach grumbling. Felix and Chan immediately grabbed a scallop for themselves, and I forced myself to take one of the delicious smelling rations. My mouth started watering when I brought a small bite closer, and when I chewed against the tender meat, my entire facade cracked because it was absolutely wonderful.

Of course, to make matters even worse, the head chef had decided to leave the kitchen and gloat before I could even swallow my food. “What do we have here?” Changbin asked, and I trembled at his approach. “It can’t be the head chef of JYP! I’m honored.”

“Why are you out here?” I hissed.

“I saw you come inside,” Changbin replied. “I figured I should be nice to our new neighbors.”

I watched as Changbin took a step to the side, crooking a finger, and Hyunjin joined our table once more with the entrees. “The veal,” he said, placing a portion in front of the three of us.

“It’s one of my most popular dishes,” Changbin said with a tone laced with his smugness.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, stuffing a bite into my mouth and immediately regretting the way that my body reacted positively to the food. Like I was suddenly back home and enjoying my mother’s home-cooked meals.

“Do you like it?” Changbin asked.

I gritted my teeth as I pushed the dish away from me. “It’s okay,” I said, sighing when I noticed that Chan and Felix were practically devouring their dishes.

“You see that critic over there?” Changbin asked, and I followed his gaze to a strikingly familiar face. Because it was the same woman who had just eaten at our restaurant several nights ago, and she looked way too pleased with her current meal. “She told me that my chicken was the best she had ever tasted.”

I held my tongue to keep myself from retorting. “That’s impossible,” Felix said over a mouthful of his veal. “Y/N has the best chicken dish in New York.”

“Really?” Changbin asked, leaning down so that he was speaking right into my ear. “Maybe we should put that to the test.”

“What do you mean?” 

“There’s a food competition this weekend on Good Morning, New York,” Changbin said.

“I love that show!” Felix said, and I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary observation.

“They’re inviting local chefs to participate,” Changbin said. “I already reserved my spot, but maybe Y/N could try her luck as well.”

I slammed my fork down against the table. “You’re on, Seo. I haven’t lost a food competition since culinary school.”

“May the best chef win,” Changbin said with a pleased smile. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled, forcing another bite of veal into my mouth because I was growing more and more frustrated with my impending crisis.

The next morning, I walked inside the restaurant to see a group of my chefs crowded around one of the tables. “What’s going on?” I asked, and they immediately began to disperse. “Hold on!” I said, jogging over to grab Felix’s apron sleeve. “What are you holding?”

“It’s nothing!” Jisung squealed from further away, but I still jerked the magazine away from Felix’s hands. It was a copy of the Food Critic Monthly magazine, and they published reviews of the most popular restaurants in New York City. 

“Y/N,” Felix said, and his voice was unusually deep. “It’s one person’s opinion.”

I shook my head as I opened the magazine, flipping through the pages until I found our restaurant’s name in the heading. “JYP remains consistent, although they could certainly benefit from a change in their normal menu. I’ll give them a score of 9 out of 10,” I read aloud, fuming when I realized that Dwekki’s review was on the next page. “This hot new restaurant has some of the finest cuisine that I’ve ever tasted, and its head chef holds the potential to be the greatest in New York. My rating is a solid 10 out of 10.”

The room was quiet when I finished. “Y/N?” Jeongin tentatively inquired. “It doesn’t matter, we can impress them next time.”

“Next time?” I repeated with barely constrained rage. “It’s the opinion of one of the biggest food critics in the city!” I retorted. “Of course, it matters.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment to center myself. “Y/N?” Jisung said. “What are you gonna do?”

I looked at him with newfound determination. “Someone needs to schedule me for that Good Morning, New York show. I’m gonna beat him in front of the entire city!”

Jeongin nodded his head quickly. “I’ll make the call, Y/N.”

I rolled back my shoulders, pausing when I noticed that Chan had stopped in front of me. “You’re going too far this time, Y/N.”

“I need this, Chan,” I said, shoving my way past him. “I also need freaking break from this place!”

That afternoon, I sat behind the restaurant with a cigarette in hand, puffing smoke into the surrounding space. Unfortunately, whenever I felt particularly stressed, I turned to the nasty habit that I had trouble completely dismissing from my life. It was truly disgusting, but sometimes these situations forced me to do things that I normally wouldn’t even consider.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

I held the cancer stick up to my lips. “Why the hell do you care?”

“Maybe I think you’re too beautiful for bad lungs,” Changbin said, and I finally met his gaze from across the alley.

“What do you want?”

“To show off?” He shrugged, resuming a business-like demeanor when he walked in my direction.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, watching him as he took a seat next to me.

“Look at this,” Changbin said, holding up a black folder. “We have reservations scheduled for the next month.”

“A month?” I spluttered, taking the folder from him. Sure enough, I ran my finger down the list of names occupying time slots that filled the remainder of June. As a result, I let my head fall back against the brick wall of my restaurant. “This is private property, you know.”

“Oh?” Changbin chuckled. “Look, Y/N, whatever I’ve done to offend you, I want to apologize.”

“Really?” I said. “It doesn’t feel like you care.”

“Actually, I really admire your work,” Changbin said. “I read some of your reviews when I had just graduated school, and I even based one of my dishes from your Parmesan.”

“Fuck that makes me feel old,” I complained, but there was no way that I was more than a few years older than Changbin. 

“You might feel younger if you stop with these things,” Changbin said, and I only frowned when he took the cigarette from me. 

“I booked myself on that show,” I said. “I hope I don’t offend you when I kick your ass.”

Changbin smirked, leaning in closer with a dangerous smile that somehow managed to send my heart fluttering inside my chest. “I look forward to it.”

Unsurprisingly, Jeongin was a cheerful presence even when the sun hadn’t quite risen above the New York City skyscrapers. He had previously agreed to come with me to the show as a support system, and I could use his infectious energy when it came to my biggest challenge to date. “I even made you a sign,” he said as I drove us along the crowded streets.

I laughed. “I don’t think you can bring those inside the studio.”

“I’ll still cheer the loudest!” he said, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap him into a secure hug.

However, I also had to resist the softer side that Jeongin always tended to bring out in me because I needed to focus solely on this competition. My entire reputation was hanging by a thread, and this show offered me the chance to redeem my dwindling reviews. 

Graciously, upon my arrival, I noticed that most of the other competitors weren’t nearly as intimidating, and I offered them polite greetings while doing my best to ignore Changbin and the ridiculous smile that he sent in my direction when I entered the studio. “Keep talking to me,” I instructed Jeongin. “Maybe that will keep Satan away.”

Jeongin nodded his head. “I believe in you, Y/N.”

“There’s a great evil threatening our existence,” I said solemnly. “I just need to focus.”

“Woah!” Jeongin suddenly cheered. “They have soft batch cookies.”

“Hey!” I said. “Are you really letting that distract you?”

“Sorry,” he whispered, bowing respectfully when the Good Morning hosts approached us.

“We’re excited to have you here, Y/N. It’s been a while since you’ve participated in something like this.”

“Well, I need a change every once in a while,” I told them.

“We’ve assigned your station next to Seo Changbin’s,” they said. “You two are the best in the kitchen, and our viewers will love it!”

“I bet they will,” I said, smiling sweetly while pulling Jeongin along next to me. “Let’s make sure it’s spotless,” I instructed him, and we both started cleaning the station with prompt attention.

“Oh, Y/N,” Changbin said from his station next to me. “I saw a comment on social media this morning. Someone said that I shouldn’t even bother wearing anything under my apron. What do you think?”

“Pervert,” I muttered under my breath, wiping down the counter with far more aggression than necessary considering how the surface was practically glimmering.

“Alright, everyone!” a producer suddenly announced. “The show starts in five minutes.”

However, I was unprepared for the way that my stomach twisted uncomfortably because I had never felt this nervous before in my entire life. “I can’t breathe,” I told Jeongin, and he immediately started fanning my overheated skin with one of the frying pans.

“You can do it, Y/N,” he said, and I only nodded in response while I watched him join the crowd gathered behind the cameras.

“3...2...1...action!”

Fuck, why was it so hot in here?

“Good morning, New York City!” one of the hosts began, holding out her arms in grandiose fashion. “We have six of New York’s hottest young chefs ready to cook for us this morning.”

“That’s right, Kathy, and when we get back from our commercial break, we’ll determine the best of the best in a fierce competition. Let’s introduce today’s chefs.”

Kathy smiled in our direction, holding up the microphone as she spoke briefly with each chef in turn, coming closer and closer in my direction. “Mr. Seo,” she said. “You’ve scored tremendous reviews with some of the city’s toughest critics! What inspires you to create such gourmet dishes?”

“Well, recently, I’ve been inspired by someone who managed to capture my heart,” he said, sending a discreet wink in my direction.

I scowled at his blatant sarcasm. “Oh, she must be a lucky lady, then,” Kathy said, taking a long stride to stand next to me at my station. “What about you, Y/N? You’ve been at the top of New York’s finest chef’s list for years!”

I found Jeongin at the back of the room whose sweet smile managed to lend me some semblance of confidence. “I’ve always been competitive,” I said, and the answer summoned a chuckle from Changbin.

“Well, I guess we get to see for ourselves right after these brief words from our sponsors!”

“Cut!” the producer yelled, and I sighed in relief.

But it was a short-lived reprieve, and Changbin leaned in closer to shorten the space separating our stations. “I don’t want to embarrass you, sweetheart,” Changbin grinned, and it took everything I had to resist the temptation to hit that perfect face.

“Shut the hell up,” I muttered, briefly glancing up to see Jeongin offering me a cheesy thumbs up from behind the camera.

Tragically, this time I didn’t feel any reassurance from his warm presence. Instead, I anxiously waited in profound expectation until the recording lights started to flash green, and I put on my best poker face for the camera. “Chefs, today you’ll be making your best dish to impress our judges! We’ll be looking at three categories: taste, presentation, and creativity. You have twenty minutes to finish your dish.”

Twenty minutes?! I was freaking out, running over my best chicken recipe inside my head while the hosts started a vicious countdown that slowly destroyed my resolve. “Go!”

I immediately launched myself into action, running to the fridge to pull out a package of freshly cut chicken. I was relying on years of experience to guide my actions, resorting to my most basic cooking instincts when I cleaned and seasoned the chicken while blocking out the commentary in the background. 

Sauté, sauté, sauté, I chanted inside my head while I heated the olive oil and tossed in the chicken strips to cook over the warm stove. Since I had such limited time, I gave each side exactly four minutes to cook before I was moving on to the next step, glancing over at Changbin’s station to watch him slice several ingredients with precision.

Jesus, he looked really hot doing that!

“Stop it, Y/N,” I whispered to myself, rolling up my sleeves while I grabbed my mixing bowl to prepare the honey and balsamic vinegar base for the sauce that I planned to glaze on top of the chicken. I added some garlic to my chicken skillet before stirring in the stock that would elevate the chicken’s natural flavoring.

“Ten minutes, chefs!”

My heart was pounding against my breastbone, and I decided to add rice at the last minute, even though it was a risk since it might not cook thoroughly in time. However, I also knew that it would add some color to the dish, and I was ready to pull out all the risks to reap the benefits. 

The kitchen was loud with the sound of sizzling skillets and boiling pots, and I was overheated and flushed because of the rising steam. The smells of intermingling dishes were overwhelming, and I resisted the urge to check on Changbin’s dish because I couldn't handle that pressure. 

“Five...four...three...two...one...stop!”

With a long exhale, I threw up my hands and retreated away from my plate. My nerves were still sending trembles along my spine, and I was pretty sure that I could pass out from exhaustion at any moment. Yet, beneath it all, I was also exhilarated from the challenge, and I couldn’t help but smile proudly at my dish sitting at the edge of the counter.

“We’ll let our judges decide,” Kathy said, and several assistants came to collect our plates, bringing them to the panel sitting somewhere off-screen.

I watched their reactions greedily, noting how they maintained neutral expressions for every dish with a certain degree of professionalism. “It was very close,” one of the judges said. “However, we made a decision.”

“The top three,” another continued. “Third place goes to Mr. Lee for his delicious pasta!”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or not, watching one of the hosts place a shiny bronze medal around the young chef’s neck. Surely, that meant Changbin and I were taking the top two positions, but I was desperate to hear them call out my name above his. 

“We’ll announce first place,” the judge began, and I was practically hanging from the edge of the counter. “Seo Changbin!”

Unfortunately, there were no words to describe the way my shoulders instantly deflated, and a feeling of existential dread gripped tightly to my heart because of my failure. “Second place goes to Y/N.”

I was shaking, but it wasn’t out of anger for once. I pretended to smile, accepting the medal with a bile taste at the back of my throat. I managed to hold myself together until the show went off air, and I slowly removed my apron while trying my best not to reveal just how affected I was by everything that had happened. “Hey, Y/N,” Changbin said, and I turned around with a sigh.

“Save it, Changbin,” I said. “I don’t need you to rub it in.”

“I’m not,” he said, sweeping his bangs away from his eyes. “Will you just look at me?”

I offered him my full attention. “Well?”

“It was really close,” he said. “You did a good job, and your dish was amazing.”

His words were earnest, and I saw the honesty in his expression. Yet, my pride was still wounded, and I wanted to creep away into the remote corners of my lonely apartment and lick my wounds. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Not everything has to be a competition, Y/N,” he said, giving me a meaningful look that I couldn’t quite understand.

However, if the competition could be considered another step towards my total demise, then I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see the next day’s issue of a popular magazine. “Food Critic Daily,” I screamed, snatching the magazine from a sheepish Jeongin. My eyes grew wider when I saw that Changbin had the privilege of gracing the front cover. “This reviewer insists that you listen to everyone who tells you that Seo Changbin’s dishes are some of the finest cuisine in New York City. Perhaps nobody can compare.”

I dramatically fell back against the counter because it was too much for me to handle. I took a deep breath, channeling that emotion into anger as I grabbed the magazine from the top, ripping it slowly in half while my chefs looked on with barely disguised horror. “The insanity stops now!”

“Are you sure about that?” Jisung asked.

“We just have to try something different,” I said, looking around at my gathered chefs.

“Maybe not right now, Y/N,” came Felix’s gentle response.

“Why?”

“Changbin’s here,” Felix whispered, pointing at the kitchen door.

“What?” I growled, immediately turning around to face my kitchen staff. “Listen up! We have to be on our best game tonight!” I pointed at Felix who immediately froze to the spot. “I’m cooking his meal. Send his order to me.”

Felix nodded, relaying the instructions to our waiter while I approached my station with malice. “Y/N,” Chan said softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I grunted. “I can do this.”

“I didn’t say that I doubted you,” Chan said. “But I’m worried that you’re pushing yourself too much.”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, reaching for my discarded apron. 

“Here’s the order,” Felix said, returning promptly. “He asked for the garlic butter chicken.”

I snorted. “Of course he did.”

Nevertheless, I cracked my fingers and got to work, arranging the pots and ingredients across my station. I quietly sharpened my knife, glaring at the revolving kitchen door where I knew that Changbin waited outside in the dining room. Despite the repeated blows to my self-confidence, I was determined to impress him tonight.

After I had sent off Changbin’s order, I returned to the back office to try and rest after pushing myself to the limit. I resisted the familiar urge to grab a cigarette from my bag, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to distract my mind. However, my efforts were in vain because Jeongin eventually started knocking on the door, looking at me with wide eyes. “Changbin said that he wanted to speak to the chef.”

I huffed an annoyed sigh. “That isn’t surprising.”

I slowly lifted myself from the chair, following Jeongin back into the kitchen. I was aware that the other chefs were watching me like I was some kind of wild animal ready to pounce. “Stay here,” I said to Jeongin, pushing my way through the revolving door to enter the dining room.

It wasn’t hard to find him, sitting with his waiter, Hyunjin, at one of the tables near the front entrance. I lowered my head when I started for his section, aware of the weight of his gaze on me the entire time. “You asked for me,” I said, looking down at Changbin with my eyes narrowed.

“My compliments to the chef,” Changbin said. “The food was surprisingly good.”

I chose not to react to his passive-aggressive comment. “Will there be anything else?”

“Just a moment,” Changbin said, reaching into his jacket pocket to produce a folded card. “What do you think?”

I snatched it from him ungracefully, smoothing out the surface before I caught the unforgettable name of Kim Seungmin listed across the card. “The Kim Seungmin?” I asked, and I didn’t bother to hide my excitement.

“I can get you an interview with him,” Changbin said. “What do you think?”

I frowned. “What’s the catch?”

Changbin laughed. “Maybe I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just tell me what you want.”

His smile was gone, replaced by a look that I could only describe as sobering. “You should go on a date with me, Y/N.”

It only took me a moment to start laughing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Changbin sighed. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” I replied, watching him as he stood from the table.

“I don’t want you to see me as a competitor,” Changbin said. “I think you’re amazing, and we would be so much better as partners.”

Regardless of his kind words, it still felt like he was mocking me, even if his tone suggested otherwise, and I couldn’t swallow down my pride and bruised ego long enough to acknowledge the truth. Instead, I hardened my gaze, looking at him as someone who continued to ruin our business each day I prepared our menu selections in the kitchen. “I think you should leave.”

“Y/N-”

I took a step back, bowing in front of him before I returned to the kitchen with his eyes burning a hole into the back of my head.

After our regular closing hours, I lingered behind in the kitchen office, staring at the blank computer screen. I couldn’t stop thinking about Changbin, and that was a problem. It was his fault that I was feeling so defeated, and I couldn’t imagine allowing him access to my personal life. 

Thankfully, the familiar tone of my cell phone forced my attention elsewhere, and I answered the call with a distracted greeting. “Y/N!” an excited voice announced from the other end. “It’s Jeongin!”

“I have caller ID.”

“Oh, r-right,” he stuttered. “Anyway, I just got off the phone with one of my friends, and he said that his company was looking for a place to host their anniversary dinner this weekend. I mentioned our restaurant because I think the attention might help bring some interest back to JYP!”

I listened intently, feeling a familiar spark of hope. “What company?”

“It’s a huge TV network! The same one that programs Good Morning, New York!”

“How many people?”

“Uh, maybe like a couple hundred?”

I hesitated because I knew how difficult it would be to handle that many guests at one time, but I also knew that Jeongin had been right when he suggested that the publicity could be the push that we desperately required. “Tell them we would be more than happy to host.”

I hung up the phone with a loud exhale. What the hell was I doing?

The weekend approached fast, and I was slowly experiencing the numbing effects of panic when I realized that several of my chefs would be unable to help with dinner preparations for the party that we were hosting. “It might be pushing our limits, Y/N,” Chan said, and he stood next to me while I examined our depleted numbers.

“We can do it,” I said. “Everyone, let’s start preparing the main dishes!”

“Yes, chef!

I took a deep breath because we wouldn’t have a single moment of reprieve to accommodate the orders. But I had convinced myself that enough early preparation would help counter our severe lack of help in the kitchen. Subsequently, I was working my ass off to ensure that everything was progressing smoothly.

“Y/N,” Jeongin said. “People have started to arrive.”

“We can start serving soon,” I said. “Tell the waitstaff to get themselves ready.”

Jeongin nodded, but I could tell that he was nervous, and his lack of confidence was noticeably debilitating. Nevertheless, I encouraged everyone to work harder, trying to pay less attention to the accumulating orders. “Y/N, table eight has been waiting for twenty minutes on an appetizer.”

“I got it!” I shouted back, approaching the front counter with the shrimp plate in question.

“Y/N, what about the crab cakes?”

My heart was skyrocketing inside my chest. “It’s coming!”

“We need the chicken for table six!”

“Y/N, people are starting to ask me about the soup?”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck,” I cursed, trying to settle my breathing because there were dark spots building in my peripheral vision.

Chan graciously reached out for my arm, holding me steady with his strong hold. “We’re understaffed, Y/N, and Felix is crying in the bathroom!”

“Just hold on one second,” I said, pacing back and forth nervously across the kitchen floor.

“Y/N,” Chan said, shaking my shoulders. “We have to call Changbin for help.”

“Changbin!” I yelled, gripping the counter. “Are you serious?”

“We need extra hands,” Chan said. “Changbin told me the other night that he really wanted to support the restaurant.”

“He said that?”

“Call him,” Chan insisted, shoving the kitchen phone into my hand. “Please.”

I released a defeated sigh as I dialed his number, finding it listed in the phone book that we kept in the office. “Hello?” a gruff voice greeted me.

“Changbin,” I said, swallowing hard. “It’s Y/N.”

“Well, this is a surprise,” Changbin’s smooth voice responded from the other end. “Did you change your mind about our date, Y/N?”

I groaned. “No, but I actually have something to ask you.”

“Really?” Changbin said, and his tone was playful. “It’s always hard to resist you.”

“I need your help Changbin,” I said, but there was a nasty taste left in my mouth after the words had already come out. “I’m hosting an important party at the restaurant, but my staff can’t keep up.”

I held my breath, waiting impatiently when I heard nothing from the other man. “Give me ten minutes,” he replied before I was greeted with the sound of the dial tone.

Changbin’s arrival was, for once, a breath of fresh air, and I ushered him into the kitchen with eager hands. He had also brought half a dozen of his own chefs, and they fell into order with my staff like a well-oiled machine. It was reassuring, and I felt myself grow lighter on my feet as I moved through the kitchen, filling orders at a much faster speed.

“Let me handle that one,” I said, grabbing one of the tickets from Jisung before rushing back to my station. I started cutting vegetables with a speed that I hadn’t seen since my early culinary school days.

“You look sexy doing that,” Changbin remarked from next to me.

I grinned because the comment was strangely endearing. “You’re just saying that.”

“I really mean it,” Changbin said, and his presence was somewhat intoxicating.

“Focus on your work,” I said, but I could feel that I was blushing. 

“That’s cute, Y/N,” he said, reaching out to poke a finger against my cheek.

“Hands to yourself,” I added, and Changbin laughed before he grabbed the handle of his skillet to toss the contents of his dish.

“I think we’re finally caught up,” Jisung announced from the front of the kitchen and there was an audible sigh from my staff in the kitchen.

“What, is this a regular thing, Y/N?” Changbin asked. “How have you survived without me for all these years?”

“Perseverance,” I responded, turning up the heat on my grill and enjoying the accompanying sound of the chicken frying in the sauce mixture.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said, and I couldn’t help but shiver while I tried to figure out if he was talking about me or the dish.

Eventually, serving hours were completed, and most of the chefs had started to clean the mess that we had made of our dwindling supplies. Meanwhile, I studied the satisfied patrons from behind the revolving doors, and I felt proud of everything that had been accomplished. Even if that meant finding help in an unlikely ally who was engaged in polite conversation with Chan and Felix.

“Jeongin,” I said, drawing the younger’s attention.

“Yes, chef!” he saluted, and I bit back a smile.

“Find us some champagne from the back,” I said. “Bring glasses for everyone.”

“I’m on it!” he declared, and I watched him hurry to the back while I took one last look at the lingering party guests.

I wandered through the kitchen, occasionally offering to help clean one of the stations. At the same time, I couldn’t resist a persistent desire to glance at Changbin, watching him from the corner of my eye. For the first time since we had met, my attention wasn’t focused completely on the restaurant.

“I think it was a huge success, Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my musings when he returned from the dining hall. “I spoke to the CEO, and he said they would definitely consider us again as a future host!”

“Hopefully, we’ll have more help,” I said, reaching over to pat Jisung on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Are you sick, Y/N?”

“No,” I laughed, and my gaze immediately locked with Changbin’s. “I’m just grateful.”

Thereafter, Jeongin returned with a bottle of wine and several glasses. I quietly instructed him to give everyone some of the champagne. “Make sure the restaurant clears out,” I instructed Jisung who nodded obediently.

Meanwhile, I watched Jeongin flitter between the kitchen staff, holding out glasses and filling them to the very top with delicate bubbles. “Are we celebrating, Y/N?” Chan asked, pausing next to me.

I smiled. “I think everyone deserves it.”

Finally, Jisung made his return after sorting everything out with the CEO, carefully assisting our waitstaff in sorting out the evening’s conclusion. Thus, I held up a glass of champagne since the restaurant had finally cleared out, waiting patiently while the chefs gathered together for a short celebration. “Thank you,” I said. “To everyone because I was really in over my head.”

“That’s an understatement,” Chan snorted.

“Also, I’m glad that Changbin and his staff were able to help us,” I said. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Cheers!” Jisung shouted, and I brought my glass to my lips to enjoy the cooling effects of the alcohol as it slid down my parched throat.

It was late when I started to send most of the chefs home. I made sure to thank everyone again, smiling brightly because I was incredibly proud of their efforts. “We’re almost done with clean-up, Y/N,” Jeongin said, approaching me with an exhausted yawn.

“I’ll clean the rest,” I told Jeongin. “Everyone else can go home.”

Jeongin nodded, looking up at me with sleepy eyes. I grinned as he trudged out of the kitchen, and I took his place at the counter to wipe down the surface until it was spotlessly clean. “This is very dedicated of you, Y/N.”

I smirked at Changbin’s comment. “It’s the least I can do after tonight.”

“Well, you seem like a very ambitious person,” Changbin said, and I could feel him behind me.

“It’s just...been hard lately.”

“Why?”

I closed my eyes. “Honestly? I was a little worked up because we were losing a lot of business to your restaurant. It hurt my pride.”

“The novelty will wear off,” Changbin said. “People enjoy new things, but they always eventually look for what they really like again.”

“Are you trying to be wise?”

“Maybe I’m still trying to impress you,” he said, and the deep tenor of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

“What?”

“I really like you, Y/N,” he said, and I felt his lips right next to my ear and the warm sensation of his gentle breathing. 

His hands smoothed down the fabric of my apron, holding my waist with an unrelenting grip. I shivered when his lips found the sensitive skin of my throat, placing teasing kisses wherever he could find space. He eventually turned me around in his arms, and I was lost in the endless pools of his eyes. 

“Are you going to push me away?” he asked.

“Not anymore,” I replied, and it was nothing short of satisfying when he finally kissed me, and I could feel my head spin while my mind tried to process everything that was happening.

I could feel the counter digging into my lower back, and I hopped onto the clean surface while keeping our lips firmly attached. I also grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him between my legs to sear our lips together in a passionate display that stole every bit of oxygen from my burning lungs. He moaned when I let one hand tease the front of his dress pants through the fabric of his jeans and chef’s apron. “Does this mean I can have my date?”

I smiled, curling my fingers into his hair. “Whatever you want.”

“I just want you,” he said, and I seared our solemn declaration with another heart-fluttering kiss.

One Year Later

I had been dreaming, but there was one person who could always summon me from the clutches of my REM cycle. “Sweetheart,” his gentle voice whispered into my ear.

I groaned in protest, rolling over onto my side to avoid Changbin’s persistent wake-up call. However, it was hard to ignore him when I could feel him pull back the covers to settle between my legs. “Don’t do that,” I whined.

“What?”

“You’re trying to convince me to wake-up,” I said. “Let’s sleep longer.”

“Are we gonna skip the opening tonight?” Changbin asked with a husky chuckle.

I sighed, looking up at him with barely-opened eyes. “It’s still so far away.”

“That’s why I’m doing this,” he said, running his hands along my thighs, creeping past the barrier of my shirt.

“Binnie...”

“Y/N,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck this little pussy, and then we’re getting dressed for tonight.”

My eyes shot open immediately. “You better keep that promise.”

Changbin growled low in his chest, pressing a kiss to the front of my panties, and I curled my fingers into his hair because I wouldn’t be able to walk when he was finished with me.

Needless to say, it was a beautiful day for a grand opening, and I studied the front of our new restaurant with pride. It had been a while since the incident that brought us all together, but I enjoyed every day that I spent with Changbin by my side. I had also met so many interesting new people, and our staff finally felt like one giant family. Therefore, we had agreed to open a place together, equipped with a combination of our best staff and servers, and I was excited to welcome tonight’s guests.

“Y/N, should we start kitchen prep?” Jeongin asked, looking at me from inside the front entrance.

“Sure,” I told him with a nod. He clapped his hands together rapidly, disappearing behind the door with my favorite smile. 

“Are you not going to help them?”

His teasing voice only brightened my mood, and I felt his arms wrap around me from behind. “I just wanted to see everything before we opened.”

“What do you think?” Changbin asked, looking at me for approval.

I nodded my head with a smile. “It’s perfect.”

[sincerelybubbles]

Soft || Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Summary: You and Eijiro have each other, and that’s enough to battle even the most tiresome of days

2k words of pure fluff

Warnings: fluff, cuddles, kissing, the works

You were exhausted. A full day of hero work would do that to anyone, and at this point, you felt you should have been used to it, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you were so tired that your boots felt like weights tied to your ankles. Every step drained more and more of your energy as you unlocked your apartment door and threw your things down in the hallway, your boots quickly joining the pile before you turned and locked the door behind you. 

You walked further into your apartment, pulling off pieces of your hero uniform and not bothering to turn on any lights as you went. You knew that you were making a mess, a trail of dirty clothes tracking your movements to your bedroom, but you told yourself that you would pick up later. 

The tired was clinging to you, it’s arms circled around your neck and dragging your head down. Your limbs felt swollen and you knew that there were probably some injuries that you should attend to - you had fought several villain's that day, from petty thief’s to arsonists, leaving your body sore and beaten up - but you instead shed your last article of clothing before throwing yourself on your bed, barely bothering to ensure your head was on a pillow before shutting your eyes. 

Before this hero business, you always found it hard to catch sleep. She always danced just out of reach, taunting you. Even still, there were days that she avoided you, the daunting events of the past embracing your mind and making long nights inevitable. But nights like these, sleep was already waiting for you, her hand on your cheek, ready to consume you and bring well-deserved rest. The minute you allowed your eyes to close, the heaviness weighing down on your body pressed you into the mattress, warmth enveloping your chest as you quickly fell into a deep sleep, your body almost weeping in relief. 

Eijiro always left work feeling invigorated, as compared to your leaden sleepiness. He opened the door to see your pile of things and fought back a laugh, bending down the clear his path before shutting the door. Carefully, he picked up your bag and returned the items that fell out of it in your effort to get inside as soon as possible. 

“Babe?” Eijiro called, hesitant to yell in case you were awake. When he didn’t receive a response, he bent down to untie his own boots and set them on the rack by the door, gathering your shoes and doing the same. 

His eyes widened at the trail of clothes that greeted him once he entered the apartment. You were typically tired when you came home, and he was used to the pile of items half-hazardly thrown in the entrance, but the trail of clothes leading to your room was new. He followed them to your room and gently pushed open the door and fought back a large grin at the sight before him. 

You had stripped down to your underwear and were laying on your stomach in the dead center of the bed. Your cheek was squished against your arm and your legs were splayed out in a way that definitely did not look comfortable to Eijiro. 

There was a lump in his throat as he looked at you, peacefully asleep on your shared bed. You were gently snoring and a slight trail of drool was leaving your mouth, and yet Eijiro couldn’t help but think he had never thought you were more perfect. 

Walking quietly as to not disturb you, Eijiro picked up a blanket thrown on the chair in the corner and gently placed it over your sleeping body, daring to press a soft kiss to your head before grabbing a shirt and shorts and leaving the room. 

He changed out of his hero costume in the living room, gathering all of the clothes strewn about the house and putting them in a slightly neater pile in the corner before making his way to the kitchen. 

Eijiro made noodles, sticking a serving in the fridge before settling on the couch and eating his own bowl, scrolling through his phone. The sound of a door opening had Eijiro looking up and spotting you wearing one of his shirts and still looking tired. Eijiro set his noodles down on the coffee table before smiling at you and opening his arms wide. 

You wasted no time making your way over to him and crawling into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around you, rubbing your back as you pressed a kiss against his shoulder. 

“Hello.” There was a laugh somewhere in Eijiro’s voice, but it was almost entirely hidden behind the smile he was still wearing. 

“When did you get home?” You mumbled against his chest. 

“About twenty minutes ago. You were completely out, snoring and everything.” Eijiro teased, leaning back slightly to see your face as your nose scrunched up. 

“I do not snore. But I was tired.” You rolled your eyes at Eijiro’s chuckle, making your way off of his lap as he told you about his day. 

You found your serving of dinner right where you knew it would be and sat cross-legged on the couch, facing him. You tried to listen to his story, you really did, but you kept finding yourself distracted. He smiled when he talked, teeth fully on show. As he got more excited, he gestured with both arms, chopsticks in one hand, his bowl in the other, pausing only to ensure he didn’t spill any noodles. 

He had thrown his lags up on the couch so that you two were facing each other as you talked and traded stories, one of his legs tucked in between you and the back of the couch, the other tucked up so that he could place his bowl on it when he wasn’t gesturing wildly. 

You let Eijiro clean up after dinner, knowing that the fight of who would do the dishes was one you wouldn’t win: you were obviously still tired and ready to sleep. Instead, you grabbed his phone as you waited, scrolling through his apps. 

“Hey,” Eijiro said from behind you, arms circling around your shoulders as he set his chin on your head, “let’s get you showered and in bed. You look like you’re going to pass out on me any second now.”

“Thanks.” You said, sarcasm dripping like honey from your voice. “Just what everyone wants to hear.” 

“You make it work, don’t worry.” Eijiro kissed the top of your head before leaving and starting the shower, you following soon after. 

“Join me?” You asked, testing the water temperature on your palm and sending a glance over your shoulder. 

“Sure.” Eijiro undressed, joining you under the spray of the water. “Can I wash your hair?” 

“No! Last time you got it in my eyes.” You pouted, reaching past him to grab the soap, “But I’ll wash your for you.” 

The soft scent of soap filled the air as you ran your fingers through Eijiro’s hair, working though the gel that kept it up throughout the day. The two of you talked softly, the quiet and serene atmosphere only broken occasionally as you two made the other laugh. 

It only took a slight pout gracing Eijiro’s features before you relinquished the shampoo and turned around, allowing him to gently work it into your hair, fingers moving against your scalp. 

The shower was warm and Eijiro was quiet as he worked, allowing you to tell him about the family dispute that erupted into a fight you had to break apart today as the pair ended up using their quirks. 

“He was really using a fire quirk! In the middle of the street with people and buildings everywhere. Luckily he didn’t set anyone on fire aside from me, but really, how stupid can people be?”

“Apparently, very stupid.” Eijiro pressed a kiss into your shoulder before turning and grabbing the shower head, gently rinsing your hair. “No wonder you’re so tired, if you had to deal with all of that today.” 

You nodded, focusing on the feeling of the warm water running down your back. Eijiro repeated the process, raking conditioner through your hair and rinsing it, the two of you talking in quiet tones as he worked, before he shut off the water and the two of you started to dry off. 

You started to make your way into the room when something soft hit your head. You turned around to see Eijiro smirking at you, a towel on the ground. 

“Dry your hair! You’ll get sick.” Scoffing you picked up the towel and threw it over your head before continuing to your room and pulling on one of Eijiro’s shirts and a pair of underwear. “Do you not own our own clothes?” Eijiro whispered into your ear, his hands resting on your hips as his chest rested against your back. 

“I prefer yours.” You admitted, turning around in his arms to return his hug, noticing that he had pulled shorts on again. 

“Hmmm. I guess I’ll allow it, but only because you look much better then I do in it.” Eijiro said, voice still soft as he bent down and pressed his lips against yours. 

The kiss was gentle, Eijiro lifted his hand up to cup your cheek as he took his time. He pulled away for a second only to return to place several small kissed on your lips until you were giggling and reaching up to grab his face. 

He leaned into your hand as you held his face, smiling at you before placing one last kiss on your lips. You returned his smile, feeling full to the brim with happiness as he wrapped both arms around your waist tightly. 

“Eij!” You squealed as he lifted you up and spun you around, making his way over the the bed and throwing you down, gentle enough that you only bounced slightly. 

Eijiro joined you on the bed, opening his arms wide for you for the second time that night. Just like before you gladly crawled into them, pulling up the blanket to cover the two of you. 

Eijiro played with your hair gently as you rested your cheek on his chest, listening to his breaths and allowing them to lull you to sleep. 

He waited until he was sure you were asleep before leaning his head back and allowing his eyes to shut, keeping his arms firm around you. 

Tomorrow, you would both have to wake up early and pull on your uniforms. Eijiro would have to start patrol before the sun has even considering touching the sky, and he knew that you were expected to be in meetings at the same time.

Tomorrow, you two would see each other for a few minutes in the morning before spending the day apart, and you two would repeat the cycle over and over. 

Eijiro buried his nose in your hair, allowing his senses to become overwhelmed with you, and pushed away his thoughts of tomorrow, because you were here in his arms, and after tomorrow, after the sun had set, the two of you would come home and he knew that you would be back here, in his arms, no matter what. 

Content with the knowledge that he had you, and you had him, Eijiro was lulled to sleep, holding you tight in his arms. 

A/N: it’s probably time that i’ve mentioned that, even though Izuku has my heart, soul, and entire life. . . i 10,000 percent simp for kirishima 

[carewyncromwell]

The Cinderella AU is back...and with it, a proper introduction to the character who fills the “evil stepmother” role -- Carewyn’s cold, cruel grandfather, Charles Cromwell. If you’d like to learn more about Charles and his family’s canon counterparts, you can consult this post, but to summarize quickly, in Carewyn’s canon, Carewyn’s mother Lane ran away from home to elope with a Muggle, which ended up protecting Carewyn and Jacob from Charles’s emotionally abusive influence. (At least until R started going after them, because hey, what d’you know, in Carey-bear’s canon, Charles is R’s leader.) But in this AU, Carewyn has to answer to Charles for some reason...so yeah, that doesn’t bode well, does it? You’ll just have to read on to learn a little more about why that might be...

Fashion changed very dramatically during the Renaissance, thanks in large part to the cross-pollination of different cultures and influences that came from more extensive travel, the growing popularity of published works, and royal funding of the arts. Pre-Renaissance men’s fashion, at least for the nobility, was very big on oversized sleeves, which ended up creating a more “top-heavy” frame. (Just look at most portraits of King Henry VIII.) As the Renaissance went on, though, trunk hose (which creates that kind of “bubble butt” look that we’re used to seeing in William Shakespeare Halloween costumes) became the latest fad, shifting a man’s frame to be much more “bottom-heavy.” Women’s fashion briefly flirted with wide trumpet sleeves (as one can see in this portrait of a young Elizabeth Tudor, later Queen Elizabeth I), but by the time the 1550′s were over, rounded sleeves grew much more popular. Fitted sleeves also went in and out of style in a lot of Europe throughout the 16th century, though sleeves were considered a special feature on gowns, so they often had a lot of embellishments, such as paneling, embroidery, or puffs. One exception to this rule, however, was in Italy, where fitted, detachable sleeves that could be used on multiple gowns became fashionable. Fashion in Italy in the 16th century was notably understated and modest compared to a lot of Europe, which tended to favor a lot of ornate beading and embroidery -- there were even laws on the books restricting how “bedazzled” women’s fashion could be. One such law even banned stripes, as it was considered wasteful to use two different kinds of fabric just to make a pattern. That being said, there were plenty of people in Italy who said “screw the rules” and worked around them anyway. Carewyn’s dress in this picture is somewhat based on this design, but with some tweaking, most notably with a fuller skirt and more ornate and puffy sleeves.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When the end of the month arrived, Andre requested that Carewyn come to his chambers bright and early in the morning. Carewyn had anticipated that the prince had some extra duties for her to attend to, but instead, he immediately led her over to a corner of his bed chamber that he’d drawn a curtain around. When he pulled the curtain back, he revealed a full tailoring station inside his walk-in closet, complete with organized rolls of fabric, various jewels and beads strewn about over a table, several unfinished hats stacked on the nearby desk, an entire separate wardrobe of unfinished pieces, and several mannequins with fine fabrics half-pinned on them.

One mannequin, however, was wearing a completely finished, luxurious dark scarlet gown. It was made of about six different fabrics, all cut and sewn together in a complex tapestry of folds and textures and trimmed with many sparkling beads and jewels. Also lying on the floor just in front of the dress was a pair of heeled shoes made of off-white cloth with red and white roses sewn into the toes.

Carewyn couldn’t help but gape. Andre was grinning from ear to ear.

“So?” he asked. “What do you think?”

Carewyn glanced out the side of her eye at the prince, over to the dress, and back.

“Did you...make this, your Highness?” she asked, amazed.

Andre laughed. “Carewyn, please, it’s ‘Andre.’ But yes! I got inspired while working on your shoes, so I stitched this up to go with it. ...Do you like it?”

Carewyn walked around the mannequin to look over the gown, not daring to touch it. She’d never seen so many fine fabrics on one dress before -- velvet, linen, silk -- and all the embellishments must’ve taken full days to finish --

“It’s -- well, it’s extraordinary, your -- Andre,” she corrected herself very quickly noticing the prince’s pointed smile. Even she was finding it difficult not to smile too. “The beading on the sleeves, the lace work -- the alternating wool and cotton paneling along the bodice...it’s worthy of an artisan!”

Andre looked clearly both incredibly pleased and impressed. “You have an eye for detail, Carewyn!”

His face burst into a bright white grin as he bent down and picked up one of the off-white cloth shoes.

“I’m pleased you like it,” he said brightly. “I thought it’d be the perfect thing for you to wear today. Lord Cromwell sent a message to the palace asking Father if you could return home for a visit -- so I worked all night to get this done in time so that you could wear it for your outing with your new shoes.”

Despite her best efforts, Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the dismay and discomfort she felt off her face.

“What? Oh -- oh, your Highness, I -- ”

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Andre, “what have I asked you to call me?”

“Andre,” Carewyn corrected very quickly, her eyes drifting up onto the dress rather than at Andre, “this dress is...truly beautiful...but it befits a lady of status, not -- ”

“It fits you,” Andre said, undaunted. “I used the measurements from your uniform fitting. It should fit you like a glove -- or better.”

Carewyn felt like her stomach was shriveling up. She hated turning away such a lovely gift -- under any other circumstances, she would love wearing it out and about. But...

“That...that is...it’s so kind of you, to use me as your template...”

Or “dress-up doll” -- that is what the Queen said I would be, isn’t it?

“...but I simply couldn’t wear such a gift on my visit...not when I have no comparable gifts to bring my cousins. Many of them are around my age, and...and well, I know Heather, Iris, and Dahlia would be very upset, knowing I got to wear such a beautiful dress and they didn’t.”

None of her cousins had ever been very respectful of Carewyn’s personal belongings. Not long after she first arrived, her aunt Pearl’s two bullying sons, Kain and Arsen, stole her jewelry box while she was sleeping and sold both it and its contents for pocket change. Her youngest cousin, her uncle Blaise’s bratty son Tristan, had once thrown a bottle of red wine out the window that shattered mere feet away from Carewyn and soaked her dress so badly that it never washed out. Even Iris had -- after Carewyn caught the eye of one of her suitors who’d come to call -- ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress so badly that she had to hide from sight for most of the day, until she’d managed to sew it up enough that her chest wasn’t exposed. Carewyn had had to hide her mother’s old dress from her cousins for years, for fear they might steal and/or ruin it.

Andre frowned deeply.

“Well, I hardly can send along anything for your cousins without knowing their measurements,” he said with a quick glance at the wardrobe full of unfinished pieces.

His face then brightened with an idea.

“How about this -- I’ll order you. I order you to wear this dress on your trip home, and to have your cousins give you their honest opinion of it. Then you must bring their opinions back to me. Goodness knows I could use some feedback -- and maybe a few new ideas, if they have them,” he added with a teasing grin.

Carewyn opened her mouth to object, but Andre cut her off.

“As your prince, I command you to showcase my work to your family,” he said through a broad grin. “Am I clear?”

Carewyn really, really didn’t love the idea -- but she had to concede that she could use this to her advantage. She needed a stable place at the palace in order to achieve her goals, and she could help maintain that stable place at the palace by justifying to Charles why she had to be there. And Charles’s whole interest in her being there was to try to endear the Cromwells further to the royal family, and maybe even secure one of her Aunt Claire’s daughters a space in that family...

So, with a heavy sigh, she put on a small smile and inclined her head respectfully.

“Very well, Andre. I’ll wear your work proudly.”

And so Carewyn set off for the Cromwell estate on horseback, dressed in the new shoes and dress Andre had made for her. The shoes were lovely and fit perfectly, but they were rather impractical for walking around outdoors. Carewyn thought to herself that she might have to continue wearing her old shoes when she returned to her palace work, if for no other reason that she hated the thought of getting them scuffed up.

As to be expected, when she arrived, her cousins reacted very hostilely to her appearance.

“Well, well,” sneered curly-black-haired Kain, “what do we have here? Playacting as a lady, little Winnie?”

“All hail Lady Cinderwyn, Duchess of Dust!” sniggered his similarly dark-haired brother Arsen.

He reached for her wide skirt, but Carewyn -- remaining on her horse -- steered herself far enough back that he couldn’t reach.

“I wouldn’t damage this, if I were you,” she said as coolly and levelly as she could. “It’s not mine.”

Arsen and Kain exchanged a mocking, wide-eyed look and an “oooooh.”

“Are you a thief now, little Winnie?” asked Kain. “How far you’ve fallen -- we might need to call the castle guard on you -- ”

“Cinderwyn’s a thief!” crowed tiny Tristan in a sing-song voice. “Cinderwyn’s a thief!”

Claire’s three daughters looked a lot less mocking.

“You have some nerve, stealing clothes from your betters,” spat dainty, brown-haired Heather. “Grandfather should lash you within an inch of your life -- ”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Carewyn said very firmly. “Now I wish to see Grandfather. I have a message from the Prince he’ll want to hear.”

“Grandfather’s inside,” said Claire’s gangling, button-nosed son Elmer with a crooked smile. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy your new look, Lady Cinderwyn...especially with the finishing touch!”

He jumped right into a mud puddle that splashed everywhere. Carewyn just barely avoided the spray, but when she moved back, Dahlia and Iris successfully grabbed hold of her velvet brocaded skirt and yanked hard in either direction, as if trying to rip it.

“Iris -- Dahlia --  ” said Carewyn, her voice growing colder and harder as she struggled to hold in her temper and emotion as best she could, “if either of you have any ambition to marry his Highness, I would strongly suggest letting go of his dress this instant!”

All of Carewyn’s cousins stiffened.

“His dress?” repeated Dahlia, looking outraged. “You mean to say you took this from the Prince?!”

“He bid me to wear it, for my visit,” Carewyn shot back fiercely. “Or would you have me oppose his Highness’s will?”

“You...arrogant, pretentious, ungrateful little rat!” shrieked Dahlia. She tried to yank Carewyn off her horse, and there was a slight struggle as Carewyn tried to both comfort her horse and prevent Dahlia from dislodging her.

“Now, now, children,” said a very coldly serene voice, “a little less noise there.”

All of the Cromwell children looked up to see Charles Cromwell striding across the lawn. He was dressed in black, gray, and white with a dark red cape with black trim, and he supported himself on an ebony-wood cane with a dragon’s head carved out of black zircon for a handle. Behind him were Carewyn’s aunts, Pearl and Claire, with their husbands, as well as her uncle Blaise. All three of them were looking over Carewyn’s outfit disapprovingly -- Blaise looked particularly irritated, his upper lip curling as he rested a hand on top of Tristan’s shoulder that made the small boy flinch.

Iris and Dahlia were still clinging to Carewyn’s skirt, but they’d frozen up like startled cats when their grandfather appeared.

“Grandfather -- ” stammered Iris, “W-Winnie’s a no-good thief -- she stole this dress from -- !”

"I have stolen nothing,” Carewyn repeated coldly. She stroked her horse’s white mane several times to soothe it.

Pearl too had come up to rest a hand on Arsen’s shoulder and was looking at Carewyn very critically out her own almond-shaped blue eyes -- most of Carewyn’s family had them.

“Is that so?” she said, her voice a low growl in her throat. “Explain, then, what gives you the nerve to show up here dressed in such obnoxious clothes.”

“It’s positively garish,” added Claire in a higher, simpering tone from her comfortable spot in her husband’s arms, mirroring her sister’s disapproval like a child would imitate their older sibling.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows very coolly. “Prince Henri will be very disappointed to hear that. He worked very hard on this.”

This startled all of the Cromwells. Blaise looked scandalized.

“And I suppose that makes you think the Prince favors you somehow?” he spat, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released Tristan’s shoulder and approached Carewyn’s horse. “Rather than just thinking of using you as some saucy little tart and then discarding you, just like your wretch of a father did your mother -- ”

"I think nothing of the sort,” Carewyn cut him off coldly.

Don’t you dare talk about my mother.

Charles, the least visibly startled, took a few steps forward. Iris and Dahlia finally released Carewyn’s skirt so as to get out of the way, and Charles came to a stop about three feet from Carewyn’s horse, his own almond-shaped eyes locked on his ginger-haired granddaughter’s face.

“I believe you owe me a full report, child,” he said quietly. “Stand before me and give it.”

Carewyn’s red-painted lips pursed as she picked up her skirts and descended from her horse at last. She looked up at Charles with a very stoic expression.

“Prince Henri learned that I would be coming to see you, as per your request,” she explained. “He commanded that I wear this dress, for my visit. He’s heard about my cousins and desires Dahlia, Iris, and Heather’s opinions on it. Then he requested I deliver their feedback back to him this evening.”

The time limit was a flat-out lie, but one Carewyn knew she could get away with. She did not want to stay at the Cromwell estate overnight -- she’d rather sleep on a lumpy old cot in the servants’ quarters than on the floor by the kitchen fireplace. 

Claire looked at Charles, her face breaking into a rather eager expression. “His Highness wishes to hear from my daughters? He must have heard from the rest of the court of their extensive talents -- ”

“Or at least purported talents,” said Blaise under his breath with a rather cynical look. “Seems the rumor mill is working well...“

Pearl shot Blaise a glare, but Claire didn’t seem to hear him -- she had already whirled on Carewyn.

“Tell his Highness that the dress is a work of art, fit for a queen!” she said insistently. “And make sure that he knows that there are much better models for his work here, at the Cromwell estate -- Iris has a far superior build, Dahlia the most perfect shoulders -- ”

“I suppose Winnie can do far worse than inanely fawning over your daughters’ target on their behalf,” said Blaise in a rather cutting voice. “Mindlessly swooning certainly worked for you.”

“Blaise!” Pearl snapped reproachfully.

Charles’s eyes drifted over Claire and her three anxious-looking daughters thoughtfully.

“...What feedback...do you believe would most please his Highness, child?” he asked Carewyn.

“He appreciated it when I noticed the details,” said Carewyn. “I would think if anyone had any creative ideas to add onto it...or perhaps constructive criticism...he might react well to it. His Highness is very interested in fashion and tailoring...I’m sure he would appreciate knowing someone who could indulge in that passion with him.”

He must be awfully lonely, locked up in the palace all the time. It’s no wonder he tried to find things to do indoors that could bring him some joy, if he’s unable to go much of anywhere...

Charles’s eyes flitted over the silk and ornate beading on Carewyn’s sleeves.

“His Highness certainly does have an eye for finery...has the royal family come into additional wealth recently?”

“I don’t think so,” said Carewyn. “The castle staff is very limited. And although the nobility are all dressed and fed well and the castle is decadent, the staff is frequently short of common necessities like nails and coal for the fire. Not to mention the staff’s rations are sparse.”

Iris gave a loud, haughty laugh. “Ha! Probably just as well -- you could do with getting some of that meat off your thighs!”

“Iris,” said Charles very sleekly, even as the rest of Carewyn’s cousins sniggered.

His lips curled up in a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“...It seems that the King and Queen are indeed in need of our family’s charity. But we must indulge their pride. It’ll be far easier for them to accept help from a future daughter-in-law and princess than simply from a loyal servant of the realm. Carewyn -- you shall report back what his Highness wishes to hear. Customize three answers for Heather, Iris, and Dahlia -- one fawning, one critical, one creative. Whichever answer he likes best, we will then pursue that route with the cousin you’ve assigned to it.”

His almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“And once we’ve secured an invitation from the Prince...I expect that you will step aside, to make room for your cousin to make her move.”

Carewyn’s expression didn’t shift.

“I’m not interested in courting princes,” she said lowly.

Heather, Iris, and Dahlia can knock themselves out. Andre will see through them sooner or later, and it’ll be all their own fault.

There was a cold, diamond-like glint in Charles’s eye. “...Yes...you truly don’t care to chase any man except for your brother...do you, Carewyn, my dear?”

Carewyn tried not to blink or look away.

“You have news of Jacob?”

Charles sighed airily. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I know he’s well, of course...but news from the War front, as you know, is simply impossible to come by...”

“You know he’s alive,” Carewyn shot back a bit more sharply than she meant to. “That doesn’t mean he’s well. No one could be doing well out there.”

“And yet I’m sure you’re happy that the first is guaranteed?” said Charles. “At least, so long as you do your duty to your family, and to me?”

It was a warning, but it was done so delicately -- it was like his voice was flirting with a threat, rather than flat-out making one.

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly as her gaze drifted to the ground.

“You know I wish no harm to come to either you or Jacob,” Charles said softly. “Losing a child was terrible enough, losing grandchildren as well...well, it would deeply upset me. And per our agreement, you are the one who must shoulder the burden of your brother’s and your debt to me...particularly since you have no dowry and no possible claim to my estate. Remember, Carewyn...you are responsible for how you are treated -- and for how Jacob is treated.” 

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit tightly together over her closed eyes.

“...Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now then -- rehearse the answers you plan to give to his Highness with your cousins. I wish them to sound convincing, so that when one or more of them is invited to the palace, they will be able to play their part appropriately.”

Carewyn hated every minute of hashing out responses with Heather, Iris, and Dahlia. Like their mother Claire, they and Elmer were all “follower” type personalities who tended to echo whatever they thought would please others -- so Dahlia, Iris, and Heather were constantly trying to steal each other’s ideas to “improve” Carewyn’s answers, despite all three of them supposedly needing to take three different approaches as part of Charles’s plan. Even the three girls’ hostile attitude toward Carewyn largely came down to her refusing to follow their direction, despite her lowered status in the family giving them authority over her -- something that, Carewyn believed, they would never do if their positions were switched.

When Carewyn was finally ready to leave (and successfully avoided Tristan’s muddy hands when the wickedly grinning little boy forcibly tried to hug her goodbye so he could leave stains on her dress), Blaise pulled Charles aside. As the male heir of the Cromwell legacy, Blaise had always followed in his father’s footsteps most, but there was one thing they didn’t agree on.

“Father,” he said, his voice very low in the back of his throat as he watched Carewyn ride away at a fast gallop, “I don’t approve of her returning to that place.”

Charles smiled coldly. “You always have disliked sharing your toys with others, Blaise.”

“It’s a bad influence!” said Blaise, whirling on his father. “We can’t monitor what she does, how she behaves -- who she speaks to -- how can we hope to keep her, if we consistently open her cage?”

Charles’s eyes, the same color and shape of all of his children and most of his grandchildren, sparkled with something crueler.

“Ah, my boy,” he said sardonically, “you have much to learn about cages. Physical cages have strong bars, but ones easy to see and constantly weathered. But a cage forged carefully in another’s mind...can become so strong that the prisoner willingly chooses to stay.”

Charles turned on his heel, his lips curling up further still even though his face remained so doll-like and emotionless.

“As weak and overemotional of a thing she is, Carewyn is far more like you and me than Lane ever was. She’s very resourceful and she’ll do whatever she has to in order to get what she wants -- and that drive fuels everything she is and does. It may make her spirited, but it also makes it so that as long as she sees Jacob’s life in the palm of my hand...so too will she be.”

Blaise’s eyes flickered with a strange skepticism. “And...if Jacob’s life were ever not under your sway?”

Charles’s expression grew even more detached and emotionless as his smile faded and his eyebrows raised.

“...Would Carewyn really want to contemplate what state he’d be in, if he weren’t?”

Carewyn couldn’t be happier to leave the Cromwell estate behind. She didn’t slow down her horse’s pace until she’d reached the outskirts of the market, well after the manor house was out of sight. Only then did she slow her horse down to a leisurely trot, so that she could enjoy some time on her own wandering down the village streets before heading back to the palace. The castle staff wasn’t expecting her back to work until the following morning, so she could take her time.

Unfortunately for Carewyn, there was another reason her cousin Tristan’s hands had been so muddy -- and that reason soon became apparent when Carewyn reached into one of the pockets on the side of her saddle, thinking to temporarily change out of the pretty shoes Andre had given her and were now pinching her feet for the ride home. When she reached into the pocket, she instead found the tiny snake that Tristan had stolen out of the reeds by the nearby pond.

With a scream of surprise, Carewyn flung the snake to the ground -- the snake arched back, hissing angrily, and that in turn spooked Carewyn’s horse. With a loud, scared whinny, it reared back, bucking wildly.

“Whoa!” cried Carewyn. “Whoa, boy -- whoa!”

Several passerby turned around at the sound of the noise. A few looked like they wanted to help, but were too warded off by the horse’s kicking feet. Carewyn tried desperately to calm her horse, stroking its mane with one hand and clinging desperately onto the reins with the other, but it was no use. She wasn’t strong enough to wrench her horse into submission. And so when the horse gave a particularly violent jerk, Carewyn was thrown right off.

“AHH!”

Out of nowhere, someone dashed forward. Carewyn ended up slamming right into them, and the two landed roughly in a heap in the dirt.

Carewyn watched her horse gallop off the street, her face very tense and distraught. She then looked down at the person she’d landed on top of, and she gave a visible start.

Her “hero” was a man about her age dressed in modest clothes with tanned skin, slightly-too-long dark hair, and a beard. His sparkling black eyes were squinted slightly as he winced in pain, but nonetheless shone with some concern as he looked her over.

“Are you hurt, Lady Cromwell?” asked Orion.

[thesvenqueen]

With All My Love

Rating: M 

Pairing: Kristanna (as if it would be anything else)

Also on AO3 

Previous Chapters

Note: just want to say thank you thank you thank you to all you lovely readers! appreciate all the love and comments and tags and love you all greatly 💕

{Chapter 12}

Days go by, and then a week. 

A routine has been made between them, one that came easily. He awakens before her, something he teases her on relentlessly with a smirk, and makes breakfast for them both. 

Anna will tend to the chickens while Kristoff gets hay for Sven. They tend to the garden together, pulling weeds, watering and observing the plants to make sure they grow good and strong. They make a new row just for her future flowers, ready for new seeds whenever they come. 

She’ll watch as he tends to his sled, help where she can as he makes a fence for the chickens. They both tidy the cabin when it needs it, sweeping and dusting, washing what needs washing. 

Most days they’ll finish early, leaving them to their own devices. 

Kristoff took it upon himself to teach her how to make bread one afternoon. She’d failed the first time, resulting in a hard, flat brick that even the chickens struggled to eat. He’d tried a piece, and though she could tell it was an absolute disaster he still told her with his lopsided smile that it was a good first try. Her second and third were much more successful, merely four pieces left now to show for it. 

Other days they sit by the river, feet soaking in the cool mountain water. Sometimes they sit in silence, other times they chat about anything and everything. More often than not, they find themselves tangled together, kissing each other senseless as they lay on the river bank. 

Some days they’ll walk, hand in hand, down paths that Kristoff knows well. Just yesterday he had led her to a small valley nearby where wild flowers were blooming. They’d laid in the flowers, holding each other, talking, kissing, watching the clouds, kissing some more. Anna continued to find stray pieces of grass and weed tangled within her hair.

Evenings become her favorite time. It’s quiet, still within the cabin, nothing but the sound of the crackling fire. They always find themselves sitting in front of the fireplace, a blanket shared between them, Anna leaning into Kristoff’s lap as he holds her in his arms. It’s comforting, soothing to rest in his arms, to feel his chest move as he breathes, to feel his lips against her brow as she dozes. 

Before, it used to bother Anna to go to bed early. Especially if she’d had a day where she’d done nothing, it felt as though she was extremely lazy for finding sleep so early. Now though, finding sleep early is rewarding. Something she deserves after doing and achieving so much during the day. 

It’s an added bonus when she finds herself nearly asleep in his arms, the feel of him lifting and carrying her to the bed, a soft murmur of ‘I love you’ the last thing she hears before sleep overcomes her. 

~.~

Something is different today, Anna can sense it. There is an odd air of tension it seems between them now, one that wishes to snap. 

He’d been quiet all morning, making Anna uneasy. 

They’ve been so comfortable with each other, a surprising alternative to the awkwardness she was so sure they’d have to get through. Now, it seems, they’ve taken a step back. 

As the morning wares on, she realizes it is not an awkward tension that lies, it’s pure tension and she isn’t sure why.

Kristoff avoids her gaze, not wanting to meet her eyes. She’d watched, as she fed the kitchens as he murmured something to Sven, something she couldn’t hear and the look on his face created a solid form of dread sitting in her stomach. 

Something was wrong, and whatever it was he was keeping it from her. 

He continues to stay silent during their come over of the garden, only murmuring a yes at her offering to go to the river.

It’s then, on their way down, that she finally snaps, completely done with it all.

“Enough of this.” She demands, pulling her hand from his, coming to a stand still on the path. He stops then, a step in front of her. He looks at her confused and it only makes Anna more angry. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.” She says, arms crossed now as she glares. “You’ve acted distant all day, you won’t even look at me.” At that, Kristoff’s shoulders slump, his confusion falling from his face. “What is it Kristoff?”

The silence annoys Anna but she fights the urge to say anything. She can tell that he is thinking, working through what it is he has to say. 

Though the words seemed to come easy when writing, speaking them was a whole other thing for Kristoff. He needed time, a moment sometimes to really get his words in order to be sure he said the right thing.

This was most definitely one of those times. 

“I have to go back to Arendelle.” 

He looks at her as he speaks, regret in his eyes, worry on his face and the dread that was sitting in Anna’s stomach grows in size, enough to make her nauseous now. 

She knew it was coming, feared when the moment would come but it was too soon. They needed more time, just a little more time. 

“Why?” Anna manages to say, a lump forming in her throat. 

“I have a business to run.” He says, “I have deliveries to make that I have to tend to. Plus, we are running low on supplies I...I don’t have a choice Anna.”

Anna nods, looking down at her shoes, “Ok.” She says, clearing her throat as she looks back up to him with a small smile, “So a day's trip, then?”

“Anna…”

She knew it wasn’t a one day trip. He tended to deliveries on the daily, having multiple shipments to make throughout the week. The fact he’d been able to put them off this long was a miracle in of itself. She wondered how much it hurt him, how much it cost to take so much time away to be with her as it was. To be away from potential income, from money he very much needed. 

Anna doesn’t realize she’s begun to cry until he comes to her, wiping his thumb gently along her cheeks to wipe her tears away. 

“I won’t be long.” He whispers, “I’ll try to be as quick as I can.”

Anna shakes her head, closing her eyes, “That’s not what I’m worried about.” She opens her eyes to find him confused once more, and her lip wobbles as she speaks, “The princess...I’m missing, Kristoff.”

It’s then realization hits him, his eyes widening in understanding. 

The princess of Arendelle was gone, missing in the night. There was no doubt a search would be made, an effort to find her. Especially with a prince on his way to retrieve his bride in weeks to come. 

They could be questioning every villager, every merchant, every sailor and ice harvester alike. Including Kristoff, especially Kristoff. No doubt word would get around that they were friends, that they may have been close. They’d want to ask him, talk to him, see what he knew. 

Would he be able to lie? To keep the secret that waited for him at his cabin from them? 

Anna had faith he would but the risk was still there and so was the guilt that he would have to risk this all for her. 

What if they wanted him to come to the castle, to be questioned by the Queen, her sister?

What if they’d questioned Gerda, able to manipulate the truth from her?

What if they were just waiting for him to arrive, already knowing he was a part of it somehow, to take him away, to lock him up never to see daylight again?

What if…

It’s then she feels his thumb brush of her lip, realizing that she had spoken all her thoughts aloud through her tears. 

She looks up at him, his eyes so soft, always so soft for her and it makes her heart hurt at the idea of never seeing those eyes again.

“No more ‘what if’s’ ok?” She nods, tears still falling freely. He smiles softly down at her, “If we want to keep suspicions off of me, I have to go back to what I did before. I have to go back or they’ll know something is up.”

“But what about..”

“I asked for this week a while ago.” He says, knowing what she was going to question. “They won’t suspect anything from it.”

“Are you sure?”

Kristoff sighs, his smile falling and he leans down to her. He kisses her, soft and gently, his tongue running along her lower lip. Not for the first or last time, a spark shoots up Anna’s spine at the feeling.

She grabs hold of his wrist, trying to force herself to focus on his lips, on his kiss, on the feel of him and nothing else. 

He pulls back, just enough but still leaning his head against hers. 

“I knew what I was getting into the moment I said yes.” Kristoff says, “I knew the risk, and I still took them, I’m still willing to take them. For you Anna, I’ll do it for you.”

The tears come again, forming in her eyes at his words. Anna goes to apologize, opening her mouth to speak but he shakes his head.

“No, don’t you dare apologize.”

She can’t help but smile, trying to fight back the laugh that wants to escape at the notion he could already read her so well. 

Instead, she bites her lip, and says, “Just come back to me, please.”

This he didn’t expect, as Kristoff pauses. He looks at her, Anna nearly losing herself in his eyes before he finally speaks. 

“Anna,” Another promise, another one he will make that Anna knows he will keep. It’s comforting but also worrisome at how many promises he has made her. More promises to keep, more promises to potentially be broken. “I promise, swear, that I will always come back to you.”

The rest of the day goes as any other. They sit by the river, finishing the loaf of bread and eating apples they’d found the day before. 

The tension is gone, though the dread sits firmly within Anna. She hides it well, laughing and smiling that she nearly fools herself that everything was ok. 

It’s when the evening comes, as they sit by the fire that the fear returns at full force. Anna can’t help but wonder if Kristoff can hear how her heart hammers in her chest, how she has watched him all day. How she has tried to engrain the image of him into her mind just in case. 

She doesn’t doze off by the fire tonight, instead she is awake as he carries her to the bed. Instinctively, she curls up to his side, wrapping her arm around him as much as she can. She nuzzles her head into his chest, willing herself to remember how he feels, how he smells. 

Kristoff falls asleep first, the hand that was stroking her back stilling and his soft snores following soon after.

Anna stays awake, moving her head gently to look up at him. 

She takes in the view, the image of him so at peace, and wills herself to remember. 

As she falls asleep, she hopes, prays to whatever gods there are that they will allow him to keep his promise.