#i was going to make more of these but i ran out of time. and ive been working on these all week anyway

[societyfolklore]

Oka soo I dare to send in a Bucky imagine <3 Maybe one where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good enough for him even though he always makes you feel special and he loves you more than anything. One time while he's at a mission, you're back at the compound waiting for him, but then also Sharon comes up to you being a bitch again and makes you feel even more unwanted and leave before Bucky returns. Later then he's happily waiting to see you, but frowns when he finds out you're not there. So he calls you, asking you to come over and you reluctantly agree. As you finally confront him with your doubts he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you also his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then and also some soft smut where he tells you how much he loves you ? ♥️

Here we go! Here's our boy making everything better when the doubts creep in and we can shut it down on your own. Title: Yours to Keep

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x SHIELD Analyst!Female Reader

Summary: You feel like your not enough, and when Sharon gets in your head it makes it so much worse. But to Bucky you’re the reason to make it home.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Insecurity, emotional manipulation (from Sharon because she's a mean girl), soft possessiveness, smut, unprotected sex, established relationship, oral (f- receviving), praise, dog tag kink, Angst with Fluff, Romance.

A/N: Something softer for everyone this weekend. Thank you for the ask @wintersoldierchronicles

The compound was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that seeped into your skin and clung to you like static. You sat curled into one of the deep leather chairs in the lounge, knees tucked beneath you, a tablet in your lap. The screen glowed softly, lines of mission data scrolling as you half-heartedly skimmed them, reading intel you’d collected yourself over the past few days. Every enemy movement tracked. Every building layout mapped. Every communication protocol updated and tested.

All to help keep the Avengers safe. To keep him safe.

You should’ve felt accomplished. Proud. Instead, you felt like a ghost in your own home.

No one had said anything, not directly. But they didn’t have to. The looks, the nods you didn’t get in the hallway, the way everyone seemed to talk around you instead of to you. It all added up. They were Avengers. Legends. Gods. And you were… what? Just the analyst who happened to be dating one of them. An ordinary woman in love with an extraordinary man.

And somehow, no matter how often Bucky looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, the thought kept crawling back up your throat like bile: You’re not good enough for him.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to focus, tried to chase away the fog settling over your mind. But it was no use. The feeling had been a quiet whisper in the dark for months now, and lately… it was starting to scream.

You had seen the way people looked at Bucky- like he was a living monument to strength and survival. A relic of history wrapped in modern muscle and trauma, wearing his past like armour. People admired him. Revered him. And yet, he came home to you. You, who shuffled files and ran analyses. Who flinched when the training team sparred too close to your desk. Who once got winded jogging down the corridor when your badge lanyard snagged on a doorknob.

What could he possibly see in you that someone like Sharon, like Natasha, couldn’t offer in a more fitting package?

Footsteps echoed lightly down the corridor, the sharp click of designer boots hitting the polished floor like a countdown. You didn’t even need to lift your eyes. That cadence was familiar, the kind that always made your stomach twist with a mixture of dread and forced politeness.

Then came the voice. Smooth. Sweet. Laced with superiority.

“Still here?” Sharon Carter stepped into view, her tone dipped in passive-aggressive honey. She was perfectly made-up, of course, with not a single hair out of place, her sleek suit hugging her figure in all the ways that made people notice when she walked into a room.

She looked you up and down like you were something out of place, something small, insignificant. “Thought they kept the admin staff in the basement.”

It was a joke, probably. One of those faux-friendly jabs that everyone was supposed to laugh at. Except she wasn’t smiling. Not really.

You fought to keep your expression neutral, fingers tightening slightly around the tablet in your lap. You weren’t going to let her see how deep that cut went, not when she was already poised to twist the knife.

You gave her a polite nod, trying not to let your discomfort show. “Just going over the post-mission data. They’re due back in an hour.”

"Must be hard. Being with someone like Bucky." Sharon's smile was the kind that never quite reached her eyes.

“What do you mean?” You stiffened, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the tablet.

She stepped closer, arms folded casually like this was just idle chatter.

"I mean- he’s one of us. Field-ready. Weapon-trained. A living legend. And you… well, you make great coffee."

You swallowed hard. "I do more than-"

"I know," she said quickly, with that same dismissive tilt of her head. "You’re smart. Very behind-the-scenes. Essential in your own way, I suppose. But let’s be honest…Bucky’s built for war. He needs someone who understands that. Who can keep up. Who can be more than just a comfort waiting at home."

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, each word driving in like a nail. It was everything you'd feared, laid out in someone else’s voice. Someone who was supposed to be on your side.

"He probably misses someone who can actually stand beside him out there," Sharon added with a shrug. "You know… someone who belongs."

The tablet in your hands blurred as tears threatened. You blinked hard and forced yourself to breathe through your nose.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because if you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure whether you’d scream or sob.

So you just stood, quickly and quietly, and walked away- shoulders stiff, throat tight, eyes stinging. You had to get out of there before someone saw you fall apart.

You left the compound entirely, slipping out the back entrance and taking the long way home. Your mind ran in circles the whole walk. What if Sharon was right? What if everyone had just been too polite to say it out loud? What if the only reason Bucky was with you was because you were safe? Easy? A soft landing after years of running and pain?

~#~#~#~#~#~

Bucky came back two hours later, bruised and sweaty but grinning. The mission had been long, much longer than expected. But successful at least. He was covered in dirt and grime, dried blood flecked across one temple, the strap of his weapons bag cutting into his shoulder. His muscles ached, and the adrenaline had long since worn off, but one thing kept him upright, kept him moving: you. The thought of you waiting at the compound, probably curled up with your tablet and a warm drink, maybe looking up every time the door slid open- yeah, that thought had gotten him through worse days than this.

He slung his weapons bag over one shoulder, still covered in dirt and dust from the mission, and scanned the lounge immediately.

“Hey, Sam,” he called. “She around?”

Sam looked up from his protein bar, brow furrowing slightly. “She left a while ago. Didn’t say much. Looked kinda off, though.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened. “Off how?”

Sam stood, tossing the wrapper aside. “I dunno, man. Quiet. Real quiet. Didn’t even look me in the eye. Thought maybe she was just tired, but now…” He trailed off, reading the worry blooming on Bucky’s face.

“You think something happened?” Bucky asked.

Sam gave a slow nod. “Could be nothing. But you know her better than anyone. If it’s not nothing- you’ll fix it.”

Bucky’s heart dropped. Something was wrong. You always met him after missions. Always.

Without another word, he turned and pulled his phone out of his pocket, hand still a little bloodied. ~#~#~#~#~#~

You pulled your car over to the side of the road, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound breaking through your spiralling thoughts. You hadn’t made it home. It felt too far. Too final. The space inside your car was tight, suffocating, but it was still safer than walking through the front door like nothing was wrong.

The phone vibrated in your hand again, lighting up with his name.

You stared down at the caller ID like it was a bomb about to go off. You didn’t answer right away. How could you? How could you speak to him when all you wanted to do was disappear?

You were a coward. That much was clear. Running off like that, not even saying goodbye. You should’ve stayed. Faced it. Faced her. But the words Sharon had said... they hadn’t been new. They were just the same cruel thoughts you’d had about yourself, dressed up in someone else’s voice.

You weren’t right for someone like Bucky.

You were just an analyst. A desk jockey. A tagalong to the world of gods and heroes.

And he was... everything.

He was strength and legend and pain and hope, all wrapped up in that scarred, steady way he looked at you like you were worth the whole damn universe. And you? You couldn’t even look yourself in the mirror right now.

The phone buzzed again.

Guilt stabbed through your chest.

He’d just come off a mission. He was probably still aching, tired, maybe even hurt—and here you were, making it all about you. Selfish. So unlike him. He always made you feel like the only girl in the room. One look from him and the world melted away.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes, and finally picked up.

“Hey,” you said, voice too quiet.

“Doll, where are you?” he asked, voice already softening. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just… needed some air.”

There was a pause.

“You lying to me, sweetheart?” he said gently.

You closed your eyes. He knew you.

“No.”

Another pause. “Come back to the compound. Please. I need to see you. You're scaring me.”

Your chest cracked open. He sounded so�� real. So Bucky. You found yourself nodding, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay,” you whispered.

~#~#~#~#~#~

He was already waiting by the elevator when you arrived, walking slow, tense loops with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line, the lines around his eyes carved deeper than usual. Every few seconds, his gaze darted toward the entrance, like he couldn’t help but check again, hoping- needing- you to appear.

The moment his eyes landed on you, he stopped dead. Everything in him just stilled. Relief hit him like a wave, shoulders dropping, hands unclenching—but his expression didn’t ease completely. No, his eyes stayed cautious, flickering across your face like he was afraid one wrong move might send you running. Like you were something breakable he didn’t dare press too hard.

He didn’t speak. Just opened his arms.

You tried to fake a smile, to smooth the cracks in your mask. But it was shaky, barely there, and he saw right through it. You saw the flicker of sadness in his eyes at the attempt.

You stepped into his embrace slowly, almost shyly, as if uncertain you still deserved it. The moment your body met his, the dam inside you cracked.

You buried your face in his chest, exhaling like you’d been holding your breath since you left the compound.

“Hey,” he murmured into your hair, voice rough with emotion. “There’s my girl.”

You clung to him, fingers twisting in his shirt like you were afraid he’d vanish, afraid this was all a dream that would dissolve when you let go.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked eventually, drawing back just enough to look into your face. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, like he wanted to catch the remnants of that broken smile.

You looked up at him, eyes glassy and aching. “You’re Bucky Barnes. You’re an Avenger. A war hero. And I… I sit at a desk.”

“Stop,” he said instantly, thumb now tracing your cheekbone like he could wipe the pain away.

“I don’t fight aliens. I don’t have powers. I’m just… support staff.” Your voice wavered, trembling like your heart might break in two right there in front of him. “Sharon said you’d get bored of me. That you’ll want someone who can stand beside you in the field.”

His jaw tensed like he’d been struck. A flicker of something dark and cold passed through his expression, steel sharp and silent. His entire body went still.

“She said what?” he asked, voice low and dangerous, but even as the fury gathered behind his eyes, he didn’t let it take hold. He inhaled slowly, grounding himself. Because right now, you were what mattered.

You looked down, ashamed. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not wrong.”

There was a pause. Not long. Just the space of a heartbeat and then the weight of metal settled into your palm with a soft metallic clink.

“Look at me,” he said, voice low but unwavering.

You looked up, surprised by the intensity in his gaze.

“You see these?”

You nodded.

“These?” he said again, his voice thick with meaning as the tags clinked quietly between you. “These don’t just mean soldier. They mean survivor. They mean second chances. They mean you, okay? I don’t give these to anyone. I want you to have them.”

You stared at them, too stunned to speak, too overwhelmed to breathe. They were warm from his skin. Heavy with meaning.

He cupped your face gently, both hands trembling slightly now.

“You’re not support staff. You’re the person I come home to. My person. You keep me grounded. You’re the one thing that’s real.”

Your lips trembled, voice caught in your throat. “Bucky…”

He leaned down, voice husky and sure. “Put them on. Right now.”

You slipped the dog tags around your neck, hands shaking, heart pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears.

“There,” he said, eyes gleaming- not with pride, but with something softer. Fierce, unyielding love. “Now everyone knows. You’re mine. Forever.”

~#~#~#~#~#~

In the hallway, without a word, he scooped you up into his arms. Not rushed. Just worshipful, like you were something sacred he’d been aching to hold all day. You wrapped your arms around his neck, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder as he carried you, his footsteps steady and full of purpose, all the way to his room. Every step was careful, intentional, his hold firm but gentle, like he wanted to shield you from everything that had hurt you today.

He kissed your forehead as he laid you back on the bed, then your cheeks, your jaw, each press of his lips like a vow.

“So beautiful… so smart…” he murmured with each kiss. “Couldn’t do any of this without you.”

His soft kisses pressing into your cheeks, the corners of your mouth. 

“You’re everything to me,” he said, pulling your shirt over your head. “Every breath, every second.”

His mouth moved to your collarbone, your chest, trailing down your stomach , while his hand eased you out of your pants. 

“You think I don’t need you?” he said between kisses, each one a soft promise against your skin. “Baby, I fall apart without you.”

His mouth moved lower, worshipful and unhurried, kissing every inch of you like he was reacquainting himself with something sacred. By the time his tongue slid between your thighs, you were already trembling.

He groaned when you gasped, the sound low and reverent. Not just desire but devotion. His tongue moved with slow, deliberate precision, savouring every soft, slick response he pulled from you. He licked a long, teasing stripe up your centre, then circled your clit with a maddening tenderness, his hands gripping your thighs just firm enough to keep you open and trembling beneath him.

He moaned into you, like the taste of you was salvation, like he’d starved for this and finally had permission to feast. One hand slid up your stomach, grounding you as your hips bucked gently, chasing every press of his mouth.

“So sweet,” he murmured against you, voice thick with love, his lips brushing your most sensitive skin. “Taste like heaven. My heaven.”

He didn’t stop. Not yet. Not when you were trembling so perfectly for him. His tongue moved in slow circles, each pass deliberate and precise, coaxing you higher with gentle persistence. His grip on your thighs tightened slightly as your breath caught, his mouth parting you with reverence.

He flicked his tongue softly, then flattened it, letting the heat of him soak into every nerve ending, every gasp. He alternated pressure and pace, reading every twitch of your body like scripture. When he sucked your clit into his mouth and moaned, the vibration made your entire body arch into him.

“You’re not allowed to think you’re not wanted,” he rasped between strokes, his voice wrecked with affection and need. “Not when I love you.”

You cupped his face as he kissed up your body again, pausing to nuzzle the dog tags now lying warm between your breasts. “You feel like home,” you whispered, eyes glassy, voice raw with truth.

When he finally pressed inside you, it wasn’t fast or greedy. It was achingly slow, like he was trying to carve a place for himself inside you, not just in body but deeper. He let out a low, unsteady breath as he sank in, his forehead dropping to yours, his hand tightening around yours like he couldn’t bear to let go.

He didn’t thrust. Not right away. He stayed there for a beat, deep and still, forehead resting against yours as his breath caught in his throat. His hand stayed tangled in yours, his vibranium one anchored at your hip, grounding you both. “I need this,” he whispered. “Need you. Like this. Just us. You make everything quiet.” Bucky needed you to feel every inch, every part of him that belonged to you.

And then he moved like a tide rolling in to soothe what had been broken, to wash away everything that hurt. His hips rolled back with unhurried grace, then pressed forward again in a smooth, reverent stroke, making sure to drag himself along your velvet walls with each motion, slow and devastatingly deep. The way he filled you, the way he moved inside you. Like he was writing his name into your soul with every breathless thrust, imprinting himself where no one else had ever reached. Every motion was a promise: that he was here, that he was yours, that you were loved in the most complete, carnal, and emotional sense of the word.

Every slow push and pull was deliberate, reverent, the kind of lovemaking that felt like a conversation without words. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, your temple, murmuring softly between each breath.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking as you trembled beneath him. “So damn much it hurts. You make me feel like a man. You see me.”

You cupped his cheek, tears sliding down your temples. “You see me.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath and kissed you again, Bucky pouring everything he had into it.

His rhythm stayed slow but insistent, hips pressing into yours with aching tenderness, like he wanted to be memorized, like he never wanted to be forgotten. The friction, the closeness, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever made him feel whole—it all built into something consuming, something soft and sacred.

When you came, your soft cries muffled into the curve of his neck, he held you tighter, like anchoring himself to you, like if he let go, the whole world would tilt. He whispered your name over and over again like a prayer, like a lifeline, like a vow, following close behind you with a quiet, broken groan into your skin.

And you knew, in that moment, that this wasn’t just sex.

It was coming home.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Afterward, he wrapped the blanket around you both, tucking you into his chest like he was trying to shield you from the rest of the world. His metal fingers traced soft, soothing circles against your spine, grounding you in the silence that settled warmly between you.

“You ever doubt your place again,” he murmured, lips pressed to your hair, voice rough with sleep and sincerity, “I want you to remember tonight. Remember how I touched you. How I looked at you. Remember this.”

You nodded against his chest, overwhelmed, your cheek pressed to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Your fingers curled around the dog tags still resting over your heart, the weight of them a quiet promise.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, the words small but certain.

He smiled, eyes closed as his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“You always were,” he said, so softly it was nearly a breath, but you felt it more than heard it, like a vow etched beneath your skin.

[invincibledc]

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶

𝟑𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋

🃏

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄🃏

~

˚　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★synopsis: when a simple medieval jester shows up to Gotham, stirring the curious minds of certain boys of a bat colony. What could ever go on with this child’s life.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★genre: oneshot special

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★note: thanks for 3K followers!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ word count: 1,296

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★info: Taking after the inspiration of joker and Harley Quinn, aesthetic wise. They loathe that man even after the inspiration. They always loved circuses, watching the old flying graysons clips their families use to record. Their age and genders are unknown despite their small frame which makes them confused a child. People think they work joker, forcing Batman to put them on his charts. They can never caught due to always being sneaky and playful. Someone who is some random person that helps crimes and wear a medieval jest costume that is either monochrome for night stealths but is bright and happy colors for random day shenanigans. The jester, who people can’t tell if they’re a girl, or a boy. They seem genderless, they also seem skinny as well with how the sleeves of their so called costume is loose, covering their hand.

The small child, their thin body covered by the baggy medieval jester clothing. They looked around the dark city with wide and curious eyes. Walking around, the small child couldn’t help but look through alleys, ignoring the strange looks of the people in boxes and the folks giving them dirty looks.

The jester moves past a fallen man, maybe the man was just tired. The clown child looks around to see a small cardboard box. Going towards it, the child places it over the man. Walking off with more confidence in their step. “Hey kid!” a man bellowed, catching the small child’s attention, they've been picked up like a scrawny cat.

“Who do you think you are walking around this alley in that tacky colors of yours.” the man gruffed, shaking the mute child who just stared at the man with wide undisturbed eyes.

Not getting an answer, the man got angry, throwing the child. Usually, a person would expect the child to just fall harshly, but this wasn't a normal kid. The jester had landed on their feet gracefully as if defying gravity.

The child dusted themself off, keeping eyes on the big angry man. The jester moves back from the big man who pulled out a butterfly knife, not wasting time, the jester then moves forward.

The jingles of the bells on their hat and shoes jangled loudly. The small clown child jumped into the air, midway they did a triple spin kick. The man was hit on his face and the back of his head, knocking him out.

The child could only hum, taking the butterfly knife from the man and politely placing it onto the man’s chest before bouncing from the brick walls of the tight space.

The small child flipped themselves onto a fire escape before climbing onto another brick wall of a complex apartment. Climbing their way to the roof, they met Red Hood who just stared at them with two batburgers.

The juicy smell of the burger made the thin child’s stomach growl.

“You’re starving aren't you kid? I ain't here to harm you, only to get to know you.” those seem to be working as the small child with a painted face, a painted mask to hide their past forward towards the red hooded male.

But as if sensing something, the child did a spinning roundhouse kick towards a male with a fringe. “Wow! Fast reflexes!” Red Robin tries to capture the child who only stares at him and then looks back at Red Hood who sighs, knowing how this may go. The child stays still, that was before the child ran off the roof. The two male’s eyes widen.

“Kid no!” “Omg!?”

The two red vigilantes look over the roof to see nobody, no child, no jester. Completely gone.

“Dang… guess we have to try another night,” Tim says to Jason who nodded. As much as he wanted to, his older brother's instincts were taking over.

Their small frame irks him.

☆

Huddled in a cardboard box, the small child smelled of sweet cotton candy, reminiscent of treats from a bustling circus. But at this moment, they were just a lonely figure, aching for warmth and belonging. Denied entry anywhere, the child was mistaken for a goon of the Joker—certainly a mislabeling, but one that weighed heavy on their small shoulders.

Clenching their tiny fist, determination ignited within them. Despite their appearance, they felt an unwavering drive to help others. Emerging from the confines of the box, a small smile crept onto their painted lips, signaling the start of a journey to reclaim a piece of Gotham City.

Their first mission? Defend the local bakery. With a fierce resolve, they startled the shop owner, earning themselves some fresh bread and a handful of delectable cupcakes. The baker, initially stern, soon softened, watching the child devour the treats with wide eyes. As crumbs coated the child’s face like powdered sugar, the baker’s heart ached with a mix of pity and tenderness.

"Sweetie, slow down before you choke, okay?" she urged, her voice tinged with concern. The child nodded, ignoring the messy mouthful of crumbled icing. But when the baker reached out, accidentally swiping away some of the child’s carefully applied makeup, panic surged through the tiny form. Memories of shattered dishes flashed in their mind, and a soft whimper escaped their lips as fear took hold.

“Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?!” The baker knelt, startled by the child's distress. Without knowing what else to do, she rushed to the back, returning with a puff of white powder, gently reapplying it to the child’s face. “There!” she declared, relief washing over her as the child slowly regained composure.

After the brief episode, the baker escorted the little jester out of the shop, handing over a bag filled with bagels and a few sweets—a meager feast, but a feast nonetheless. The child bowed deeply, their gratitude palpable, before scampering off with the jingling bells of their hat and shoes echoing behind them.

As they munched on the chewy bagels, savoring their hard-earned treasure, the joy was short-lived. Suddenly, strong hands gripped the child from behind, hoisting them up into the air. A man dressed in a striking blue-black uniform, with neat hair and charming dimples, faced them.

“Sorry, little guy, I’ll buy you food,” he said, a playful smirk on his face as he swung away with a grappling hook toward the rooftops. “But first, you’ve got to answer a few questions.”

The child stood frozen, wide-eyed, staring up at Nightwing. Suddenly, a thick cloud of gas—sweet as cotton candy—erupted from their suit. Nightwing instinctively covered his nose, shocked, yet he tightened his grip on the thin child. But in a split second, the little figure slipped through his fingers like a ghost.

With an agile burst of movement, the child took off, already anticipating their escape route. Nightwing recognized the sugary scent of the gas instantly, letting go of his nose. He dashed after the child, who skidded across the rooftop. As Nightwing closed in, they turned, flashing a daring look before launching themselves into the air, landing gracefully on him. It was as if he were nothing more than a springboard for their acrobatics. But as he turned to catch them, the child vanished like smoke.

Frustrated, Nightwing pressed the comms hidden in his ear. “They’ve disappeared. Robin, you’re up.”

Meanwhile, Robin was perched nearby, eyes sharp and ready. He smirked as he spotted the child darting his way. The moment was electric. Robin charged forward, but the quick-witted jester used the boy as a launchpad, vaulting over him with effortless grace while tugging him down in a whimsical twist. As the jester sped off, the child playfully slapped Robin’s cape, leaving him exasperated. “Ugh!” he exclaimed, determination igniting as he sprinted after them, refusing to give up.

But the chase took a tense turn when the jester led the way into a dead end. “Nowhere to run! We know you work for the Joker!” Robin shouted, planting his feet firmly. The child turned, their expression still as blank as before, and exhaled slowly, as if time itself had slowed.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a wall erupted between them. Robin reflexively hurled a Batarang, but the jester countered with a Joker card, flinging it at the boy. The card began to beep ominously, its sound a countdown. Robin’s heart sank as he realized the jester was escaping through a vent, glitter exploding in the air around the child, painting the scene with chaos and wonder.

Once again, the elusive jester slipped through their fingers, leaving Bruce grappling with questions. How could such playful devices aid them? The clock was ticking. They had to catch them before it was too late.

[astraystayyh]

Not a lot, just forever.

🪷 In which you make flowers bloom in a heart hyunjin saw as lifeless.

pairing: (tortured) painter!hyunjin x florist!yn.

genre: fluff. strangers to lovers. angst (but not between the characters). just very soft and tender.

wc: 10.2k

a.n.: this entire fic is inspired by the fact that hyunjin has his florist’s number. so i ran with it and it gave way to this!! i really love this fic so i hope you’ll love it in return 🫶🏻 and, of course, happy birthday to my spring, my light, my hyune. thank you for being such an easy person to love. i hope happiness always finds you wherever you may go❣️you deserve it. (pic is mine which is #crazy still can’t believe i’ve been in monet’s home!!!!)

In theory, a heart is simply a heart—an organ, no more sacred than the others, pulsing to pump blood into our veins, working tirelessly to keep one alive.

But to Hyunjin, a heart is a bit more than that. To him, the heart is a graveyard, a hollow, decaying thing where his dreams are laid to rest before they ever bloom. He finds it cruel, almost laughable, that the very thing meant to sustain him is the tomb beneath which he perishes—day after day, night after night.

Hyunjin never understood the notion of ending one’s own life. Weren’t there always reasons to stay? Beautiful things to gaze at, to hold on to— the slant of golden light through a window, the swell of waves as they kissed the shore? Wasn’t the sun always there patiently waiting to be seen?

But now he understands. It doesn’t matter if the sun is there or not. For the sun rises every day, yet Hyunjin can no longer see it.

Hyunjin hadn’t seen the sun for a long time.

He wasn’t always like this. In fact, he loved existing. He loved finding beauty in the smallest of things, in the details that mortal eyes don’t often stop to admire, too busy running, too busy surviving. But Hyunjin was different. He craved living. So, he paused. Almost reverent in the way he’d breathe in the sweet perfume of roses, soak in the way the sea folded itself around his ankles.

And he liked commemorating his feelings, he didn’t have the strongest memory, so he painted. He liked painting. No, he loved it, since he was a child and he found out what a brush is. He loved it the way the ocean loves the shore, relentlessly, endlessly, painted until his hands ached and his bones grew weary. He painted the way he loved too— excessively, hungrily, until the first threads of light stretched across the sky, his fingers stained in oil and watercolor, in reds deep as longing and blues heavy as sorrow.

It felt like a waste not to spend every waking moment painting, loving, yearning. it felt a waste not to feel as grandly as the mountains, as vastly as the stretch of oceans.

It felt like a waste for Hyunjin not to love Scarlet.

It must have felt like a waste, too, for the universe not to let him die at her hands.

So it did.

Hyunjin has not been alive for a long time. He does not think he will ever be again.

He’s staring at the blank canvas before him, a cruel expanse of white that’s almost mocking him. If he looks long enough, he can almost see a shape forming, lips moving to whisper the same word, over and over—worthless. worthless. worthless.

His fist drives through the cloth. The canvas falls to the ground in a thud so loud Hyunjin has to cradle his temple to ease the pang of pain it shoots through him. The wood easel splatters to the floor, though it does not look out of place in the ruins of his studio. Not when his brushes are scattered everywhere, palettes smashed against the walls, paint smeared in angry streaks against his floor.

His chest heaves as he stands there, amidst the wreckage that he caused, the place that once used to be his sanctuary. When did it all change? Perhaps when there was nothing left worth painting. Nothing worth breathing for.

He has always known it. A life does not end when one is laid underneath the soil. A life ends when nothing stirs wonder in your heart anymore, when you pass through the days but they do not pass by you, when they leave you untouched, unchanged.

He buries the sob wrapping around his throat. He has cried enough for things he cannot change, hasn’t he?

With trembling hands, Hyunjin reaches for his phone, thumb pressing Felix’s name—his publicist, his friend.

“Did you paint something?” Felix’s voice is bright, unshaken as he replies instantly.

Hyunjin closes his eyes.

“No,” he breathes. Not anymore.

A pause. Then, “Would you book me that trip to Giverny?”

“Giverny?”

“I’m giving myself one last chance.”

“To paint?” Felix asks, tone too eager, too hopeful.

“Mm,” Hyunjin nods absentmindedly. He can’t find it within him to break Felix’s hope, to whisper bleak things when his voice is so cheerful.

It’s not about painting anymore.

This is Hyunjin’s last chance to live.

—

The bell above your florist shop chimes sweetly as someone pushes open the large wooden doors. You glance up, slipping off the gloves you wore to tend to the newest arrival of white roses, carefully removing every damaged leaf and petal.

Your smile falters.

A man stands in the doorway—not just any man, but the most beautiful human you have ever seen.

You’ve had many visitors in the short year you’ve been in Giverny—locals and tourists alike. There is always a certain gentleness to the people who choose to step inside, those who pause in the midst of their days, their travels, to admire flowers, to buy them for their loved ones. You’ve seen it all—honeymooners exchanging delicate bouquets, old couples finding the smallest excuses to gift each other roses, solo travelers picking their favorite flowers to commemorate their journeys.

But never have you seen someone so heartbreakingly beautiful, so unbearably sad stepping into your shop.

“May I help you?” you ask.

He jolts, as if pulled from deep waters. His eyes meet yours across the shop, and it strikes you then—how effortlessly he belongs among the flowers. How his eyes resemble withering petals, how his sunken cheeks remind you of a bloom left untended.

You take pride in the way you’ve arranged your small shop. No flower is placed randomly, rather, you wanted them to speak to one another, talking in a language only few can understand. All your visitors have never failed to mention just how beautiful it looks. And yet, here he stands, untouched by its light.

“I’m just looking,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, and you have to lean in to catch its fragmented pieces. His gaze skims over the flowers, never lingering, never seeing.

“Is it your first time in Giverny?” you ask.

He nods, tucking his hands into his pockets. A white graphic tee clings to him, a plaid shirt tied loosely around his waist. A cross dangles from his neck. Your eyes trace the hollows of his cheeks—he is beautiful in the way shattered glass is. In the way standing amidst a storm is.

“It is,” he says curtly, then hesitates. “I’ll be here for a little while, though. Three or four months… We’ll see.”

“That’s exciting!” You smile, sidling closer. He smells of something sweet—flowers and musk, warmth and rain. “So, you don’t know what kind of flowers you’re looking for, do you?”

He shakes his head. “No.” He whispers it as if ashamed of not knowing.

“Then I’ll make you a welcome bouquet! On the house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he murmurs, your eyes locking on his. all you see is his sadness, it’s everywhere, dripping over his face, staining his clothes, the very air around him. He’s so sad it makes you sad too.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’d like to.”

A pause, then, something uncontainable prompts you to add—

“I know what it’s like to need to get away. Even if just for a little while.”

Your cheeks warm under his scrutinizing gaze. You’ve never been this bold with a stranger. Did you overstep?

But he only holds your eyes a moment longer before exhaling, a quiet breath through his nose.

“Thank you.”

You get to work. He lingers by your desk, watching as you deliberate over which flowers to pick. Minutes pass, and you can feel his gaze, burning as it traces the nape of your neck.

You know what to pick then. White Freesia—delicate, trumpet-shaped, the star of the bouquet. You pair them with Delphinium, deep blue against soft white, and baby’s breath, like a scattering of stars. A touch of foliage, then—

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask suddenly.

His eyes widen.

“Hm? Oh. Um—blue.”

You grin, reaching for blue wrapping paper. Scribbling a note, you tuck it into the bouquet before placing it in his hands.

“Ta-da,” you smile. “I hope I’ll see you again.”

It’s a courtesy to say to all your clients, but somehow you find yourself meaning it more when it comes to him. His sadness startles you, you do not know what must be roaming inside his mind for him to be this sorrowful— like an open wound, gushing droplets of blood for everyone to see.

“Will I? Right?” you suddenly add, a touch eager, worried.

His fingers delicately brush the petals.

“Yeah. You will.”

—

It is many hours later, the sky is dipped in an exquisite shade of midnight blue. Yet, sleep still refused to visit Hyunjin.

He lies awake, staring at the bouquet by his bedside. The note you wrote him itched behind his eyelids: Listen to the flowers. They’re always talking :)

He exhales, finally reaching for his phone. He types in a quick search: meaning of Freesia.

Friendship.

A small smile tugs at his lips.

Would you like to be his friend?

He doesn’t have much to offer. But maybe you’d like it if he just sat by your side while you tended to your flowers. He’ll make himself small too. You wouldn’t even feel his presence.

—

Hyunjin hesitates at your shop entrance— Anthomania, the dusty pink sign reads, swaying softly with the breeze. It’s around nine a.m., the quaint town slowly buzzing with life, like a swarm of bees swirling around the first blooms of spring. He’s clad in a white blouse, its first two buttons undone. His jade necklace rests comfortably by his collarbones, and he itches to touch it, to ground himself away from the anxiety thrumming right beneath his skin.

Is it too soon? To see you again in the very first hour of the next day? What if he had misread your gesture? What if the bouquet was nothing more than kindness, a simple marketing strategy? He must not be the only one you’ve given flowers to-

“Oh, hey!” you greet cheerfully, suddenly appearing beside him, a basket of fresh yellow tulips balanced on your hips. The scent of roses clings to you. Your eyes are so bright as if morning dew dripped into them too. You look happy, and it’s nine a.m., and Hyunjin doesn’t regret coming by as much as before.

“Hi,” he smiles, hesitant, awkwardly, only to wince inwardly. Is this what he has come to? Second guessing everything he does, even something as instinctive as smiling?

“I, um... I brought you croissants?” The statement tilts into a question as he lifts the paper bag, the warmth of the bakery still clinging to it. “As a thank you. For the bouquet. For—” He hesitates, his gaze flickering downward. “The Freesia. And… the friendship.”

Your lips curve into a smile, the morning sun catching on the glitter dusted across your eyelids. “So, you did listen to what the flowers had to say.”

You push the wooden door open, and he quickly follows.

“I looked up their meaning, if that’s what you mean.”

“It doesn’t sound nearly as romantic when you word it this way,” you pout, plucking the croissants from his hands. Hyunjin has to smile, pretend as if your words did not just stab him right across his chest in the middle of your shop. A gruesome act in the midst of beauty.

He too used to look for romance in everything. Not anymore. The more you seek it, the more it learns how to wound you.

He clears his throat, swallowing the phantom taste of blood before it can spill past his lips—before it can stain your flowers, stain you.

“I also looked up the meaning of Anthomania, an obsession with flowers in Latin. Are you?”

“Obsessed? You mean?” you giggle softly. “Given that I packed my bags and opened a florist shop in this town despite everyone’s warnings… I’d say yes.”

“Why Giverny?”

“I don’t know,” you muse, gaze drifting toward the window. Two children are walking hand in hand past Anthomania, their giggles make you smile for a fleeting instant. “Some places just feel right to our souls. Maybe because they know before we do that something beautiful is meant to happen there.”

You turn back to him, eyes warm. “Coffee?” You gesture toward the machine, and he nods, lost in thought.

“You seem distant,” you muse, gently placing a steaming cup of coffee before him. The scent of freshly ground beans drifts through the air, but it doesn’t spark anything within him—nothing like it once did. Not anymore. “Like your heart is elsewhere,” you finish.

“My heart?” He smiles softly, a breathy laugh escaping him. “Doesn’t the expression say your mind?”

You giggle, shaking your head. “Our minds wander all the time, that’s natural,” you say, voice trailing off as you study his face. “But you…” You hesitate, unsure. “You look like someone who’s been separated from their heart, and now, you’re almost grieving for it.”

He flinches.

Your eyes widen, and in a panic, you cover your mouth. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I said that I didn’t mean to—fuck, I’m sorry, I never think before I speak—”

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head, his voice gentle. You quiet down, the color rising to your cheeks, and he feels it—seen, in ways he hadn’t thought possible. By a florist on the other side of the world, a stranger, a kind one, a beautiful one.

“You’re right.” His fingers tighten around the cup, his grip a little too tight. “I don’t think I can get my heart back. It feels like it’s buried somewhere far from me… I think I buried it,” he adds in a choked whisper, “that makes it worse.”

It strikes him how easily the words fall from his lips, how terrifying they are to say aloud. Yet, they slip out before you with no resistance, no shame. Maybe it’s the flowers—the thought that their petals might absorb the ugliness of his words, carry them away. Or maybe it’s just you, and the warmth of your gaze, that makes it feel safe to speak.

“Do you know where the lotus grows?” you suddenly ask.

He shakes his head, caught off guard by the shift in conversation.

“Their seeds are buried deep into the mud, forgotten at the bottom of still water. But then they germinate. They break through the darkness, reaching for the sun rays, until one day, they bloom, floating atop the water, untouched by the ugliness of where they have been, beautiful.” Your gaze softens. “Maybe your heart is simply being reborn. Give it time. It will find its way back to you.”

—

Hyunjin sits on a bench overlooking the Epte River, a fresh bouquet beside him—white lilies and pink tulips. Hope and warmth. He insisted on paying this time, slipping you a tip far too generous against your loudest protests.

For the first time in six months, something stirs within Hyunjin. Not quite sadness, not quite grief—something else.

His fingers itch for his charcoal pens, for his pastel watercolors. not to sketch the bouquet at his side, not to capture the river’s beauty. No, only to try, attempt to trace the memory of your smile.

He clenches his fingers into a tight fist. Not yet. But maybe… soon. When he finally learns the sound of your name.

That happens quicker than Hyunjin thought it would.

For three days, Hyunjin has watched his flowers with bated breath, waiting for the first petal to give in, for the first sign of decay. Then, at last, the freesia wilts, one trumpet falling to his bedside. And before he can think, Hyunjin is already out the door, following the familiar path that leads him to Anthomania.

“Back so soon?” you tease, grinning as he steps inside, the bell above chiming sweetly.

He falters beneath your gaze, almost self-conscious, as warmth creeps up his neck, blooming across his cheeks in shades of pink. “I—uh—sorry, I can just—” He gestures toward the door, flustered, but you only laugh, reaching for his wrist and pulling him deeper into the shop.

“Oh my god, I’m kidding! You’re always welcome here.”

The ghost of your touch lingers on his skin, almost burning him right where your fingers rested. It feels unfamiliar, strange—to feel anything other than sorrow resting in his bones.

“I wanted new flowers,” he finally says.

You giggle. “Are you opening a flower shop?”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Competing with yours, actually.”

You pout, snipping the stems of the sunflowers piled up before you. “That’s unfair. People will keep coming to you just because you’re pretty.”

“So you think I’m pretty?” He grins, a smile that does not feel rehearsed, nor heavy on his face. He’s smiling because he simply wishes to.

“Well, you are. Aren’t you?” you simply say, as if there is no reason to be coy about something as evident as this.

His smile softens, so does his voice. “You’re very truthful.”

“Isn’t it a waste of time to hide how you feel about things? Flowers are beautiful, right? Why is it so easy to say? Why should it be any different for people?”

You aren’t lying, that is your philosophy, you’ve found that lies sit heavy on your lungs, as if you’re caging your breaths in. Hiding the truth feels even heavier, like stones wrapped around your ankles, pulling you down. But still, complimenting Hyunjin makes you feel uncharacteristically shy.

You don’t know what to make of him—this stranger who keeps on returning to see you, his sadness trailing him like a shadow, his eyes dimmed, as if he had to snuff out their light, to pretend as if no soul inhabits his body, so he’d be left alone. So he’d survive.

“You’re right,” he says, gaze flickering toward the street. “I hate lies. I really, really hate them.” he grows quieter, smaller.

Something within you tightens at his words, at the sincerity within them mostly. You set your flowers down, turn to face him with your pinky extended.

“Then I promise that I’ll never lie to you.”

He exhales, his shoulders releasing some of their tension. And after a moment, his pinky hooks around yours. “Neither will I.”

Your fingers are soft, delicate, and he notices that your eyeshadow matches your shirt today. Auburn, a color that makes your irises gleam. He wants to tell you you’re beautiful, but the words feel too fragile in his mouth. Not as easy for him as they are for you.

Hyunjin had come for flowers, but you do not rush him. Instead, you bring him a glass of fresh lemonade, mint leaves and lemon slices swirling in ice, and pull up a stool by the window. The shop is quiet, save for the music floating from the speakers—Neon Moon by Cigarettes After Sex. His pick. You have similar tastes.

He watches you, not in a way that unsettles you, but in a way that makes you hyper-aware of your hands, of your breath, of your heartbeat. Mostly, he looks at the flowers, asking questions, his curiosity insatiable—What does this one symbolize? And this one? And this? But still, it is you who feels scrutinized, as if bathed in a bright, glaring neon light.

A soft hour passes then—soft like the moon light brushing against the window, soft like the way he speaks, voice never rising above a murmur when he answers your questions.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s your name?”

“Hyunjin.”

You taste it, let the letters settle on your tongue before swallowing it down. It will take root within you and bloom into something beautiful later, though you do not yet know it.

You say yours.

“And what do you do, Hyunjin?” his name already feels familiar for you to speak.

“I’m a painter. Was. I… I’m not really sure.” he almost cowers in his place, you pretend as if you don’t notice, but your grip on the scissors falter.

“Was?” you echo.

“I haven’t painted in six months.”

Oh.

“Are you taking a break?”

“No. I… I actually,” he pauses, sighing. “I don’t want to lie to you, so I’d rather not answer,” he says, voice quiet, almost pleading, as if baring a wound too raw to support the weight of his words.

“It’s okay,” you smile, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. You can see his moles from this up close, the shape of his velvety lips as they part to exhale.

“I’d like to tell you, it’s just…”

“Does it hurt you?”

He nods, sudden tears glistening in his waterline. The sight makes something within you crumble. You know this pain—the kind that lingers just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest touch to release it.

“The burden will ease with time. And then you’ll be able to speak of it. Your pain will be released into the wind, and the wind will scatter it away. it always does.”

“Will it still hurt this much?” he asks, lip trembling as he gazed up at you, pupils wide and lost

“It will be bearable. and soon you’ll grow accustomed to it. And then it will become a friend.”

“I suck at making friends though,” he says earnestly and you both burst into giggles.

“I don't think so. Look, you have befriended me.”

“Yeah, you’re my friend.” he smiles like the afternoon sun, like he has forgotten the warmth he used to carry at his zenith. “I'm happy you are.”

—

Hyunjin first met Scarlet in his art gallery, where the winter winds seemed to carry her in, sweeping past the doorway with each click of her heels.

She moved gracefully through the room, pausing before every painting, her crimson lips pressing together as she tilted her head to the side. Contemplating. Now and then, a hand would drift to her raven hair, tucking it behind her ear, twirling it between her delicate fingers. He was drawn to her— to her olive skin, the depth in her brown eyes, the curve of her neck that seemed to call his name.

Scarlet was a sculptor, and like the name she bore, she was vivid, untamed, catching the eyes of everyone around her. And she basked in their gaze, feeding on their admiration like it was the very oxygen she breathed.

She loved Hyunjin loudly, extravagantly, parading him through the world as if to say, Look what I have found. An artist who only has eyes for me. She draped him in praise, her voice ringing clear for all to hear. And for a while, he believed it.

But Scarlet did not love him—not in the way he had hoped. She loved his brightest hues, the fire in his hands, the sound of his name murmured in circles of art and acclaim. She stood beside him in the gallery, basking in the applause for his paintings as though it belonged to her. She loved the lights, the cameras, the way his gaze softened when it landed on her.

But she did not love his blues—the quiet ache that spilled from him when inspiration faded. She did not love the weight in his voice when he longed for a hand to hold, for a shoulder to rest upon. When the fire in him dimmed, when he was no longer the sun with planets orbiting at his feet, she withdrew. almost bored. He saw it in the flicker of her eyes, in the way her attention wandered elsewhere. As if he was a burden to care for, to tend to.

Hyunjin came to understand that Scarlet did not love him. Not truly. Not despite the way she swore she did. Not despite the way she kissed him before what turned to be his final work trip, her lips scorching against his skin. “So you’d carry me with you,” she had whispered, winking, leaving a mark on his neck like a signature, like a brand.

And he did carry her, he still does—like a weight wrapped around his ankles, like smoke filling his lungs, thick with the taste of his own shortcomings. He was not enough for her. And if he was not enough for her, then perhaps he would never be enough at all. in anything he does.

But the sting on his neck eases when he’s near you.

A month has passed since he arrived in Giverny. He has seen little of it—only the lake that stretches beyond his window, and you.

You do not shy away from his silence. If anything, your smile brightens when you see him. You do not speak of his withering career, his lost passion. You do not question why he needs flowers twice a week, and why he needs to talk to you for an hour—sometimes two, sometimes three—before deciding which blooms to pick. what words he’d like to convey to you without speaking.

Except for once.

He was lingering by the lilies, his fingers gently caressing their pink petals, tracing the lines of crimson right in their middle. Though it took him all his will to not look at you, again, more than what’s deemed socially acceptable. To capture you in his mind since he cannot do so with his pens.

“I saw your paintings,” you suddenly said, words coming out in a rushed string. He froze in his place, hand hovering over the rosy flowers. You sidled up to him. You smelled sweeter than all the blooms combined.

“I looked you up. I was curious and I… I can’t stop thinking of your paintings. They are exquisite Hyunjin.” you said with a conviction that seemed to rekindle something with him, a fire to paint even better so you’d compliment him more.

“Really?” he asked, turning to look at you. His eyes searched yours, looking for something, a reassurance, that he wasn’t a lost cause, that you’d look at him the way you do withering flowers, with the same affection as fully blooming ones.

“Yes. Your use of color… it’s breathtaking. It’s as if you give them voices, emotions, a soul almost. Especially that blue painting, the man screaming. His eyes… they feel endless, like sorrow spilling over. It’s so—” You stopped yourself, laughing. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“No—no,” he rushed to say, stepping closer, a flush creeping up his neck. “Please. Tell me more.”

And you did.

Over a chocolat chaud at your favorite pâtisserie, you pulled up each of his paintings, tracing every detail you loved with words only an outsider to art could offer—unpolished, unrestrained, but brimming with wonder. You asked him questions, too. What inspired you? Why this color, this shape, this technique? Which one was your favorite? Your hardest? Your loneliest?

You talked and talked, until the drink grew cold but his heart felt lighter than it had in months.

Hyunjin was no stranger to praise—he was South Korea’s youngest millionaire-painter, after all. His work was admired, auctioned, owned. And yet, no compliment had ever felt quite like yours—so eager, so sincere, so soothing.

That evening, he walked you home, stopping just before your front door, neither of you quite willing to part.

“Can I have your number?” he asked suddenly.

You tilted your head, smiling.

“For… for the flowers,” he added, a little too quickly. “So I can order them, you know, in advance?”

“Right,” you giggled, typing your number into his phone. His fingers brushed against yours, his soul felt like it was cleaved wide open.

That night, he lay in bed, staring at your empty conversation, heart thrumming. Finally, he types a message.

thank you for today :) i dont think i expressed it well, but your words made me happy

really

Two seconds.

of course!!!

And then—

idk what happened hyunjin, but… i think art will find you again,, i don’t think a painter like you could ever stop painting

it’d be a waste for our world, really

He reads your words again and again, a quiet smile curling at the corners of his lips. They linger in his mind as his fingers brush the worn spine of his sketchbook, as he coaxes it open after months of neglect. And then he draws for the first time in months—nothing grand, nothing worth sharing, surely. Just a rose at first, simple and familiar, like the path to Anthomania.

Then, he turns the page. His posture shifts; he leans into his desk, back curved, brow furrowed in concentration. Time spins forward unnoticed. He doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath till he finally exhales it, putting his pen down. he sees it then, what he painted in his insatiable frenzy. it’s you, smelling the rose.

He sleeps with a blooming blush on his face that night, as the inks in his dream bleeds into the color of your lips, the lines of his sketches softening into those of your silhouette.

—

Hyunjin started texting you more after that—on the days he forced himself not to drop by your flower shop. Because, yes, you said he was your friend, still, he didn’t know how many visits it’d take for you to realize he’s not worthy of friendship, or love, or the warm way you gaze at him.

But he was still greedy, drinking in the way conversations between you flowed as easily as rushing water. You spoke of everything and nothing: your favorite flower—tulips, his favorite painter—Monet. The way he missed the iced americanos from home, his deep disdain for eggplants, your love for glittery eyeshadow, and the names of the stars outside your window.

Your messages became a breath of fresh air to him, a little sanctuary hidden within his phone, filled with pictures of the blooms you carefully arranged each morning. He had no paintings to send in return, so instead, he captured his walks by the river, the way sunlight draped over the fruit he laid on his checkered picnic cloth.

Then, it turned to calls, and Hyunjin’s world shifted when your voice rang like an answered prayer through his phone. He was initially timid, calling you to check if you had sunflowers in your shop. It was an excuse, really, because it was nearing midnight and he felt terribly lonely in a way only you can soothe.

Your conversation didn’t stop then. Instead, it continued like the turning of books, spilling from one page to another. You were both so curious about one another, that it seemed as if you never ran out of questions to ask.

“When did you think of becoming a florist?” He asked you one night, the rustling of your sheets told him you were shifting in bed, in search of comfort.

“When I was five.” His eyes fluttered shut, as if to better listen, to pretend you were near. “My mom used to have lots of flowers in our backyard, and I’d tend to them on the weekends and vacation. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life surrounded by beauty, and wisdom.”

“Wisdom?” he asks.

“Mm.” And he can imagine you lying on your back, staring up at your ceiling. He suddenly wishes he was next to you, holding your hand as you spoke. “Everything I know is from flowers.”

“What’s the most valuable lesson, you think?”

You’re quiet for a long while, only the softness of your breathing ringing through the phone. It lulls him to a peaceful place he hasn’t set foot in in a long time. Somewhere where his worries drift away, carried by the tide of your presence.

“That flowers always bloom again. Even when the winter stretches for months and months, and the cold feels so harsh you forget what the sun ever felt like. Even then, the flowers will bloom once more. Winter passes, and spring comes.”

He bites his lip, as if trying to sew shut his mouth, physically stopping the strings of words from rolling off his tongue. And yet, they win.

“You feel like spring, little florist.”

A sharp inhale. Yours. A breath, unsteady. His. He wishes to bury himself within his covers. He wishes he could teleport to you.

“Thank you, Hyune.” The nickname settles against the sore places in his chest. He felt bruised by it, split open in the gentlest way.“I hope you have dreams as sweet as you.”

Hyunjin didn't sleep that night, not when his heart hadn’t felt this alive in an eternity, bursting with colors he hadn't seen in so long.

The phone calls continued, night after night, your voice coming to him as his own breath. still, no matter how much he enjoyed seeing your name light up his screen, nothing compared to you in person. Watching your expressions shift with his every word, witnessing your hands coax life into each bouquet, the warmth you pour nto every customer you spoke to.

People seemed to leave your shop a little lighter, as if you had tucked something magical between their petals. Hyunjin knew why. It’s because you understood flowers beyond their beauty, saw meaning even in the ones with bruised roots and browning leaves. And it is that same compassion you extended to humans. Though you seemed unaware of how much grace you carried within you.

It moved him. It unraveled him.

Hyunjin hadn’t known what he had been yearning for these past six months. The ache had been constant, an insatiable hunger for something nameless, a restlessness settling right beneath his skin, an itch he could not scratch. But now he knows—he has always been longing for kindness.

Your kindness, to be exact.

“You haven’t been to Monet’s house?!” you exclaim, eyes wide in disbelief. It’s your lunch break, and Hyunjin has brought you seafood pasta from a place he discovered on one of his walks.

“No, I haven’t seen much of Giverny, to be honest,” he admits.

“But you’ve been here for forty-five days.”

“Have you been counting?” he smirks, teasing.

“No,” your voice grows an octave higher, “it just coincided with a big shipment of roses, that’s all.” (That is a half-truth.)

You clear your throat, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “Anyways, let’s go tomorrow!”

Hyunjin’s heart plummets to his knees. You must notice it—the flicker in his expression, the slight falter in his gaze.

“Don’t you want to go?”

He says nothing. Your voice softens.

“Do you want to go alone?”

Hyunjin sighs, taking a long sip of the strawberry lemonade you prepared that day. The sweetness of the fruit makes it easier for him to speak.

“I told you that Monet is my favorite painter, right? When I started painting, I’m talking thirteen, fourteen, I was obsessed with technique, with proving that my paintings could be as realistic as possible. But then I discovered impressionism. And I… I fell in love with it. I realized that abstraction could hold even more emotion, even more depth than realistic paintings. And I… I’ve always wanted to see Monet’s gardens, to see what inspired so many of my favorite paintings.” He sucks in a deep breath, “but I’m scared… I’m terrified I’ll sit there amidst so much beauty and still feel nothing. That I won’t feel inspired. That I won’t wish to paint again.”

You nod, understanding, your eyes softening like silk honey. A quiet settles between you before your face brightens.

“Isn’t it good then? If you don’t feel inspired right away then we’ll have an excuse to visit such a beautiful place again.”

He exhales, something in his chest loosening.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Find a silver lining in everything I say.”

You smile, almost melancholic, your gaze lost somewhere else. “I believe life is made up of lots of sorrows and lots of silver linings.” Your eyes meet his again. “Since my house burned down, I now own a better view of the moon… It’s a Japanese quote,” you clarify after a heartbeat. “I’m not that good with words.”

“Really? I find that I like your words much more,” he says, earnestly.

Both your fingers twitch at the same time.

Do yours hungrily want to reach for his too?

—

You like Hyunjin.

It seemed to be an inevitable outcome, one you didn’t even try to outrun, a tide you did not resist, instead, letting the water carry you wherever it saw fit. It’s as if you knew it was bound to happen when he set foot into Anthomenia for the first time, when his eyes glazed over the flowers with so much sorrow it felt like thorns curling around your throat. When he returned, again and again, when you started awaiting him with your breath clenched between your teeth. When you selfishly wished your flowers would wilt faster just so you’d be able to see him again.

It was inevitable for you to like Hyunjin. The beautiful man who sees beauty in everything but himself. The tortured painter with a heart so bruised you’re scared a single press of your thumb would be his undoing, like an overripe fruit, so sensitive to any touch, aching to be treated with tenderness.

You do not expect anything out of this crush. You do not expect him to reciprocate your feelings. You don’t think he ever would; even fantasizing of him thinking of you as fondly as you think of him makes you feel like you’re floating on cotton clouds. But then, the plummeting would only hurt even more, wouldn’t it? The sweetest dreams always ache at their zenith right before they dissolve into nothingness.

But you understand Hyunjin, in ways even you can’t fully describe or explain. In ways you aren’t sure he would himself. You can’t fault him for that— Hyunjin can only see your glittering surface. After all, you’ve gotten better at concealing your anguish, worn it for so long it has become a second skin to you.

But what matters is that you understand Hyunjin. It is because you understand that you wish for his spark to come back.

A life with no spark is no life, after all.

Hyunjin is growing increasingly nervous as you wait in line to enter Monet’s home and gardens. He’s fiddling with his Vetements t-shirt, tucking his hand into his jeans only to remove them once again. His fingers twist his jade necklace, then spin the rings adorning his hand, only to reach for his necklace once more.

You stare right ahead as you finally take hold of his fingers, entwining them softly with yours. You can feel him staring at you, his gaze burning the curve of your neck as his hand goes limp in your hold. He looks at you, and you look ahead. You’re scared of what he will read in your trembling irises if you dare hold his gaze.

But he doesn’t let go. Only holding on to you tighter, his thumb swiping gently across your palm. Your wrist. Anywhere its softness can reach.

You’ve been within these colorful gardens countless times before. On your first day in Giverny and once per month since, without fail, except when it closes for Winter.

Yet, you are always as bewitched by how beautifully arranged the gardens are, by how vastly their greenery stretches before your eyes. There is beauty to behold wherever your eyes rest, conversations between blooms to catch at every corner. You smell the mingling fragrances— the sweetness of roses and the citrus of orange blossoms. You hear the birds, singing and rejoicing in seeing another day, the rush of water carving its path through stones.

It is buzzing with life, the nature that seems to stretch its hand at you, beckoning you into the warmest of embraces.

Though today, you do not heed its call. Today, you hold on to Hyunjin’s hand.

He doesn’t let go of your hold as he slowly strolls around, stopping by the dahlias, breath caught in his throat as a bee buzzes around a nearby crimson peony. He leans into a yellow rose, his nose nearly brushing the dewdrops gathered on its petals. He breathes in beauty, lets it fill the hollows within him, and you watch—because seeing it through his eyes makes it all the more beautiful.

He smiles as he climbs the stairs of the home. As he pauses in the living room, taking in the dozen paintings hung on the wall—A Woman with a Parasol, The Water Lily Pond, Impression, Sunrise, Poppies, Bouquet of Sunflowers. Then, the lively bedrooms scattered around the home, the vibrant blue kitchen, the Japanese prints, and the pink orchid.

There is a little magic to his step as you follow the flowery path to the Water Lily Pond, with bamboo trees greeting you on your walk. He pulls you onto a bench, his eyes fixed on the turquoise and the floating water lilies, rootless yet still as happy, as beautiful. Like Hyunjin.

You can’t be as truthful as you wish around him anymore. Every compliment is starting to taste like a confession to you.

“I was in love with a girl,” he says, resting your interwoven hands upon his thigh. Your breath stumbles. You did not expect the sharp, sudden sting of jealousy latching onto your ribs, the burn of it. You look at the pond, hoping the water will rise from its place and douse the fire in your chest.

“She was my muse for the longest time. I was foolish, so I… I placed my heart within her palms. Here, take it, it’s yours, I told her. I was too blinded by my own need to be loved to realize that she didn’t love me.”

You steal a glance at him to find his eyes closed, his head leaning back. He’s so beautiful it almost feels like a dagger pressed against your throat.

“She cheated on me. In my own bed. While I was away for work,” he whispers, but his words still ring loudly in your ear. His words are so violent they feel out of place in such a beautiful setting. You swallow them. You don’t let him bear their weight alone.

“I don’t love her anymore. I think it evaporated the moment I saw her with him. But what hurts–” His voice trembles, and when he turns to you, his eyes are glistening, “what kills me is that I showed her all of me. I bared my soul to her, and it did not matter. It wasn’t enough for her to love me. And I… I don’t paint out of thin air, I paint out of my soul. I pour from myself onto the canvas. And if what makes me me isn’t worthy, then how could my paintings ever be enough? How could I ever be enough? In anything, to anyone?”

What do you do when someone hands you their bruised heart, bloody and butchered, when they unveil their deepest pains under the scorching sunlight, out in the open, with nowhere to hide it, nowhere to cancel it? What do you do with this violence? How do you undo it? How do you soothe it?

You don’t know. You wish you knew, more than ever before, as Hyunjin looks at you—almost expectantly, pleadingly—as if he has been waiting for months to speak these words to another soul. To unveil it.

Release me. You could almost hear it on the tip of his tongue. Please. Please. Please.

“Hyunjin,” you choke, your thumbs sweeping away the reflections of the swaying branches on his tear-streaked skin. “Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin,” you repeat, as if he could hear the weight his name carries, the way it has taken roots within your ribs. “You are enough. You were enough before her, and you will remain so after.”

His lower lip trembles and quakes; you can feel that he’s standing on the precipice of unraveling, completely, loose threads falling apart at the slightest gust of wind. You can’t stitch him back together, you can’t order the wind to pause in its travels. But you can speak.

“Don’t torture yourself over things that aren’t your doing. She may have been your inspiration, but she was never the sole core of your talent. That is all you, Hyunjin. Your kindness is you, and your paintings are you. No matter who you loved, or if you had loved no one at all. You still would have made it here. Because you are Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin exhales, a sound between a sigh and a sob. “What if I feel like nothing without her?”

“She’s only everything because you’ve given her your entire self. She’s everything because you see in her a reflection of yourself. Your beautiful self.” You exhale softly. His tears gather at his lashes like petals trembling before the fall.

“We promised not to lie to one another, didn’t we?” you say, voice barely above a breath. “I’ve been lonely here, Hyunjin. Not physically. But something has been missing. A friend. You. Having you here makes me happy. And someone who isn’t beautiful could never make the world more beautiful just by being in it.” You smile, your nose tip almost resting against his. “You are enough, Hyunjin. Her wrongdoings aren’t your fault.”

He nods, closing his eyes, leaning into the warmth of your palm, his lips almost brushing against your skin. “I want to paint again. I miss it terribly.”

“You will.”

His next words are softer than the wind rustling the trees. “I drew you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Did I turn out pretty?”

He smiles like a spring sun, warm and kind on your soul. “Of course. It would be impossible for you to be otherwise.”

—

Something has shifted.

Like sailing winds catching the perfect speed to carry a boat to safety, something within Hyunjin has clicked into place. Eased is the better way to describe it, as if his heart, once sinking like a stone in his chest, now floats weightlessly along his ribs, unrestrained.

He has been happier since stepping out of Monet’s house, his smile blooming the way flowers do in spring, the way water rushes down a waterfall, like a second nature.

He pauses before you, the sun that has pulled him from the dark, clasping his hands together. You smile, tilting your head, and his heart swoons at the simple motion, swaying as if caught in the wind.

“Should we rent bikes?” he asks, grinning. “There’s so much I haven’t seen in Giverny.”

You pout, teasing. “Is my shop no longer enough for you?”

He shakes his head fervently. “No, no, your shop is still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” His eyes widen with (exaggerated) sincerity. “I think all the other florists never stood a chance against you. In fact, every flower shop in the world should close right now!”

You laugh as he throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. He leans into you instinctively, as if he belongs there, inhaling your flowery scent, borrowing your warmth.

“Alright, alright,” you giggle, “I’ll be your tour guide, then.”

True to your word, the two of you spend the afternoon biking—past the river, through the narrow streets of Giverny, past the old Mill of Vernon and the Impressionism Museum where flowers sketch your path. The sun sinks behind you, spilling watercolors across the sky. The wind tousles Hyunjin’s hair, and he feels it for the first time in a long time—what it must be like to be a bird. Free. Unbound. Guided by nothing but the pull of his own heart.

You keep glancing over your shoulder as you bike ahead of him, tossing excruciatingly beautiful smiles his way. He feels them in his chest, burning and ablaze where coldness once sat.

By the time you stop to rest, you’re both breathless, slightly sweaty but pleasantly exhausted.

He can already sense it– you’re only seconds away from saying you should head back, but he’s still not satiated of you, he doesn't think he ever will. “Come home with me. I want to cook for you. As a thank you.”

His cheeks are rosy, his chest rising and falling as he awaits your response. He prays you won’t say no. He thinks he’s ready to beg at your feet if you refuse.

But your smile is warm, your gaze soft as it traces the contours of his face. You’re already saying yes with your eyes.

“Depends. What will you cook for me, Mr. Hwang?”

“Anything you’d like.”

That turns out to be just ramyeon as Hyunjin quickly realizes his fridge is unfit for anything more elaborate. He peers inside, dismayed, and you burst into laughter at his expression, clutching the sides of your stomach. But as you watch him move around the kitchen, speaking excitedly about all the paintings he’s inspired to create now, your laughter slowly fades.

Because you see it then—a vision. Hyunjin cooking you breakfast tomorrow. And the day after. And the years to come. You see yourself standing up, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. It’s so vivid, so sweet to imagine that it disarms you. Leaves you aching and pulsing for nothing. Like a heart beating with no blood flowing through it.

The vision lingers, syrup-thick, as Hyunjin hands you a steaming bowl of noodles. And when he gently wipes a smudge of sauce from the corner of your lips—when he licks it from his own thumb without thinking—your pulse stutters. His gaze darkens, storms brewing behind his irises. You feel as if he’s kissing you with his eyes alone, touching you as he stands a few feet away.

Hyunjin only manages to steady himself when you both settle in the canopy in his backyard, sipping the peach lemonade you made for him days ago, listening to the cicadas humming far away. The breeze is cool against his collarbones. The full moon bathes you both in silver light.

It seems closer tonight, as if watching over him. As if urging him to speak.

“Can I paint you?” he asks suddenly. “I… I’d like to paint you with you here.”

You blink, caught off guard, before placing your hand over his.

“I’d love that, Hyune.” You smile softly. “But tonight, I’d rather you paint yourself. I think it would help you see that you don’t need any muse but you.”

The sincerity in your voice makes him ache, makes him want to collapse into your arms with the certainty that you would catch him. You didn’t run when his pain shadowed you, when his tears slipped down your palm like salty rivulets. You didn’t let go.

He feels you within him now—a soft mass of stars and sunlight, resting below his ribs, expanding, glowing, loving.

So he does exactly that.

As the night weaves itself forward, the two of you settle into his room—you curled up on his bed, thumbing through a book, while he brings out his oil paints, the scent of turpentine invading his senses at once, like an old friend. The sight of you in his room drives him to the edge of delirium. You belong in his home, in his heart, so effortlessly that it makes something deep in his chest ache.

The conversation drifts in and out between you, like waves kissing the shore—never fully retreating, never fully letting go. Shadows stretch and soften beneath the moonlight. You are half-asleep when his voice stirs you awake.

“What do you think, little florist?”

He tilts the painting toward you, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat.

It is a portrait of himself—but not as the world sees him. Rendered in deep Prussian and Manganese blue, abstract save for his eyes, which shimmer with unshed tears caught in the waterline. Yet his expression is not sorrow. No, it speaks of reverence. As if he is gazing upon something unbearably beautiful. Something so profound, it threatens to undo him.

You.

Your breath catches as you push yourself up, eyes widening.

“My God, you are so talented,” you whisper, stepping beside him, drawn in by the painting. He almost—almost—lets his head rest against your side but stops himself. Instead, your hand finds his shoulder, grounding, warm. You squeeze gently.

“How you ever thought you weren’t good enough is beyond me. This is the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen. I mean it.”

His ears burn. He feels their warmth creeping down his neck, this unbearable, tender shyness you seem to bring out in him every time.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a breath.

Your gaze flickers to the window, to the darkened sky. “It’s 3 a.m. already?” you murmur, blinking as exhaustion settles over you.

He hesitates for only a moment before reaching out, fingers curling lightly around your wrist.

“Stay the night.” It isn’t a demand, nor is it casual—it is hesitant, hopeful. “Unless you want me to take you home. I will, of course, but—I’d like you here.”

A pause. Two paths forging before you.

“I’d like that too.”

You change into the oversized T-shirt and pair of shorts he hands you, the fabric hanging loose around your frame. It smells like him—like paint and something sweet, something flowery too, as if he carries Anthomania on his skin like you do.

As you climb into his bed, he lights a single vanilla candle, its flame wavers, and you watch it for a while, thinking. The bed is wide enough that you do not have to touch. And yet—like a moth to a flame, like a flower bending instinctively toward the light—something in you aches to move closer. To rest against him. To rest in him.

He feels the same.

It starts with his hand, inching toward yours.

Then, the slow, tentative brush of his pinky against your skin, gently tracing the contours of your palm. Your fingers slide over his, resting there.

“You’re still awake,” he murmurs, voice low and drowsy.

“So are you.”

He hums softly, and his thumb begins to move—small, absentminded circles against your skin. As if his body has decided to reach for you before his mind can catch up.

You shift onto your side, edging closer, and now you can see him fully—the candlelight catching on his cheekbone, the way his dark hair spills onto the pillow. His eyes flicker open at the movement, lazy and heavy-lidded, a half-smile playing on his lips.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

A pause. A heartbeat.

Then, softer, more vulnerable, he whispers, “Can I hold you?”

Your heart stumbles. For a moment, neither of you breathe.

“Can I tell you something first?” you ask, fully turning toward him, and he follows suit. Your fingers inch toward his face, ghosting over the mole by his eye, the one near the bridge of his nose, then down to his jaw, tracing his pulse where it beats wildly beneath your touch.

“Anything, little florist.”

You swallow. “I’ve never been in love before. And I’ve never been loved. I’ve spent the better part of my life craving a feeling that always seemed just out of reach.” A sad smile tugs at your lips. Hyunjin’s eyes soften at your confession. “It’s as if I’ve been deprived of something monumental and grand, something I searched for in everything I did.” You bite your lip. “And I like you, Hyunjin. I like you a lot. As silly as it is, because you are you and I am me, but it would kill me if you only wanted to hold me as a friend.”

“Shh, what are you saying?” he whispers, his thumb brushing over your lips, soft and reverent. “can’t you see it? you are the one who brought me back to life. I was a wilted thing before you. i feel as if you watered me, like one of your flowers.”

“Well, you are as beautiful as a flower.” A tear slips past your lashes. “And I am just a florist.” Perhaps it’s the late hour, or the way his warmth lulls you toward something soft, something safe. Or maybe it’s because the most beautiful person you’ve ever met is looking at you as if you are something holy.

But you start crying, unyielding tears coating your cheeks in their wetness. You don’t cry prettily nor quietly, but Hyunjin doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t leave before this gushing wound you’ve carried—this thirst for love you could never quench—now overflowing, too much, too much, too much.

Instead, he gently takes your hand, and presses it over his chest. Beneath your palm, his heart pounds wildly, you cannot fathom that it is your doing.

“I think you’re more beautiful than all the flowers combined.” His knuckle tenderly wipes your tears away. “And I adore you, my little florist. Not as a friend. In case that wasn’t clear.” He giggles, and so do you, something light and giddy coming to life between you.

“Then, can you hold me? Please.”

And he does. Instantly, greedily—his arms curling around you, pulling you into the warmth of him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, letting him breathe you in. You both sigh at once, as if you’ve been waiting your whole lives to reach this moment. As if you have spent too many years with no safe space to exhale.

“So, you like me?” he asks, pressing a tender kiss to your hair.

“I think I’ve made it pretty clear.” You smile, and he laughs.

“You feel warm,” he whispers, voice quieter now. “And safe. I never thought I’d feel this way again.” His nose tip grazes yours tenderly. “Please don’t hurt me, my little florist.”

“I think I’d rather hurt myself,” you confess, gently tucking away strands of his hair behind the cuff of his ear.

“Then, never mind. Hurt me instead,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you to cry anymore.”

“Are you trying to outdo me?”

“Mm, just need to prove I like you more.”

You giggle quietly, blushing. It’s nearly five a.m. now.

“I feel like I’m dreaming, Hyunjin. I’m scared I’ll wake up and won’t find you near.”

“I’m here,” he reassures, placing a tender kiss on the crown of your head. “I won’t leave. But would you wait for me? There are parts of myself I still need to heal before I can love you properly. You understand, right?”

“Love?” you echo.

“Is it too soon?” He shakes his head. “You know, I don’t care. I know that if we continue this way, I’ll only end up loving you. I think I’ve always known.”

“So did I,” you grin like the sun. “But I won’t wait for you from afar. I’ll hold your hand till you become even happier.”

He exhales, eyes fluttering shut. It looks like the milky way is swimming within his eyes once they lock on you. “I want to love you so much you’ll forget what it felt like to not be loved. I will. I promise you.”

And you believe him.

“Can you start tonight?”

It happens then—both of you moving at once, drawn together like tides to the moon, like roots seeking water. Your lips meet and something inside you quakes, shatters, is born again. His kiss is gentle, reverent, the kind of softness that makes your skin prickle, makes you ache in places you didn’t know could.

He tastes like peaches, like flowers, like the way his name sounds in your mouth. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into the curve of you, tracing the length of your spine as if memorizing the shape of you, as if afraid you might slip away. And you are floating, slipping in and out of consciousness, dizzy with warmth, with his touch, with the way his lips seek yours again and again, as if he could kiss you for eternity and it still wouldn’t be enough to quench his thirst.

Your hand is the first to move beneath his shirt, fingertips grazing over his fevered skin. He shudders, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Touch me,” you whisper.

And Hyunjin swears he could die like this—if this is death, he would meet it ten times over at your hands.

He is everywhere, all-encompassing, warm, and tender, the weight of him pressing into you, anchoring you to this moment. Still he keeps asking, voice unsteady— Would you like me to stop? Tell me and I will. His fingers slip down the ridges of your stomach, tracing every dip, every line of yours, and your answer remains the same, pleading— No, keep going, please. please. You are a flower cracking through the hard soil, unfurling, meeting the light for the first time.

You have your answer then— why Giverny? It was to find him. It was to be found. It drapes over you like a certainty a year later, when his arm wraps around your shoulders, his chin resting on the crown of your head. As you gaze at the series of paintings he’s created over the past seven months— every bouquet you’ve ever made him since his first visit to you. Your gaze drifts to the central piece of his newest exposition— you, looking out of his window, laying on a bed of wildflowers, the light grazing your bare back like a lover.

He titled it Anthomania. An obsession with you.

[everlastingserenitys]

virgin nerd!zayne and virgin nerd!Caleb

featuring (seperate): zayne & Caleb

cw. p in v, making out, raw, reassurance, submissive!!!, cùmming inside, creampie, semi public (Caleb), masturbation

a/n. just a little thirst lol

virgin nerd!zayne who didnt know how he got in this situation. but here he was. his large figure loomed over you, he was breathing heavily as he looked into your beautiful eyes.

all he did was invite you over for a project you two we're assigned to do, but one part of the project contained for you both to touch each other, and while zayne never felt the touch of another woman he didn't think he'd overreact this bad.

virgin nerd!zayne who hesitantly leaned in, his lips inches away from yours.

his hot breath coaxed your soft lips before he silently begged for him to take you. to your surprise, you didn't expect this type of question coming out of his mouth.

and so, you agree.

virgin nerd!zayne who let out a shaky sigh before he captured your lips into an intense kiss, his tongue sliding right through your lips, as he tasted every inch of it.

he knew he shouldn't be doing this but the constant times he caught you staring at him, made him feel something in him. he fantasized about you so many times, and now that you were with him, he took the opportunity to fulfil his dreams.

with the knowledge of what he's been learning the past few years from his medical class, he assumed he knew what he was doing, so he hoped he was making you feel somewhat good.

a few seconds pass and virgin nerd!zayne pulls away from the kiss, panting like he just ran a marathon. he pulled himself away from you and rested his frail fingers on the belt of his pants.

a soft whine escaped his lips before he unbuckled the belt in a quick movement and letting it fall to the ground, letting a clack echo through the room.

he swiftly removed his boxers and his searing, dripping cock sprung out of him. zayne lifted your hips to align himself with you and in a quick movement he pressed his tip against your soaking entrance.

"I think...I–ngh?!" zayne had already got the tip inside you and he already felt like he was going to cum, his hips slowly rocked back and forth as pleasure was rushing through his body.

"zay--go faster!" you whine, rocking yourself against him in a quicker movement and he tried to tell you to slow down but his vocal chords suddenly stopped working.

a loud moan escaped his lips, and thats when you felt it...

he came, right. inside. you.

"s-sorry! I couldn't hold back..." he apologized quickly, and tried to pull away, but for some reason he wanted more. so instead of fully pulling out, he sucked in a deep breath and thrusted himself in you, this time deeper than before.

you felt as if your pussy was going to rip off from his large length suffocating and stretching you out further, and further. you instinctively grab onto his arms and dug your nails in his biceps, trying to keep up with his rhythm.

"zayne! 'm gonna c-cu--mmgh" you tilt your head back and release your hands from his arms, resting them to your sides. zaynes eyes watched as his and your cum pooled out of your cunt and he pressed his finger against your clit, stretching it out watching the whole mess you two made.

a soft smile was plastered on zayne's face before he leaned in, planting small kisses on your face.

virgin nerd!caleb who was apart of the photography club. he would go to that club after school, every. single. day. and only take pictures of his muse, his only girl.

but one school day you weren't here and caleb was a little concerned. now, usually, he would never want to visit your place without letting you know. but he needed to do his daily ritual for taking pictures of you.

so he snuck into the deans office and looked through the files of the students at the college, his fingers slid through every file until he finally found yours, bingo!

he opened it up and pulled up the address on his phone, the walking distance was only a few minutes away. so, Caleb put the file away and walked over to your place.

but he was met with disappointment when he saw that your whole house was pitch black, his lips dropped to a frown and he headed back to the school, going to the printer room to pick up his previous photos of you.

when virgin nerd!caleb opened the door, he was met with a surprise he did not want to see.

you, leaning against the printer as you flipped through the dozens of prints, and Caleb prayed it was not the pictures of you.

you lift your gaze from the papers and look at Caleb, an eyebrow raised when your eyes tilted down to the camera Caleb was holding, and thats when Caleb knew he was fucked.

"I- listen, um.." Caleb stammered, but he couldn't bring himself to make an excuse, there was no point anyway. you pushed yourself off the table and strut towards Caleb, who was still shaking in fear (and pleasure)

"what do you do with these photos, hm?" you ask, pressing the multiple photos on his chest. but when your fingers barely made contact with his chest Caleb let out a quiet whine and shoved the photos in his pocket.

"I don't...do anything I swear!"

"you sure? then you're telling me you just take these photos without fantasizing about me? or pleasuring yourself to these?" you tease, poking at his chest again. but Caleb couldn't deny it, he did sometimes jerk himself as he looked at the photos he taken of you. he didnt know what captivated him to take pictures of you.

"sorry" Caleb frowned, lifting his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he continued to avoid your gaze.

"so what do you think about while you look at them, huh?" you ask, a hint of curiosity laced your voice. Calebs face flushed and he continued to look down as he fidgeted his camera between his fingers.

"uh...I don't know if I should say it here..."

"if you can't say it, then why don't you show me?"

Calebs eye's widened and he looked up at you, his eyes filled with surprise and he asked if you're being for real. and when a single nod left you, caleb placed his camera on the table and brought you into a desperate kiss.

his fingers slide through your hair and god, he didn't even know how to kiss but the feeling of you against him made him feel soo horny. he rubbed himself against your lower abdomen and a groan escaped both of your lips.

"Caleb!"

the sound of his name escaping your lips made Caleb's heart beat quicker. he pulled away and glanced around the illuminated room before pulling his pants down, pulling his cock out as he stared at you.

he wrapped his fingers around the creamy head of his cock and he stroked himself in a slow, deliberate movement, as his eyes were locked on you. your eyes dart from his slow movements on his cock to his desperate eyes, which looked like they were seeking for something more.

"please.." Caleb whispered, he pulled his fingers away and stepped towards you, grabbing onto your hips as he pushed you against the desk. you moan and slip your fingers under the waistband of your pants, pulling them down for him.

Calebs eyes filled with lust as he noticed your laced panties on display for him. when your pants dropped down to your feet, Caleb slid his fingers under the laced fabric and he pulled them down, watching the wet mess pool down you.

he shuddered before pressing his tip against your soaking pussy and in a quick movement he thrusted himself into you. his cock was stretching your tight pussy and you grabbed onto the desk as Caleb continued to push himself into you.

"Caleb- rock your hips! d-don't just keep pushing yourself in!" you warned, rocking your hips against his. Caleb obediently listens and he rocked his hips back and forth.

his cock fit perfectly in your pussy, and moans filled the room as Caleb quickened his pace in you. "am- am I doing it right? ngh." his voice stammered.

"p-perfect!" you arch your back in pleasure and Caleb was already trying to hold his release but the second your fingers slide through his hair, Caleb let a groan of pleasure escape out of him and a spur of white mixture sprawled out of him.

"thank you.." he muttered, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug.

this is just a practice and for some reason I rlly like the photography idea... kinda wanna make a whole fic about it lol

[marbofmoorock]

TADC Swap AU story: Another day in paradise?

One day, Caine was enjoying a day off from the adventures, as Pomni announced surprisingly that the adventure were canceled today due to technical difficulties.

Caine, (more quiet and timid than his Canon counterpart), decided to go for a walk outside, at the digital lake. He could drink some water. That always helped him calm down.

A Caine walked, he ran into Jax. Jax was almost the opposite of his Canon counterpart in this swap, as he was rather kind and Considerate to a fault, and was kind of a Considerate older brother to Caine.

"Eeey, Chuckleface, everything alright today?"

"I guess Jax, it just still feels strange getting used to all this. It's been almost a month, and In still having difficulty keeping up, and I think Pomni does not like me." Caine thought about a moment where he caught Pomni glaring at him for a split second after having one too many panic attacks before the adventures even start.

"DON'T worry about it, it's not the end of the world. Pomni is an ai, she doesn't understand humans like us very well. All we can do to help her is play along and continue to suggest more humane adventures, with trial and error, she's bound to get it right."

Caine thought about Jax's thought, seeing the validity in patience and further implementation of ideas to help Pomni make fun adventures for everyone. "I...guess that makes sense. Say, do you wanna lap around the lake with me?"

"Sure." Said Jax, happy with his sly, but kind yellow smile and dapper patchwork outfit with a bow tie, looking like some storybook character who lives in a Burrow or shoe.

They walk for a bit, leaving the tent outside, and they spot Gangle, who was kinda grumpy looking at this hole in the ground.

"Hey Gangle," called out Jax to her, "whatcha dooin?"

Gangle, seeing Jax, breathes out in a rather heavy and huffy way, with a small scowl. "Oh, nothing really, just checking out this weird hole."

Jax and Caine came over and observed the hole as well, finding it odd that there was one, it looked deeper, but it was too small for anyone to fit inside it

"What do you suppose is inside? Have. Either of you guys found holes like this before?" Said Caine, curious.

"Well, I sure didn't dig it." Said Gangle, grumpily huffing, then walking off. "If anyone needs me, I'm gonna fuck off and drown myself again."

"Gangle we can't die, remember?"

"DON'T remind me..." yelled out Gangle as she left kinda furrowed.

"What's with her?"

"I dunno Caine, she's been grouchy ever since I got here. She's pretty nice otherwise."

"I had a feeling that was the case." Thought Caine as he and Jax watch Gangle walk away.

Their moment is interrupted by a mallet hitting each of their heads.

"Ow, what gives, this is-oh...it's you."

Rags walks up from behind.

"Buzz Off Rags."

"Make me~" Said Rags, a man spirited prankster, "and Chuckleboy her could lose some teeth. But Don't worry~ Pomni will give you gold teeth." She said sadistically, swinging her mallet trying to hit Caine's teeth, of which Caine runs for his life from. "HEEEEEEELP. POMNIIIIII"

"Tattletail! Snitches get Stitches! Now come here, and let me be your dentist for a day." Rags Yellow, running after Caine in her jean overalls, determined to make an example of Caine, who runs just fast enough to outrun her.

Pomni pops up, snapping her fingers, and freezing me and Rags in place.

"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk, once again fighting like little children, you guys are something else. I'm putting you both in time out."

"Pomni, Raggy here was trying to operate on Caine today."

Pomni, liking Jax for his agreeableness, believes him, and glares at Rags, as she secretly detected her messing up the adventures for fun, deciding to let Caine go, and transports Rags away.

"You boys enjoy her day. Adventures await tomorrow~" She says, disappearing.

Caine and Jax keep going, eventually running into Kinger who sits on a bench by the lake.

"Oh, hi guys, how's it going?

"Were good Kinger, Caine, and I were just enjoying the view too." *Jax and Caine joined Kinger.

"We found a hole." Said Caine.

"OH, how interesting. I wonder what it's for."

"We don't know, but we decided to leave it alone."

"That's probably for the best." Kinger said, then trailing off, lookin at the sun.

Caine, Jax, and Kinger join him as they state outc into the distance, forgetting about their original plans for a walk.

(End)

some swap au screenshot redraws

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

DP x DC

Cackling filled the air, along with the sound of a blade slicing through the air. The whistle it made could drive you just as crazy as listening to the cackling.

Danny wasn’t sure why the man was laughing. Nothing around him was particularly funny. Blood spatters covered the cracked asphalt at Danny’s feet. Blood dripped off of his body, none of it his own.

Danny’s fingers twirled, repositioning the scythe he held, to rest on his shoulder. He surveyed the scene before him, a frown tugging down his lips.

People were standing along the streets, phones up, mouths hanging open. All of them were staring.

I didn’t think people could really see reapers. Danny mused, cackling cutting off as he studied those studying him.

It had been a few hundred years since everyone he knew had died peacefully of old age. Danny, having lived a fulfilled life, entered the Ghost Zone, prepared to be the new King, when Clockwork had merely smirked at him, eyes fond.

“What do you mean I have to serve as a reaper of souls first?”

Clockwork had been very insistent this was the way of things, but Danny was half-convinced he was making it up as he went.

Whatever gets the best timeline, I suppose. Danny looked out at the gathered crowd, then down at the twisted form below him.

“Jack Oswald White, you have been judged of sending those before their time, to the Realms Eternal. You have been found guilty of your crimes. With this slash, I, High King Phantom, Reaper of Souls, sentence you to the Nightmare Realm to be tormented until the end of Time.” Raising the scythe, Danny prepared to send the soul where it belonged.

“Wait!” A man stumbled forward through the crowd. A few people screamed as he broke through the ring, turning and running. The man was built, but what caught Danny’s eye, was the tuft of white hair on his forehead, and the feeling of death that hung around him. The domino mask was also eye-catching, but more background noise.

He stood before Danny and the condemned, drinking in the sight of the bloody man, like someone whom had been lost in the desert.

“Okay, go ahead. I just. I needed to see it.” The man puffed, domino-white eyes wide in anticipation. “Don’t worry, the other bats won’t come and ruin it. I took care of that.”

Danny cocked his head, feeling something humming in the air now that the man had settled in. The humming was bloodlust. Everyone here was eager to see this man die.

It was more than a little startling since Danny had never been seen before as the Reaper. It was more startling since most people who saw him screamed and ran away. What is wrong with these people? Where am I again? Gotham? Well the name seems to fit at least. Danny mused, before he nodded, and brought the scythe down.

*

Jason wanted to scream. Not in the “oh I’ve been hurt” or even “I’m so mad I could fill a bag with heads!” way, but the excitement, the primal feeling welling up within him didn’t want to be contained.

Oracle had reported some kind of public execution near Crime Alley. She hadn’t been able to confirm who it was for, nor who was doing it. All the cameras were bugging out in the area it was happening. Since Jason had been closest, he had managed to get there first.

In the middle of a massive crowd —and wasn’t that odd? Most people ran away from stuff like this— could just be seen an ethereal being floating above their heads. The being looked like someone about Jason’s age, but their skin glowed with an unearthly blue, and their hair, the color of starlight, moved in a way that contradicted the wind whipping everyone’s coats. The being was clad in black robes, the folds of which showed either constellations or a swirling green void that made something in Jason’s chest tighten.

And they held a massive scythe.

As Jason got closer, he heard the manic laughing, and froze.

The Joker.

Pushing through the crowd, heart hammering, Jason knew he had to— he had to do what? Save the Joker?

His earpiece made a high-pitched squeal as he broke through the crowd and saw the Joker’s body on the ground, scythe poised to finish the job.

The shriek that filled the air as the soul was sent to the Nightmare Realm, something inside Jason seemed to crack. The Reaper, High King Phantom as he had called himself, looked at Jason, and the crack felt like it wasn’t there.

I need to talk to him.

[lesservillain]

viii. like real people do

summary: things are finally said that change the tides of yours and eddie's relationship cw: SMUT, p in v (unprotected), a tiny bit of angst a/n: hopefully this makes up for the stress i put yall through last chapter! enjoy :)

“Well, what a surprise.” A voice as sweet as syrup says to you. It pulls you out of whatever blackness you were in. A shining light floats above you, beckoning for you to swim towards it. “I wasn’t expecting you for a very long time.”

“But I’m here now,” you say in your own mind, unable to speak.

“I see that,” the voice says, cooing you. “But you shouldn’t be. Not yet at least.”

“Why not?” You ask, continuing to swim.

“Because you still have so much to do! Can’t give up now.”

“But…I miss you so much,” you feel yourself tear up.

“I miss you, too,” the voice says softly. “But there are people counting on you to keep going. You don’t want to let them down, do you?” 

The encouraging words give you a new determination. You swim closer and closer, until you can almost feel the warmth on your face again. The surface is just ahead, if you could just keep going a little more…

The light suddenly becomes so bright, so encompassing that you can barely see. You break the surface, taking a deep breath in and begin coughing. It takes you a moment to get your barrings, but you soon realize you’re no longer in the water. The blinding lights start to shift, your vision slowly returning to you the more you try and focus your eyes. 

You look around you, your mind processing what it’s seeing. You’re in a room, all white and sterile looking. Were you in a hospital room? That seems to be the answer as your hearing starts to come back, filling with a low beeping sound from next to you first, then the sound of muffled voices. Your head suddenly shoots with pain, and you bring your hand to your forehead to try and relieve some of the pressure. But the pain is coming from the back of your head, and you notice that there is something on your forehead that normally isn’t there. Bandages? You try and move, but find yourself limited by something around your neck.

“Hello?” You croak out, but it’s barely above a wheeze. Your throat is hoarse, burning with soreness. Then the soreness spreads, reaching your fingertips and toes. It felt like you’d been hit by a bus and ran over again. “Hello!” You call out a louder this time, voice squeaking at the volume you were trying to achieve. The voices suddenly stop and are replaced with a metallic clanging as the curtain to your room is pulled open.

“Oh my god!” Tonya comes running into the room with Charles hot on her heels, throwing herself on to you in a tight embrace. She squeezes you tightly as if you were going to float away if she let go of you. “You’re awake,” she says, and you can hear the tears in her voice next to your ear.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, voice coming in and out with each word. “Am I at the hospital?”

Tonya leans back, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Yes, and they’re taking really good care of you. I told them you were in school to be a nurse to try and scare them a little.”

You let you a soft chuckle, looking up at her. “How did you know I was here?”

“I’m your emergency contact, duh,” she says with a smile.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say, thinking about how surprised she must have been to get a call that you were in the hospital when you were supposed to be taking care of Eddie.

“Wait, where’s Eddie?” You say, trying to sit up, but the pain in your body prevented you from moving much.

“Don’t worry about him,” Tonya says, her tone shifting to a serious one. You didn’t like that answer.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s perfectly fine.” Her hands come to your face, thumbs rubbing against your cheeks. “I want you to focus on you right now. You really got banged up in the fall. I was so worried when they told me what happened.”

“What happened?” You ask, unsure of what she’s talking about.

“You don’t remember?” She says, her brows coming together with concern.

“I just remember Eddie said he was going outside to smoke, and then nothing. It’s all black.”

“Honey…” Tonya says, her tone laced with concern. “You…fell. Off of a cliff and into the water. They had to send a rescue team to find you.”

Her words didn’t make sense to you. How would you have fallen when you were inside with Eddie?

“How did I fall off a cliff? I don’t understand.”

“Sweetie, you hit your head really hard. Maybe you should focus on getting some rest.”

“N-no, tell me what happened,” you stutter out, feeling a wave of anxiety start to hit you. You will yourself to remember what happened, but come up blank. “I want to see Eddie. Where is he?” Tonya says your name to try and calm you but her reluctance only makes you feel more uneasy. Even with all the pain in your body, you push yourself up from the bed and try to throw the covers off of you. Tonya pleads for you to stop as the sound of an alarm starts to go off in your room.

“What’s going on?” A nurse says as she enters the room.

“She wont settle down,” Tonya says pushing against you to get you back in the bed.

“Just let me call him!” You shout, trying to look around the room with your limited mobility.

“I’m right here.”

You pause, eyes darting to behind the nurse. You see Eddie there in his chair, a pained expression on his face. You immediately feel relieved, leaning back in the bed with a sigh.

“Eddie--”

“I told you to leave!” Tonya yells at him, catching you off guard.

“I know,” Eddie says solemnly, hanging his head.

“Why would you tell him to leave?!” You ask, anger bubbling up inside of you at her knowing he had been here.

“Because he’s the reason why you’re even in here! He doesn’t deserve to see you!” Tonya shouts, gesturing wildly at Eddie.

“Everyone, I’m going to have to ask you all to please calm down or else you’re all going to have to leave,” the nurse says trying to diffuse the situation.

“I want everybody out. Except for Eddie.” He raises his head to look at you, sadness in his features.

“You can’t be serious,” Tonya says with frustration.

“I need to hear about what happened from him. Please.”

Tonya whines, but eventually relents. She starts to leave, stopping next to Eddie and pointing a finger at him. “You have 10 minutes. And you better tell her the truth.” Eddie nods his head and Tonya straightens up, leaving the room with Charles following behind her.

“You have a call button beside you if you need me,” the nurse says before leaving the room too, only you and Eddie remaining. It’s back to being quiet again, and you take the time to just look at him. He seemed so broken as he hung his head in shame.

“Eddie,” you say, and he flinches. “Please, just tell me what happened.”

His frown contorts even more, his brown eyes going glossy as he stares down at the floor. He shakes his head before bringing a hand to his forehead. “I-I can’t.” He stutters out, breath hitching as he barely contains a sob.

“Yes you can,” you plead, wishing you could just get out of this bed and shake him. “I need to know what happened.”

“I just…My head was all messed up…and I didn’t know what to do, so I thought it would just be better if--if I just wasn’t around and--”

“Eddie what are you saying?”

“Tonya was right.” His voice is wobbly as he speaks. “You’re here because--because I tried to do something stupid and you stopped me.”

You didn’t understand. You tried to will your memory back, to piece together what he was saying to make sense of it. “Eddie, what did you do?” You beg him for an answer. He sways in his chair, getting more upset.

“I-I-I…I tried to…to jump off the cliff.”

“W-what?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I just, I couldn’t do it anymore.” His tears fall freely now, he doesn’t even bother to try and wipe them as they roll down his cheeks. “I thought it would just be better if I wasn’t around. You and Wayne wouldn’t have to take care of me anymore. And the voices, the nightmares would end.” He brings his hands to the side of his head and leans forward, rocking in his chair.

“Eddie…that is…that is so not fair.” Your breath hitches as you start to cry yourself. “You are not a burden Eddie. I love you so much, I can’t…I can’t even imagine my life without you in it now. Why would you do that to me? To Wayne?”

“Because I let him get in my head!” He shouts, startling you. “I let that bastard get in my head and make me feel like this! I’ve seen things in my nightmares that scared me and I just couldn’t let it happen! I couldn’t let him get to you!”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been helping you this whole time, but you’ve just been pushing me away again!”

“I can’t tell you the things I’ve seen…” he says shaking his head. His leg bounces nervously. “I don’t want you to know about the images he’s been putting in my head. But every time I look at you I see what he shows me. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

You’re speechless. Eddie’s been dealing with these nightmares this whole time and you had no idea. Your heart breaks knowing that he’s been dealing with this pain with no one by his side for weeks. It’s not fair.

“Come here,” you say, and he finally looks up at you, eyes wide as saucers. He hesitates, but eventually he rolls himself to the side of your bed.

“Are you going to hit me?”

You shake your head with a small laugh. “Do you think I should?” You ask him, and you see a smile tug at his lips. 

“I think I deserve it.”

“Eddie, you don’t deserve any more hurt. You’ve been through enough as is it. But…I do think there is something that you need.”

“What’s that?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Therapy.” His face drops, eyes leaving you and going back to the floor. “Hear me out,” you say, trying to reign him back in. You lean down the best you can and grab his hand, taking it in yours and holding it tight. “I think you need to be able to talk to someone, professionally, about what you’ve been through. I know you want to be strong, but if anything what you’ve told me is that you’re finally at your limit.”

“I’ve been offered a therapist before…by the government. Can’t exactly talk about what happened to a random one,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Then go see a government therapist,” you say, giving his hand a light squeeze. “They’re still a therapist. You need it.”

“Will you go with me?” He asks after a beat.

“Of course I will,” you say, elated that he’s considering it. You bring his hand up to your lips and kiss his knuckles, pressing against the scar that lives there.

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie says barely above a whisper. 

“I forgive you,” you say back. Eddie raises his head to look at you. “But…”

“But?” Eddie says, his brows pinching together nervously.

“But, I still need to hear the rest of the story.” Eddie looks at you with confusion and you gesture to yourself in the bed. “I obviously didn’t get here because you almost went over a cliff. So what happened?”

Eddie swallows, his eyes darting around the room anxiously. “Well,” he starts, “When I was about to go over, you sort of pulled me back. But…but you kept going. I watched you go over the edge and hit the water…” Well that explains a lot. “I freaked out. I thought about going in after you but this damn leg.” Eddie runs his hand over his thigh, letting it rest where it ends. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to get you, so I rolled my ass back to the house and called Hopper. He called the station and they got a bunch of people out to look for you. They found you washed up on some rocks by someone’s dock and pulled you out. They said it was a miracle that you were still breathing.”

You thought back to the voice you had heard before you came to, telling you that it wasn’t your time yet. It sounded so familiar, yet your mind couldn’t place whose it was. But you know it’s the reason you’re still alive after what you went through.

“I’m tougher than I look. Venca is going to have a hard time trying to get me,” you say, making Eddie smile. He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand soothingly, making you feel more relaxed at the motion.

“Did you really mean what you said?” He suddenly asks. Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Did I mean what?” You ask.

“That you love me.”

You feel coming to your cheeks at his question. Did you actually say that? It must have been in the heat of the moment, not like you to say that without caution.

“Maybe I do,” you say bashfully. “I’ve taken care of you for a while now, it’s hard not to love you.”

“Oh…” You see the way Eddie curls in on himself, almost embarrassed.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, tugging at his hand.

“I thought you meant you loved me like…” he trails off, but you get what he’s saying.

“Like, more than I should?”

“How much are you supposed to love me?”

“Probably less than I currently do. More on a professional level. Unfortunately, that’s flown out the window because I think I’m closer to head over heels now.”

Eddie straightens up in his chair and you’re almost blinded by how bright he’s beaming. Every bit of doubt you were feeling melted away with the heat of the sun shining through him. 

“Would it be weird to say I love you too?” He asks unsurely.

“Eddie, I just admitted my feelings for you. I’ll be pissed if you don’t say it back,” you joke, making Eddie laugh. 

He lets go of your hand before grabbing onto the side rail of the bed and pressing his other hand into the mattress. In one quick motion, he lifts himself from his chair and pivots until he’s sitting on the side of your bed. You try and move over to make more room for him, but he puts his hands on your shoulders to still you. You turn to look at him, his eyes on you intently as he starts to lean in. You let yours flutter close and wait, a giddy feeling swelling in your chest at the anticipation.

His lips meet yours and there’s an immediate relief that washes over your whole body. You sigh into him, pressing your lips against his in return. It’s nothing more than just a kiss, but you still feel it’s effects pulsing through your body.

“Oh, come on!” 

Eddie practically jumps ten feet in the air when Tonya’s voice erupts in the room. It makes you laugh to see him get so flustered so quickly, moving around unsure of himself like a bad kid being caught.

“What’re they doin?” You hear another voice and immediately recognize it. Wayne steps in the room beside Tonya and you suddenly feel sick. You’d forgotten about Wayne and what he would think about you and Eddie.

“N-nothing!” You stutter out, trying to come up with anything else to say but coming up short.

“They were kissing!” Tonya says, gesturing at the two of you.

This was it, Wayne was going to kill you.

“It was just a hug!” Eddie says, trying to cover for the two of you.

“Bullshit!” Tonya says, and you realize you’re totally fucked.

“Well, ‘bout damn time,” Wayne says with a laugh.

What?

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was Wayne…happy?

“Don’t encourage them! This is not okay!”

“Babe,” Charles says, putting a hand on Tonya’s shoulder. Tonya turns and looks at him, the two of them looking into each other’s eyes. After a minute, Tonya sighs.

“You’re right. If you two can look past everything, I guess I can, too.”

Eddie turns to look at you, confusion written all over his face. “What just happened?”

“Something good, I guess,” you say with a short shrug, wincing at the pain it gives you. Eddie looks at you with concern, his hand coming to rest on your cheek. You give him a small smile, leaning into his touch.

You spent a few days in the hospital, mostly to keep an eye on your concussion. Your injuries consisted of a nasty skull fracture that you likely got from hitting your head on a rock when you landed in the water and a lot of bruising to your body. The doctors said it was amazing you hadn’t broken anything else in the fall, something you were thankful for. As long as you took it easy, you’d start feeling better in no time. 

But taking things easy was harder than you thought it would be.

“You probably shouldn’t even be driving in your condition,” Eddie says, arms crossed as you set your bag down on the couch.

“Eddie, I’m fine,” you argue, hands on your hips. “It’s not like you can’t do a lot on your own now. I’m only here if you need assistance.”

“You sure ya don’t want me to call Rick to come stay with ‘em?” Wayne asks.

“I’m already here, might as well stay,” you say, hoping that will be the end of it.

“Fine, but you’re not lifting a finger while you’re here,” Eddie says with a huff. It makes you smile and frustrated at the same time that he’s so concerned about you.

“What, are you going to take care of me while I’m here?” You tease, but Eddie only nods in response. 

“Yep. It’s my fault you were even hurt to begin with, so it’s only fair I get to take care of you for once.” You bring your hand to your chin and ponder at the thought of Eddie taking care of all the laundry and cooking you dinner. The thought made you laugh, but Eddie wasn’t having it. “What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking about you taking care of me. I can’t wait to see it.” Eddie’s arms relax as he smiles now too, clearly happy to see that you’ve given in to his demands. “So what’s first on the agenda tonight, boss?” You ask him.

“First, you’re going to sit on the couch and prop your feet up,” he says rolling over to you, nudging you towards the couch. “And you’re going to focus on your school work while I…I…”

“Should I order a pizza?” Wayne asks, walking into the kitchen to pick up the phone.

“Pizza sounds awesome,” you say, looking at Eddie. He’s smiles at you sheepishly before mouthing a sorry to you. You pat the cushion next to you on the couch, inviting him to join you. He rolls over, locking his wheels and lifting himself up to move to the couch. You go to grab his waist to help him, but he gives you a “nuh uh” before maneuvering himself over on his own. You look at him impressed, and he gives you a proud look back.

“You’ve been practicing,” you say, nudging him with your elbow.

“Yep,” he says, raising his arms and flexing. “Gotta be strong for ya.”

Eddie’s words make you melt. It was so good to have him back after the way he shut himself out for so long.

“Alright, I’ll be right back,” Wayne says, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. “You two behave yourselves.” He adds before closing the front door behind him. It made heat rise to your cheeks at the implication. 

You and Eddie hadn’t really discussed things between you since you kissed at the hospital, and you wondered if he still had some lingering guilt about what happened that was keeping him from speaking up.

However, you weren’t going to wait around for him anymore. You were planning on getting answers out of him whether he likes it or not.

“So, Eddie,” you say, turning your whole body to face him. Eddie looks at you with a side eye, not liking the suspicious way you’re looking at him right now.

“Y-yes?”

“Why are you so nervous?” You laugh.

“I’m not nervous,” he says, clearly nervous.

“You think I’m going to bite you or something?” You wiggle your fingers at him teasingly.

“Maybe…maybe I like biting,” he says, coming out more coy than he intended it to. 

“Oh, do you?” You lean into him, stopping just short of an inch from his face. Eddie flinches slightly, eyes screwing shut. You decide to mess with him a bit, not moving from your spot until he opens an eye to peek. That’s when you strike, pecking him on the lips and catching him by surprise. He hums in shock, letting out a giggle when you pull away from him. “I don’t know how I’m every going to get used to that,” he says with a toothy grin.

“Well you better get used to it, because you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

Eddie leans in and captures your lips again in a giggly kiss. “I can’t believe I almost gave this up.” He doesn’t sound sad when he says them, but the words are still tainted with a hurt that lingers. It was something you’d been thinking about a lot. That Eddie could not be here with you right now if you hadn’t gotten to him in time. If you hadn’t pulled him back from the edge…

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he says, interrupting your train of thought. 

“No, it’s okay.” You shake your head and give him a small smile. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress his scared face tenderly, taking him in. He was still here, and that’s what mattered. “I wish you knew how much you mean to me.”

Eddie leans into your hand and closes his eyes. “One day I will. It’s just…hard to accept right now.”

“But why?” You ask, wishing you could wipe the frown from his face. He pulls away from your touch and leans back into the couch, gesturing widely to himself.

“I’m not the most desirable guy in the world. I got one leg,” he rubs his hand over the nub of his thigh, “I’m covered in scars, I’ve been seen as a freak pretty much my whole life. And you,” he raises a hand to you, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve even the slightest bit of your attention, let alone your love. It just…doesn’t make sense.”

You place your hand on top of the one on his leg and rub your thumb against his knuckles. It pained you to hear Eddie talk about himself so lowly. You wish there was something you could do to make him realize how worthy of love he was.

Well, there was something you could do. It might not prove much to him, but it could be a start.

Slowly sliding yourself to your knees, you moved yourself until you were on the floor between Eddie’s leg and thigh. He looked down at you with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” He asks, shifting until his back is flush with the couch, almost cowering from you. You place a hand on either thigh and slowly glide them up and down, letting your fingers get dangerously close to Eddie’s crotch with each passing motion.

“I just want you to know how much I care about you,” you say, leaning forward and letting your head rest on his lap. “Is that okay?” You give him an opening to back out, not wanting to push him into anything he doesn’t want to do. This is all still new to you both, and even if you’ve been with each other before, Eddie may want to take things slow. 

Eddie audibly gulps, his eyes locked on yours as you wait for his answer. But he doesn’t give you one. It’s like he’s frozen in place, making you worry. You lift yourself off of him, sitting yourself back on your legs and put your hands up in defense.

“Eddie, I’m sorry I just--”

“No! No, wait--” Eddie leans forward and grabs your hands in his. He shakes his head before giving you a smile that made all the worry melt away. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that. My brain sort of short circuited for a second.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Eddie. I just thought…”

Eddie drops your hands and brings his own to your cheeks. He leans in, bringing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. It’s slow, but makes you burn for him, so you try to up the ante a bit by bringing your tongue to his lower lip. That gets him to open up for you and soon your tongues are dancing between you. Eddie’s still not the greatest kisser, still too eager and using too much tongue. But, with time, you’ll teach him how to properly kiss you.

You push against him with your mouth so that he would start to ease back against the couch, letting your hands find his legs again. This time, you let your hands meet at his crotch, one of them resting right over where you can feel him getting hard in his sweats. Eddie lets out a groan against your lips at the feeling of you touching him that pokes at the fire inside of you. You let your hand wrap around his still clothed length and give a slight squeeze, making Eddie jump against you.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie says, leaning back to look at you with lidded eyes. You bring a hand up to his chest and push him back, his body going lax as he hits the back of the couch. Your hand rubs him through his pants a bit, giving him a bit of a tease before the main attraction. 

Finally, you let your hand wander up to his waistband, fingers dipping into it as you start to pull it down. You discover very quickly that he’s not wearing any boxers beneath them as his cock springs to life from the confines of the cotton pants. It’s hard and red and twitching under your gaze, and you can’t help but water at the mouth for it.

Taking a hand to it, you slowly start to work it, moving up and down against the velvety skin of his shaft. You make sure to pay extra attention to the tip, putting pressure on it when your hand rolls over it. Eddie’s hands grip the cushions of the couch as you work him in your soft hands, letting out little sounds here and there the more you move.

“Mmmph, that feels so good,” He whimpers out, voice strained.

“This isn’t even the best part,” you tease, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I can’t imagine it getting better,” Eddie says, eyes closing as his breath starts to pick up.. And, boy, are you ready to blow his mind. 

You take your hand off of him, making Eddie’s eyes open slightly to look down at you. He watches in awe as you spread his thighs apart and scooch in between them, his heart almost skipping a beat as you lean in until your barely an inch from his cock. Opening your mouth, you keep your eyes on him as you take the tip inside. Eddie lets out a hiss at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his cock, hand shooting to the top of your head and gripping at your crown. 

He doesn’t force you, more so just holding you to keep himself grounded as you begin to move your mouth on him. You go slow for the first few bobs, letting yourself get adjusted to his size so you don’t gag yourself too hard. But once you’ve gotten yourself opened up you start to go to town. His tip hits the back of your throat each time you go down, but you take it like a champ, not backing down with how Eddie starts to make so much noise.

He’s so happy Wayne isn’t home right now. He doesn’t think he’d be able to keep his voice down if he tried. You were trying to suck his soul through his dick and it was working with how light he was starting to feel. His mind flashed back to the night the two of you spent together and how you looked riding on top of him. Even in his depressive state, he still couldn’t help but think back to that night over and over. It was the best night of his life, and he wanted so badly to relive it again, much like you were doing for him now. 

But, even with how well you were moving on his cock, Eddie was being selfish and wanted more. He wanted to feel you again like he had that night, and with the rate that you were going, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. So he did some quick work, getting a better grip on your head and pushing it back. And boy was that a mistake, because you popped off him with the most fucked out expression on your face Eddie’s ever seen.

“Why’d you stop--” But Eddie doesn’t let you finish, slamming his lips against yours again, shoving his tongue into your mouth. He tastes himself on you and moans into you, eliciting a groan from you in return.

Eddie pulls away quickly, leaving you to chase after him. But he has other things planned as he grabs your arms and pulls you up into his lap.

“Mmm, what’re you doing?” You ask as you straddle his thighs, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“Want you,” he says, looking up at you. “Need you.”

“Oh, is that so?”

 You let your hands fall from his shoulders, slipping them down his chest. Backing up until you stand in front of him, you give him a little smirk as you go for the button of your jeans and undo it. He watches in anticipation as you bend over, pushing your pants down to your ankles and kicking them off of you, leaving you in your panties. You grab the hem of your sweater and pull it off as well, letting it drop to the floor next to you. Eddie’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes you in. You weren’t really expecting this, so you didn’t dress in a nice set or anything, but Eddie seemed to be the last one to care.

You decide to tease him more, turning around so your back was facing him as you undid your bra. You let it fall unceremoniously onto the ground before giving a little look over your shoulder. Eddie’s eyes were lazier focused on you, barely blinking so not to miss a single moment of the show you were putting on for him. 

That’s when you decided to up the ante. You let your thumbs slip into the sides of your panties and begin to slide them down off of you. Bending over, you make sure they get all the way to the ground before stopping for a moment. You wiggle your ass a bit for good measure and you know it’s affecting him by the sounds you hear coming from him. 

You snap to straighten up and step out of your panties, leaving them on the floor where you dropped them before turning to face Eddie. You find that he’s lazily stroking himself, eyes still glued to your body as you stand before him. “Holy shit,” Eddie says, mouth slacked open like he’s in a trance, hypnotized by you. 

You step forward and climb back into Eddie’s lap, letting your tits sit at eye level for him. He leans his head back in awe to get a good look at them, eyes darting back and forth like he can’t decide where to let his gaze land. You giggle at his goofiness and let your arms wrap around his shoulders, the proximity of your chest to his face increasing. Eddie feels like he doesn’t know what to do with you so close to him, so he just lets his face fall in between your plush breasts. You can’t keep back the laugh that erupts from you at his antics.

”Enjoying yourself?” You ask, bringing a hand to the back of his head. Eddie nods against your chest, which only makes you laugh more. “Well, while you distract yourself with that…” you say as you lower your bottom half against him until you can feel his length between you. You let your weight push down until your slit is pressing against his cock and begin to rock your hips forward and back on it. Eddie starts to groan into your chest, his hips bucking slightly into you. The pressure of his cock against your clit makes your breath hitch, only making you feel needier for him as you continue to move. 

Suddenly, Eddie is pulling away from your chest, his hands finding purchase on your hips to stop you from moving. You look down at him curiously, unsure as to why he made you stop.

”Can I try something?” He seems bashful with how he’s refusing to look up at you. But his question has your interest piqued. Eddie is still new to all of this, so you can only imagine what he may be wanting to do.

”Please,” you say, giving him the go ahead.

Eddie’s right hand loosens its grip from your hip and slowly starts to move between you. You watch as he slips his hand under you, touching your core with his fingertips. His hand explores you, feeling around at your underparts until a finger catches your entrance.

”Is that it?” He asks, looking up to you with wide eyes. You giggle at his innocence and nod. He swallows thickly before looking back down where his hand was. You feel his hand moving, and then his finger slips inside of you, the coolness of his rings stinging your skin. You let a little moan slip from your lips at the intrusion, and Eddie’s eyes are on you again. He watches you intently as he begins to move his finger in and out of you, keeping an eye on your face to gauge your reaction to his movements.

 It honestly wasn’t doing much for you, but you found it too cute that he wanted to do this with you that you just let him do his own thing at first. But the way his brows pinched together had you thinking that he was catching on so you decided to intervene.

“Eddie.” You say his name gently and he stops his movements all together to focus on you. “Go like this.” You raise your hand up and put your fingers up so that your middle and pointer were together, curling them together to show him what to do.

”O-okay,” he says with a nod. He looks down again, and you can feel another finger making its way into you. It already feels better just from the fullness of two fingers inside you, and you hum when he starts to move them inside you. 

Pushing your hips down, Eddie’s fingers dip into you further and you start to feel him moving against that spot deep inside you. “Shit, yeah, right there,” you say, letting your head fall back as you feel the little shock waves through your body. You let your hands roam up your sides until they reached your breasts, taking them in your hands and fondling yourself in tandem with Eddie’s movements. It all felt so good, but there was still one thing missing that you needed to resolve.

”You’re good with your hands right?” You say, looking down at Eddie with a smirk.

”Uh, yeah, I play guitar,” he says, unsure of what you’re getting at. You reach a hand down between your legs and grab his thumb, positioning the rough pad of it on your aching clit.

”Move it back and forth.”

Eddie follows your command, pausing his fingers to try and get a good rhythm with his thumb. It sent a heat all through you, but you couldn’t help but feel bad watching the way his face contorts as he moves his hands around, unsure if it was hurting him to move his hands like this.

”Eddie, as good as this feels, you don’t have to do this,” you say, tilting his head up with your finger.

”I know, but I want to. Wanna make you cum first,” he says, eyes moving all over your face like he can’t decide where to look.

”You’re so sweet, but this is supposed to be about you, remember? I’m doing this to make you feel good.”

”Can I try a little more. I’ll get the hang of it, I promise.” How could you say no to someone so eager to give you pleasure. Especially when they look so cute doing it. You give him a nod and he smiles at you, his tongue poking out from between his lips as he gets back into the groove.

He wastes no time getting down to business, moving his fingers in tandem with his thumb in a way that takes you by surprise with how good it feels. Your mouth drops open, and you have to grab his shoulders to keep you steady as he fucks his fingers into you. “Oh my god,” you say as he starts to move faster, getting a good pace going. You say his name breathily and he lets out a low chuckle.

”That feel good, baby?” He looks up at you and the cocky expression on his face had you shook. “Like it when I work you up like this?” 

Where was all this confidence coming from you had no idea, but you were loving it. “Y-yes,” you stutter out, followed by a low moan. 

“You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my fingers?” 

“Yes, yes yes!” Eddie’s words get the better of you as you feel that coil in you tightening, threatening to snap at any moment. Eddie’s free hand comes to your face, taking it gently as he guides you to face him. He looks you straight in the eyes and it’s like you’re seeing a whole new side of him that you didn’t know he had in him. 

“Look so pretty like this,” he cooes, and for some reason that does you in. Your vision of him goes blurry as your eyes roll back from how hard you cum. He keeps moving his fingers in you as you go through the motions, and you eventually had to grab his hand and physically pull it away from you from how over sensitive you were getting. 

You sat down in his lap and caught your breath, just looking at the way he was beaming with joy so bright it was almost blinding. Looking over at his hand, you noticed the way his fingers were twitching and grabbed it, not caring about your wetness being all over it. You spread his hand open and began to massage it gently, hoping to take some of the pain away.

”Thanks,” he says, looking at your hand moving his. Then he lets out a little giggle that had you looking at him crazy.

”What’s so funny?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

”I made you cum,” he says with a cheesy smile.

”That you did,” you say with a chuckle. You let your hands drop between you, and you almost forgot about his hard cock until you felt it hit your hand. 

“Guess it’s your turn now,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. His smile drops at the tone of your voice, eyes going wide as he watches you lift yourself up in his lap and hover over him. You grab him with your hand and line him up with your entrance, keeping an eye on his reactions as you slowly start to lower yourself down onto him. Eddie takes his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes screwing shut until you’ve gotten yourself fully seated in his lap. It feels so good to have him so deep, but you’re not letting yourself lose control so easy now that you’re back in it.

With a roll of your hips, Eddie lets out a gasp that was music to your ears. It was enough to keep you going, setting a steady rhythm as you moved your body against his. But as good as it felt for you to grind yourself against him, you decided that you needed to give him more. 

You positioned yourself so that you were steady on your knees and began to bounce on him. Eddie let out a few curse words as you started to move, making you laugh to yourself at his reaction. You moved yourself up and down on him, feeling the way he moved in and out of you so deliciously. That combined with his fat tip hitting that sweet spot over and over again had you already winding up for another orgasm. 

You leaned forward, pushing yourself into Eddie to let your bodies get close as you continued your movements on him. Your lips met his in a feverish kiss and you can tell by the way he’s having a hard time keeping up with you that he was definitely affected by everything you’re doing to him. But you don’t stop, wanting to get him as worked up as possible under you. 

He lets out little whimpers against your lips before pulling his head back from yours. “Fuck, feels so good,” he says, breathing labored as you continue to fuck him. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” he chants, and you wouldn’t dream of it. 

You pull away from him, leaning back with your hands on his thighs as you keep moving on him. Eddie’s eyes are locked between you, watching the way he disappears in and out of your tight cunt. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge again, so close to cumming once again that you have to bring your hand to your clit to give yourself that last little push. But Eddie doesn’t let you do it for long, pushing your hand out of the way so he can replace your fingers with his. He mimics your motions and it has your moaning out into the open air of the living room.

“Fuck, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!” You can’t hold back your voice as you feel yourself going over the edge, immediately stilling your hips as you reach your peak. You gasp out, throwing yourself forward and wrapping yourself around Eddie’s neck, burying your face in his shoulder as your whole body shakes in pleasure.

”Shit, fuck—“ Eddie grunts out, his hands gripping your hips as he suddenly goes rigid under you. Through your haze you can feel him cum inside of you, cock twitching as he does. You should probably be concerned with what’s happening, but you’re too boneless to care, letting Eddie fill you up until he had nothing left to give.

The two of you were still for a moment, just soaking in each other’s presence in your embrace. Eddie’s breathing was still a bit labored, his chest pressing into yours with each breath he took. You took a little bit of his hair in your finger and twisted it around it, examining the dead ends and thinking about how long it was getting.

”I need to cut your hair soon,” you say, breaking the silence between you. Eddie hums, turning his head to look down at his hair.

”You think so? I was trying to let it grow out some more.”

You nod against his shoulder, letting the hair drop from your hand. “Just the ends. It’ll grow longer faster if you keep the ends healthy.”

”You shoulda been a hair dresser,” Eddie says, smiling at you.

”I only know this stuff because of Tonya. I don’t think I could do what she does,” you say, shaking your head.

”But you can do nursing? Doesn’t that seem like a harder job?”

You push yourself off of Eddie so you can look down at him. You take a moment to admire him and the way he looks up at you with a light in his eyes that makes your tummy do flips. You realize in this moment that you’re…happy. Like, truly happy. It felt like all the pieces were starting to fall into place, and that this was what was supposed to happen for you all along. All the hardships you’ve had in your life lead you to this very moment, and you couldn’t be happier.

”What?” Eddie asks with a soft giggle, grinning at you.

”Nothing,” you say, taking your hands and cupping his face. You lean in and leave a kiss on his lips, eliciting a giggle from him. 

Suddenly, you hear the sound of Wayne’s truck pulling up in the driveway, his tires crunching loud against the gravel. You look down at Eddie, and his wide eyed expression matches yours. Jumping up, you pull yourself from Eddie with a hiss and get back on your feet. Your legs still feel wobbly from all the exertion, but you do your best to steady yourself, grabbing all your clothes from off of the floor and booking it straight to the bathroom. You feel bad for leaving Eddie behind, but trusted he could situate himself without your help.

You hear the front door open just as you close the bathroom door shut. You try and listen through the door, pressing your ear to the wood to try and hear better. Wayne says something to Eddie but his voice is too muffled to make out he’s saying. It doesn’t sound like a yell so you figured you were in the clear, letting out a sigh of relief.

That left you to tend to your current situation. You could feel the mess between your legs starting to drip down your thighs and silently wished that you could take a shower. But you worried about it being too suspicious to take one now, so you’d just have to do your best to clean yourself up. At least you’d have an excuse to take a shower with Eddie later.

Once you were straightened up and fully clothed, you rejoined the Munson men in the kitchen.

”There she is,” Wayne says, lifting the lid to the pizza box open for you to take a slice. You grabbed one and shoved some in your mouth, humming in satisfaction.

”That was fast,” you say, looking at Wayne. 

“They weren’t busy. Plus, they fixed up some’ve the roads in town so it was easier to get to get in and outta there.”

“That’s good,” you nod, “You can sit and enjoy it before work.”

”Yep,” Wayne says, finishing the last of his slice before grabbing another one. “So, what’d y’all do while I was gone?” Eddie chokes on his drink as he sips it, starting a coughing fit that had you patting his back to try and help him. Wayne looks at him with a quirked brow. “You good, boy?” 

“Y-yeah,” he coughs a little more, beating his fist against his chest. “Sorry, went down the wrong pipe.”

”We just, um, we talked while you were gone. Nothing crazy,” you say, hoping that you saved the situation with your lie.

”Well that’s good,” Wayne says, taking a bite of his pizza. You were relieved that he believed you, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. 

The three of you continued to eat your pizza until you were stuffed, putting the left overs in Wayne’s lunch for the night while he was getting ready for work. Eddie got himself situated on the couch, flipping through the channels to find something to watch as you got out some of your schoolwork to work on. He settled on watching Terminator and you cracked open your textbook and got to working on homework. 

“Y’all have a good night,” Wayne says as he grabs his keys, heading out the door for the night. You both give him a goodbye as he goes, the room going quiet once he’s left. It’s not an awkward quiet, though, rather a peaceful one. You didn’t need to be talking to Eddie to enjoy his company, just simply having him there with you was enough.

It stayed like that for a few hours, just the two of you keeping quiet while the other was preoccupied with what they were doing. Eddie got up at one point, returning to the living room with his notebook and a pencil, joining you on the floor as he used the coffee table to write on. You peaked over at the notebook and noticed he was writing something out on one of the pages.

”What are you working on?” You ask curiously.

”Some lyrics to a song,” he says, tapping the pencil on the page.

”Are you guys going to start writing music again?”

”I don’t know about that,” he says, rolling his head to the side. “But, this feels like a good way to get some of my emotions out. I guess it’s more like writing poetry since I don’t have any music to go with it.”

”When was the last time you played your guitar?”

Eddie was still where he sat, gaze set on the papers in front of him. With the shift in mood you felt like maybe you asked the wrong question. You know it’s been a while, the guitar case sitting in his closet collecting dust since you’ve started coming to take care of him. His hands were getting better, though, so you don’t see why he couldn’t try and pick it back up again.

”Do you know…it’s been a year already?” He says lowly, lip quivering as he speaks.

”Since you played?” Eddie only nods, and you can tell there’s something else bothering him. You reach out and put a hand on his arm, rubbing it up and down. “Eddie, what’s wrong?” He glances down at your hand and lets out a sniffle.

”It’s been a whole year since…since everything. Since Chrissy. Since they thought I killed her and I went on the run. Since I went into that damn place and—” Tears are running down his cheeks as he goes on, and you just let him get it out. You knew that it was March last year when everything went down, but you didn’t think it was today. 

You shift where you sit, moving your body so you can wrap Eddie in a tight embrace. He starts sobbing then, the tears soaking your shoulder as he presses his face into you. You give him soft shushes and tell him he’s okay hoping that it would help him calm down a bit.

You’re not sure how long you held him for, but you didn’t let go until he quieted down. Pulling back, you watched as he wipes his tears away with his shirt, still sniffling as he tries to steady his breathing. “Eddie,” you say softly, not wanting to startle him. He glances up at you, eyes still glassy and now rimmed red from all the crying. 

“I know that nothing I say will make it better, but I just want to tell you that I love you and I’m happy you’re here. And I’m always going to be here when it gets bad like this, okay? You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Eddie sighs, rubbing his hand over his face as he nods. “Yeah,” he croaks out, “I know that now. Thank you.”

You place a hand on either of his cheeks and rub your thumbs soothingly against his skin. He gives you a soft smile and leans into your touch, one of his hands resting on top of yours. 

“Why don’t we go take a shower?” You ask, changing the subject to try and distract him from any lingering thoughts he may be having. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, sitting up and getting himself situated. He uses the couch to raise himself up onto the cushion, then pulls his chair over and hops in it. Even if you’ve seen him do it before, you were still amazed at how much he was able to do on his own now. You were so proud of him.

You grab your bag and the two of you head back into his room and you get the bathroom ready for the two of you to shower. You grab an extra towel and lay it next to Eddie’s as he works on getting undressed. “Do you want help getting out of your chair?” You ask as you start to undress, putting your clothes in the hamper with his to wash tomorrow.

”Nah, I got it,” he says, using the railing to pull himself up on his leg, body plopping into the plastic shower chair with a creak. He turns to look over at you and his eyes go wide as he takes you in. You laugh at his crazed expression, not sure what all the fuss is about.

”What?”

”You’re showering, too?” He gulps, eyes still locked on your naked body.

”Yeah, I said we were taking a shower. Is that okay?” You didn’t think he would mind, but now you were starting to second guess yourself. Was it too soon to be doing stuff like this together?

”No, it’s fine,” Eddie stutters out, his hands coming to his crotch to cover himself. “I just—“

”Eddie, are you getting hard again?” You ask with a giggle. He looks at you like he’s been caught red handed, a red tint to his cheeks that you can see as you walk over to him.

”Would you be mad if I was? I mean we just did it earlier…”

”Eddie, I’m never going to be mad at you for how your body reacts. I just think it’s cute is all.”

”Okay,” he says, uncovering himself so his hard cock is out in the open. Part of you is telling you to ignore it so he doesn’t get more embarrassed, but the primal part of your brain is telling you to wrap your lips around him and suck his soul out of his body. You decided on the former for now and grabbed the shower head, turning the water on and letting it warm up against your palm.

What you didn’t know was that Eddie was absolutely losing his mind as you stood in front of him. He wanted to reach out and touch you but was afraid of how you might react. He knows you had sex once today, but Eddie felt like he could go again already. Was something wrong with him? He couldn’t help it, he was just so attracted to you that he didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to not get hard again just from looking at you. Not when he had the image of you coming undone on his cock still fresh in his mind.

”Okay, it’s ready,” you say, snapping Eddie out of his thoughts. Eddie’s eyes are fixed on your ass as you reach up to replace the shower head, trying to memorize the way it sways as you move. 

You jump when you feel something touching you from behind. Looking over your shoulder, you see Eddie has his hand on your ass, his gaze fixed on your rear end.

”Like what you see?” You tease, and Eddie immediately retracts his hand and curls it into his body.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

”Eddie, I don’t care that you touch me.” You turn around to face him, grabbing his hands and wrapping them around your body until they land on either cheek of your ass. He looks up at you like you’ve shocked him, his body tense below you.

”This is so weird.” It’s not the words Eddie wanted to say, but it’s the words that came out of his mouth. He could kick himself for being so uncool right now.

”You’ll get used to it.” You grab one of the wash clothes that were laid out and ran it under the water before grabbing the soap and lathering it up. You took the cloth and started to rub it on Eddie’s body. He watched as you cleaned him, and somehow this action felt more intimate than the two of you having sex. It wasn’t sexual, but it wasn’t clinical like other times you’ve taken care of him before. It had a feeling of domesticity to it that was new for the both of you. 

Eddie’s hands slid from your ass and landed on your hips, squeezing you gently in his grasp. He closed his eyes as you continued to clean him, making sure to be extra gentle around the scars that adorned his body. You wanted to kiss them, every single one. They were going to be a constant reminder of what he went through for the rest of his life, and you wanted to just take that pain away from him. But you can’t, so you’ll just have to do everything you can to remind him that what he went through doesn’t define him. 

You’ve scrubbed the top half of his body thoroughly by now, so now it was time to move lower. Eddie was still hard, and you didn’t know if you should ignore it or if it was time to acknowledge it. You moved the washcloth down his abdomen until you reached his cock, washing around it first. Eddie let out a small hum when you brought the washcloth to the base of his cock, and you decided that you were just going to go for it. 

You took the washcloth in your hand and wrapped it around his cock. He jerked at the contact, his head tilting back as you moved it up and down his length. “Fuck,” he breathes out, his dead drooping forward to watch you work him. His eyes were heavily lidded, his mouth agape as you moved your hand around him. 

“S’that feel good?” You ask him, not stopping your movements. He nods lazily, his eyes opening and closing the more worked up he gets. Watching him get worked up again was doing something for you, that tingly feeling coming back between your legs. You decided to just give in to the feeling, letting the washrag drop from your hands before jerking him with your bare hands.

”Shit,” he hisses at the feeling of your soft skin on his. You keep pumping him, and he moans when you pick up the pace. His grip on your hips tightens and his hips start to lightly buck into your hand as you continue on. 

All the sudden, his hand leaves your hip and reaches up to grab behind your head. He pulls you closer to him as he leans forward, your lips colliding in immediate passion. All teeth and tongues moving in sync as you devour each other like you were starving for the other’s touch. 

Then you pulled away, leaving him to chase after you. But you weren’t going to wait another second to feel him again. You kicked your leg around his shower chair, hand still on his length to hold him in place as you lowered yourself onto him. Once the tip was in, you did a quick maneuver to bring your other leg around the chair, leaving you to sink down fully on his cock in one swift motion. You gasp out from the feeling of being so full so quickly, and Eddie can’t bite back the groan that is pushed from his lungs.

You give yourself a second to adjust in the seat, doing your best to get leverage so you could move on him. But once you were stable, you grasped his shoulders and started moving in short bounces on his cock. The sounds of wet slapping mixed with yours and Eddie’s moans echoed in the bathroom. 

As you moved on Eddie’s cock, you leaned into him and met his lips once again. Eddie wrapped his arms around you and held you close, your wet chests rubbing together as you rode him with reckless abandon. Even when you felt the water starting to get cold you were almost thankful because of how hot you were feeling as you moved at a steady pace. You only stopped moving up and down to switch to rolling your hips, grinding your clit into his pelvis to get that stimulation you were craving.

”Mmm, fuck, Eddie,” you whine against his lips and he let out a breathy moan of his own.

”Fuck, you feel so good.” His voice is strained as he speaks. You press kisses against the side of his lips, then his cheek, working your way down until you get to his neck. You kiss and bite at his skin there, Eddie seemingly enjoying it by the sounds he’s making. “Holy fuck, fuck!” Eddie yells out when you bite down on the skin under his ear. It was then that Eddie grabbed your hips, stilling your movements as you felt him stiffen under you, hope ropes of cum shooting inside of you as he came. You watched him come undone, his whole face contorting in pleasure as he rode out his high. 

Once he relaxed, his whole body went limp as his hands fell from your hips. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how spent he was, the way his head hung like he’d just exerted all of his energy. You thought he’d enjoyed himself quite a bit until he looked up at you with a concerned look on his face.

“What?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Did you cum?” He asks with genuine concern.

“No, but it’s okay,” you reassure him.

“No it’s not,” he says shaking his head. “You’re supposed to cum, too.”

“I’m not going to cum every time, Eddie. That’s just how it is,” you say with a shrug. But Eddie doesn’t like that answer, his hand making it’s way between you and probing around with his thumb.

“Where is it?” He says, his tongue poking out between his lips.

“Eddie!” You laugh, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away.

“C’mon, let me get you off,” he whines, trying to shake your grip from his hand. “I don’t want to be one of those guys who doesn’t get his girls to cum.”

“It’s really okay, Eddie. You made me cum earlier so it’s not like I went without.”

Eddie scoffs, looking like you wounded him with your words. But you ignore his pouting, moving to get off of him as your legs were starting to cramp from the position you were in. The water in the shower was almost ice, so you turned it as hot as it would go to see if you could get enough warm water to rinse yourselves off. 

After a quick wash off, the two of you got out of the shower and dried off to get ready for bed. You blow dried and brushed through Eddie’s hair, getting out all the tangles from the day until you were satisfied with how it looked. You pulled at the ends and tried to gauge how much you’d need to cut off when you eventually cut it, guessing at around an inch or so. Eddie just watched you, enjoying the way you played with his hair. He’s never been happier to have decided to let it grow out his freshman year after buzzing it all off. He’d never cut it again if it meant you’d keep touching him like this.

Soon the two of you made your way to the bed and crawled inside, both of you worn out from all of the activity you’d done today. Eddie pulled you into him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders so you could lay against his shirtless chest, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed. It was quiet as the two of you laid there, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness of his room.

“I love you,” Eddie says softly, barely above a whisper.

“I love you, too, Eds,” you say back, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. You couldn’t see it, but Eddie was cheesing over the fact that you said it back. He really couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have you, and that you actually loved him, despite everything.

“It still feels weird to say.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

thanks for reading!

[knightyoomyoui]

My Wife's Unbeatable Cake [+18]

ft. TWICE's Mina (x Male Reader)

TYPE: Fluff, Smut

WORD COUNT: 2782

NOTE: Belated happy birthday once again to our beloved penguin!

DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

TAGS: ass worship, ass eating, breeding, creampie, anal sex, food kink, LITERALLY EVERYTHING IS ABOUT GYATT

DESCRIPTION:

As a loving husband, you surprised your wife a cake on her birthday. In return, she gave you her own that will make you crave a lot from now on.

START

===OOO===

It’s your wife Mina’s birthday. You just got out of your work and the current time had you in distraught.

Lady luck is on your side, your decision to pick your bicycle as a means of transportation for today gave you a huge assist to travel smoothly. There was a slight traffic going on in an another road, with your bike it managed you to find an alternate yet narrow route to your destination.

“Shoot, 5 minutes.” You looked at your watch. Both feet went faster on spinning the pedal until a familiar place with its bright lights still open caught your eyes.

“Don’t close yet, don’t close yet!!!” You hit the brake and quickly hopped out of the bike to enter the store. Just as when the owner comes close to the door and flip the placard from OPEN to CLOSED, you showed up at her glass door and gestured not to.

Your sudden appearance gave her a jumpscare. She opened the door and looks at you with her hand on her chest and face looking astounded. “My god, you gave me a heart attack there. What is it?”

“I know you’re about to close but can I please buy one more cake? It’s my wife’s birthday and I just got out from work.” You pleaded, hands praying for her kindness. “This is the bakery she always go to, that’s why I can’t find any more place other than this.”

The owner looks around at the shop to inspect then returned you with a sigh and a sassy expression. “Aside from scaring me to death, fine. I appreciate the compliments. Hurry, go in.” She opened the door wide and you followed her before she finally flips the card to CLOSED.

“What are you going to order?”

“This caramel paradise, please.” 

She takes it out from the shelf and placed it on the counter. “Any message you want me to write on the cake?”

“Yeah.” She handed you a piece of paper and a ballpen. You wrote it and gave it back to her.

She copied your note on the cake, you watched how flawlessly she swirls the frosting as she forms letters each by each on the cake’s surface. After finishing, she wrapped it up with a box and grabbed some candles.

“I wish you wife a happy birthday and thanks for visiting my store often.”

“Thank you so much and you’re welcome as well.” You bowed respectfully at her and left the store instantly. Looking at the box of cake with you, a huge smile grew in your lips.

Driving back home, you parked your bike in the garage and knocked at the door. You feel energized to see your wife’s reaction to this little surprise you have for her.

She opened the door, your lovely wife Mina standing in front of you in her nightgown. “You’re back.” She looked at you with a smile.

Revealing the box you’ve been hiding on your back, you presented it to her proudly. “Surprise! Got you some present to end the night.”

“Woah, is this cake?” Mina was awed by it. She observed it and excitement starting to fill her up inside. “Is this from the bakery I always go to?”

“Yup. There’s nothing more I could trust than that if it’s for you. Also, I bought your favorite.”

Mina glances dearly at you. You entered the house and closed the door. 

You stood closer at her and gently grabb

ed her to be wrapped around your embrace. “Happy Birthday, my Minari.” A greeting with a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m so touched. Arigato, honey.” Mina shyly said. “Change yourself, I can’t wait for us to eat this.”

You ran through your bedroom and undressed your work attire back into your normal home  clothing. As you went downstairs, you find Mina unboxing the cake with her eyes sparkling as she watched how delicious the cake looks. 

“Allow me.” You approached her and took the candle on the table. Grabbing a lighter from the kitchen, you clicked it and lit up its end before inserting the candle on the center of the cake.

Taking out your cellphone, you went to Spotify to play a song. As you clicked it, a Happy Birthday instrumental can be heard, and Mina chuckled while you began to sang to her.

“Go on, make a wish.” Mina closes her eyes and clasped her hands. While she does that, you took the precious time to admire her beauty up close. 

She opened her eyes again and blew the candle. Both of you clapped in celebration. “Short story, I almost didn’t able to grab this one.”

“Why?”

“If it wasn’t for my bike, I would be stuck on the traffic there plus, as usual my boss is a pain in the ass.” You rolled your eyes in frustration. Mina stifled her laughter and patted your chest.

“My poor husband, it would be bad if it happened but as you see, it didn’t. Let’s just be happy that this “surprise” of yours for me was a success.” Mina cheered you up. “You must be scared that I might be mad at you if you didn’t gave me a gift?”

“Yeah.” You frowned.

Mina kisses you and pinched your cheek. “So thoughtful of you. Don’t worry, I’m even happier now that I’m with you to make this birthday lasts until the end. Grab a plate, I can’t wait anymore to eat this.” 

You handed Mina one as well from the dishrack. You sliced the cake for her and applied one to her plate including yours.

First bite, and Mina hummed in satisfaction right as she tasted that caramel’s right amount of sweetness on her mouth. You joined her reaction as you find it amazingly good.

“This is the best cake I’ve eaten for years. Thank you so much for this, love.” 

“Anytime. Eat up whatever you want, it’s all yours.

After you cleaned up your plate, you returned it at the sink. Mina looked at you surprisingly. “You’re already finished? You just took a slice.”

“I’m not that much of an avid cake enthusiast. It’s delicious but not the type of food I’ll eat for another plate and so on.” You answered. “Hey, atleast this would be fine. We can just store the rest on the fridge for you to munch tomorrow or the days after.”

“Well I guess you’re right.” Mina shrugged and continued eating her cake until in its last pieces. You were just using your phone beside her when she stood up and placed hers on the sink.

“I guess I have to empty mine immediately because I have something for you tonight also, honey.” Mina walked towards you. You turned off your phone and looked upwards to see your wife standing in front of you and began stroking your hair.

“For me? What for?”

“You know, just as a simple thank you in return from me. I was actually planning this since earlier while you were away, then as you come home and brought me some cake I realized how coincidental it was.” She shared.

“I know you don’t like cake as much, but I don’t want to be the one who has a gift for tonight. I want you to feel appreciated for staying by my side and making me happy on my birthday too, honey.” Your jaw dropped when Mina turns her back around you and bent forward. Her sweatpants spoiling the outline of her panties was already enticing.

Not until when she pulled its waistband down, you gulped with eye wides open at the sight of her huge butt barely concealed by her lace clad red panties all exposed at you.

“I’m going to change your mind tonight, baby. I have a cake of my own that you’ll surely enjoy. Go on, have a taste.”

You rushed out of the seat to push Mina through the back of the couch. Her ass is in full display on you. You helped her remove her lower garments sticking on her ankle to allow her spread her legs further before spanking her cheeks, the ripple physics present at how soft it was.

“F-fuck, you love this cake I have for you?”

“Hell yes, Mina. This ain’t no just a cake right here, you got the whole bakery in you.” You kneeled and inhaled the lavender scent of her freshly washed rear, burying your nose into the confined gaps of her cheeks. You tugged them down, and now the bare flash is ready for you to devour.

“Tell me how you love it. I wanna hear it.” Mina bit her lips as she feels how great your hands around her plump end. You resumed fondling her cheeks before you started planting kisses one by one.

“Good lord,  love how big it was.” You weighed and examined its entire size on your palm, your fingers almost sinking from its fluffiness. “ So soft. So smooth.” Smooch. You squeezed the upper part and you went lower, making sure she can still feel your gentle massage while you worship it. “You did it, I take back my word. I won’t prefer anything except this.” Another smooch.

You spreaded her cheeks to view her inviting taut ring. “Look at this. The perfect cherry on top.” You smirked before giving it a kiss and some tonguing as well, Mina gasped at your mouthwork ensuring not a single spot won’t be left unattended. 

“F-fuck, mhm yes. That’s the sweet spot right there, hon.”

“I can tell that. It’s tasty.” Another peck was left before you aggressively rubbed your face across her butt, with Mina helping you by swaying her hips back and forth.

“I can’t ever get enough of this, Mina.”

“I wish you won’t. This is all for you to have.” She said as she continued swaying her hips while you slap her cheeks alternatively.

“You’ll allow me to eat this anytime I like?” 

“Yes.”

“Louder!”

“YES!!! IT’S ALL YOURS FOR FREE!” Mina breathes deeply as screamed with the combination of arousal and pain caused by your intimidating treatment.

“Y-yes!” Another slap echoed in the room.

“AGAIN!”

“I’m definitely going to request a daily serving of this, Mina. Fuck all the cakes out there, this is simply the best. Only mine to devour, just for free… and my chances to have this are unlimited.” You said as you admired the view of her curve like a masterpiece it is.

“You’re not done yet, aren’t you?”

“Oh no I’m not. Hold on, I just thought of something to try for a little spin.” You left her bent on the couch as you searched on the kitchen shelves. Returning back to your spot, you were about to kneel when you noticed something dripping on her thighs.

“I want you to be satisfied, t-that’s why.” 

“Somebody is really excited.” Mina blushed as she got caught. “It’s overflowing. Very considerate of you, Mina. You provided an additional filling for more flavor.” You remarked, parting her vaginal lips for a wider view with your thumb.

“Oh I will, and I’ll do the same for you. I’ll fill you up with my generous tip for your perfectly made dessert after I’m done.” You ran your fingertips at the stream of pre-cum on Mina’s thighs and tasted it. Straight from the source, you lapped and sipped the sweet fluid greedily like your life depends on it, causing Mina to moan out loud at the pleasure.

Going back to the things that you found in the kitchen, you opened a bottle of pancake syrup and poured it down on her butt. Mina felt a pool of slimy and thick substance behind her.

“Ahhh mhmmph haaa~” She whimpered at the sensation of your tongue gliding across her skin to scatter the syrup around. “Oh yes! Bite me down there, eat my ass however you like!” She yelled as you used your jaw more actively now at this point, gnawing at the spit and syrup ridden flesh like its indeed a baked dough you’re consuming.

Another bottle occupied your hands, consisting a whipped cream. You sprayed some on the other half and also on her slick pussy. “Good idea you got there, honey. Don’t stop, please.” Mina said as her handling on the couch’s cover tightened with every ticklish spark you create into her senses with your touch.

You ran your tongue through the length of her creamy velvet pie, encouraging Mina to escape incomprehensible sounds. You hollowed your mouth to suck the coated bun of hers intensely, turning yourself into a perverted human vacuum just to service your wife in ecstasy.

Lowering yourself, you targeting that popping cherry topped on her pie. You placed a pint of cream on your fingers and poked it on the correct spot before you bite it gently, licked, and suck it, enough to finally make Mina shiver on her legs as she barely can support herself anymore on the couch.

Now convinced that she has to meet her peak to properly conclude her special dessert, Mina felt something large and long running through her asscrack, a needy grin evident on her face.

“Here’s my tip for your delicious dessert, Mina.”

“Yes, thank you. Give it to me, please. I highly appreciate it that you would.”

Opening her gap, you slowly inserted your cock inside her hole. Mina lets outs a whine and you continue moving your hips to let your cock reach the depths of her delectable ass.

“Ungh ugh hmph fuck grr yes I love this so much.” Mina said through her moans with your constant backshots, your skin slapping in lustful rhythm. “Harder! Faster! Make that generous tip worth it!” She challenged you as she starts grinding her ass by eagerly twerking to your strokes.

You hammered the way through her ass, relentlessly fucking her limp body on the couch. As you kept her body steady with a hand on her waist, you sneakily directed another back into her clit to stimulate her.

“Aw f-fuck oh God… oh God, Y-YN i’m close!!!” You fastened the movements of your fingers until she gets overwhelmed with her orgasm. You felt your legs become moist as your wife lets out a weak scream while she squirted intensely in your naughty hands.

You gave her a minute to ride out her climax before you proceeded by switching from her ass to the newly drained pussy of hers. Squelching sounds went louder the more she takes your shaft all the way in as you plunge with all your might, savoring the sexiness of your gorgeous wife’s back figure.

Mina endured your heavy weight as your entire body is now pressing on her back, you hugged her and roamed your hands around her covered tits. “Shit, Mina… I’m about to bust inside. You’re about to receive it.”

“Cum inside me!”

What a sentence to encourage you at your best of breeding your wife. You plummeted between her thighs, her ass absorbing the remaining impacts of your crotch colliding on her soft flesh until your lower abdomen gave up on the familiar clenching feeling caused by your balls.

Mina exhaled for long as she can feel your plenty amount of cum giving her another version of creampie you did to her. You slid out of her to shoot the remaining load on top of her ass for one last additional coating before you gave up in exhaustion in a nearby chair.

Your cock twitched before it semi-erects at the sight of your wife’s messy ass and pussy overflowing with cum. Mina stands up from the couch and kneeled below you to clean the remnants of your cock with few deepthroats before she helps you wipe it off with a tissue.

“You really weren’t joking when you said you’re going to give a generous tip for rewarding you in free terms huh.” Mina said as she glances at her private part now about to deliver your seed to her womb that will most likely enable to carry your child after nine months.

“I was saving it, and I guess today’s the perfect day to spend it all.” You chuckled. Mina felt flustered at your comment. 

She invited you for another kiss. “You don’t know how happy I am today because of you alone aside from my family. I hope there’s more birthday of mine to come where I’ll celebrate with you and… especially, a kid of ours to finally join us.” 

“It’ll be possible one day, just we wait.” You cupped her face with an assuring smile. “I love you and happy birthday again, Mina.”

She hugged you in return, placing her head on your shoulder for comfort. “I love you too and thank you again, YN.” 

[behindnightmaresanddreams]

The thing is, yes all of trump's orders right now are gonna start with 14, but to have that specific order end in an 88 absolutely could be deliberate. Maybe he didn't specifically think "Man I should make a hundred EOs so I can have The Nazi Numbers be on my Hitler Order", but he certainly didn't avoid putting the Nazi numbers on his Hitler Order.

Has he been planning this all along since he first ran for office back in 20whatever? Probably not. I doubt he can think more than a day ahead at a time. But did he notice the numbers starting to line up and make a deliberate decision on how to file the orders? It's quite possible, yeah. Hell he might not have even noticed. Maybe someone in his cabinet suggested he push through a couple other orders first, yknow because they're more urgent and doesn't he wanna help the people? And he just did and it just happened to be that his really shitty EO goes out as 14188. Maybe Musk encouraged it. Who the fuck knows.

But it's not entirely conspiracy theories. We do know Trump is in with fascists. We know he's pushing antisemitic bills. And we know 14/88 is a Nazi call sign. Whether those three things are related really doesn't matter too much because someone out there is gonna draw the same connection we did, except they're antisemitic and get excited because finally, he's showing his true colors. They're so glad the current president secretly supports them, and since they have His Support they might as well go Enact Violence on Minorities. No one will stop them right?

We've gotta stop arguing about whether it's deliberate either way. The point is, it's there. It's an open, blatant, antisemitic call sign on an antisemitic EO by a racist, sexist, bigoted man who currently controls the whole fucking country.

Did you check what number has the executive order of "Additional Measures to Combat Anti-Semitism"?

With any other president I would say it's an unfortunate accident but with this one I can't say that. This is the guy whose best buddy did a Nazi Salute for the cameras.

[kiyoomiee]

one. two. three. four. five.

A groan escaped your lips as you clutched your head. What the hell happened last night?

You woke up feeling absolutely terrible. Your head was pounding, your throat felt like sandpaper, and your entire body ached as if you’d been hit by a truck.

The taste of alcohol still lingered on your tongue as fragments of memories came back in your mind.

That voice—low, rough, and unmistakable.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

Your breath hitched.

Oh.

You squeezed your eyes shut as more pieces of the night fell into place. Sukuna. His gaze locking onto yours, intense and unwavering. The weight of his words settling heavily between you.

“I want you.”

You remember passing out in his arms. The memory struck like a jolt of lightning, cutting through the haze of your hangover.

Your throat tightened. How were you supposed to face him after that?

Before you could spiral any further, another wave of nausea hit and you stumbled to get out of bed. The world tilted dangerously as you made your way to the bathroom, vomiting the contents of last night’s bad decisions.

By the time you managed to make it downstairs, the dizziness had only worsened. The lights to the kitchen were on, and that could only mean one thing. Your stomach twisted as you slowly turned your head—and there he was.

Sukuna.

Unlike you, he looked completely fine, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hands. Before you could even open your mouth, he glanced up and immediately scowled.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” you croaked, your voice barely audible. “Do we have any medicine?”

His frown deepened, and you saw something flickered in his gaze. Concern?

Before you could make sense of it, your legs gave out.

You barely registered the moment Sukuna closed the distance between you, catching you before you could hit the floor. Strong, steady arms wrapped around your waist, holding you up with ease.

“Fuck, how much did you drink last night?” His voice was lower now, softer. It felt almost… worried.

“I’m fine.” You tried to protest, but even speaking hurt.

“Shut up and let me help you.” he muttered, scooping you into his arms as if you weighed nothing.

Your hangover must’ve been worse than you thought, because you didn’t even have the strength to argue.

He sets you down on the sofa and quickly wrapped a blanket on your body. As you drifted in and out of sleep, a cool cloth was pressed against your forehead, the quiet sound of a chair scraping against the floor as he moved around to get you some water and medicine.

It wasn’t like him.

You were so used to Sukuna’s was harsh words and teasing insults that his lingering stares left your head spinning for reasons entirely unrelated to hangover.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you mumbled, when you woke up fully.

Sukuna was sitting at the edge of the sofa. His hands that moved to fix the blanket with unexpected care, hesitated.

His crimson eyes flickered to yours with an unreadable look beneath them. Then, with a quiet sigh, he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked.

You remembered enough. Enough to know that whatever had happened between you two last night wasn’t a drunken misunderstanding.

Sukuna’s confession. His words, sharp yet desperate. The way your heart had pounded in your chest as you listened to every word.

You looked away, gripping the blanket tighter around you. “I—I do. I just… I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

Sukuna exhaled, his voice was steady and unwavering. “I like you. And I know you feel something too.”

You swallowed hard, a thousand thoughts racing through your head. “It’s not that simple, Sukuna.”

His gaze darkened. “Why not?”

You hesitated. “Yuuji wouldn’t approve. You know that.”

Sukuna scoffed and shook his head. “Since when do you care what he thinks?”

“I don’t—” You stopped yourself. “I just… I don’t want things to get messy. Your brother offered me a hand when I needed it the most, I don’t want to go behind his back and fuck his older brother.”

Technically, it was him that helped you because it was his house after all.

Sukuna leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Things are already messy,” he said, voice quieter now. “And I don’t care what anyone thinks, least of all my brother.” His eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. “Yuuji knows I care about you.”

Your breath hitched. The room suddenly felt too small, too warm.

“Sukuna—”

“I know I was an asshole to you when we met. Maybe you think this is a joke and you don’t trust me, but I’m really serious about you.” he interrupted, his tone softer. “I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

You looked at him, really looked at him. There was no teasing smirk, no mocking glint in his eyes. Just him, raw and sincere in a way you’d never seen before.

And maybe that was the most terrifying part.

A long silence stretched between you. Then, slowly, hesitantly, you reached for his hand.

“Okay.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened the moment your fingers brushed against his. His fingers curled around yours instantly, warm and solid. His grip tightened just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Okay, huh?” he murmured, voice low and taunting. “Just an okay?”

Your throat went dry as he leaned in, the heat of his body dangerously close.

“Sukuna—” You tried to sound firm, but it came out more like a breathless whisper.

He smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You’re hesitating…” he breathed, his fingers grazing over your wrist, trailing up your arm, slow and deliberate. “But your body? It’s telling me something else.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as his thumb brushed against your pulse, feeling the way it pounded beneath his touch.

“Great, cocky Sukuna is back.” you mumbled but didn’t pull away.

His grin widened. “You love it.”

Before you could protest, he shifted even closer, his lips a breath away from your ear.

“I meant what I said last night.” His voice was a husky murmur against your skin. “And I’ll say it again, sober.”

You felt his fingers trace along your jaw, tilting your chin up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“I want you. Do you want me too?” he teased, his lips just barely ghosting over yours.

Your heart hammered in your chest, every nerve in your body screaming at you to close the distance.

The way his eyes burned into yours, the way his grip on you was both possessive and impossibly gentle.

Fuck what happens next—you didn’t care anymore.

Instead of answering, you grabbed the front of his shirt and crashed your lips against his.

Sukuna groaned, deep and guttural, before yanking you into his lap without hesitation. His hands were rough as they gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, swallowing your gasp as he deepened the kiss.

It was messy, feverish, filled with so much need. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, making you shudder as you tangled your fingers into his hair.

When you finally pulled back for air, his tongue chased yours lips, not letting you go.

Your body felt like it was burning and Sukuna’s smirk was downright sinful when he finally lets you go. “Now that’s more like it.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how breathless you were. “Shut up.”

His fingers tightened on your hips, dragging you just a little closer. “Make me.”

And, god help him—

You did.

——————————————————————

taglist: @emyyy007 @thebumbqueen @domainofmarie @cheriiepies @jumpinjaxx @mothstvrnz @grveyrd4 @tojisbabymommasblog @realalpacorn @starriesworlds @go-go-gadget-autism @ieathairs @oidloid @krispywhisperswhispers @satorupied @zeunys @chosos-prettyprincess @trsh-kitty @seellove @xlilycoco @chososlvr @7haze @charlie-xo @kunascutie @chiizuyu @aldebrana @bnbaochauuu @junitries @kaidostwin @grignardsreagent

[cookiecakecookie-cake]

Hi I really like your writing. I have a request. For cookies of your choice, let's say they had someone close to them (romantic or platonic) that pulled an Odysseus were the reader set out to the licorice sea, was presumed deceased, and came back years later all scarred up. Cookies and Epic have invades my brain. Thanks for reading.

No way.... odysseus..... like my blorbo outis limbus company that im soooso normalll abouttt... (i didnt make this video but god i wish i did) anyways, i hope you don't mind the fact that i took this and RAN with it. mwehehehe -cookie cake

No More Going Back

(Pre-corruption!Mystic Flour Cookie/Burning Spice Cookie/Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader)

Inspired in part by I'll Take You by @/brittle-doughie

cws: angst, lots of talk about death & war, shouting/arguments and brief descriptions of dead bodies.

War was on the edge of the horizon. Your gazed out at sea. Far off in the distance, there was a nation that intended to take all you sought dear. Then and there, you decided that there was no other choice. You were going to protect the ones you loved or die trying.

-----

"-And when I'm gone, I want you to take care of yourself, alright? I won't be around to get rid of overtly greedy cookies and I know everyone will be wanting a lot during these trying times. If you ever need help, know you can rely on-"

"My love, I am not a child."

You sigh, "I know but I worry." Wheat Flour Cookie was a cookie who often gave herself to others in surplus, leaving little left for herself. You didn't want anybody to use her because of that and she was more than aware of that fact.

"I'll ask the people of the temple for help if I need anything and I will keep in mind of my limits as to who I can and cannot help." She held your face in her hands as she spoke, making sure you caught every one of her words loud and clear.

"You promise?"

"I promise... That is, if you promise, in return, to come back safely." You smile, gently resting your forehead on hers. "I promise, my grace."

-----

CLANG!

Your spear clashed against the Red Spice Cookie's own parashu, sending sparks across the area. You hold that for a moment, before deflecting his attack, making the great force of his weapon crash uselessly against the ground. He tries to charge you again, but you manage to easily parry, sending his weapon hurtling across the room. You angle your spear at his throat.

"You loose." You state, very matter-of-factly.

"You really don't take any hostages, do you, dear?" He brushes the spear away with the back of his hand. You pull the spear away from him, walking to put it away.

"The only hostage I'd take is you, my ember."

You can't see him, but you can sense the fond eye roll from across the room.

You dock your weapon back in the rack you got it from. "... You were distracted. I can tell."

"You don't miss a single detail, either." He gets up, stretching his back. You can hear a couple bones pop. "... There's been a lot on my mind lately."

"You have a lot on your plate, I could only imagine." You walk back over to him, trying to assess if there were any injuries you should attend to. "Just... come back to me in one piece, alright? I'm going to be incredibly bored without my hearth." He grumbled, heating up at your careful observation.

"Of course. I can't keep you waiting for too long, can I?" You leave a sweet peck on his cheek.

-----

"... So, that's it then? You're just... going off without me?" Blueberry Milk Cookie stared, completely baffled. You tried to avoid his eyes as much as you could.

"You make it sound like I'm ending our relationship."

"Well, you might as well be!!"

The Fount of Knowledge was seen by all as a figure of intellectualism. Rationality. Yet, here he stood, clinging to your uniform with a look that you know you can't meet.

"This is important to me. To us. If I don't do something, we might loose everything."

"Have you considered loosing you may be even worse?!"

"... I have."

"Oh yeah! Sure! Uh-huh! Talk like you have eeeeverything under control, why don't you! Like everything's going to go well! Sure! Go off and play hero and DIE and leave me here with NOTHING!"

"Blueberry, I-"

"Oh no, nonono NO! You don't get to 'Blueberry' me, right now! Have you considered what this is going to be like for me?! I'll have to manage everything by myself and you KNOW those cookies are as blind as bats if they don't like the reality of what they're seeing! If you go off and DIE out there, what am I going to do, then, huh?! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?" He held onto your shoulders with a desperation that you have never seen on his face before.

"I..."

"'I' WHAT?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" You finally looked him in the eyes. They were angry, yes, but they were also full of fear. His worry streamed down his perfect face. "I don't... know. And it's impossible for me to know, just as it's impossible for one cookie to know everything. But what I do know is that the lives of the cookies around us are at stake if this isn't handled with care."

"... And there's nobody else that can take your place? No one?" He tried one last time to stop you, to keep you safe, with him.

"Do you know anyone as smart as me when it comes to the battlefield?"

"I'm not in the mood for jokes." It was time for him to try and dodge your gaze, looking away from you.

"I'm sorry, my love. I don't want this either. I'm left with no choice." You try to reach out to him, gently holding his face to look back at you. "But if I am to die out there, let me have one last request. Let's spend our remaining time together in happiness, so that you don't regret the fading hours."

He tried to stop himself from crying for a second, but it was a futile effort. He crumpled into your arms, chest heaving with his emotion.

"... Please come back soon."

"I will."

-----

You didn't die, no, but you might as well be. Lost at sea and prevented from seeing those you love for years on end, you'd almost gone mad. All you wanted was to see the ones you loved once again, but it seemed every force of nature planned against you and maybe they were.

When you finally return, broken and bettered, it was obvious that something was wrong. You knew that it'd been years since you'd last seen your home, but it didn't look like.... this.

You walked down the roads and alleyways of the once bustling city, without a single hint of any life. The houses and buildings were intact, but the only thing for miles was pure white flour.

A temple of gold and splendor was reduced to nothing but crumbs and rubble on the ground. The cookies weren't just dead, but ground to a fine powder that made the air taste overwhelmingly like spice.

Cookies hung from string that stretched far into the sky, presumably connected to some unseen controller. They talked of nonsense, if they even spoke at all. Some just looked at you with hollow eyes, were they dead or tired of all the lies? You couldn't tell anymore.

And when you found them, in the middle of it all? You wished you had died out there, so you didn't have to see the one who you once loved reduced to... this.

A monster.

[dior-luxury]

This is just comes to my mind but can you write how the students of all the dorm (if you don't mind♡) reacted when they saw f!yuu being bullied & teased at the same time by other students in their dorm

Love you btw💝🌷

Bullied & Teased

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] heartslabyul guys ! - [𝐩:𝐬] mentions of bulling ofc

Note: I'm going to make this into individual parts because tumblr has an image limit on posts <(＿　＿)> . . . Also, this is written in the boys pov!! Also very sorry for the late response on your request, and this work also mentions the reader as "his girlfriend" !

Riddle Rosehearts

The crisp autumn air felt heavy as Riddle walked across the garden, heading toward the dormitory’s courtyard. His steps were precise, as always, but something in the air felt off. As he approached the scene, his eyes narrowed when he saw a few of his dormmates sneering at his girlfriend, making cruel remarks about her appearance. His blood ran cold.

Without a word, Riddle���s expression hardened into a tight, angry frown. The world around him seemed to blur, all his focus fixed on the injustice before him.

“Enough,” he called out sharply, his voice laced with authority.

The bullies froze, the tension palpable as Riddle’s eyes glinted with the sharpness of a leader who had no tolerance for disrespect. “No one will ever treat my girlfriend like that again,” he said, his tone low and cold. He stepped forward, forcing the students to take a step back. “If I hear one more word from any of you, I’ll make sure you're punished according to the dorm rules. Consider yourselves warned.”

His gaze shifted back to his girlfriend, his anger momentarily softening as he moved closer to her. “Are you alright?” His voice was softer now, his hand gently reaching out to support her. Riddle’s protective side was in full force, the rigid rules of his heart quickly morphing into something far more gentle when it came to her.

Ace Trappola

Ace was casually walking through the halls, his usual cocky grin plastered on his face, when he heard the unmistakable sound of hushed voices and laughter. His curiosity piqued, Ace peeked around the corner, only to see a few students from his dorm taunting his girlfriend. They were whispering nasty things, no doubt making her feel small. His grin instantly vanished, replaced by a look of sharp annoyance.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ace’s voice rang out loudly, drawing the attention of both the bullies and his girlfriend.

The students turned, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. Ace’s usual playfulness was gone; in its place was a fierce glare, one that could make even the bravest flinch.

“Don't even think about messing with her, alright?” Ace spat, his stance defensive. He took a few steps forward, his hands in his pockets but his body language radiating that unmistakable protectiveness. “If you’ve got a problem with her, you’ve got a problem with me.”

The bullies stammered, not expecting such an outburst from the normally carefree Ace. Without waiting for them to reply, he turned back to his girlfriend, his grin returning, but this time it was full of reassurance.

“Are you okay, babe? Don’t listen to them. They’re idiots,” Ace said, offering a hand to her. “I’ll make sure they leave you alone from now on. Count on it.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce’s heart raced as he walked into the common room, only to freeze when he saw a few members of his dorm cornering his girlfriend. They were clearly mocking her, their laughter cruel and biting. A surge of protectiveness hit him like a tidal wave.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Deuce’s voice came out louder than he intended, startling everyone in the room.

The students looked at him, trying to stammer out an explanation, but Deuce’s eyes burned with determination. “If you think it’s okay to make her feel like that, you’re gonna have to answer to me.”

Deuce’s fists clenched, his body tense with anger. He wasn’t one for confrontation, but seeing his girlfriend in distress was a line he wouldn’t cross.

“This stops now. If I catch any of you bothering her again, you’ll regret it,” Deuce said, his voice firm. The students hesitated before nervously backing off.

Turning to his girlfriend, Deuce rushed to her side, his expression softening immediately. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. Are you alright? Don’t worry, they won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of it.” His usual timidity was replaced by a fierce loyalty, and he wouldn’t hesitate to do anything to protect her.

Cater Diamond

Cater’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and as he pulled it out to check the notification, he caught sight of the scene unfolding before him. His girlfriend, standing alone, surrounded by a few of his fellow dorm members who were laughing at her. His usual playful smile faltered as his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, no, no, no. Not happening,” Cater muttered under his breath, slipping his phone back into his pocket and strolling over with his trademark confident swagger.

“Alright, you guys are seriously overstepping here,” Cater said, a fake smile plastered on his face, but his eyes betrayed the annoyance simmering beneath the surface. He stood between the bullies and his girlfriend, hands on his hips.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, voice calm but edged with a subtle threat. “I’ve got a lot of followers online, and if I wanted, I could make you famous for all the wrong reasons. So how about you all back off before I get real creative?”

The bullies hesitated, not knowing what to make of his sudden shift in tone. Cater leaned closer, his smile growing. “Just letting you know, I’m not joking. She’s with me, and I’ll make sure no one gives her a hard time. Got it?”

After they scurried away, Cater turned back to his girlfriend, his usual charm slipping back into place. “Hey, don’t worry about them. They’re not worth your time.” He grinned, offering her a wink. “You know I’ve got your back, right?”

Trey Clover

Trey had been quietly observing from the distance, his eyes catching sight of a group of students picking on his girlfriend. His calm demeanor faltered for a split second, and a wave of anger washed over him. He took a slow, measured breath, collecting himself before approaching the situation.

“Alright, what’s going on here?” Trey’s voice was steady, his tone not threatening but carrying an authority that immediately commanded attention.

The bullies, realizing they were in the wrong, stammered, trying to make excuses. Trey didn’t let them finish.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” Trey said, his voice colder now. “If any of you think it’s acceptable to treat someone like that, you’re mistaken. Apologize, and then leave.”

There was no doubt in Trey’s mind that he was going to make sure they knew their place. His usual playful demeanor was gone; all that was left was a serious, commanding presence.

The students, visibly shaken, muttered apologies and quickly dispersed. Trey turned to his girlfriend, his expression softening immediately. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. Are you alright?”

He gently took her hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “I won’t let anyone make you feel like that again. I promise.”

[iwantazzifudd]

Under the Stars

Word count : 4.6k Pazzi

Hii friends this is a young Pazzi one shot, I’m not sure if I like it but it took me so long so I just wanted to finally get it out there, enjoy 😚

Paige and Azzi had spent almost everyday this summer together trying their hardest to ignore the day Paige finally had to leave to go to college.

It was officially only 2 weeks until Paige had to go and Azzi was determined to make them special. So she planned a surprise for the two of them with the help of her mom Katie

“Are you sure she’ll like it mom” Azzi bit her lip nervously “Of course she will honey, honestly I think she’ll love anything as long as your there” “Moom” she couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up her neck. Her mom just put her hands up, feigning innocence.

…

Paige was disappointed to wake up in Azzi’s bed with no sight of the curly haired girl. She got so used to waking up with the warmth of Azzi cuddled into her, their legs tangled together.

That was something she was going to miss more than anything, simply waking up next to her best friend could be the highlight of her day. God she was really gone for the girl. Loving Azzi was so easy. Being in love with Azzi and not shouting it from the rooftops was a million times harder.

Paige just hoped that one day she’d have the courage to tell her but now was not the time. She couldn’t risk things with Azzi changing right when she was about to move. What if Azzi didn’t feel the same and things became awkward? Paige couldn’t even handle that thought. So she decided that it would be best to just keep it inside until the perfect moment came.

She checked her phone to see a few messages sent by the curly head girl

Az💗: good morning p 🤗

I’ll be home soon but in the meantime I’ve got an outfit on my dresser picked out for you

Be ready 😉

Paige ran her hands through her hair suddenly nervous and shot her a text back and headed to the shower.

…

“Paigey?” Asked Azzi as she entered the room wondering where the blonde was. Then, Paige suddenly came out of the bathroom not in the outfit Azzi had picked out but wrapped in a towel with her hair dripping on the floor. Azzi let her gaze linger on Paige’s wet skin for a beat too long and both girls flushed.

“Hi sorry” Azzi adverted her eyes now trying her best to look everywhere but at the girl across from her

Paige on the other hand, let her self take in Azzi looking her fully up and down. “Wow Az you look great” Azzi had made sure to put on a little bit of makeup today. Attempting to what, impress Paige? She felt crazy. “Thank you” she gave the blonde a flirty smile. Paige’s tongue ran over her bottom lip and suddenly there was tension in the room. Azzi just looked in amusement at the girl's flustered face, and she tossed her her clothes.

“You didn’t think I was capable of picking shorts and a t-shirt?” Paige teased

“No dummy, I just wanted us to match, now hurry up!! We don’t have all day” the brunette rolled her eyes but she couldn’t help the smile on her face as she left to let paige get dressed. Azzi was wearing a sporty black tennis skirt and a blue tank top, a bit different from her usual lazy summer attire, and for Paige she picked out the opposite blue shorts, and a black tee.

Today was the day she was finally going to tell Paige how she felt. And she was terrified. At first she decided she’d never do it, and that they were great as best friends but at some point this summer she realized that that wasn’t enough for her. She knew she’d regret saying nothing for the rest of her life and a spark of bravery hit her the other night. So she let that and some hope that Paige felt the same guide her to todays plan.

I mean the idea of Paige reciprocating wasn’t impossible, they’d always been closer than regular best friends. From that first fateful plane ride Azzi knew she was hooked, and as they spent more time together she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest when their hands brushed together or the fact that she loved just being around her. Was Paige a pain in the ass? Definitely. But that was just another thing for Azzi to fall in love with.

Today will be perfect, she thought, packed with activities. It had been a little since they had actually gone out of the house to do something more than play basketball or get food, so this would be much needed time out. Besides planning, Azzi spent the rest of her morning telling herself that even if Paige didn’t feel the same, nothing between them had to change. Even though the thought of that scared her more than she expected. She was done spending endless nights worrying about it and doing nothing. Today would be her moment.

…

The girls started their usual mornings with a nice breakfast and a workout, but today Azzi had other plans. Paige had been begging her to go on a hike all summer but Azzi had always made excuses against it. Whether it was her knee “acting up” or the long drive she just never wanted to say yes, and Paige would just accept which made the curly haired girl feel worse for lying.

It wasn’t that she was scared of heights per se, she was just constantly worried about slipping or a little more irrationally, taking a tumble off of the mountain. But she couldn’t deny that the site would be beautiful. She even had her mom hike up there by herself this morning to set up a picnic blanket, a cooler and food for the girls to enjoy, while she finished up making their plans for that evening happen.

Was she still scared? Definitely. But she knew that she’d feel safe either way with Paige by her side. And this would be a great start to lead into Azzi’s plan. Paige would be thrilled, and Azzi would be… alive at least.

“Can you guess where we’re going?” Azzi asked unable to contain the smile on her face.

“Uh the gym”

“That was such a bad guess p why would the gym be extra special” she rolled her eyes at the girls non creative guess.

“Just be prepared for the drive” Azzi was glowing with excitement and hated having to be patient.

“No way” the blonde gasped connecting the dots, she was like a puppy jumping up and down, unable to contain her joy.

“Uh huh now get in the car” the brunette rolled her eyes and teased.

…

The hike was a little over an hour and a half away, and the girls filled it with effortless chatter, enjoying the beautiful scenery along the way. Azzi felt a twinge in her knee and the clouds above seemed more present than she had hoped. She knew that rain would be possible but she had convinced herself that the heavens knew how important this day was and simply wouldn’t do that to her.

Paige could sense the younger girls unease from the driver seat and placed what was supposed to be a calming hand on Azzi’s thigh. But the gesture just raised the tension in the car, Azzi shifted in her seat finding herself nervous. The movement caused Paige’s hand to slide further up her thigh and the blonde felt her breaths become unsteady, Azzi stilled in her seat, her brain malfunctioning at the girls warm hand being so close to- both girls were brought back to reality by a loud horn blaring behind them. Paige let out a nervous chuckle and brought her hand back to the steering wheel suddenly more focused than ever on driving. Azzi couldn’t help but notice how her friend's hands gripped tighter on the wheel.

They finally reached the trail. Paige basically ran out of the car and Azzi couldn’t help but giggle at the older girl's energy. She took the time to stretch after being a little cramped in the car, her tank top riding up a bit and exposing a sliver of her stomach. Paige couldn’t help but look and swallow hard. She didn’t know that Azzi had caught her until she cleared her throat and gave Paige a teasing smile. Paige’s eyes widened for a split second worried that she was letting on too much of what she’s worked to hide for so long, or what she thought she wasn’t being obvious about, but anyone who wasn’t Paige and Azzi could tell just by being in a room with them.

She concealed her thoughts by giving Azzi a wide grin and grabbing the bag they packed filled with water, snacks, and a first aid kit just in case. She then grabbed Azzi’s hand in hers, just for safety of course, and they started on their hike.

It all started out so well. Azzi was still scared but the anticipation she felt completely calmed that worry, plus Paige’s steady hand in hers the whole time grounded her in ways nothing else could. The trail was already so beautiful and they hadn’t even reached the top yet. They walked in a comfortable silence finding peace in each other and the soft sounds of nature around them. And then against everything Azzi had hoped for, it began to rain. Hard.

“You have got to be kidding me” Azzi let go of Paige’s hand to lift her own up in shock. “Hey it’s okay, we can just try it again on another day” but the disappointment was clear on Paige’s face. “No we should still finish it we’re so close” Azzi argued and attempted to keep walking before Paige placed a gentle hand on her elbow, and she turned around to face her. “Az. It’s not safe you could slip” Paige said it with so much care but Azzi couldn’t just give in. Not when her first surprise was still planned at the top. “It’ll be fine p we just have to be extra careful” she tried to reason with the blonde but when she walked a little further and began to loose her balance Paige had seen enough.

“Azzi” the brunette reluctantly brought her eyes up to Paige’s “but-“ “please Az it’s okay. We’ve already done so much of it, it’s been great but I just want to get you back on level ground and safe okay?” Azzi wanted to cry but instead she shook her head yes and let Paige slowly lead her back down the mountain.

The ride back was silent between them. Azzi’s mind was full as she tried to convince herself that this was just one minor setback, it didn’t mean the whole day had gone to shit yet. She still planned on confessing to Paige, and the movies would work out. They had too.

When they finally got back to Azzi’s a bit earlier than her plan included, she tried to quickly figure out how they would pass the time. She originally planned on hanging out at her place for two hours, however since they were unable to finish their hike and eat up top, they had a long 4 hours to fill. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if Paige didn’t get so antsy.

“Okay so we technically don’t have to be anywhere until 9”

“Sooo we could nap, or find a movie, go bother my brothers, play a video game, all of the above, whatever it is” she continued on.

“I thought you had the whole day planned” Paige questioned.

“Well this was still a part of the plan just.. condensed a bit” Azzi responded defensively but her tone was still light. Paige raised her hands up in mock surrender. “Whatever you say fudd” she teased back.

“Oh actually I have a something special for you or us really brb” Azzi ran to her room to find the gift she had been hiding.

“Close your eyes okay?” Her voice came out less confident than she had hoped.

“Okay open.” Azzi had expected Paige to be excited but the look on her face was one of uncertainty. The curly haired girl had bought plane tickets to Connecticut so she could spend the weekend with Paige on her second week at UConn.”

“Do you not want me to come? What's wrong p?”

“No az it’s just-“ she sighed trying to think of a way to voice what she was feeling without hurting her best friend's feelings. “ I just feel like I should spend a little more time on my own before we see each other. Get accommodated yknow?” Paige wasn’t going to say it but if she and Azzi weren’t going to date, she needed to know that she’d be okay with their distance after spending so much time together the past three months.

“Oh- no yeah, I totally get it” she didn’t. “ That's why I chose the second week instead of the first” she half heartedly joked and Paige just looked at her with a pitiful look she couldn’t bear to see. So she brushed it off. “Don’t worry I’ll just return them, it'll be fine. She gave Paige a small smile trying not to let Paige’s underwhelming response hurt her as much as it was.

“I’m so sorry Azzi” Paige needed Azzi to know that she was being serious but the younger girl wouldn’t even look at her in the eyes. Azzi just stood their and reminded herself that the day wasn’t shit yet.

…..

The day was officially a big pile of dog shit. The girls had chosen to nap as their first time passer, one of their favorite activities over the summer but when Azzi woke up there was no blonde hair sprawled next to her,no warm arm wrapped around her waist. She frowned to herself in disappointment and walked out of her room to see Paige outside on the balcony on the phone and smiling. A lot. She couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, wondering who her friend was talking to. When the blonde noticed Azzi she only gave her a small smile and a wave turning around and continuing on with her phone call.

Azzi mimicked the action back to her and tried to distract herself. She was about 3 rounds into Fortnite when Paige finally came back in to join her. “Hey turn on my controller for me”

“Bossy” Azzi said under her breath.

“What was that?” Paige asked back but Azzi chose to ask a question of her own as a response.

“Who were you talking to out there” she tried to keep the question casual but the nervous way she chewed her lip gave her away.

“ Oh just an old friend, Clara. Have I ever told you about her?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells”

“Oh well we were childhood friends like I’m talking kindergarten but we lost contact when she moved in the 7th grade. She like found my instagram a week ago and we’ve been talking a bit, it’s been great to reconnect” if paige thought the look on Azzi’s face was weird she didn’t say anything and just added “ apparently she lives around here, isn’t that cool?!”

“Yeah that’s great p” Azzi gave her a tight smile and tried to focus on the game. She had no reason to be upset but why had Paige never mentioned this girl, and why didn’t she tell Azzi they were texting??

“She’s real cool, I think you’d like her”

“Yeah, maybe” Azzi gave a dry response back trying to move on from the conversation. Paige shot her a confused look but didn’t press any further.

They played the game for a bit- well Azzi played and Paige tried to but she was too wrapped up in her phone to pay attention and not die. Azzi swore the blonde girl would look down every ten seconds checking a message and smiling to herself.

“Ugh Paige what’s the point of playing duos if your just gonna let yourself die”

“Sorry princess” the brunette couldn’t help but blush at the sound of the nickname from Paige’s lips

“Clara invited us to her party tonight, I told her that we’d be more than happy to go. That okay?”

“Paige but- I had the whole day planned yknow” Azzi couldn’t believe that this is how it was planning out. Paige for sure wouldn’t ask her to ditch the original plans though, right?

“Yeah Az I know but… it’s not like they other stuff really worked, can’t we just move it to tomorrow or something, there’s still two weeks to fill” Paige responded and shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t matter. She couldn’t be more wrong.

Paige could see the tears Azzi was fighting so hard to blink away and her heart ached. Making the curly haired girl upset was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Shit I’m so sorry Az look at me, please?” The younger hair girl just shook her head in response letting out a humorless laugh. “ I just tried so hard to make today perfect for us and nothing has gone right” Azzi said while wiping the tears that were now falling rapidly.

“Shh it’s okay baby” Paige reached out to fully embrace Azzi accidentally letting the term of endearment slip, she tried to play it off but by the way Azzi tensed momentarily she knew her best friend had noticed. “Since when have we ever needed perfection to have a good time?”

“God you just don’t get it Paige” Azzi said harsher than she expected. Paige let go of her and took a small step back hurt spreading across her features. “I’m sorry I just- I just need a moment alone okay?” Azzi hadn’t meant to hurt the girl's feelings; she just couldn’t contain all of what she was feeling. She gave Paige’s arm a squeeze and walked back into the house. Paige just stood there for a moment confused by what was going on and how she could fix it.

So she went to talk to Katie who over the years became like a second mom to her. She could talk to her about anything, especially about Azzi. She found her in the kitchen cleaning up dinner.

“Katie?” She looked up at Paige with a concerned smile having seen her daughter come in tears and lock her door. The look only made Paige feel worse. “Yes dear?” “Do you know why Azzi’s so upset with me? Why was today supposed to be so special? ". She bit her lip and tried to keep her own tears from falling.

Katie gave her a knowing look, “Aw sweetheart Azzi just..” she hesitated trying to think of the best way to word things without revealing too much. “You mean so much to her, and you’re leaving so soon. She’s just scared that once you go to college you guys won’t be able to have these moments anymore.” “But we’ve done the long distance best friend thing before, why does anything have to change” Katie finally walked towards Paige and wrapped her in a hug when she let go she said “ things will change and I think deep down you know that. College is a lot different and it’ll be harder to make time for each other”

“I’ll always have time for Azzi” Paige said it with so much sincerity that even Katie wanted to tear up. “I think you just need to talk to each other. Like really talk about it. She can’t shut you out for too long, and honestly I don’t think she knows how to even if she wanted to” Azzi’s mom gave Paige a big squeeze and walked back to where she was cleaning.

Suddenly Paige had a great idea for them to end their night on a better note. “ Okay two more questions, 1, how would two people go about getting on the roof and would you be opposed? And 2. Where's your picnic basket?”

“I’ll let you up there only if you promise to be safe. It might still be slippery from the rain, and second I’ll tell you about the basket another time” she shook her head and laughed as she left the kitchen.

Paige had to make Azzi feel better and she wasn’t certain about her plan but she had to try.

…

About thirty minutes later Paige knocked on Azzi’s door before walking in. “Az?” She kneeled down on the floor to be eye level with the girl lying in her bed.

“Don’t you have a party to get too?” She rolled over trying to ignore her best friend in front of her

“What if I said I had something better planned for just us?” She was met with no response. “Come on Az pleasee” she rubbed the girls back “I really think you’ll like it.” Azzi hesitantly rolled back to face Paige ready to say no, but seeing the vulnerable look in Paige’s eyes, a sort of uncertainty she wasn’t used to seeing in contrast with Paige’s usual confidence, she just didn’t have the heart to.

Paige led Azzi through the house hand in hand not yet ready to let go.

“Do you trust me?” she playfully asked the curly haired girl trying to lighten the mood. Azzi’s eyes were red and puffy, Paige hated seeing her like this.

Azzi just shook her head but she didn’t let go of Paige’s hand so she took it as at least a partial win.

Azzi finally picked up on their location. “The roof?” “Paige you know my parents think it's too dangerous”

“Well actually I asked your mom and she said yes without any objections so” Paige shrugged like it was really no big deal.

“Can’t argue with that” Azzi mumbled and continued to the roof. When they finally reached it she couldn’t help but gasp. Paige had set out a blanket and a bag with what Azzi was guessing was food. Paige walked towards their blanket like it was nothing. The brunette though was a bit shocked and despite her mood felt her heart melt.

“It’s not much” the blonde said sheepishly , “but it is your favorite so I hope you like it.” In the bag was a plate of strawberries and Nutella laid out in a heart shape. Azzi looked at her in a way Paige didn’t have a name for yet but had seen many times from the girl, she felt her cheeks get warm.

Both girls laid down on the blanket. The chilly night air gave them a reason to lay close.

“It’s so beautiful tonight” Azzi said softly, letting herself relax.

“Yeah it is” Paige said quietly back, except, it wasnt the stars she was looking at. When Azzi looked at Paige, she found her best friend already staring intently on her, with a look of longing she thought she imagined . Her breath hitched, their closeness becoming apparent as she could feel the blondes breath mix with her own. They looked into each other’s eyes like that for a long moment until the intensity in Paige’s blue eyes became too much.

She sat up and distracted herself with the strawberries and Nutella, aware of Paige’s eyes still on her every move. Neither one of them talked for a bit but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Paige was surprised to hear Azzi’s voice finally break it.

“ I had it all planned out” she started Paige remained quiet just wanting to hear what else she had to say. “We were going to do that hike you always begged me to do, and once we finally got to the top I had a whole picnic basket of all of our favorites” “it wasn’t even supposed to rain today! Trust me I checked” she shook her head in annoyance, Paige just put a supportive hand on her shoulder. Azzi sighed and looked back up at the stars “ and when that didn’t work I was of course upset but I wasn’t going to let it ruin everything else about today yknow?”

“ But that plus the drive was supposed to take up most of the day time, leaving us a few hours to nap, or play video games or basketball, just any of the things we normally love to do. But without ou finishing the hike and eating there was just so much extra time, and who would I be to ask you to not talk to a friend when we had 4 hours before the last thing” she rambled on, just needing to finally let it all out.

She laid back down beside Paige but continued looking at the sky.

“And right about now, I had the drive through theater rented out for just us. They even let me choose our movie.” She took a deep shaky breath. Paige had a surprised look on her face but Azzi just kept going.

“And at the end of Love and Basketball” she finally turned on her side again to look Paige in the eye. Paige had been silent through all of it sitting up briefly with the girl rubbing calming circles around her back before she laid down.

Now with them both laying down Paige found herself holding her breath nervous to hear what else the brunette had to say.

“ at the end that’s when I was finally going to tell you that I’m so in love with you Paige” Paige felt her voice catch in her throat, rendered speechless by the younger girls confession.

“I have been for so long now, I’ve just been too scared I’m sor-“ she was quickly cut off by Paige’s lips crashing into her, the kiss was hesitant at first but it soon became desperate. Azzi’s hand cradled Paige’s cheek softly, which was a stark contrast to the way Paige’s hand gripped her waist, needing Azzi to become infinitely close

Azzi let out a breathy moan, her mouth opening enough for Paige to slip her tongue in. Her mouth was warm and tasted like chocolate from Nutella . The pace of the kiss picked up and Paige released a breathy moan of her own and she flipped them, hovering over Azzi letting some of her weight rest on top of her. She was drunk on the taste of Azzi. This moment was everything she dreamed of since the plane ride back from team USA.

Paige finally broke the kiss and rested her head on Azzi’s letting both girls catch their breaths. Neither girl could stop the smiles on their faces. Azzi looked so stunning like this with her pupils blown out fitting under Paige like she belonged there.

“You’re perfect” she tucked a loose strand behind Azzi’s ear and couldn’t resist placing another soft kiss on the brunette's lips.

“And we’re both so stupid” she laid back on her side and giggled. “Azzi. I have loved you since the day we met, there’s no one like you. and there’s nobody I’d rather spend my days with, no one I’d rather bicker with, and definitely no one I’d rather ask to be my girlfriend.”

This time it was Azzi who leaned in. This kiss was tender and filled with all of the words they shared, and everything yet to come.

“We really missed out on doing this all summer” Paige shook her head with a grin

“I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time now” Azzi teased before pulling the girl back on top of her. This time they took it all in, hands wandering everywhere, and if it wasn’t for the chilly night air they would’ve stayed forever.

[kxsagi]

ok so like I'm loving this whole 'isagi is in love w readers thighs' thing but hear me out listen....what if reader is obsessed w Isagis thighs?? cuz c'mon,,, have you seen his thighs? 😩 they're literally huge cuz of all that training 😩 it's something I rlly noticed when I was watching and or reading blue lock 🙈🙈

“#𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭”

a/n: i’m thighstruck fr like ISAGI GIMME THAT-

it was getting ridiculous at this point. 

you were supposed to be watching the game, y’know, like a supportive girlfriend or whatever, but here you were, seated in the front row, not processing a single second of the match. instead, your eyes were locked on his thighs. 

isagi’s jersey clung to his torso, slightly damp with sweat from the intensity of the match, but none of that registered in your brain. nope. your entire existence was hyper-focused on the sheer power in his legs – the way his quads flexed with each stride, the raw strength beneath those compression shorts. the fabric clung sinfully to his skin, barely keeping those absolute units contained. 

you let out a slow, shaky breath when he pivoted sharply, the muscles visibly tightening as he changed direction with that signature agility. a bead of sweat rolled down your temple. not because of the sun. because you were feral. 

you didn’t even see the goal he scored. you only knew about it when the crowd roared and isagi jogged toward his teammates with that casual, almost bored expression. but even as he high-fived and fist-bumped his teammates, you were too far gone, blatantly staring at how his thighs rippled with every step. 

god, this is a problem. 

and it only got worse when the game ended. 

you were waiting by the sidelines when isagi approached, his jersey slung over his shoulder, skin still glistening from the match. his hair was damp, falling in loose strands over his forehead, but your eyes didn’t even make it that far up. no. they were locked on his bare thighs. the compression shorts did nothing to spare you, they only made it worse, the material hugging every muscle and curve. 

"you okay?" he asked, voice low and lazy, but you barely heard him. your gaze flicked up for half a second before trailing right back down, practically burning a hole into his legs. 

isagi blinked slowly. then his lips quirked in amusement. "again?" 

your eyes snapped up. "w-what?" 

he gestured vaguely toward your blatant gawking. "you’ve been eyeing my thighs all game. don’t think i didn’t notice." 

your mouth opened, then closed. you felt caught. exposed. like a criminal caught red-handed. you fumbled for an excuse, but isagi leaned in slightly, cutting off your flustered rambling. 

"you’re not even subtle," he muttered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "i could feel your stare every time i ran by." 

okay. you were definitely not surviving this. 

and then, the final blow came when he suddenly crouched down, tying his shoe, one leg bent at a perfect 90-degree angle. the position made his thigh bulge even more, and your brain practically short-circuited. 

"you’re doing this on purpose," you muttered through clenched teeth, fisting your hands at your sides. 

isagi glanced up at you through his lashes, expression infuriatingly smug. "hmm?" he feigned innocence. "just tying my shoe." 

when he stood up again, he took a step closer, crowding into your space until your back hit the fence behind you. his voice was a low murmur. "go ahead. stare all you want. they’re yours anyway." 

you genuinely thought you might pass out right there. 

but the cherry on top? back at his place, he made sure to strut around in nothing but compression shorts, deliberately stretching, lunging, and casually sitting with one leg propped up on the coffee table, just to watch you squirm. 

the bastard knew exactly what he was doing. and you were totally fine with it. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[cherryvyxen]

"𝗨𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗻"

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Paige x f! reader

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 -

Paige has never lied to you—until now. When she comes home after practice, looking off-balance and exhausted, you know something’s wrong. She brushes it off, but the truth surfaces when you find the bruising and swelling she tried to hide. Anger and worry collide, but one thing is certain: whether she likes it or not, you’re taking care of her.

The door swings open, and you barely have time to look up before Paige walks in, dropping her bag by the entrance. Something is off immediately. Her posture, the way she moves—stiff, slow, hesitant. Paige is never hesitant.

"Hey, baby," she greets, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She looks drained, her usual confident stride replaced with something almost shaky.

You narrow your eyes. "Hey," you say slowly, getting up from the couch and making your way toward her. "Rough practice?"

"Yeah, just a long one." She stretches her arms above her head, but you notice the slight wince, the way she tenses when she lowers them. "Coach ran us hard today."

You don't buy it. Not for a second. Paige has been through grueling practices before, and she’s never looked this weak—this fragile.

She walks toward the kitchen, her movements unnaturally stiff, and you follow, watching her carefully. "Are you hungry? I made pasta—"

"Nah, I'm good. Just need a shower."

Another red flag. Paige never turns down your cooking.

You step in front of her, blocking her path. "Paige," you say firmly, crossing your arms. "What’s going on?"

She laughs, but it’s forced. "Nothing, babe. I swear. Just tired."

"You’re a terrible liar."

She huffs, rolling her eyes. "I’m fine. I just need to shower, okay?"

You let her go, but the unease in your chest only grows. Something isn’t right. And you’re going to find out what.

Later that night, Paige is curled up in bed, her breathing even but her body tense. She’s asleep, but not deeply. Carefully, you pull back the blanket, eyes scanning her frame. Then, under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you see it.

Her right knee. Swollen. Bruised.

Your stomach twists in anger and worry. She lied to you.

Gritting your teeth, you slip out of bed and head to the bathroom, grabbing ice packs and pain relief cream. When you return, you sit beside her, gently pressing the ice against her knee. Paige stirs, sucking in a sharp breath before her eyes flutter open.

"What the hell?" she mumbles sleepily, wincing as she tries to pull away.

"Don't. Move." Your voice is tight, holding back the frustration brewing inside you.

She looks at you, blinking as if trying to come up with another excuse, but she sees it—the look—the one that says you’re not letting this slide.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" you ask, voice softer now but no less firm.

She sighs, running a hand over her face. "Because I knew you’d worry."

"Of course, I’d worry! You’re hurt, Paige. And you lied to me." The sting of those words lingers in the air. "You never lie to me."

She swallows hard, guilt flashing in her eyes. "I didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it. I thought if I ignored it, it would be fine."

You exhale, trying to reign in your frustration. "That’s not how injuries work. And you know that."

She looks away, jaw tight, but you can see the exhaustion weighing on her. Slowly, you reach out, brushing a hand over her cheek. "You don't have to handle this alone. You shouldn't handle this alone."

Paige leans into your touch, her defenses crumbling. "I’m sorry," she murmurs. "I didn’t mean to lie."

You nod, still upset, but love outweighs anger. "Just let me take care of you, okay? No more hiding."

She hesitates, but then she exhales, finally surrendering. "Okay."

You spend the next few minutes tending to her injury, massaging her leg gently, icing it in intervals. The tension in her body eases, and she lets out a content sigh.

When you’re done, she pulls you down beside her, arms wrapping around your waist. "You’re mad at me, huh?"

"Oh, so mad," you tease, running your fingers through her hair. "But I love you more than I’m mad."

She smiles against your neck. "I love you too. And I promise—no more lies."

You sigh, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good. Because next time, I will make a big deal out of it."

Paige chuckles, squeezing you tighter. "Wouldn’t expect anything less."

[emeraldserenade]

Operation Kiss And Tell ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: You kiss Joaquín while on a mission to keep your cover

tw: fem!reader, reader wears a dress, none?, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

If you sent me the request that's sitting in my inbox, I promise I am working on it. Also, I had decided during class today that I would write a fic as long as the notes my professor gave out today is. It's 17 pages front and back, so I am deciding what to write. There is a poll that will be open for 1 day (starting a little after this is posted), so if you want a say go and vote.

➽──────────────❥

You and Joaquín were placed together, normally you never went undercover. You stayed in missions where you didn't have to pretend you were something else, it made you nervous to pretend. You always thought that you would ruin the mission with your inability to fake things, so when Sam told you that you had to pretend to be Joaquín's wife, you were terrified. Not of Joaquín, you could never be, but of the idea of faking something like that. Especially when you knew you were in love with Joaquín.

"Come on, it shouldn't be too hard," you mumbled to yourself as you adjusted the dress you were wearing.

"Are you talking to yourself?" Sam popped up in your door way making you yelp in surprise. Joaquín and Bucky both ended up behind Sam ready to help you.

"God, Sam, you scared the shit out of me!" You placed a hand over your heart and Bucky grumbled and left the doorway. Joaquín hung around for a little longer before leaving too.

"You didn't answer the question," Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, looking you over with a thoughtful look.

"Yes, I am talking to myself," you told him, sitting down next to him.

"Nervous?" Sam wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"A little, yeah," you admitted, Sam ended up as your closest friend over the few months.

"Is it because you think you're going to be bad or because you're hopelessly in love with Joaquín," Sam questioned.

"I am not in love with," you paused as Joaquín walked into the room fully ready to go.

"Sure you aren't," Sam told you, not even caring that Joaquín was in the room.

"Are you ready?" Joaquín shifted his stance under both your and Sam's gaze.

"Yeah, let's go," you stood up and brushed your hands down your dress.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"I'm sorry," you muttered, knowing what you were about to do. Joaquín didn't have time to ask what you were apologizing for before your lips landed on his. Joaquín barely hesitated before he was kissing you back with just as much intensity as you.

You peaked an eye open and saw your target slowly grabbing for his gun still. In another moment of panic, you pulled Joaquín closer by his collar. You felt his hands land on your waist and pull your hips flush against his. Another peak at the target let you know he let his gun go but was still watching you two. You decided to make the most out of this and completely focused on the feel of Joaquín's lips on yours.

"We've got the guy, where are you two?" Sam's voice from your comms pulled both you and Joaquín out of the kiss. You shared a look with Joaquín before you wiped the stray lipstick on his lips away and ran for the doors. You two met up with Sam and Bucky outside where they had the buy already in police custody.

"Sorry, we got caught in the crowd," you lied, knowing Sam would question you more about it later.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Got caught in the crowd?" Sam walked into the room you were staying at, you were freshly showered and lounging in bed in just an oversized shirt.

"Shut the door," you didn't even look up from your phone when you told him.

"So what really happened?" Sam ended up on the bed next to you, you could smell his body wash wafting off his skin.

"I kissed him," you put your phone down. "And he kissed me back," you added.

"Explanation?" Sam questioned.

"I noticed that the target saw us, he was reaching for his gun so in a moment of panic I kissed him. And he kissed me back, and I pulled him closer, and he pulled me closer. And his lips are so soft, and," Sam cut you off.

"Ok, I don't think I need to know more," Sam told you and you nodded. "That explains why he's just staring into pace with a stupid love sick look on his face," Sam told you and you looked at him.

"What?" You sat up straighter.

"Yeah, ever since he got out of the shower he's just been staring at the wall with the stupidest look of love plastered on his face," Sam explained. You and Sam talked for a while before he decided he was ready for bed, leaving you alone again.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You might have been surprised when Joaquín walked into the room later that night, if it weren't for the fact that he had been coming to you after nightmares.

"Joaquín?" Your sleep filled brain made out the vague shape and look of Joaquín walking in the door.

"Hey," he gently greeted you before just slipping into the bed. Unlike the other nights, he hesitates to pull you closer to him.

"You ok?" You gently questioned, aware of how late it is.

"Yeah, just," Joaquín sighed and you got worried. "Did the kiss mean anything to you? I know you kissed me because of the target spotting us but," Joaquín trailed off and you smiled at him.

"Joaquín, that kiss meant so much to me," you admitted, he finally pulled you flush against him so you two could cuddle into each other's side.

"Good because it meant so much to me too," he told you and there was a silent agreement that whatever you two were going to do about this, you would do it together.

➽──────────────❥

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