#i wish his glasses were a bit more transparent though

[roosterforme]

Midnight Confessions | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's getting harder and harder for Bradley to hide his feelings for you, especially when you offer to drive him home on his birthday. Before he knows it, he's drunk in your passenger seat, confessing everything he's kept to himself. He may not remember all of it in the morning, but you certainly do. 

Warnings: Fluff, drinking and swearing

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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"Hey, Midnight!" Phoenix called across the bar as she grinned up at Bradley. "Can you come here?" Bradley watched you turn away from Omaha and head in his direction with a smile on your face and a beer in your hand.

"What are you doing, Nat?" Bradley muttered to his friend, trying not to stare at you as you walked over to him. The last thing Bradley wanted was to get a little bit of attention from you now just to have to watch you and Omaha laughing together all night. 

"I'm giving you exactly what you want for your birthday," Nat replied with a devilish smirk. 

"Please don't," Bradley groaned, but you were already there, in his personal space. "Midnight," he said with a nod in your direction.

"Happy Birthday, Rooster," you whispered with a laugh, kissing his cheek so quickly he thought he had imagined it. "Next drink is on me." He swallowed hard, swirling the ice from his whiskey and Coke around in his glass. "Looks like I was just in time," you said, plucking the glass from his hand and heading for the bar.

"You're cruel," Bradley told Phoenix as soon as you were going. "You're evil, and I wish I never told you I have a thing for Midnight."

Nat rolled her eyes so hard Bradley was honestly afraid she wouldn't be able to see as well to fly ever again. "You think you're a locked box or something? You're transparent to me, Bradshaw. Literally an open book. As soon as Midnight showed up at Top Gun, I had your number. She's cute, she's smart, and she flies exactly like you do."

He watched you at the bar, and of course fucking Omaha was right there with you once again, his hand resting on your lower back. "I fucking hate him."

Nat snorted. "Omaha? You never used to have an issue with him before," she said, eyeing Bradley with an amused look. 

"He's annoying," Bradley said lamely. "And he's got nothing going for him except for that jawline." 

"Hmm," Nat hummed, shaking her head and scrutinizing him. "He's got pretty eyes too. And nice teeth. And his hair is actually similar to yours."

Bradley grunted and tried to ignore the scene at the bar while he picked up some darts. It was his birthday. He should be having a good time. He sighed and threw three darts in a row before Hangman joined him. And then he remembered why he never played darts when Jake hit three bullseyes in a row.

"Happy birthday," Hangman drawled with a lazy grin.

Bradley was saved from having to respond when you placed your hand on his forearm and handed him a fresh drink.

"Thanks," he told you, taking the opportunity to look at your face for a few seconds longer than he normally would. Big mistake. You got his heart rate going and made him feel speechless, and you weren't even doing anything. 

"So, what does the birthday boy have planned for the rest of the night?" you asked, staying with him even though Omaha was hanging around. 

"Oh, probably just getting blackout drunk and trying to forget that I have feelings," he replied casually, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, I've tried that," you responded just as casually. "It doesn't work."

"Shit," he replied with a laugh.

"Yeah," you said, leaning in a little closer. "But I have a better idea."

Bradley shook his head and grinned. "No. Don't you remember? Penny said she'd kick us out if we played strip pool again."

You started laughing, and the sound of it this close up made him feel a little smug. Take that, Omaha.

"I swear, all it took was getting Bob to take his shirt off, and Penny looked like she was going to murder us," you said, still laughing brightly as you took him by the hand. "But we can play regular pool, if you want."

Bradley would have followed you anywhere. And then you were lacing your fingers with his, just so briefly, before letting go of him to grab two pool cues. And Bradley ended up playing with you as his partner while his friends handed him drink after drink. You were pretty good at pool, but he was better, and the two of you were unbeatable. Plus, this gave Bradley an excellent opportunity to stand very close to you and whisper in your ear. 

"Nah," he whispered as you bent down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear before he pulled back a little. He thought he heard you sigh as he said, "Go for the corner pocket with the nine ball."

"Okay," you agreed, and Bradley got to watch you beat Omaha and Hangman. And that was really all the birthday present he needed tonight. But then you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Smoked those losers!" you said loudly, and this time you had Bradley laughing. Then his hand settled around your waist, and as soon as he felt your denim jeans against his fingers, he had to back up a step. You just smiled and turned to re rack the balls.

Bradley didn't notice it at first, but after another two hours, he was definitely drunk. 

"Give me your keys," Nat told him around eleven o'clock as she held out her hand. 

Bradley had to lean against the pool table while he dug around in his pocket to get his keyring out. He watched with unfocused eyes as she removed his Bronco key and handed him the remaining house key on the keychain that said I'M SO FLY.

"How am I gonna get home?" he asked Nat, leaning in a little closer to try to focus. "Nat, I'm too fucked up to even use a ride app."

She smiled and patted his cheek. "Midnight offered to drive you."

"No!" he groaned. "Nat. You can't do this to me."

"Happy birthday," she crooned, disappearing off into the crowd with his key, leaving him holding a pool cue as you approached him again.

"Why don't you finish your drink, and I'll drive you home?" you asked with a smile so pretty on your lips, he was just dying to kiss you.

He realized he was staring at you now, but he couldn't figure out how to control his body and turn away. Riding in your car with you right now was going to be a disaster. He just fucking knew it. And now he was still staring at you as your smile grew. He would do anything to be able to look away, but now you were giggling, and my god, Bradley just loved that sound. But he tried so hard to look away until you bit your lip and reached out to touch his forearm again, and then he knew he wasn't going to be able to look away from your face ever again no matter what.

"Fuck," he grunted, wondering who had let him drink this much.

You were rubbing your fingers along his arm, and Bradley's brain helpfully informed him that he could have a boner right now, no problem.

"Fuck," he repeated. But you were still smiling. 

"You are so drunk right now," you said softly, shaking your head. "Your cheeks are beat red. You look adorable."

"You're adorable," he whispered, and your laugh was loud and bright. 

"Okay, you just finish this, and I'll take you home whenever you want, birthday boy." You picked his drink up off the table and he took it from you before you turned away.

Oh. You had thought he was joking when he called you adorable. That was good, because he hadn't meant to say anything like that at all. Not out loud. He was going to have to hold his own damn mouth shut in your car. 

He had no idea how long he had been standing there with his glass in his hand, but he was watching you talking to Omaha. Fuck that guy, for real. But he looked annoyed right now. Bradley liked that expression on Omaha's face. He also vaguely thought nobody should ever be looking at you with annoyance, because you were perfect. 

Bradley took a few steps so he was closer to you, because he was drunk, and going home sounded like a good idea. Then he heard Omaha.

"What do you mean you're taking Rooster home? Like you're taking him to your house?"

You replied right away, and your voice sounded crisp. "He's drunk. It's his birthday. I offered to drive him home. To his house. You need to relax."

Bradley liked that tone of your voice when you were talking to Omaha. Especially when your eyes and voice softened as Bradley made his way over to you. "I'm ready to go, Midnight," he said, and you took his hand right away. Bradley shot Omaha a smug smile and saluted him like a real asshole, even though he knew nothing would ever happen with you. But the look he received from Omaha combined with his middle finger in the air had Bradley laughing. 

"Did you have a fun night?" you asked, slipping your arm around Bradley's waist to help him walk. He probably looked like an idiot right now, but he didn't care. 

"Yep," he replied. "Thanks for playing pool with me. And thanks for the drinks."

"Oh, it's no problem," you said. "I know you'll pay me back on my birthday."

Bradley draped his arm around your shoulders even though he firmly told himself not to. "I'll buy all your drinks on your birthday. All that microbrewed shit you like."

You laughed as you led him to your car and unlocked it. "Just get in, birthday boy."

"It's not my birthday anymore," he whispered. "It's midnight." And then he laughed and added, "Well, you're Midnight, actually." He groaned and ducked down into your car when you opened the passenger side door for him. "Just ignore me."

You leaned in and helped him get his seatbelt on. "Now that would be impossible, Rooster."

Your face was close to his, and you weren't moving. Why weren't you moving? You weren't drunk. You'd had one beer, hours ago. You should be moving away from him. "You okay?" you finally asked, patting his chest where the seatbelt crossed him. 

"I like your face," Bradley told you, and then he wanted to disappear into thin air more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

"Thanks," you whispered with a smile. "That's sweet. I'll take you home now, okay?"

Bradley just nodded and cradled his face in his hands as you shut the door and walked around your car. When you closed your door and started the engine, he dared to glance at you before turning to look straight ahead. He would be home soon. And he could climb in bed and this would all be over.

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

Bradley was drunk. You'd never seen his cheeks so rosy or heard his voice so raspy before. It was a cute look on him, even though he seemed pretty far gone. But teasing him a little bit was always fun, because you knew nothing would ever happen.

"I like your face, too," you told him as you backed out of the parking space. "It's a very nice one. Handsome."

Bradley groaned and gaped at you. "What the fuck, Midnight?"

"What?" you asked, glancing at him before you pulled out onto the street. "You're handsome. All you guys are."

"Fucking Omaha," Bradley muttered, and you laughed as he cross his arms. 

"You don't like Omaha?"

Bradley scoffed. "Lieutenant Jawline? He can fuck right off."

You were now howling with laughter as you tried to make a left turn. "What does that make you then? Lieutenant Mustache?"

Bradley chuckled and tilted his head back. "I guess so. But that would make you Lieutenant Sexy Laugh and Beautiful Face."

You gasped and glanced at him as your belly swooped. He was flirting with you. But he was drunk. "That's too long to fit on my name tag."

"Baby, you're so perfect, you deserve two name tags. Maybe even three," he mumbled. "Maybe even a hundred name tags. I can think of a hundred different things I like about you."

You swallowed hard as you turned onto his street. After you had driven two blocks in a daze, you asked, "What's your house number?" You couldn't remember. You were having a hard time remembering anything. Because Bradley Bradshaw could think of a hundred different things he liked about you.

"I dunno," he groaned, pushing his fingers through his hair. "I can't remember anything except that time you wore shorts when we went to the beach and your bikini top was pink, and Nat made fun of me for being too embarrassed to tell you I think you're pretty."

You laughed softly as Bradley's eyes opened wide. "You are so drunk, Rooster! I can't believe we got you this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk," he muttered, turning in his seat to look at you as the light turned green.

"You don't even remember your house number!" you said, driving slowly down the street 

"I think it has an eight in it."

You laughed and pulled over, turning to look at him. "Rooster, what am I supposed to do with you?"

His eyes were soft as he lazily searched your face. "I can think of a few things. They all involve your lips."

You were the one gaping now. His eyes were unfocused, and no matter how badly you wanted to feel his mustache against your skin, you kept yourself a few feet away from him. When he leaned in, you brushed your fingers through his hair to keep him from getting closer. "Rooster," you whispered as he melted into your touch. "Do you want me to just take you to my place?"

His eyes bugged out, and he started to stutter. "Shit, I, well... Midnight, I-I..."

You let yourself stroke your fingers through his hair for a few more seconds before you eased him back against the seat and pulled back away from the curb. "You can sleep it off at my place, and I'll take you back for your Bronco in the morning."

"Sleep? At your place? Of all the things I have imagined doing there, sleep was not one of them."

He was very clearly a mess at the moment, but you couldn't help yourself. "Oh really? What have you imagined?"

He groaned loudly, closing his eyes and rubbing his palms along his face. "Imagined kissing you after I took you out to dinner. Kissing you on your couch and in your bed. Imagined how good you must taste."

Then he was quiet. You thought he must have fallen asleep. And as you pulled up to park in front of your apartment, you couldn't believe you'd gone out on a date with Omaha and let Omaha kiss you when there might have been even the slightest possibility that Rooster wanted to do those things. 

He was breathing softly now, his head resting on the window. When you got out and opened the passenger door slowly, he jolted awake and tried to climb out with the seatbelt still on him. You tried not to laugh, but it was just too funny. 

"Sit back, Rooster," you whispered, and you leaned across his big, warm body to unbuckle him. Then you took him by the hand and laced your fingers with his. You loved the way his hands felt, so big and secure. 

"That feels so nice," he murmured, pulling your hand against him. "Where are we going?"

He was trying to lead you away from your building, and you had to keep pulling him along with you. "Come this way, Rooster."

"Okay, baby. Whatever you want."

You just shook your head as you unlocked your building with his big body looming behind you. "I'm taking you to my apartment. You'll be fine, okay?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, and you wrapped your arm around him to get him inside. He stumbled down the hallway to your door, and once he was inside, you took his hand again. 

"Here's my bathroom," you said, turning on the light and leading him in. You dug around in one of the drawers and found an extra toothbrush. "You can use this. And the bedroom is next door."

"Thanks," he whispered, bending down to kiss you cheek softly. "Love you." You stood there stunned as Bradley turned toward your toilet and started to unzip his jeans. 

Then you quickly darted out of the bathroom and closed the door. You were stuck somewhere between laughing and dying from shock. This is not what you had signed up for when you agreed to drive him home! But maybe it was even better. Or maybe it was a lot worse, and he didn't really feel this way at all.  

When you heard the toilet flush, you headed to the kitchen and filled two glasses with water. You'd let him sleep in your bed and you'd crash on the couch. You were pretty sure he wouldn't even fit on the couch anyway. The couch he told you he had imagined kissing you on.

What was going on here? 

The bathroom door opened, and you heard him say, "Midnight? I'm getting in bed."

"Okay," you replied with a laugh as you carried the waters into your bedroom. "I think you should drink this." He was wearing nothing except his boxer shorts, and your jaw dropped open. Because he was stunning. Big and muscular and fucking hot. "Water," you muttered, handing him a glass. 

He downed the whole thing in one big gulp, and then he set the glass down, swaying on his feet. "I think I need to sleep."

You nodded at him, and he was reaching for your hand, and you had no idea what to do. "What do you want, Rooster?" you asked, but he was scooping you up into his arms.

"Sleep," he muttered. 

"With me?" you gasped.

"Yep."

And a moment later, Bradley was behind you with his big arms wrapped around you, and he was sound asleep. 

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

Before he even cracked his eyes open, Bradley knew he had a headache. So he just burrowed further into the soft, sweet smelling blanket. He knew this smell. It was familiar and comforting. When he gathered the blanket up and buried his nose in it, he realized it smelled like you.

His eyes were open then, even though his head was pounding. He had never been in the room before. But he was sure it was yours. And the spot in bed next to him was still warm. 

"Oh no. Oh no," he groaned, covering his face with his hands. "What did you do?" Suddenly it was hard to breathe. He was in his underwear. In your bed. Hungover. Yesterday was his birthday. How did he even get here? He could remember playing pool with you at the Hard Deck, and then Nat took his key away. And... oh shit, he got in your car.

He was stumbling out of bed, looking for his clothing. He found his jeans and shirt neatly folded up on your desk chair. As quickly as he could, he pulled everything on and headed down the hallway.

You were in the kitchen, wearing shorts and a tank top, brewing coffee. You were perfect. Holy shit, you were everything. And he had already fucked this up.  

"Midnight?" His voice was rough and raw, and when you turned to look at him with a gorgeous smile on your face, he thought he was going to throw up. 

"Morning, Rooster. Sleep well?" you asked with a smirk. Bradley couldn't formulate solid thoughts. You were handing him a cup of coffee. You weren't wearing a bra. He had been in your bed with you, and he couldn't remember anything that happened.

"Did we hookup?" he blurted loudly, and you froze with the coffee mug in your hand. "Oh, shit, Midnight. Please tell me we didn't sleep together."

You no longer looked happy. But you were shaking your head with your eyes locked on his. "No," you whispered. "We didn't do anything."

As relief washed over Bradley, you turned away from him with the mug and looked out your kitchen window. "Thank goodness," he sighed.

"Yeah," you said softly. "That would have been terrible."

"Absolutely," he said, still catching his breath.

But now you didn't seem to want him around at all. "I'll call Nat and see if she can meet us with your key." You kept your back to him as you reached for your phone, and then Bradley closed the distance to you. 

"Hey, Midnight?" he asked, taking your phone from your hand. You glanced at him over your shoulder with annoyance. "Thanks for driving me last night."

"No problem," you replied quietly, avoiding his eyes now. 

"But why did you bring me here?"

You rolled your eyes. "You couldn't even remember your house number, and it was so dark, I couldn't tell which one was yours. Now let me take you back to your car, please?"

But then Bradley remembered telling you he could think of a hundred different things he liked about you. He remembered holding your hand and kissing your cheek. 

You were walking across the kitchen away from him, but he chased you down, lacing his fingers with yours. You only looked slightly surprised. "Did I completely embarrass myself last night?" he asked.

Despite your best efforts, you were smiling at him again. "I thought you were pretty damn endearing, actually." You tried to pull your hand out of his grasp, but he held you tight. 

"I can think of more than just a hundred things I like about you. So many more than that." He pulled you a little closer still. "You let me sleep in your bed with you?"

You sighed. "Don't worry, Rooster. We didn't hook up. We didn't even kiss. You just spooned me and passed out immediately."

Bradley groaned and tipped his head back. "I spooned you? I got to cuddle with you, and I don't even remember it? That's not fair!"

Another smile was dancing along your lips as you nodded. "You're really great at cuddling. Very warm." But then you bit your lip and looked at the floor. "Would it really have been so bad if we did more?"

"Yes!" he nearly shouted, and your startled eyes snapped up to his. "Baby, I want to remember that stuff in vivid detail!" 

You laughed and now Bradley was smiling. And then you kissed him softly, and he thought his heart was going to pound out of his chest. "You said some crazy stuff last night while you were drunk," you whispered, but he kept you close to him.

"I am pretty sure it was all true," he promised you. "But I'd be more than happy to fact check with you."

"You said you like my face."

"That's a fact," he said, nodding. 

"You said you wanted to do things with my lips."

"Oh, yeah. That's definitely a fact."

"You said you imagined taking me out to dinner and kissing me."

"Many times."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" you asked, sounding annoyed.  

He kissed you again. "Fucking Omaha, baby. What's that all about?"

"Oh," you said softly. "That is something that is basically nothing. At least on my end of things. And I could happily put a stop to that."

"Like today?" he asked, running his lips along your neck. 

"Like five minutes ago, Rooster."

Then you had your arms around his neck, and Bradley's hands were all over you. Your soft sigh as he kissed your lips had him scooping you up into his arms. "Can I have a do-over? Can we get back in your bed and cuddle?"

"Yes," you whispered as your mouth brushed his neck while your fingers went to his hair. 

This time Bradley kept his clothes on, and when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, he laced his fingers with yours. "I like this. We should do this all the time."

"We will," you promised, and his lips and mustache found your neck as he buried his nose in your hair. "I hope you had a fun birthday."

He needed to remember to thank Nat for being a pain in his ass when he saw her later. "I did. But today is even better."

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

Midnight, you're so lucky, babe! Upgrading from Lieutenant Jawline to Lieutenant Mustache! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls for putting up with me.

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[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: It's finally done, babes. This whole fic is so silly though, it's just Epel and reader bickering the entire time before their parents appear lol. Mind you the ending was going to be very different but like I've had so many ideas and so much time had already passed. I might write the alternative ending later though. Vil's nickname meaning btw: hase = bunny, Liebling = dear/darling & Sonnenschein = sunshine. Read part one here. @kingofspadesdelusion @harukishiyo

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, platonic + soft yanderes, sibling fight, hypnosis, memory loss, around 7k, half proofread.

The first thing you feel upon regaining consciousness is pain. It's unbearable, exploding in your chest as if someone repeatedly stabbed you and slowly peeled away your skin until only your bones were exposed.

Flames shoot through your spine, and coldness seeps into your bones. It feels like you've been run over by a tractor for hours, or fallen from an airplane — that's how much it hurts. Moans of pain escape your open mouth, but you don't have enough energy to open your eyes, at least not immediately.

There's a buzzing noise, a humming breaking the silence. Everything around you spins; you can feel it even with your eyes closed. A gentle hand holds yours, someone wraps your body in soft covers, there are screams, and a thick liquid falls into your mouth. Then, it's over.

But now, it's different somehow.

You still can't move, can't talk, can't open your eyes. It's like experiencing sleep paralysis.

Lying there, you try to remember what happened. Your memory is foggy, and trying to recall only makes your head hurt more. You grit your teeth and try again, harder, ignoring the pain.

It's like swimming against the waves—almost impossible. You force every inch of your cells to work, your lungs to take in air. You're trying so hard. You wish desperately for something, anything, to work.

Then, a light bulb goes off in your mind.

You remember the vampire pinning you to the ground, glass cutting into your skin, sweat and tears mixing, and a scream of pain escaping your lips as he bit you. After that, darkness and pain.

For several days following your transformation - assuming that's what it was - you wake and sleep deliriously, feverish, thirsty for blood, a viscous liquid spilling onto your lips until you calm down and sleep again. The cycle repeats.

It wasn't a nightmare? You bitterly think.

Heat surrounds you, but what makes your body tense is the sensation of someone behind you. Paying closer attention, you feel a faint, cold breath sending shivers down your back as you try to move your fingers and hands. But nothing happens; your limbs are too tired and weak from weeks of sleep.

Suppressing an angry noise, you slowly open your eyes to find yourself inside a transparent coffin on the ground — a glass coffin. It's dark, illuminated only by moonbeams through open windows. You hear laughter and soft music in the distance, the voices of two older vampires having fun. If you strain, you can even make out their conversation. But that's not what captures your attention; it's the fact that you can see in the dark, hear from such distances… You know what that means.

As minutes pass, you manage to move your fingers, then your hands, your entire torso, and finally your whole body. Your throat is dry as if you swallowed sand. You cough several times, waiting for enough saliva to swallow as you watch the creature resting beside you.

What lies there is proof that your torment was real, not just an incredibly lucid dream. Next to you sleeps the creature who turned you into a vampire because he wanted a sibling — a fragile figure with lilac hair falling into his eyes, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

He looks fragile, different. Hypothetically, you should be strong enough to kill him now, even if you're as hungry as hell. Your hands clench into fists.

The scent of blood still lingers, and even in the dark, you see small dry drops staining the corners of his shirt. This horrifying realization makes you move away, pressing your back against your side of the coffin as you stare at him.

At that moment, blood doesn't disgust you; instead, you feel the thirst returning, your fangs yearning to bite something. You want to rip and taste, need it, even your own wrists seem appetizing enough.

You knew it now — you were no longer human. The confirmation was painful. Humans couldn't see in the dark, hear sounds from kilometers away, or crave blood.

Yes, you were no longer human…

Memories of your former life flooded back — the fleeting joys, genuine tears. Those days were over. No more early mornings watching the sunrise, no more wrestling with friends, no warm hugs after a bad day. Your tongue would never taste your favorite foods and drinks again.

Eternity stretched before you like an abyss, closing in from all sides. You mourned the humanity you'd lost, wishing desperately to turn back time, to prevent your friends from entering that house. Your hand rested where your heart once beat, hoping in vain to feel its rhythm again, but all you felt was cold, the intense cold of a creature of the night, of an inhuman monster you had become.

Blood no longer flowed in your veins. You stared at your wrists for a while. You had been robbed.

You weren't one to cry easily in the face of adversity, always seeking solutions rather than succumbing to despair. But now, the weight of what had happened hit you fully, and thick tears rolled down your cheeks as you gazed at the boy peacefully asleep beside you.

Your friends were dead — all of them, food for the same assassins who had killed you to turn you into a beast like them.

Monster. You, him, them — all monsters.

Without hesitation, you forced the coffin lid open and leaped out. Your eyes distinguished different shades in the darkness surrounding you. It couldn't be real, you thought, not for you. You still had your whole life ahead, plans, dreams, it couldn't be happening…

But it was.

The voices faded, footsteps replaced by your brother's soft snore, the person responsible for your death, the culprit. Your hands clenched again, nails digging into flesh, but you ignored the pain. Closing the distance, you knew with his parents absent, the odds were in your favor.

After him, you'd plan to dispose of the other two, if it was the last thing you did. Brick by brick, breach by breach, you would destroy this mansion, decorate it with their guts and entrails.

Doubt flickered momentarily. Was this right? Was taking his life justified? You struggled with the realization of becoming a monster, yet hiding away in isolation wasn't living either. But returning home endangered those you cared for.

The hesitation evaporated. You had to do this, guilt or not. You weren't a murderer, but you'd be one soon enough. You'd stain your hands with his blood, with their blood.

Your movements were as light as the pillows you had rested on moments ago. Leaning over him, your trembling hands found his neck, cutting off his oxygen supply. It felt undeniably right.

Epel jolted awake, as if doused in ice water, eyes wide with terror, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he struggled. You tightened your grip, yearning to witness his life fade, to feel him weaken and falter, if only for a moment's respite.

He ended you on a whim. You would end him for your revenge.

"Not so smug now, are we?" you teased, your hands still shaking from the force of your grip, leaving crescent marks on his pale skin.

Panic painted his eyes, adrenaline surged through his veins, primal instinct urging him to fight for survival. As air escaped his lungs, his body reacted, muscles tensing.

"Look at me," You whispered to him, your voice sounding strange even to you. "I want to see the life leaving you when you die, as you had seen in mine when I died."

With a primal roar, Epel held onto your wrists, fingers digging into flesh as he fought to break free from the suffocating grasp. Every fiber of his being was focused on one singular goal: survival. Like a prey trapped in it's predator's maws.

Monster, human. Every species would always hope to survive. Or to run.

And sometimes... They fought back.

"You think you're so smart." He wheezed, an airy laugh leaving him. Its tone sounded so unnatural, so rough and dark, shivers went down your spine. You watched him closely, feeling like something was about to happen. Uncertainty dancing in your eyes as you tried to discern his next move.

With deliberate slowness, he straightened, his gaze piercing through the dim light with an intensity that made your heart race. "But cleverness alone won't save you," Epel murmured, his voice low and laden with a hint of menace.

Despite his bluff, sweat beaded on his skin, mingling with the scent of fear and his limps weakinging. A groan left him.

"Perhaps not," You replied evenly, refusing to show any sign of weakness. "But it certainly makes for an interesting challenge, wouldn't you agree?"

He wheezed again, trembling. He flexed his legs and used them to try to unbalance you or push you away in an attempt to escape. A futile attempt, you were unmoving. Unwilling to even give him a chance.

Die already! You wanted to scream, wanted to rip his head with your fangs.

Epel's muscles strained against your hold, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggled against the encroaching darkness. He was looking at you with his big lilac eyes, hoping for mercy or something else. But gradually, his movements grew weaker, more labored, until finally, they ceased altogether.

He lay there limp, his body cold and lifeless — a portrayal of a defeated monster.

In that moment, the roles were reversed, the hunter became the hunted. A surge of relief washed over you as you watched over Epel's unmoving body. Your heart raced with the realization that you had prevailed, that the threat had been neutralized.

As you took in the scene before you, a wave of relief washed over you. The danger had passed, at least for now. And as you caught your breath, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in your ability to withstand the ordeal. Though your chest was heavy with something you couldn't quite put into words. Guilty? Sadness? You didn't know what it was.

Tiny tears slipped from your eyes and fell on his face. Dead. You killed him. You thought about what you were feeling as you slowly stood up. It wasn't guilty.

It was something more primal. Something you didn't quite understood.

You turned around as you walked straight to the door, your hand frozen while you held the handle. There was two more to go. Whatever this thing you were feeling was, it could wait a bit. You looked back one last time, a gasp leaving you.

You stood there, baffled. His body had vanished. Why? How? You scanned the room, searching desperately, but he was nowhere to be found. Do vampire bodies just vanished after death? Were he pretending?

You opened the door and ran with reckless abandon. You raced through the halls, the truth sinking in like cold claws upon your heart, you hoped for any and all silly hypothesis to be the one instead of the real one. Epel had staged his death with such cunning that even your new instincts had failed you. Wherever he was, his laughter echoed with a bitter edge of amusement at your expense.

He sounded like he was having the time of his life.

As you ran, your senses caught every whisper of movement, every hint of shadow, every murmur he made. The sound of owls hooting far away punctuated the night. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you turned yet another hallway, the eerie shadows seemed to move of their own accord, trying to catch you, to hold prisoner just as much as you already is. The corridors twisted and turned in a confusing maze, never-ending, forever stretching far away.

Then, suddenly, the laughter stopped. The silence was deafening, making your heart race even faster. You slowed your pace, trying to listen, straining to hear any sign of movement. The stillness was oppressive, the darkness closing in around you.

"You were too confident," Epel's voice reached you, his tone dripping with amusement. "I'II let you know that vampires can't breathe, though we do move our shoulders and "breathe" because we were so used to after turning. So you would never be able to kill me with your teeny little hands. It was cute that you tried though. I did the same thing after I was turned, not to my father, it was a human. An elder man... I think. My first victim."

Your fists clenched at your sides, looking around. "And? If I couldn't kill you there, I'II kill you here. I have all the time to try."

With that, he appeared from the shadows, a smirk growing on his lips. Epel laughed. "You are but a baby right now, weak and easily tired, dear sibling. I'm not even teasing you as it is the truth."

Anger flared within you, but you fought to keep your composure. You needed a clean, calm mind for now. "Oh, I'm not helpless," You retorted, stepping closer. "You won't get away this time."

Epel chuckled, a low, mocking sound that grated on your nerves. "We'll see about that."

In an instant, he moved, a blur of motion as he darted to the side, anticipating what he was about to do you launched yourself after him trying to catch him before he turned into shadows again but it was futile, he was gone just like that.

Like sand falling through your hands, so easily. You bit your lower lip angrily.

Every whisper of movement, every flicker of shadow, anything around you could be him. The empty, endless corridors seeming to play tricks on your mind again as you ran after him without really knowing if you were following the right direction, having losing sight of him as soon as he turned the corner.

The manor was different from the other, you could tell. Its wall made of wooden instead of brick, the sound produced by your steps was loud too. There was some torch holders attached to walls, which was a bad idea. But this was not important, not now at least.

Though it was certainly something you kept in mind. You could always burn this manor with the trio inside of it.

"Pss, here!" He called.

Ahead, you caught a glimpse of him turning a corner. You pushed yourself harder, running without ever feeling tired, running as freely as you could knowing that you wouldn't bump into things, the darkness inviting you to see through her. As you rounded the corner, you found yourself in an empty section.

You heard his laugh, so joyful. As if he felt funny how you were chasing him around like a kicked puppy who wanted to bite him.

You stopped, he was more faster than you because of his little trick. But maybe you could also use the shadows like he so effortlessly did? Was that even possible?

Well, he was doing it so it was possible. But how? You thought for what felt like hours, steady and still, still hearing whatever what's happening in case he took that opportunity to hit you.

You weren't bound by human rules; maybe you really could do it. Focusing your mind, you reached out to the darkness around you, willing it to envelop you, to make you one with the shadows, as if you were but a swimmer trying to be one with the water, feeling around, searching for something, anything at all.

You felt a brief chill, a sensation like the brush of icy fingers, and for a moment, you thought you had succeeded. But as you tried to step into the shadows, to melt away as Epel had done, nothing happened. You remained solid and visible, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Epel's laughter rang out louder than before, sharp and mocking.

"You're not ready for that yet," He said between giggles and wheezes, shaking his head. "It takes more than desire to command the shadows. You need understanding, control, and above all, experience. You're still just a fledgling."

"Shut up, this is all your fault" You insisted, trying to ignore the embarrassment burning within you. If anything, now you had to kill him for your honor too. "I'm going to find a stake and I'm going to fucking impale you with it."

He let out a low, mocking chuckle, the sound was as mischievious as he is. "Bold words for someone who can't even master the shadows," Epel teased, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think you can kill me? You're not even close to understanding what you're dealing with, so naive and self-assured, yapping endlessly about killing when I know damn well you can't stomach the thought of killing."

You heard something behind you and turned around immediately, ready to strike it with your bare hands and all anger bottled up on your chest. Nothing there, just another trick of his.

"But go ahead," He continued after being silent for a few minutes. "Try to find a stake, try to kill me. I'll enjoy watching you fail. Again."

His eyes glinted with a dangerous light, two lilac orbs glowing in the dark, promising chaos and pain, so unnatural to their usual sweet look. "And if you do manage to land a blow, remember this: I won't be so merciful next time. You're playing a dangerous game, sibling. One you can't win."

His form started dissolving into the darkness again when you surged forward, determined to not let him escape again, as the shadows swallowed both of you. You held onto his arm, wether because you were afraid of how fast you were moving or to ensure he wasn't going anywhere, you didn't know which was better. It was so strange, traveling through them, quick but unpleasant in a way you couldn't describe. You caught Epel staring at you, watching your expressions, before he regained control from the shadows and came to a stop, in a random room.

You were expelled from them with great force, hitting your back and shoulders against the wall, sending a few hanging pictures flying everywhere. While he landed perfectly fine on his own two feet.

"I hate you..." You groaned.

Epel's lips curled into a mocking smile, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Hate me all you want, I don't care," He taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. He leaned in closer, his breath cold against your skin. "You're one of us now and the sooner you accept it, the better."

"I never wanted this," You spat, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and despair as you stood up. "You took my life on a stupid whim."

Epel's smile faded slightly, his expression growing more serious as he looked anywhere that wasn't your face. "I just... didn't want to be alone anymore," He admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his tone. "I love dad and father and they spoil me quite a lot but I miss having someone my age to talk to. We don't need to fight. We can be... Friends."

"Never," You snarled almost immediately, knowing well that you rather eat rocks and lava than be on amicable terms with him. Epel caught your wrist, his grip like iron.

"Maybe not today," He said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "But one day, you'll see. We're connected now, bound by blood. You can't escape what you are, you can't escape me."

With a frustrated cry, You fought against him, kicking his shins and sinking your tiny, but sharp, fangs into his arms that held you, tearing at his flesh until it was a gruesome, bloody mess. Despite the blood trickling down your face, you refused to surrender, resolved to not go down without a fierce battle.

And Epel watched you with a mixture of pity and something that might have been hope. He truly hoped he could convince you through his words. He failed.

"Maybe when you wake up you'll be more receptive to seeing things from another point of view." He thought out loud , his voice almost gentle as he swiftly took hold of your hands, making impossible to escape from his grip even with you struggling and fighting. He simply didn't budge, almost as if he was made of iron, unmovable.

Epel's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of tranquility and determination burning brightly within them, as you felt your world swaying for as long as you stared at him.

"Sleep," Epel whispered, his hoarse voice echoing in the dimly lit room as dark spots started to dance upon your eyes. However, you refused to yield, turning your head defiantly to the other side so you couldn't be influenced by his hypnotic eyes.

You remembered reading once that vampires could influence people and you had no time to discover if this was real or not. Though without a doubt he was using hypnosis with you now but him himself wasn't strong, not in this at least. "Ah- stop, look at me. I command you to look at me."

Frustration and fear gnawed at you. He was playing a game and you were his unwilling participant. Again. You close your eyes instead. Your head swam but you fought against the pull of his hypnosis. Your mind was your own, and you refused to let him take that from you.

"What are you? A wizard?" You muttered back at him, holding back a laugh. "I command you to shut up."

Epel's eyes widened in annoyance, and he paused, his grip loosening just slightly. "Why do you resist? I'm trying to help you."

"Help me? Are you that dense?" You scoffed, breathing hard even though you didn't need it anymore. The motion was still too familiar, a reflex you hadn't yet forgotten even knowing well that was futile. You began counting to ten mentally, trying to calm yourself enough to think clearly. "You turned me into this... monster. I don't want your help. I didn't even wanted this. You just took my life without my permission."

Epel's expression hardened, a flash of hurt crossing his face before he masked it with anger, heavy accent dominating his tone. "You don't understand," He snapped. "I tried to be cool and gentle, yet ya ain't done a single thing if not grumple. I don't give a rat's ass if yer angry or sad, you're my kin now. An' we are your family, like it or not. You ain't goin' nowhere."

Epel's eyes darkened with a mix of rage and desperation, though his tone was filled more with frustration than regret. You felt uneasy for as long as he stared at you, feeling as if something was about to happen.

"I've played with you enough already," He growled.

Before you could react, Epel gripped your head with both hands and slammed it against the ground. Pain exploded in your skull, and your vision blurred. You tried to fight back, but your limbs felt heavy and uncooperative - probably due to his earlier hypnosis.

"Why can't you just see things my way?" Epel's voice sounded distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears. "I did this for us."

You groaned, struggling to move, but your body refused to obey. The edges of your vision darkened as you fought to stay conscious, anger and fear mingling in your chest.

Epel's grip tightened, his frustration palpable. "This could have been easier," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "But you had to make things difficult."

You felt yourself slipping away, the pain in your head overwhelming, tears of pain and hatred falling down your eyes. You failed again.

You repeated like a mantra, failure, failure, failure.

"Wait…" You tried to say, but the words came out as a weak, unintelligible murmur.

As world tilted and spun, a new presence made itself known. The heavy silence was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching, each step echoing with authority and grace at the same time. Suddenly, the door creaked open, revealing the imposing figure of a tall, proud, beautiful vampire standing in the doorway, his gaze piercing and inscrutable. His partner stood behind him.

"Oh la la, the children are playing already." Rook mused, a smile founding way to his lips as he watched you struggling.

With a single glance, they took in the scene before them - the traces of blood staining the floor and all over your own shirt and lips, Epel hands still holding your head as the world continued to spin around. Vil's expression remained unreadable as he surveyed his children, his presence commanding attention.

"What is the meaning of this, Epel?" Vil demanded in a voice that brooked no argument, his tone a mix of concern and reproach. His eyes flickered between Epel and you, searching for answers in the depths of his conflicted gaze.

Epel stood rigidly, his expression a blend of defiance and regret. "I didn't mean for things to go this far, father, I swear." He muttered, avoiding Vil's piercing gaze. "I just wanted them to understand..."

Vil's eyes narrowed, his displeasure evident. "By force? By hurting them? You think this is how you build connections, Epel? By breaking them?"

Epel's shoulders slumped, the weight of father's words pressing down on him. "I didn't know what else to do," His voice barely audible. "I was desperate."

Desperate, indeed. You lay on the ground, still feeling the residual pain from the impact. Your body ached, but you forced yourself to sit up, wincing as you moved, feeling the blood trickling down your neck from how hard he was banging your head on the floor. Rook found it's way to your side quickly, supporting you even if you obviously didn't like the idea that much.

"Desperate or not, you had no right," You said, your voice trembling but firm. "You can't just force people into your life and expect them to like you."

Vil's expression softened slightly as he glanced at you, the newest family member, his concern evident. "Are you alright?" he asked, his tone gentler.

You nodded slowly, the throbbing in your head making it hard to speak. Though when you were capable, you made your option known. "I'll be fine, dear Epel was just trying to show me some family love, isn't that right, Epel? Such a caring brother."

Rook pressed down on your injured head, silecing you before you could come up with another sarcastic remark. His stare was the only warning you had that dealing with him or Vil was different than dealing with Epel.

That you needed to respect them. And truly you did, only for now, while you waited for a perfect to either take Epel's as hostage or ran away. You didn't decided yet.

Vil clicked his tongue in displeasure, turning back to his son, his eyes hardening once more. "That's not how I taugh you on how to do things, Epel. Look at them, they're shaking and scared."

Epel looked away, his jaw clenched and a large pout forming on his lips as he was scolded. "I just... I know, father. I apologize."

Rook appeared beside Vil, his presence a calming influence. "Don't be so harsh on him, mon couer. He just made a tiny little mistake."

Vil sighed, his demeanor softening as Rook's arms wrapped around his waist, resting his face on Vil's shoulder. They stared at each other for a few seconds, almost as if they could read each other minds and this made you uneasy.

Was that possible too? You hoped not.

You saw Rook's amused smile growing and Vil rolling his eyes at his lover. And the scene was kinda cute if it wasn't for the fact that they were your enemy's parents. The couple you would kill after you had killed their son. Though were you really capable in this state? You couldn't even pry yourself from Epel's hands.

You took to watch the couple interacting while Epel was till sulking in the corner, looking like a cockroach in the middle of the kitchen who freezed up because the light just turned on. In his lover's arms, Vil looked so relaxed, slicked hair falling over his face as he turned his neck to softly plant a kiss on Rook's lips.

You wouldn't be able to tell that they weren't humans just by the way they looked or acted, they were too normal and common for anyone to guess that truly they were something different. You wondered how many lifes had they taken? How much blood had they spilled?

You were afraid of it. Of this new life, of failing to kill them.

You were afraid of becoming detached and apathetic just like them. You blinked, next thing you know Rook was next to you again.

You gasped, surprised, taking a step back.

"Aw, why the long face, petit lapin?" He asked, his eyes studying you with a mix of compassion and curiosity. Like a hunter study his prey. You felt trapped under his stare, compelled to answer him, even when you tried to swallow your words.

"I... I'm just... trying to make sense of everything," Your voice left you, so vunerable and feeling so small, you noticed when Vil took his side, also looking at you. "I don't know what to do... I don't even know how to be like this."

Your voice trembles with uncertainty. Every word feels like a confession under Rook's hypnotic stare, drawing out truths you're not sure you're ready to confront. So much doubt, so much fear, so much everything.

You fell lost, exactly how you felt when you woke up hours ago. The world is overwhelming and too big, and too dangerous. You don't know how to navigate it now and you can only hold onto your revenge, because if you lost this too you may lost yourself.

And you're not ready to talk about it. Not here, not now.

Rook's expression softens ever so slightly, a rare tenderness breaking through his usual intensity. "You don't need to be afraid," He reassures you, his voice low and calm. "We're here to protect you, to guide you."

Your eyes dart nervously to Vil, who offers you a reassuring nod, your thoughts keep coming to your mind; the mansion, the deaths, the pain, the fear. Yet, there's a certain growing on your chest that hasn't there moments ago.

Vil's presence calming and inviting and Rook seems like the sun, so warm, so happy. You turned your head away, afraid that your thoughts aren't yours anymore and that they were only manipulating you.

Feeling overwhelmed, you hesitate, you rethink everything you said, every little syllable, not knowing if you told them that willing or not. There's still some sarcastic remarks and rude comments you want to say to stun them, but before you can do it you feel Vil's hand grabbing your jaw to make you look at him this time, his eyes shining a vibrant lilac.

"It's ok to be confused, mein liebling," He mutters sofly. "It's ok to be scared and overwhelmed but we're here for you. You're safe with us."

He was telling the truth, you could feel it inside of you. The conviction, the certainess, Vil and Rook shared a glance then, with a surprising synchrony, they both step closer to you and by instinct you took a step back before looking back at Vil, confused. Everything was starting to feel complicated somehow.

Vil's arms encircled you first, drawing you into a warm, protective embrace, your head - now healed and not aching at all - resting on his chest as he played with your hair. His touch was gentle yet firm.

"You're not alone," Vil murmurs softly, his voice a comforting whisper against your ear.

Rook follows suit, enveloping you in his embrace from the other side. His hold is oddly comforting, as if he's silently promising to shield you from whatever dangers lie ahead. "We'll take good care of you, we're going to have so much fun together," Rook murmurs, lost in his own little world, swaying from side to side and pulling you along, as if you two were dancing to strange song only he was capable of hearing. Epel joins in, his arms encircling the group, like a family.

Are you forgetting something? You feel like you're forgetting something.

"Everything's fine, my dear. Close your eyes." But you don't. Vil's voice is as soothing as velvet, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. His presence is familiar, grounding. You want to trust him, to obey, but something in his tone holds you back. You keep your eyes open, watching him intently.

You watch his lips stained blood, the unnatural lilac eyes, the sun slowly rising through the windows. Something was wrong, so terribly wrong and your throat was so dry so suddenly. As you try to pull away from that hug, you feel him placing his hands on either side of your head.

“Close your eyes,” He instructs in a serene, soft tone that made you giddy. It was like you could tell him anything and never feel afraid of judgment, like a child running to show their father a drawing they just made without knowing how silly it looked. "I'm doing this because is far more convenient than wait for you to come around."

"I don't want to close my eyes," You answered petulantly. "Tell Epel to close his eyes."

Epel laughed a little, for the expression that took hold of his father face was priceless. He was a man (vampire?) of science, always have been, whence why their path have crossed when Epel was younger. Though he was old as that manor and the trees planted on the garden, there was an explicit limit to his patience. Staling for time as you were doing was not going to work.

It could work on Rook though. Anything worked on him simply because he was reckless. Epel was never going to forgot how he flirted with a hunter when he and Vil had a bad argument, nor how Vil killed that hunter painfully and slowly.

"Trust me," He whispers, fingers hovering just inches from your temple. You feel a slight pressure, like the brush of a feather, and your vision blurs momentarily.

"Close your eyes, lapin!" Rook murmurs this time, his voice like a lullaby. Your eyelids grow heavy, and for a moment, you consider giving in. But you fight against the drowsiness, blinking rapidly to stay awake.

Vil's expression hardens. "It’s for your own good, sonnenschein."

His hand finally makes contact with your skin, a gentle touch that sends a ripple through your mind. You feel a strange warmth spreading from his fingertips, a comforting, almost hypnotic sensation. Though you fight back agaisnt it with all your forces. You repel each and every attempt without truly knowing why.

Why you feared him when his hug was so cozy and comfy? Weird. Still you couldn't help it.

Your thoughts become hazy, memories slipping through your grasp like sand through a sieve. You struggle to hold on, to remember why you were resisting in the first place. Vil's presence was overwhelming, his will intertwining with your own. As your eyes close on their own accord, you feel a strange warmth spreading from Vil’s hands into your mind.

His voice becomes a soothing murmur, a hypnotic rhythm that lulls you into a deep, peaceful state. “Forget the pain, forget the fear,” He whispers, his words wrapping around your consciousness like a comforting blanket. “Remember only the peace, the safety, the love. Remember us.”

"Everything will be fine," Rook assures you, his voice echoing in your mind. You feel a tug, a gentle pull as if something is being drawn out of you. The details of your conversation, the reasons for your mistrust, your friends, your old world, everything begin to fade. The warmth grows, enveloping you in a cocoon of tranquility.

Epel watched it from a far, having freed himself from the hug. He was conflicted about this about at the same he wasn't going to stop his father, he knew better after all. Everything he did, he did with purpose. Though he wanted to ask if you'd be the same as you were? Fierce, fearless and determined? He hope you would.

He wanted you to be. He had other sibling once but he didn't fit in. So Epel had to dispose of him but you, oh, he could see you fitting into his little family well with your atitude and all. And he was glad that among your friends he chose you to be his sibling.

When you open your eyes again, you see Vil, Rook, and Epel standing before you, their faces filled with a mix of hope. You blink once, twice, and then your vision clears. You feel the weight lifting from your shoulders, the confusion and turmoil dissipating like morning mist.

You feel a strange sense of peace, a clarity that was missing before. The memories of your past, of your pain and fear, are gone, replaced by a comforting sense of belonging.

Vil is standing before you, a serene smile on his face. "There now," He says, his tone light and reassuring. "All better."

You nod slowly, you can't quite remember what had troubled you, but it no longer seems important.

"It worked?" Epel wanted to make sure.

His father only cocked an arrogant smile as he turned to face you. "Shall we go, hase? It's awfully clear already." He asks, extending a hand. And you take it without hesitation, the world around you feeling brighter, more vibrant.

The shadows of doubt and fear are gone, replaced by a sense of peace and clarity. You felt as if had had a pretty strange dream. Though everything evaporates from your head when you notices that you're hungry, your throat is still a little itchy.

"Where we're going?"

"To eat." Rook, from your other side, responded. He took your free hand as he and Vil guided you to somewhere darker, Epel following closer.

"After that, can I rant about this strange dream I had?" You asked.

"Of course," Rook said with a smile. "You can rant about it as we walk. We have time."

Vil glanced at you with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "A strange dream, you say? Sounds intriguing. What happened?"

You smiled a little, everything was too funny. "So I was doing this dare with a couple of friends, I think? We went to an abandoned house and there was something hidden in the dark that attacked us when we were walking. It was chaotic."

Epel, who had been silent until now, murmured, "Dreams are so strange sometimes, huh? Good that this only a dream and no one can hurt you here."

You nodded, continuing to tell them about a small, cute creature with lilac eyes that you jokingly said resembled Epel, eliciting laughter from everyone except the mentioned vampire. Epel, walking silently beside you, only smiled faintly, his expression thoughtful as he listened to your recounting of the dream.

The atmosphere lightened as you shared other strange dreams and random thoughts you had, the darkness around you seeming less intimidating whenever you made Vil and Rook laugh till their belly hurts.

Yeah, Epel thought, you fit right here with them.

[little-diable]

I Remember Everything - Tommy Shelby (smut)

Written for my lovely @runnning-outof-time - I hope this is what you had in mind with this story. Inspired by Zach Bryan's song "I Remember Everything". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy only smiles when he gets to drink, (y/n) only dares to marvel at her best friend when he’s distracted. A rising sun and moments shared since childhood days finally bring the two closer together.

Warnings: 18+, piv smut, quite soft smut, friends to lovers, some angst because of family troubles, mentions that the reader didn’t have an easy past but nothing specific

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (about 2.5k words)

An eerie silence wrapped itself around the two. His piercing eyes kept staring at the almost empty glass of his, trying to burn holes into the shards that could easily cut his aching heart. She wanted to speak up, wanted to break through the silence that grew thicker like soldiers moving closer with their unbreakable shield wall, but she couldn’t.

She watched him pour alcohol down his throat, one glass after another, desperately trying to drown his pain, his guilt, his anger in one of the devil’s finest creations. Her mouth was dry, throat tight, unable to speak to the man she longed for, desperately trying to soothe his pain.

It had always been like this, ever since they’ve been young children. He’d keep his every sorrow bottled in, relying on his closest friend to take away the pain he couldn’t get rid of without her help. Tommy Shelby was a good man, a man with a pure heart and too much blood sticking to his fingers, but Tommy Shelby was also a blind man, an overly oblivious man, not seeing through the pain (y/n) had to carry around with herself, unable to rely on the friend who could only worry about his business.

Whenever the ship he was sailing through uneasy waters was close to sinking, wood soaked through like the fabric tied to the high mast, she’d sail next to him, dragging him through every storm he found himself trapped in. Though while he mistook it for simple coincidences, allowing her to turn up whenever he needed him, she grew more uneasy by the minute, wondering how much longer she’d be able to keep up this charade.

“You see, Tommy.” She cleared her throat, fingers interlaced in her lap as if she was about to start praying. “You know by now that I’ll do whatever I can to help you, that’s what you called me here for after all, I guess. But I can’t help if you don’t tell me what happened.”

A humourless laugh left the man who forced yet another cigarette between his lips, lips (y/n) found herself aching for whenever she got the time to marvel at the handsome man. Fuck, she wished she didn’t remember every moment on the days and nights she spent with him, and yet she couldn’t get rid of them, forced into her memories like the languages she had once been forced to learn, speaking them all too effortlessly by now.

“Do you remember how we’d sneak out at night to watch the sunrise?” Her soft voice filled the room once again, finally managing to force a smile onto his lips. To others it was an unfamiliar sight, Tommy Shelby wasn’t one to smile around others, wasn’t one to give away the emotions he found himself guided by, but with her it had always been different, with her it had always been transparent, well, besides the emotions both fostered for one another, unable to act on them. “Come.”

(Y/n) rose to her feet, hand stretched out for Tommy to take. It took him a moment to rise to his feet, cigarettes and alcohol long forgotten as she guided him out into the cold night. No words were spoken as he wrapped his arm around her middle, keeping her close in an almost too protective matter. Her heart pounded in her chest, a tad bit too fast, and yet slow enough to keep the way he made her feel hidden from his sharp gaze and his curious ears.

Both knew the route to that one empty house by heart, they’d always find their way to it, no matter where in the city they were staying at. But today both didn’t walk with fast steps, no, today they took their time, not wanting to let the passing by seconds turn into minutes and hours all too quickly.

“I’ve always wondered how you could so easily trust and help people you meet. It’s like a gift, a talent I can’t help but be jealous of.” Tommy’s soft voice cut through the fog of silence, tightening his grip on (y/n) as her eyes met his. The sounds of their steps echoed through the night, through the almost empty streets they’ve been waking for years. “You’ve been hurt, beaten, and abused. I’ve once sworn that I’ll kill whoever dares to touch you, and yet you managed to forgive them, each and every one of them. How?”

“Who is it, Tommy? What happened?” The two came to a halt in front of the old brick house as he let go of her to push his weight against the wooden door. It took him a few tries to finally open it, allowing them to step into the dark house. Tommy ignored her question, keeping quiet as they walked up the stairs, one by one, climbing higher like lost souls walking the stairs to a new life. But nothing new was awaiting the two up there, nothing but a still somewhat dark sky.

“You know, you’ve changed a lot, you’ll never be the man that you always swore, Tommy, but I know you’re no stranger to forgiveness. I think you’re afraid of it, whatever it is that plagues your mind.” The two entered the roof - with another cigarette placed between his lips and his fingers aching for yet another glass, Tommy walked closer to the edge of the familiar ground. She watched the smoke leave his nostrils, blown into the night like the lives he had taken over the past years, rising numbers that evaporated into the thin air, forgotten names and fates they no longer recalled.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, not when you know that you’re being betrayed, not when you know that those you should trust the most are trying to sell your life to the highest bidder.” A sharp inhale of the cold air was sucked into (y/n)’s lungs, arms wrapped around herself as she stepped closer to him. With her eyes set on the horizon, on the rising sun, she placed her chin on his shoulder, not daring to move. For a few more moments they cherished the quietness, watching the sky turn into the rawest colours known to humankind.

Tommy’s hand found hers, resting on his shoulder like it had done numerous times before. Slowly he turned towards (y/n), hand finding her chin to keep her eyes on him. (Y/n) always felt naked beneath his gaze, trying to cover up as if she was scared that her body would tell him all about the love she fostered for him. But Tommy didn’t give her the chance to move, thumb softly stroking her cold skin.

Both couldn’t help but ache for one another, though keeping quiet - even as (y/n) nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. His hand found the back of her head, softly stroking her hair, eyes focused on the orange sky. Whenever he had found the strength to speak up, he had begged (y/n) to stay around till the sun would rise, needing to hold her close like a life vest meant to save him. She was everything he wished he didn’t ache for but desperately did.

“I love you, Tommy. No matter what, I’ll always be there for you.” She pressed a kiss to his throat, making his eyes flutter close at the unexpected gesture.

“Don’t make promises like that, (y/n). I’m no good friend, I’m selfish for keeping you around, but you’re the only good thing keeping me sane.” (Y/n) pushed him away to get a look at his features, all too used to the pain swimming in Tommy's bright pupils. She cupped his face with both hands, keeping the man close as she shook her head, wondering how she could explain to him that he was all she needed.

“We both know that’s not true, you’re my best friend, I’d die for you in a heartbeat, and I know you’d do the same for me.” Tommy gently pushed her hands away, eyes fluttering close for a second before a scoff left him. His hand rubbed his tired eyes, trying to hold back the words that no longer could be stopped from rolling off his tongue.

“Best friend, fuck, I wish that’d be enough for me, but it no longer is. I’ve been stupid, keeping my mouth shut for your own sake, but everything is burning around me, what loss will it be if I add more fuel to the flames, eh?” She didn’t understand what he was talking about, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly parted. With dilated pupils (y/n) watched him step closer once again, cupping her cheek with one hand, while the other found her neck.

His warm breath clashed against her tingling lips, wondering what he was about to do. They didn’t break eye contact, wondering who’d start moving first. (Y/n) felt her heart pounding, racing in her chest as her mind slowly began to realise what was about to happen. His lips found hers, kissing (y/n) slowly to give her the chance to pull away should she want to escape from this moment. But she didn’t, she was frozen to the ground, lips moving in sync with Tommy’s.

The sky looked as if it was burning, the flames kept rising higher, setting their bodies ablaze with its strength. Their moans rippled through them, echoing through the early morning like shots being fired in the distance. Tommy tasted of cigarettes, of the alcohol he had forced down his throat an hour ago, while (y/n) tasted of home, of a feeling so unfamiliar Tommy found himself addicted within moments.

Both broke the kiss with aching lungs, needing to catch their breath as he pressed his forehead against hers. Neither Tommy nor (y/n) dared to speak up, relishing in one another’s touch. Their bodies moved them down the stairs of the house, into the morning, with interlaced fingers and intertwined souls. He guided her back through the streets, finding their way to her apartment, to the home she had bought years ago and couldn’t dare to think of parting from it ever again.

“Tommy?” (Y/n) whispered his name as they shrugged out of their coats and stepped out of their shoes, finding back together at the first chance to move. “What does this mean?" She gestured between the both of them, staring at Tommy as if he was God himself, about to answer her every question. "I love you, but I can’t just be an easy distraction for you.”

“I love you more than I’ll ever be able to express with words, with gifts, with gestures. You’re my home, (y/n). I once swore to always protect you, eh? I won’t hurt you, I promise.” He kissed her once again, allowing her gleeful chuckles to vibrate on his lips as she guided him into her bedroom, begging Tommy to show her how much he loved her, needing to feel him close.

“You’ll be the death of me, Tommy Shelby, what would my mother say when she’d see us like this?” His skilled fingers popped open the buttons of her dress one by one, letting the dark fabric fall to the ground as he pushed it down her shoulders.

“She’d force me to come to church with her, she’d wash my hands with holy water and would try to hide me away from your father. I'd probably be shipped off to some monastery, forced to become a priest. My eternal punishment for blemishing her daughter's soul.” (Y/n)‘s loud laugh echoed through her bedroom, a sound that was swallowed by her moans seconds later as he kissed her neck, pulling her into his chest. Her fingers started moving, freeing him of his vest, his shirt, and his trousers. Both were in a hurry to get one another naked, not wanting to give the fabrics keeping them apart any more time to distract them.

“Make me yours, forever.” Her sultry voice left the man groaning, pushing her down on her bed as he crawled up her frame, nestling between her thighs. Their kiss grew hungrier, sloppier as his hand moved down her frame, stroking her breasts, teasing her hardening nipples before he finally found her aching core. She was soaked, dripping for the man who found himself smiling down on her. It was unfamiliar to her, seeing him smile without any alcohol near, and yet (y/n) couldn’t help but pray that she’d get to see this smile more often from now on.

“I’ve always wondered if I’d eventually get to see you like this, bare for me, for my eyes only. But this is better than I could have ever imagined.” Tommy’s praises left her gasping, eyes fluttering close as he circled her clit with his fingers, making her hyperaware of his every touch.

“Need you inside of me, Tommy, please. We’ve wasted too much time already.” A hum left him as he let go of her, pumping his cock for a few seconds before he spat down on it, lubing himself up. With one of her arms finding it’s way around his neck and her legs clinging to his waist, Tommy allowed himself to push into her, slowly, carefully.

Her walls pulsed around him, begging him to build a comfortable rhythm. Their bodies met with every thrust, pushed closer and closer together as they shared the love they felt without any words being spoken. Their bodies perfectly moved together, pushing them higher and higher with every thrust, with every moment where he pressed against her swollen spot, with every circling motion around her pulsing bundle of nerves.

Neither of them had ever experienced something this raw, something this full of emotions, something this intimate. No matter how many times they’ve been touched by lovers, strangers, and those they no longer could remember, it had never been this intense, this raw, this exciting.

“You’re so big, stretching me so good, don’t ever stop Tommy, don’t ever let me go, keep me forever.” Her whispers were torn between sobs and moans, a sound so beautiful Tommy wanted to record it, to keep it stored in his memories like the first time he had heard his son laugh. His lips found hers, sealing the promise with a loving kiss.

His pace grew rougher, chasing both their arising highs, set on pushing one another over the edge within the next moments. (Y/n) gave in first, eyes rolling back into her head, forcing her fingernails to scratch at his skin, leaving marks down his muscular back. He kept fucking her, forcing his cock to disappear deeper and deeper inside of her till his orgasm clawed through him, painting her walls white.

“I love you.” Her words left him smiling, letting go of her to reach for a tissue. Tommy took his time with cleaning her up before he pulled her into his chest, cradling her closer and closer.

“I’ll get you a ring in the afternoon.” She froze in his grasp, confused eyes flickering up to his. An almost boyish grin stuck to his lips, tilting his head down to kiss her slightly swollen lips. “You want forever, and I promise to give it to you, even if it’s the last promise I’ll be able to keep.”

I wish I didn't, but I do, remember every moment on the nights with you

[dasmondkuss]

It was a lovely day. The sun was shining and the balcony in their apartment was so inviting. Alois was out working, and Nunnally and Dominicus were alone at home. Ms. Voigt looked especially beautiful that early afternoon. Her hair was falling lose on her shoulders and on her back; still a bit wet, but she didn’t feel like drying it other than simply letting the sun and the wind do the work. She was wearing the flowery dress, perhaps a bit too transparent, but nothing she wouldn’t wear outside. She was not shy of how beautiful she was (at least not anymore).

Nunnally was holding a glass of wine in her hand as she entered that balcony and made herself comfortable on the chair. Close to the one occupied by Dominicus. It was only the two of them in the house. She observed the man from above the half empty glass. She couldn’t decide how she really felt about him. Did she like him? She definitely didn’t trust him, although she was aware he was important for Alois (though she didn’t like that too much either).

“Some young women are truly pathetic…” – she started the conversation in a light casual tone; but that was just a disguise. She was well aware of what she was doing and where this conversation would end (or at least she hoped it would end there) – “…they tend to impose themselves on married men…hoping they would leave their wives for them…”

“…while in reality they are nothing more than unimportant toys…easy to discard when not needed or becoming boring…” – was it enough for Dominicus to understand who she was talking about. To tell him clearly what the only truth of this house was going to be? Nunnally was smiling with the fake intention to keep the atmosphere light. She waved her hand in front of her face as if to reassure Dominicus there was no need to pretend or be worried about this conversation: --

“Oh, don’t bother to deny…”

“I know about it…and it’s not that I really care.” – she promised not to talk about that person with Alois. But she didn’t promise she’d not talk at all. Nunnally took another sip of her wine.

“…it’s funny…some things never change…some women never learn…”

@lured-into-wonderland

Earlier that day, Dominicus and Alois had breakfast on the balcony while discussing the next magazine's design. Since it coincided with Women's Day, they had to be careful about colors, messages, and the articles in general, especially those that talked about women either as perpetrators or as victims. Alois had to leave first. He trusted Dominicus to make the last editions; he had been reading de Beauvoir and Kahlo, complete opposites and different backgrounds, but essential women who are brought to mind in this movement. Or so Dominicus' sister said.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and breezy. Dominicus chose to stay on the balcony, playing with the Magazine's cover design, and a palette of purple and green colors was next to his Mac. Little did he know that Alois' wife would come to sit next to him. He didn't mind Nunnally, but Nunnally did mind him. It wasn't a secret, so her presence wouldn't route anywhere good. However, she seemed in a good mood. She was almost as bright as the sun reflecting on the floor's light gray porcelain; she was also drinking her and Alois' favorite wine. Would she still like it as much if she learned that it's produced by the Bianchi family? Dominicus would keep the fact to himself.

Dominicus wished she could also keep her comment to herself, but it was there. She dropped it with the sweetest voice, yet the scorn was present. He sighed, closing the laptop to pay full attention to the stupidity she was saying. He placed his ankle on top of his knee and relaxed on the chair, but the facial expression was telling so easily how annoyed he was. She reassured him with a gesture not to worry. Dominicus wasn't worried; he was sick of her.

"For someone who doesn't care, you are persistent," Dominicus added. Alois had told everything that happened that night with the letter, and Dominicus had been dodging Nunnally's passive-aggressive comments around him since. However, she sat next to him, brought all this bullshit willingly, and did not walk away. If she wanted a confrontation, Dominicus was the happiest to give it to her.

"You do know she is dead, correct?" Dominicus' heart sank. It was the memory rather than his anger. Nunnally sat there, with a smile and a drink, insulting this woman and calling her pathetic when Julia was the one who saved Alois back then. She brought so much happiness to a man who was defeated by the terrors of war; she got the bravery to not let them be crushed by violence, and she brought the lesson of what they needed to survive. Unfortunately.

Dominicus could understand that Nunnally didn't know the details of Alois and Julia's relationship. Still, he couldn't understand how she could come up with such ridiculous and obnoxious arguments to fill the holes of a story she doesn't partake in. "If anyone is pathetic, it's you."

"You speak like a genuinely ignorant woman." Dominicus threw his Simone de Beauvoir book on the table for Alois's wife to read later. "You won't get any information from me that Alois doesn't consent to share." He looked at her, straight into her eyes. He was unyielding in his resolve. "But you do know that we were in a warzone; that information was evident when the applications were sent. You talk as if Alois had met Julia at some lowly bar. Have you ever, in your life, at least watched a documentary about what war is? What happens there? Did you pay attention in history class?"

"Idiot." Dominicus laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. "And you're well aware that not Alois, Julia, or even you knew that your silly wedding in Las Vegas was a real marriage." Dominicus scoffed. He could barely believe he had to tell her all of this.

"Not all women, but some. Like you. They love to create fantasies, lies, and bullshit to keep believing they're eternal victims. You're feeding into the idea that every woman is against each other and that the ultimate trophy is a man."

"Some women never learn. Like you. Perhaps you should start learning not about women but about yourself and how disgusting your self-esteem is. You're blind to the fact this house is yours, that Alois loves you, that he doesn't want to divorce you anymore, and it's because he cares and wants a family and a future with you and not because of the request you made when you met again."

"Learn about yourself so you can see how selfish you are by going behind his back to find out something he's too hurt to talk about. You're not only disrespecting him, but you cannot trust him. You're imposing yourself because you're so afraid of being discarded when it's clear it isn't happening."

Dominicus had nothing else to add. He had been harsh and straightforward, and his words had been more bitter than the whisky he sipped on, but he had zero regrets. She deserved every single word he declared. Besides, someone should stop sugarcoating her reality, even when he had all the reasons to believe that this glaze was put on her eyes with her own hands.

Ultimately, he gifted her with a smile. There was nothing to be worried about in this conversation, right?

[alicesought]

This is, by far, the smallest gift left for the man. It is the size of a ring box, and inside is a pendant. There is no chain. The item appears to be a glass cabochon set in gold with..something in the middle. An inclusion? A crack? No, it was a star. A glittering, warm star. A speck of an unknown universe. As with the rest of the gifts, a slip of paper has been left. The usual purple heart on one side; but on the other was a bit more writing. "Be what you would seem to be."

♡♠♢♣ ⁀ It was funny, how the smaller the gfts become the more hesitant he was to open them.

Perhaps it was sub-conscious, he wagered. The gesture of being gifted something like a ring box was rarely a small one. Whatever was inside a small box was oft' more precious. And he was not disappointed.

It was jewelry, as he imagined, but unusual in how it had no way to attach to one's body, one's clothes. Just a set stone with... is it glowing? Is it hot? Squeezing it in his palm, peering an eye in like a child with a lightning bug, he was certain of it, the heat and light was all coming from the near distant light in the stone. And a part of him wondered, then, if he were to try to detect radiation, he would find it held an energy source. The other part of him wondered... if he could make a wish on it.

However first, he was eager to search for the little purple heart once more. Impatient, more and more each time, to see if something might give away their intentions. Ever certain it was some kind of bribery, one was never kind to Tetch without reason. He tilts his head. He knows that quote.

" Would you like it put more simply..? " He muttered quietly, as if he might be able to ask them, finishing the quote in absent thought. Wild pale eyes wander as he thinks. He wasn't always as he seemed, that he can't deny. In fact, most things in Wonderland rarely were. But in his line of work, transparency was a charity that preferably must be mutual.

Still, he glanced side to side... and took the time to press the star to his ribboned chest, eyes shut tight. Though perhaps I don't need to tell you what the Mad Hatter wishes for.

' After you. ' Was all his message read in response.

[yzeltia]

A Y'zel Story

Title: Out of Season

Characters: Y'zel Tia and Leonnioux Ouraux

Rating: T for Teen

Notes: What I wanted wouldn't come, so I ended up with this instead.

"You're trembling like a leaf."

Y'zel whimpered, ears pinned against the top of his head as he stood outside in the rain. He avoided Leon's gaze, lips parted, words threatening to escape but silenced by the gravity within his chest. He could only manage an exhale, pulling at his heavy waterlogged shirt. 

"This is all very dramatic. Come in before someone thinks I've put you out," Leon huffed, taking the Miqo'te inside and to his quarters. 

Once inside, he pulled the clinging fabric from Y'zel's chest then tossed it aside to let it slop up on the hearth. Taking a towel, Leon raked it through the other's hair then leaned down to kiss the remnants of the rain from his freckled nose.

"Did you get it all out?"

Y'zel nodded before leaning forward, resting his face in Leon's chest as the Elezen unbuttoned his own shirt. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You're speaking nonsense," Leon muttered quietly, stroking his hand over the other's ears, "It was just a few bottles and glasses. Nothing that cannot be replaced. Hardly with tears. Running out of the room was certainly a bit much.

Y'zel laid still, closing his eyes as he felt himself fall forward into Leon as the man rested back on his elbows. "I think I'm perhaps overwhelmed by everything going on. I'm drowning in all my responsibilities, and feeling like I'm letting everyone down."

"Has anyone said as such?"

"Not exactly."

Leon shook his head, resting on the center of Y'zel's back, stroking lightly as he pensively stared up at the ceiling. "You're as exasperating as you were when we were young, though in a different way," he started, pressing his hand into the small of the other's back to prevent him from straying, "Did you extend yourself like this to please me and the others as a boy?"

Y'zel squirmed slightly, wanting to protest but finding it difficult under his touch. "...I just want everyone to be happy."

"And are you happy?"

"Of course I am?"

"..."

"I'm...I...I like being useful to others. The more useful I am, the likelier I am for them to keep me around."

"...That...I'm sorry for that."

Y'zel blinked, then found his face cradled by the Elezen's large hand. Leon's cool grey eyes lowered, Halonic guilt being projected away from the Miqo'te.

"I acknowledge my part in that. I saw how hard you tried to please us. I mean there was a point it got to you but after you double downed on keeping up with us when we were cruel. If I had just opened my eyes...and been kinder...You wouldn't..."

The Miqo'te pinned back his ears, "We were boys. And I was like that even before I met you with my father and cousins...You cannot blame yourself for every wrong in my life from our first meeting. No one should bare that much guilt."

"We're Ishgardian," Leon emphasized, palatable as if it excused their damage in a way that permissively let it cling to him.

"Mostly," Y'zel agreed.

Rain pelted against the stained glass, Halone stretching her icey shadow over them as the fire hissed with each stray drop of rain that managed to snake it way down the flume. 

"I am in equal rights your partner as Claudine, correct? If you wish to unburden your woes, you do not need to mute yourself."

Y'zel fumbled and sat back, holding his arm while his ears drooped. "You must find me transparent."

"You lack a certain subtlety, yes."

Eyes upon Leon, Y'zel lightly traced his fingers up the man's sternum. "Perhaps later... for now, I would rather like it if we just took a chance to rest upon one another."

"As you wish," Leon answered, hand once more cradling the Miqo'te's pale face. 

Thunder rolled unseasonably outside as the Miqo'te found comfort in his lover's embrace, mired thoughts of dwindling self-worth and failures slowly eroding until the only blue he felt was that of solitary moon etched beyond the Fury; Mephina's watchful eye enkindling the years of distance between the two tired hearts.

[taegularities]

I ALSO

Read Silk and Stones today and 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

There's something that's pure magic about your writing and it just... your fic just took OVER, not only is it written and developed so WELL but every single moment of it just hits DEEP and builds and builds onto the character's growth and connection with each other

There was something so achy about reading in past and present because her present was filled with flashbacks and it was post-Tae, it was from a point in her life when she'd already lost him and yet what we get is how they fell in love and the depth of the FEEEEEELS in it were just 😭😭😭

When I realised in the present tense she was mourning the loss and absence of him in her life... that at some point between past and present Tae isn't THERE anymore it terrified me that it was an angsty ending 😭😭 but like MC, I couldn't move on and accept he HAD gone

When his past came out... I just absolutely refused to believe it or even entertain the idea because Tae's character was just too raw, too genuine, too much in pain and silent torment and entrapment to have been what the gossip and rumours made him out to be and to hear the REAL story behind it... of course Tae would take the blame at the cost of his reputation and safety 😭

And your writing embodied the achy vintage feel of poetry and stories of a time past, the writing of a historical story and then the art of writing reflected in writing... it was beautiful

Your poetry intertwined in the story was just 🥺🥺🥺✨️ and I love loved it

I loved how Tae spoke in broken, incomplete poems because it left that bit of magic and unknown to it because maybe...cos maybe if poems are an expression of love and longing and torment he leaves them incomplete because he's feeling them in the present and poems are words gone and written... his feelings haven't been written yet UNTIL THEY ARE and he writes poetry on her

I LOVED the depth of pain and longing we got when he left and the pain of heartache because somewhere in falling in love she knew something MORE waited, that it seemed temporal and limited but they couldn't help it anyways

I think I might have been left shattered irreversibly if they hadn't found each other again🥺

Instead my heart is shattered but in the same way they pick up the pieces to heal again, the ending did the same to me...

And the title made me realise and wonder that even if you dressed the stone in all the silks and simple luxuries that Tae did, because a part of him WAS stone and turned hard by pain and bad experience... even all the silks couldn't hide it and eventually though... the stone did crack and he was alive again

And also Tae's safe space was a glass sphere and MC became the stone that caused the cracks in the transparent surface... because it WAS a safe space, it did feel like safety... but it was lonely and isolating and confining

And maybe SHE was the silk and stones for him

Dressed in silks

The stone chipping away at the hardened barriers

Until they crumbled

so… i went to reread s&s before answering your ask, and combined with whatever i put in there and your words, i'm left a mess :') i don't usually say this about my own writing, but something about this fic is so truly beautiful. i wish i was able to write like that today, bc god. it's a piece.

i'm so glad the fic felt vintage to you.. i was definitely opting to make it feel nostalgic and poetic, and very very heartbreaking, so i'm beyond thrilled that you said what you said. and the poetry 🥺 !! just like s&s tae, i don't find that genre very easy, so coming up with a poem that was as meaningful as pretty was difficult lol. so yeah thank you <3 also, if i spoke about everything you mentioned, i'd still be sitting here tmrw, bc i'm in my feels lol but i do want to mention a couple things..

the fact that you recognised that he was speaking in fragments and kept adding to the poem as his feelings grew is so important. like, every single time he spoke a line of a poem, he was trying to indicate how he was feeling about her that day. like only wanting to kiss the air that lately kissed her – perfectly aligned with his urge to kiss her, too. other than that, i love LOVE how you interpreted the fic's title.

tae was certainly colder and harder when they first met than he was at the very end. she replaced those stones with a beating heart, and made all of him feel silky and cotton-y – then again, she was the stone breaking that glass cube, too. she broke it the moment he saw her walking up that hill. she replaced the cold of the glass with warm nature, and showed him that he wasn't supposed to feel cosy in his loneliness. that he only liked being alone bc that's when he couldn't hurt anyone and wallow in his pain. she showed him that with her, he could have something far better than an empty cube – which is home, right with her. reality was better than his dreams, and she was just that reality, yk?

so yeah, you're so fkn right. honestly, this made me tear up. i forgot how much i love this story bc it's so lowkey and not many ppl have read it, but just. ugh, thank you so much for reading it and for reaching out. your message is truly so much more meaningful than you might know, so yeah. i love you, i do <3

[storiesbyash]

Frobble, the Quite Annoyed Genie

Henry Billingham was an inconsequential sort of a fellow. He worked as a systems analyst in a small firm that did big things with tiny bits of silicon, a job he took with the utmost seriousness despite not understanding a single thing about it. He lived alone, had no pets, was neither tall nor short, and wore glasses that were just the right kind of unremarkable.

One day, while rummaging in the attic to find the source of a strange ticking sound (it turned out to be an old wristwatch, lost in the great Christmas Wrap Fiasco of '21), Henry stumbled upon a quaint, brass-plated teapot. It was dingy, covered in dust, and making a curiously humming noise. As Henry picked it up, the teapot vibrated slightly, causing him to drop it. An ethereal figure appeared out of the billowing steam, suspended in the dusty shaft of light piercing the attic window.

"I am Frobble," said the apparition, with an air of utter boredom. "The Quite Annoyed Genie of the Teapot. You've got three wishes, let's get this over with."

"Three wishes?" Henry blinked, perplexed, his glasses slipping down his nose.

"Try to keep up," said Frobble with a yawn. "Don't wish for love, more wishes, or anyone dead. Those are the standard rules. Also, no returns or exchanges, and we're not responsible for side effects. Now, what's your first wish?"

Henry considered this seriously. His face crunched up as though he were attempting to solve an exceptionally challenging Sudoku. He twisted his lips, adjusted his glasses, scratched his bald spot, and began pacing.

He mumbled to himself, his words lost in the cluttered quietness of the attic. From time to time, he'd stop, thinking he'd finally made his decision, but then he'd shake his head, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Frobble, leaning against a stack of moth-eaten boxes, crossed his arms and sighed. "It's not rocket science," he groaned, checking a cosmic wristwatch that definitely wasn’t there a second ago. "Or is it? I don’t know, I'm just a genie."

Finally, after an eternity (or about 37 minutes, give or take), Henry turned to the impatient genie. "Alright, I've made up my mind. I wish for the most delicious sandwich in the world."

Frobble blinked. "You want a what now?"

"A sandwich. The most delicious one in the world," Henry reiterated with an air of finality.

There was a moment of silence. Then Frobble snapped his fingers, and a gleaming silver platter appeared, bearing a sandwich of such magnificence that it seemed to glow. It had the freshest lettuce, the ripest tomatoes, the most mouth-watering slabs of delicately smoked turkey, a generous layer of tangy mustard, and was sandwiched between two slices of freshly baked, crusty bread.

Henry took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and then, with a grimace, promptly spat it out.

"Ugh," he exclaimed, "it has pickles. I can't stand pickles."

Frobble stared at him, flabbergasted. "You have the taste buds of a platypus," he scoffed, his ethereal form radiating disbelief. "You wish for the world's most delicious sandwich, and you reject it because of pickles? Oh, the wonderful absurdity of humans."

Meanwhile, Henry, unperturbed, was already deep in thought, considering his next wish and whether it should involve anything edible at all.

Henry, having regained his composure and feeling a touch adventurous, decided to venture into the realm of audio pleasures. "Frobble," he declared, "I wish to hear the most beautiful song in the universe."

Frobble looked at Henry with a wary expression. "Very well," he sighed, and with another languid wave of his semi-transparent hand, a hauntingly beautiful melody filled the attic. The sound was otherworldly, the harmonies woven together like strands of cosmic silk. It was the musical equivalent of a sunset painted by God himself, or the first notes struck in the birth of the universe.

Unfortunately, the exquisitely sublime music had an unforeseen effect on Henry. It was, in fact, so heart-wrenchingly beautiful that it bypassed his brain entirely, and his tear ducts decided that the only appropriate response was to open the floodgates. Within moments, Henry was a blubbering mess, sobbing uncontrollably onto his Argyle sweater.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Henry cried, holding his hands over his ears. "It's too much! It's just too beautiful!”

Frobble, observing the emotional chaos, clicked his fingers, and the music ceased. He then shook his spectral head in bemusement. "In the entire cosmos," he mused, "I've never met a species that could turn the sublime into the ridiculous quite like humans."

Frobble crossed his arms, the glow of his form pulsating with a mix of bemusement and exasperation. Henry, meanwhile, rummaged for a handkerchief to deal with his outpouring of tears and mucus, his mind already wheeling with the possibilities and pitfalls of his final wish.

Henry dabbed at his eyes, his handkerchief now a soggy, crumpled mess. Frobble waited, a look of resigned anticipation etched on his translucent face. The attic had settled into an expectant silence.

After a few minutes of contemplation and the evacuation of several more liters of tears, Henry finally steeled himself. "Frobble," he announced, "I wish to understand why socks disappear in the laundry."

A profound silence filled the attic, only broken by the distant cawing of a bemused crow outside. Frobble stared at Henry, completely taken aback. "That's... your wish?" he managed to sputter, an incredulous expression coloring his ethereal face.

"Yes," Henry replied earnestly, nodding like a bobblehead.

A slow, reluctant smile spread across Frobble's face, his annoyance being replaced by something approaching admiration. "You know what, Henry? Of all the bizarre, nonsensical, preposterous things I've encountered in my eons as a genie, that... is by far the most original."

He raised his hand for a final time, and there was a moment of intense, iridescent sparkle. And then, in a wave of profound understanding, Henry finally knew the secret of the missing socks. His eyes widened, he gasped in shock, then he blinked and frowned.

Frobble, now eager, asked, "Well?"

"Turns out," Henry sighed, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, "they're being stolen by inter-dimensional pixies for their sock puppet theater. I must say, it's quite a bit more mundane than I imagined."

Frobble laughed, the sound echoing around the attic like a cosmic symphony. "Ah, the delightful paradox of the universe! Grand mysteries leading to ludicrous truths."

And with that, Frobble disappeared with a contented sigh, leaving Henry alone in his attic, the master of infinite wisdom, the victim of inter-dimensional sock theft, and the possessor of an extremely ordinary teapot. From then on, Tuesdays were never the same for Henry. But then again, nor were the laundry days.

[futurebird]

Writing is hard. I've tried it before and I'm trying it again now. I really want to stick to it and complete this story. I'm trying to write a story tailored to sooth those of us troubled by the horrible political climate in the USA right now. I will post more as I write it. If you choose to read, thank you, seriously.

In Between - Chapter 1

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Can one woman fix the political disaster this country is careening towards? Obviously, no— but you have to take into consideration that this particular “one woman” is imbued with the power of, well, a kind of magic I suppose. Not unlimited magic, not movie magic— more like a very limited superpower.

Basically? I can freeze time. It used to happen accidentally, if I was frightened, or if I started to have a panic attack— the lights all around me would grow brighter, blue-white, and blinding for just an instant, and then everyone around me would be frozen like statues!

I remember my parents, mid-argument. Dad’s mouth open, his beard motionless, Mom with dishwater clinging to her arms, a transparent glass sculpture laced with frozen bubbles.

I remember my heart racing before a dance recital as I waited in the wings. Then the lights grew bright and my good friend Case was frozen mid-twirl. Her hair suspended impossibly in space, a swirl of dark curls framing her face, so peaceful, so beautiful, lost in concentration.

For the longest time, I thought this was some kind of panic response, a retreat into my imagination. My desire for a moment to just stop and think, manifesting as a kind of wish-fulfillment hallucination. I thought I was going a little crazy. For the longest time, my only goal when a freeze occurred was to get everyone and everything moving again.

To do this I had to relax. I had to breathe.

And then my ears would pop as the pressure changed; the lights would dim ever so briefly. Time (and sound, which somehow always managed to surprise me, as I never noticed its absence when in between) everything, noise, motion, and life-- would resume.

It was at the dance recital that I first tried moving around the frozen world. That’s how I was able to see Case’s face; she had her back to me when the freeze occurred. I had the most horrible crush on her. Without really thinking about it, I moved for the first time into the still soundless air.

My feet, in their soft dance shoes, made no noise on the stage as I walked around her, careful not to touch the swirl of her hair suspended in space. I looked at her, in that candid moment— and started to feel a bit guilty. She was on stage. This wasn’t a private moment, but that didn’t make it feel any less like an invasion.

I looked out at the audience; my eyes adjusting to see beyond the stage lights. Case and I were both in our ballet costumes, but only I was animate. The audience of loving supportive parents in their tweed jackets and sensible shoes were totally motionless. At first, this seemed unremarkable, that’s how they were in life as well— but, this stillness was too deep. It was eerie.

What would they think, I thought, with sudden panic, if time started back-- right now—!

I didn’t have the best control of my ability at that age. So, of course, this is exactly what happened.

The audience gasped at my sudden appearance in the middle of the stage. Case, now reanimated, completed her twirl running into me with considerable force. We both fell, grabbing at each other for balance. Even though the world didn’t freeze again I can still see Case’s shocked, confused, and slightly angry eyes glaring at me.

The audience was so polite. Which somehow made it worse. They didn’t laugh. (Although I could hear a murmur of hurried adult voices.) Quickly, I stood and ran off stage. I ran out of the back entrance of the auditorium not caring that they might all hear the door. I ran into the mostly empty teacher’s parking lot. There was no way I could perform. There was no way I could face any of what had just happened.

To my surprise, there were no news stories about a “teleporting girl” — everyone simply convinced themselves that they didn’t see what they had obviously seen. I didn’t “appear” on the stage. I rushed out. I was a silly nervous girl who’d thought I’d missed my cue. Everyone assumed they blinked and missed something.

Everyone but Case. “I still don’t know how you did that.” She would say for years to come. I insisted her obsessive dieting was catching up with her brain. (I hated how she thought she needed to diet.) At the same time, I felt guilty for trying to gaslight her.

I resolved to be more careful when exploring the frozen world in the future. I didn’t want the questions that would come with attention. I didn’t want questions I couldn’t even answer myself.

I had not yet realized just how powerful this ability could be, or the feeling of responsibility that would come with that power.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

[nctsworld]

the yuletide boyfriend

✩‌ yangyang ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fluff | angst | smut | friends to lovers | ‌college au | 9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.  

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.    

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.  

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.  

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.  

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.  

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.  

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.  

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.  

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.  

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:  

“WISHLIST:   -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.  

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.  

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.  

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.  

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.  

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.  

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.  

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.  

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.  

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.  

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.  

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.  

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.  

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”  

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”  

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.  

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.  

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.  

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.  

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.  

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.    

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.  

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.  

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.  

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.  

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.  

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.  

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”  

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.  

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.  

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.  

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.  

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.  

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side,  ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.  

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.  

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.    

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.  

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.  

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.  

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”  

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.  

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.  

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.  

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.  

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.  

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.  

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.  

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.  

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.  

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.  

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.  

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.  

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.  

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.  

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time. 

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”  

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping. 

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile.  “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.  

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”  

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.  

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”  

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.  

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

[omiscurls]

hmm this is like my first time responding to a request thing so here goes: (slight webtoon spoilers!!)—- imagine if you/reader finds out about kaeyas secret accidentally, before he told diluc. how would he react to that? i’ve given some thought into it and i’d love to see your perspective!

dark whispers

plot: hurt/comfort, reader finds out about kaeya's secret before anyone else

contains: kaeya

warnings: WEBTOON SPOILERS, the story takes place before the start of the game, approximately 5-6 years, alcohol, acting under the influence, you can even say underage drinking, curse words

the sun had long set behind the mountains adoring the territories of mondstadt city. it's people had already closed their shops, workshops and businesses, having gone home to their families, many of them possibly already drifting off to sleep.

some individuals, as everyday, be it a workday, weekend, or a holiday, decided to go entertain themselves with different kinds of alcohol at the local tavern.

but to some of the mondstadt folk, that day, that evening was a special one, for it was a celebration of the ever so famous master crepus' adoptive son, kaeya, turning seventeen.

the night fell special even for regular customers, not only the ones celebrating, for it was rare for the master of the dawn winery himself to pour drinks and serve them at his establishment. for the birthday of his son, though, he had abandoned his normal nightly duties, and stood behind the counter for a good couple of hours, giving one speech and joining everyone in singing happy birthday for the young knight.

he had gone home around an hour ago, leaving the happy, slightly drunk bunch of customers in the hands of a younger bartender.

"alright" kaeya's older brother, and cerpus' firstborn, diluc, had made everyone quiet with the way he clapped his hands, a sly smirk on his lips as he looked his friend and brother in the eyes. diluc, being older, already knew the taste and... other qualities of alcohol a little better than the blue-haired boy, so he found nothing but amusement in the way kaeya couldn't find balance on his chair, or in how his eyes just wouldn't focus on one spot, instead wandering around the walls and ceiling of the tavern. "kaeya" he called out, making the boy face him with a dumbfounded look. "you're one round of shots behind me"

kaeya's expression changed to distressed within seconds, as he examined the three glasses before his eyes, wondering if he'll even fit those in his stomach.

"is yer head made out of stone or sum?" he slurred out "how're ya this sober?"

diluc laughed, pointing to the glasses.

"less complaining, more bottoming these out" he rushed, arms crossing at his chest, as he leaned back on his chair and observed his little brother struggle to make the decision.

"go to hell" kaeya mumbled, emptying the drinks one by one, a grimmace coming to his face right after he had laid the last glass back on the table. "what even is that?" he asked, unamused, as diluc responded happily:

"firewater."

a smile of satisfaction painted the redhead's face.

"what?" kaeya's eyes widened "how'd you even get this past father?" he leaned lower on the table, studying diluc's expression. „that’s like, forty percent sheer alcohol!”

"i have my ways" he responded enigmatically, and kaeya shook his head in resignation.

"aight" the birthday boy took a deep breath "your turn. ya don't want to loose now, do you?" remains of a grin lifted the point of his mouth, as diluc chuckled, pouring the transparent liquid into the glasses yet again.

"what's the prize?" you asked one of their friends, having come late to the scene of the challenge.

"oh, the one to loose has to do the other's chores for a month" the guy responded, eyes not darting away from how diluc managed to empty all three glasses, much to kaeya's dispair.

hours had passed, and everyone slowly left the birthday party, diluc leaving kaeya in your hands, as he helped the bartender clean up the mess the young knights had made. you asked the blue-haired boy if he wanted to get some fresh air, to which he nodded, you can't say eagerly, but nodded nonetheless. so that leaves you to where you were now, slowly walking towards your place, kaeya bumping into your side every now and then as he lost balance.

"did you have fun?" you asked happily, eyes focusing on his face, waiting for a response.

"yea" he murmured, not even sparing you a look.

"poor you, are you that wasted?" you continued, amused, as a hiccup left his throat.

"'m not wasted" he denied instantly. " 't was nice to spend some time with diluc, we all know i don't have much of that left"

your eyebrows furrow in confusion, as you stop in your tracks, making him stop, too. he seemed to have thought this was a normal thing to say, and politely waited for you to start walking again, but you didn't, instead crossing your arms, and asking again.

"what do you mean by that?"

he scoffed, almost rudely. " he's gon' hate me for life, isn't it obvious?" he slurred, head lifting to look on the starry sky, hands going deeper inside his pockets. your expression turned even more confused, as he stared up, acting like it was the most natural thing to say, and like everybody knew this.

"what's he gonna hate you for? he's your brother, he loves you deeply, right?" you wanted to rub his arm, or something, do anything to soothe the feelings that must've been eating him alive, but stayed still.

"brother" he scoffed again. you couldn't possibly see, from the angle his head was at, but hot tears flooded his eyes as he said the word out loud, and the moment of silence that came after, he used to calm down even the slightest bit. "i think that's the most beautiful lie i ever came up with, y'know? brother." he repeated.

"what- what do you mean by that?"

"i've been nothing but a useless homewrecker to his family for as long as i have been in this world. how did i ever find the audacity to call myself his brother? oh my, even i hate my guts for this." he chuckled, painful irony overflowing his voice "and my dearest, short-tempered diluc is gonna flip the fuck out, for sure"

"kaeya" you asked, growing to be scared of how mysteriously he was acting "is there anything you wish to tell me?"

you swallowed a gulp in your throat by saying that, and awaited the reply in stress, even if you didn't know why.

his gaze finally came down from the sky, as he looked at you with a sad smile.

"if it was up to me, i'd wish not to tell a soul anything. but i have been lying for far to long, and my so-called family did nothing to deserve that. nothing, nothing bad, ever, and yet they've been cursed to deal with one like me. truly unfair, the fate of this world. how kindness pays off in nothing but sorrow."

you could tell he was a bit more sober by how his words were more understandable than before, but he was still far from his right mind. you would've stopped him, but there was really no going back now, and you almost needed to hear what secret he was talking about.

"my dearest" he said, addressing you "please, do not get angry with me as well. i don't know what i'd do if i lost even more people than i intend to with this information."

after you nodded in confusion, he explained the story, briefly and in a twisted way, having little control over his slurred words.

you stood there in silence for a good long while as silent tears rolled down from both yours and his eyes.

"i'm sorry" he finally mumbled "i'm sorry, i swear i didn't do what i was designed to do, i didn't tell anyone anything, i didn't attempt to harm anyone. it wasn't my decision to make, i swear, i hold no loyalties to-"

"kaeya" you interrupted him, and he feared for the worst. "that must've been so confusing for the little kid you were"

the worried tone of your voice, the way your words were covered in affection, the way your eyes seemed to care, it all flooded his wrecked soul all too quickly and all to strongly, making him gasp for air, as if it was knocked out of his lungs.

"you- you don't think i'm a-"

"no" you interrupted again, afraid of how he might finish the sentence. "and neither will diluc. i can't promise you he won't be mad, because he probably will, but you're brothers, by blood or not. you're gonna fight and you're gonna make up, because no anger will ever top the love i'm sure he has for you. and if rougher days are really coming your way" you said, approaching him to wrap your arms around his shaky form. "then i'll stand by you to face them with you."

little did you both know. the date of diluc ragnvidr’s 18th was approaching faster than anyone could ever anticipated.

[myherowritings]

Maybe It’s Fate

— After discovering the mememate you fell in love with was your ex-boyfriend who broke your heart, you find yourself alone in a bar with a dead phone in a poor attempt to cope. The person who helps you at 3 a.m. is the last person you want to see.

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x f!reader word count: 10,531 genre: modern au, social media au

a/n: hihi welcome to part 25 of toya ! ;) the smau is rated 17+ so keep that in mind because it applies to this part too. it’s a bit thicc so i hope it’s able to keep your attention! skksffsd plspls chat with me and let me know what u think once u read! i’m looking forward to the convos ^-^ [edit: THIS IS NOT THE FINAL PART LOLOL]

Of all the dumb decisions you’ve made in your life, this by far had to be the dumbest of them all.

You were angry and hurt and wanted nothing more than to drown your feelings with overplayed EDM music and cheap booze that reminded you too much of the trash college parties you used to frequent. And while going out to get drunk was no where near your stupidest decision, going out alone with the full intention of returning home with someone else was. 

“Is everything okay?” you heard an unfamiliar voice beside you call.

Wishing you had brought more than an empty can of pepper spray, you cautiously turned to face him. You wanted to call a cab or take the train home, but you knew walking alone in the streets in your current condition might just be more stupid than staying at the club. Besides, your phone died right after you sent Kaminari your location. 

In other words-- You were truly fucked.

Not that you would let anyone know that, of course.

“Everything’s just fine,” you replied, trying to sound polite but disinterested. “Thanks.” 

He kept his distance but sat down at the barstool next to you. “Are you sure? You’re a pretty lady alone at the bar and you’re staring at your drink like it just insulted your favorite grandmother.” 

Immediately, the tears of stress and frustration flooded your eyes but you kept them from falling. Your bottom lip quivered and you blamed all the alcohol in your system for your seemingly uncontrollable emotions.

 “Am I that transparent?” You sniffled, downing the rest of your drink as you turned towards him.

“Ah-- Wait!” he cried with wide eyes, waving his hands in front of him as you chugged what was in your glass. “Are you sure you should keep drinking? Where are your friends?”

You studied him curiously. He seemed nice and trustworthy, but you couldn’t help but be skeptical of his intentions.

“They’re...around,” you answered, unwilling to admit you were here alone to a random stranger. “And I’m okay! Just here hating men, but what’s new?” 

He nodded solemnly. “Understandable. Men suck. Carry on.”

That earned a grin from you.

As the last gulp of vodka settled in your stomach and made its way to your head, you instinctively checked your phone in your pocket only to find it still dead. 

Damn. And here you were hoping it would’ve miraculously charged through sheer willpower. 

Drumming your fingertips against the empty glass, you let your gaze roam around the perimeter of the nightclub, blinking furiously in confusion when you thought you had spotted a head of all-too-familiar purple hair near the entrance.

“What the…” you trailed off. You could have sworn you just saw Shinsou, but the next second you opened your eyes, he was gone.

Great, you thought to yourself miserably. First he snuck his way into your heart and now you were imagining his presence too? 

“You’re really had too much to drink, haven’t you, Y/N?” you chided yourself, head spinning as you instantly regretted the last few gulps.

The guy next to you glanced over in concern, drinking a glass of what you assumed to be respect women juice. 

“Can I order you some water?” he fretted. “Or maybe a cab?” 

You shook your head to decline but stopped abruptly when your temples started to throb at the sudden motion. 

“S’okay,” you slurred. “I just thought I saw--” 

“Y/N!” 

You froze in your seat.

That voice… It was faint and almost like it wasn’t real, but you knew that voice. 

There was no way. 

“Good grief, I’m losing it now, huh?” you asked your bar acquaintance with furrowed brows. 

He shrugged, not knowing how to reply.

“Y/N, thank god,” the voice said frantically, sounding closer this time. “You’re safe!”

Ever so slowly, you turned around in your seat, eyes squeezed shut.

Even hearing his voice amidst the blaring of music was enough to make your heart twist in pain. It was the same deep timbre you remembered from high school and you haven’t heard it since then. You hated just how much you had missed the familiar sound. It was like a hug of comfort telling you everything was okay and a stab in the gut all at once.

“Y/N,” he said again, almost a whisper this time.

You finally found the courage to open your eyes, but refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you developed a deep interest in the laces of his shoes, reluctant to look up. 

“Shinsou…” The name left a bitter taste on your tongue and you wished you had another drink to wash it down with. Your voice hardened. “What are you doing here?” 

He winced at your harsh tone but stood unrelenting. “Your friends are worried sick about you. Kaminari was so concerned he even messaged me-- Something I imagine he never wanted to do.”

Your lower lip jutted out in guilt as your stare stayed set on the intricacies of the tiled flooring. 

“Why have you not checked your phone?” asked Shinsou in exasperation. “Kaminari was trying to tell you I was going to pick you up.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. “My phone died after I sent Denki my location.”

“Died? Did you not charge it before you left? Y/N how could you be so irresponsible--!” 

“Is everything okay here?” your unnamed acquaintance said from his seat on the bar. He glanced carefully between you and Hitoshi. 

You nodded, sparing him a wry smile. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.” 

Shinsou bit the inside of his cheek as he eyed the stranger who sat next to you. “Who’s this?” 

“None of your damn business.” 

Annoyed by Shinsou’s chiding, you bristled when he frowned at you. He had no right to sound concerned or jealous-- No right to pretend he cared!

Not when he did what he did.

“I know I was being stupid and I’ll call my friends when I get home,” you said, not bothering to hide your irritation. “But you can’t just come here and talk to me like everything is normal! Why are you even here?” 

Pushing yourself out of your chair, you stood up and finally looked Hitoshi in the eye, glaring at him. You wobbled on your own two feet and felt the goosebumps on your bare thighs and arms, briefly wishing you had brought a coat with you.

Great, another thing Toshi can call you irresponsible for, you thought crossly, a mixture of hurt and anger in your face as you stared up at him. 

“Why are you here?” you repeated as you paced away from the bar--turning back only to give your bar friend a wave goodbye that he returned with a confused look. You headed for the exist of the nightclub as briskly as your legs could carry you in your uncomfortable heels. “How did you know where to find me?” 

Shinsou trailed not too far behind you and you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that you felt a warmth near your back from his presence. “Kaminari told me you were alone at a nightclub and this one happened to be only ten minutes from my house.”

You pouted. Small fucking world. Fate must’ve been getting a kick out of this.

“Your friends were worried-- So was I.” You rolled your eyes, but he continued. “And since I was the closest to this place I offered to pick you up.”

Reaching the side doors, you stopped by the stone wall of the building and squinted at him. “You offered and they just let you?”

That did not sound like the friends you knew. You were expecting a full Shinsou beat down from Bakugou alone. 

Hitoshi scratched the back of his neck and, in your tipsy stupor, you felt comforted by the familiar habit of his. You swallowed, balling your hands into fists to snap your mind out of it.

It shouldn’t matter how many memories of the past were flooding you-- You were mad at him for lying and you had every right to be.

“Maybe offered is too loose of a word,” he admitted after a moment’s silence, having the decency to appear sheepish. “But we were worried and I knew I could get to you in half the time any of your friends could.”

Sure, it was a logical reason. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. “I would rather have waited double the time if that meant I didn’t have to see you again.” 

You stared Hitoshi straight in the eyes as you said that as you tried to ignore the trembling of your lower lip. He flinched at the words, looking hurt. But another part of him looked like he accepted it. 

“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now--”

“Mhmm,” you hummed just to be petty.

“--but we had no way of knowing if you were safe. Especially when you stopped replying to anyone! This was the quickest way.” 

Folding your arms across your chest you stubbornly held his gaze. “Well, I’m safe. So you can leave now.” 

Shinsou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Please. I know you hate me and you have every right to--”

“I don’t hate you,” you muttered under your breath. As much as you wish you did, you don’t think you could ever really hate him.

He blinked slowly and you could have sworn you saw a shimmer of hope in his expression. You tore your gaze away, studying the small fissures and cracks on the otherwise smooth pavement. 

“Oh,” he breathed almost imperceptibly. “Thank you.” 

You pretended not to hear him.

“Regardless of whether you hate me or not, I know you don’t want to see me--and I apologize for showing up so suddenly--but will you please let me bring you home safely?” Hitoshi pleaded. “Or to your friend’s house if you don’t want to be alone.”

With your lips squeezed shut, you rubbed the goosebumps off your upper arm. It was cold and your head was spinning and you had no clue what to say to him. 

Silently, Shinsou took off his outer coat and gently draped it over your shoulders, fastening the top button near the collar so it wouldn’t fall off your frame. You looked at him in surprise, unshed tears stinging the back of your eyes as you recalled all the times he’d given you his jacket while you were dating.

There were more times that you cared to admit where you conveniently “forgot” your jacket or wore too little layers on a cold day just so Hitoshi could give you his and you’d be enveloped in his scent.

And that’s exactly what was happening now. Shinsou’s coat surrounded your body like a warm hug and your nose was filled with a scent exactly like the one you remembered from when you were dating. He smelled like a sweet sandalwood with a mixture of fresh jasmine. He smelled like a field of flowers you’d find after a long trek through a woodsy forest. He smelled like home.

But he wasn’t.

In actuality, you haven’t been this close to Shinsou since your break up.

It had been years since you had seen him or talked to him or even been close enough to catch a trace of his scent. And now he was flooding every one of your senses with no care of the repercussions.

Your head was light.

You missed him. You cared for him. You never stopped loving him.

And now old wounds that never fully healed had been ripped open all at once.

“You were shivering,” Hitoshi stated quietly. “So I gave you my--”

He stopped short when he heard a sniffle coming from your direction, eyes growing wide as your buried your face in the palms of your shaking hands.

Through the cracks between your fingers, you saw Shinsou reach out to cup your face, stopping himself before he could touch you and withdrawing as if he had been burned. As stupid as it was, you wanted nothing more than to feel his touch against your skin and you found yourself involuntarily taking a half-step closer to him.

Your silent tears feel even faster. 

“Are you crying?”

Despite the droplets of water blurring your eyes, you managed to glare up at him for his dumb question. 

He grimaced. “Sorry. I’m...sorry.” 

Although you were the one crying, you still noticed the pained look on Shinsou’s face. He seemed just as conflicted as you were, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands so hard his knuckles appeared white. 

When he opened his mouth to speak his voice sounded choked, but still gentle. “Are you okay, Y/N?” 

“Just peachy,” you murmured, barely moving your lips. The two of you stood there in awkward silence, nothing but the sounds of your labored breaths filling the air until you blurted, “Actually, you know what--? No. I’m not!”

Shinsou opened his mouth to speak but no noise came out. That was just fine by you, though. You had plenty of things you wanted to say, regardless of his response.

“I’m angry at you! And confused. And sad. And hurt! I don’t know if I want to yell at you or ignore you or run right back into your arms--” Your voice cracked and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to slow your sharp breathing. 

You hugged yourself around your waist, painfully aware of how comforting his jacket felt around your body. A part of you wished you could just tear the coat off your shoulders, throw it onto a puddle on the floor, give Shinsou the middle finger, and turn away without looking back.

But you couldn’t. 

Instead, you let your tears continue to fall as you glowered at Hitoshi’s shoes. 

“I am so mad at you,” you managed, hands clutching the fabric at your sides. “You lied to me, Hitoshi. You lied to me and you didn’t trust me and you left!” 

The hurt from your past which you never wanted to accept mixed with anger from the present, both fueling your surge in emotions.

“And now you’re here--in front of me--acting like everything is okay?!” you shouted in exasperation. Your face was burning despite the chilling breeze outside. “Do you even care about me? Have you ever even cared about me?” 

He gritted his teeth, hurt that you would even ask that. “Of course. Of course I care about you, Y/N! Even through all these years I’ve never stopped caring about you.”

“Funny way of showing it.” 

His laugh was humorless. “I’m a fuck up. I know.” 

Your gaze softened just the slightest bit. “Hey-- I didn’t say that.” 

Shinsou shrugged. “Regardless, I did fuck up with you. And I’m so sorry for that.” 

“For which time?” By now, the tears flowing out of your eyes slowed, the remnants dried by the biting wind. You gave him a wry smile, unamused. 

“Both times,” he answered without hesitation. “I hurt you when I broke up with you for no damn reason and I lied when I told you I didn’t love you. That was the biggest lie of my life-- I still loved you. So much. But I jumped to conclusions and didn’t give you the change to explain. I owe you so much more than an apology but it’s the least I can give you right now.” 

You rolled your lower lip between your teeth, hating yourself for wanting to accept his apology and jump into his arms. He gave no excuses for what he did and his words were genuine. That much you knew for certain.

Slowly, he inched towards you. 

“I really am sorry, Y/N.” He paused. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You stayed silent, holding your breath as the pad of his thumb brushed against your damp cheek. Shinsou wiped away your flood of tears with a touch so gentle, it felt like a feather on your face.

His thumb lingered on your cheekbone, his fingertips lightly grazing your jaw, and you found yourself ever so slightly leaning into his palm. The tension in your muscles loosened and if you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend you were back with the Shinsou you loved in high school-- As if he never left and nothing had ever changed. 

Just for a moment, you tricked yourself into being truly happy. You tricked yourself into thinking that maybe you and Hitoshi could still be in love. 

You wanted to capture this second and replay it on an infinite loop, but just like all moments, this too had to come to an end. 

As you opened your eyes, Hitoshi reluctantly brought his hand back to his side.

“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “You were crying and I just wanted to--” He shook his head, cutting himself off before his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” 

It sounded like his apology was meant for more than just wiping some tears off your face. 

You nodded almost imperceptibly, the anger in your gaze diffused by hurt and longing. “I know.”

As the minutes passed, neither one of you made a move to step away from the other-- Your bodies mere inches apart and so close, yet never quite touching.

Suddenly, Hitoshi cleared his throat.

“Er-- If you’ll let me, I think I should bring you home now,” he said, forcibly shaking himself out of his daze and pulling his phone out. “It’s almost four in the morning.” 

Blinking, you rubbed your eyes. Not that he mentioned the time, you realized just how tired you were. You wanted to take a bubble bath, change into fluffy pajamas, and sleep until the following night. 

“Do you have to go to your flower shop tomorrow?”  

“Hmm?” You were startled. You had almost forgotten that the man in front of you was the same person you considered your “mememate.” As much as you hated to admit it, he probably knew more about you than some of your closest friends. 

Biting your lip, you snapped yourself out of it.

“Oh-- Right. My flower shop.” 

He nodded.

“No, I don’t have work tomorrow,” you answered finally. “I may not have made the smartest decisions tonight, but I’m not that irresponsible.” 

A shadow of a smile graced his face. “Of course not.” 

Fishing his keys from his pocket, Shinsou walked to the parking lot of the nightclub, looking over his shoulder to check if you were following.

When his gaze met yours you immediately stuck your tongue out at him haughtily so he knew you were only following him as a last resort and you needed to get home-- Not because you wanted to. 

You caught a glimpse of his grin before he turned around, and you managed to stop yourself before one spread to your lips as well. 

Stopping at a black car with tinted windows, Hitoshi unlocked it with his keys, opening the door of the passenger seat and waiting for you to safely enter. 

“I can open a door myself,” you murmured, sliding into the seat securely before he gently shut it close. 

“I know,” you heard his amused voice call through the window.

It felt like there was one, singular butterfly fluttering around in your stomach and causing mayhem, and you batted it away before Hitoshi could come in and see the grin on your face. 

“Did I just see you just hit yourself in the gut?” he asked when he entered through the driver’s side. 

“No.” 

“Okay.”

Subtly, you rubbed your tummy in a soft, circular motion. You hadn’t meant to punch the butterfly that hard. 

“Didn’t hit yourself, huh?” 

You flushed. “Oh, hush.” 

With a snort, Hitoshi turned the engine of his car on and you let your eyes explore the interior. It was sleek and clean, smelling like a mixture of sandalwood and new car. 

Reaching behind the gear level, he pulled out a white cord and handed it to you. You stared at the object in his hands.

“For you,” he said, with a raised brow. “You should charge your phone and let your friends know you’re on your way home.” 

Wordlessly, you accepted it from him. Careful not to let your fingers brush against his in fear of the spark it might cause.

“I messaged Kaminari earlier to let him know you were safe. But he probably wants to hear it from you.”

You nodded as you plugged your dead phone in. “Thanks.” 

He hummed, putting the car on drive and backing out of the parking spot, stopping before he reached the main street. 

“Do you know how to get home from here?” he asked. As you shook your head, Hitoshi handed you his fully charged phone that was opened on the navigation app. “You can search for your address.”

“Got it.” The air between you was almost suffocatingly awkward as you typed in where you lived, each click of the keyboard ringing into the stillness of the night. After finding turning the directions on, you handed the phone back to him. “Thanks.”

Shaking his head, he waved you off. “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Y/N. This is the least I could do.”

Averting your gaze, you twiddled your thumbs in your lap, unsure what to say. You had so much you wanted to tell him--so much you wanted to ask--but when it came to it, you froze. 

Just then, your phone made a sound from its spot near the gear shift, buzzing and lighting up as it finally turned on. A plethora of notifications filled your screen and you found yourself feeling guilty for making your friends worry like that.

Five missed calls for Kaminari, three missed calls from Todoroki, and nine missed calls from Bakugou. You gulped. You were definitely going to get your ears talked off by those three once they got a hold of you. 

But amidst the calls and texts of worry from your friends, you also noticed a handful of messages from Hitoshi. He sent you texts asking if you were okay and telling you not to worry because he was on his way to get you. There was a lump in your throat when he saw the messages were still from your mememate-- You never did get around to changing his contact name.

From the corner of your eye you saw Hitoshi glancing down at your phone screen, a look of regret apparent on his face. When he caught you staring, he directed his attention back on the road, clearing his throat as he followed the directions on the navigation system.

To think only a week ago, things were so different between the two of you. 

You thought he was a random stranger you connected with through the power of memes, never having a clue that he was your ex this whole time. You found yourself opening up and sharing your private feelings with him despite the promise you made yourself to always guard your heart. 

Even anonymously, Hitoshi climbed over your walls and found his way to the inner workings of your life. Even anonymously, he made everything feel like it was okay. 

But a part of you was scared--so scared--that it was all in your head and he was only playing you this whole time. And at this point, you were just too afraid to ask.

“Are you crying again?”

“What?!” you yelped in alarm, wiping at your slightly damp face with the sleeves of his coat. “No, you asshole!” You glared at him, a few loose tears still gathered by the corners of your eyes. You refused to let them fall through the use of sheer willpower. “The air conditioning is just blasting into my eyes.”

“The air conditioner is off.”

You blinked. “Well that makes sense. It’s so hot in here I’m just sweating through my eyes.” 

He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Right.”

The lighthearted mood didn’t last very long, however, when your phone buzzed once more and the notifications from earlier tonight appeared on your lockscreen. 

“I really made everyone worry, huh?” You sighed, leaning back against the headrest and shutting your eyes, the effects of the alcohol long since worn off. “I can’t believe I did something like this.” 

He signaled a left turn and waited until he was at the red light before continuing. “I’m sorry for causing this.” 

You stared at him in confusion. “What do you mean? Causing this?”

“Yeah. If I had just told you who I was the moment I found out, this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have been scared and alone at a random nightclub and your friends wouldn’t have been in near panic for hours. Hell-- If I hadn’t run away like that all those years ago none of this would have happened.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel so hard it left indents on the leather. “You wouldn’t have felt all the pain and heartbreak and--”

His voice grew hoarse as it broke off, as if something was tightening around his throat. Holding your breath, you gazed at him in concern.

You were angry at Hitoshi and thought he had a lot of explaining to do-- Sure. But...for him to blame himself for everything that happened? That was more weight than anyone should bear on their own. 

Surprising both him and yourself, you firmly placed your hand on top of his as he gripped the steering wheel. His hands were cold and rough from the wind, and you were certain yours weren’t much better. But still, you held him. And still, it felt right. 

“Not everything is your fault, Toshi,” you said quietly, his old nickname slipping out of your mouth before you could stop it, like it was natural for you to call him that.

His eyes widened and a flush filled your cheeks. 

You coughed to relieve the tension in your neck. “I just mean… You don’t need to blame yourself for everything. You messed up and there’s no denying that, but this isn’t all your fault. I mean it.” 

Your eyes met before he tore his gaze away to focus on driving. Quickly, you retracted your hand from on top of Shinsou’s, cradling it against your stomach as you felt the burn from his skin linger on yours.

“Thank you.” His voice was solemn and grateful, as if he needed to hear those words at least once in his life. “You’re too caring, you know? Your heart is too good.” 

You let out a breath of laughter, brushing his compliment off. “Yours is too. It’s just been through some shit. And maybe didn’t make the best decisions.”

“It most definitely didn’t.”

Though neither of you were looking at each other, there was a shared sense of happiness between the two of you--regardless of how brief it may have been. There was a small smile playing on your face as you bit your lip to keep it from growing wider. 

You hadn’t fully forgiven Hitoshi, he still had some explaining to do, but you felt a sense of calmness when you realized that maybe forgiveness would be possible.

Before you knew it, you heard the navigator say, “Your destination is on the right,” as Hitoshi pulled up at the curb in front of your building.

“We’re here,” he announced slowly, one hand on the gear level as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. 

There was an awkward silence as you unplugged your phone from his car charger. It wasn’t that you wanted to spend more time with him exactly (that was definitely not the case), but rather you had more questions to ask. And what better time to figure out those questions than at four in the morning? 

“You’ve been driving for a while…” you trailed off, hoping he caught the hint without too much embarrassment on your part. “Do you want to use the restroom before you drive back home?”

Hitoshi scratched the back of his neck. “No, I’m good. I wasn’t out for that long.”

“O-Oh,” you stuttered, a sudden feeling of nerves settling in your stomach. Not those damned butterflies again. “Well, how about… Maybe you want a glass of water or a cup of tea?” 

He gave you a curious look but set his car to park and turned off the engine nonetheless. “Sure…? Some water would be nice.”

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding, pulling your keys out of your pocket and unbuckling your seatbelt. Before you could open the car door for yourself, Hitoshi was already on the passenger’s side ready to open it for you. 

“I know how to open a door,” you muttered with a roll of your eye, but felt a faint flush litter your cheeks nonetheless. You hopped out of your seat, accepting the hand he offered to stead you. “But...thank you.” 

“No worries.” 

For someone you were still mad at, he was making it damn hard for you to stay petty. 

Despite the light throbbing in your head, both from drinking too much alcohol and from staying up too late, you were able to lead him inside your living room with no complications--only struggling with unlocking the door just a little. 

“Welcome to my house,” you said, flapping your arms around and fidgeting in place. You slid off your shoes and placed them at the doorway and Hitoshi followed suit. “You can, uh, sit on the couch while I get you water. Or you can follow me into the kitchen…?”

Your eyes scanned the floors and furniture of your apartment. You liked maintaining your living space clean and clutter-free, so it wasn’t too much of a mess. Still, you weren’t expecting any guests and it wasn’t as nice as it could have been…

You shook your head, giving your face a light slap when you thought no one was looking. You shouldn’t be bothered. It was just Hitoshi here. Someone you most definitely no longer cared about. 

Or so you kept telling yourself.

He followed behind you, grabbing at his neck and glancing between your walls and you, unsure what to look at in this new environment. After all, it wasn’t everyday you picked up your ex that you haven’t seen for four years at a bar only to be invited into their house.

“I can go with you to the kitchen,” he answered with uncertainty.

“G-Great!” 

You grimaced. When did you become Tony the Tiger all of a sudden? 

As you grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, you filled them up with ice and water, setting one next to Shinsou on the countertop. 

He accepted it. “Thank you.” 

You nodded and there was an awkward silence, both of you taking long sips from your glass, not knowing where to go from here. You knew you wanted to talk to him, but what were you going to ask exactly? What was the right way to go about this situation?

Next to you, Hitoshi looked like he was having some inner struggles of his own. His fingers flexed and unflexed around the cool glass, both avoiding your gaze and looking at you at the same time.

Biting your lip, you turned to look at him. As uncomfortable as it was, there was no better time to ask than now.

“Can we talk--?”

“We should talk--”

You both started and stopped at the same time.

There was a beat of elongated silence before the two of you laughed. Shaking your head, you buried your face in your hands, peering at him between your fingers. 

“This is silly,” you cried in embarrassment. “Why are we so awkward?” 

Hitoshi shrugged as a flustered laugh escaped his own lips. “Because this is weird. This is a strange situation we’re in and no one would ever expect something like this to happen.”

“Exactly!” 

“But,” he continued, almost hesitantly, “I’m kind of glad it did, though.” 

Your own laughter quieted down as the mood became more serious. You drank another gulp of water to quench your suddenly parched throat. 

“Can we talk in the living room?” you asked, heading towards the hallway when Hitoshi nodded. You figured if you were going to have an uncomfortable conversation, you may as well try to find some comfort in your warm and plush sofa.

You sat down at the edge near the armrest and he took a seat not too far from you. There was less than a cushion space separating the two of you and if you were to move a few inches, your thighs would be touching. 

Tearing your gaze away from your legs, you looked up to face Hitoshi. “You don’t have to answer, but… There have been some questions on my mind lately.” 

He nodded, as if expecting you to say that. “Ask away. It’s the least I could do.”

You curled your legs and hugged your knees to your chest, peering at him through your lashes. 

“Okay,” you said somewhat unsurely. Confrontation was never easy. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was? How long were you planning on keeping it from me?”

Hitoshi ran a hand through his hair, tufts of purple sticking out in random patterns. Somehow, it suited him.

“I found out a day or so before you confessed to liking...your mememate,” he admitted. He had told you this through text when you asked, but hearing it a second time didn’t make it hurt any less. “I was going to tell you that day, too. But then you told me you liked me and I didn’t know how to break it to you then.”

You looked away, embarrassed at the reminder of the night you poured your heart out to him. He knew you were his ex the whole time and still didn’t stop you? You scoffed, “Well, you could’ve stopped me before I humiliated myself like that.”

“Humiliate-- How?”

“What do you mean how?” You glared. “I totally embarrassed myself that night by saying how much I liked you--my ex!--only to have you basically reject me on the spot!” 

“I didn’t reject you.”

“I told you that you were the first person I liked since...well you,” you said, rubbing your temples to ease your own confusion. “And you never said it back. Not that you needed to. It’s totally fine that you don’t. It’s just that… I don’t even know. I just wish I never said anything.”

He placed the glass he was holding onto a coaster on your coffee table, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” said Hitoshi. “But that’s not it at all. I wasn’t trying to reject you. I would’ve told you I liked you back-- I wanted to, I swear.” 

Your head snapped to his. He wanted to tell you? As in he started liking you too? Even when he didn’t know who you were?

With a wistful smile, he continued, “But it wasn’t fair to you. Not when I knew who you were and you didn’t know who I was. You didn’t deserve that bullshit.” 

You stretched your legs out so they were dangling off the couch, folding one carefully over the other as you crossed your arms. “Then you should’ve just told me the truth about who you were.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He hung his head. “And if I did, you never would’ve told me your feelings.”

“Exactly,” you huffed. “They’d be safe and locked away in my heart until they disappeared.” 

He was silent as you turned his body towards yours, resting his arm on the back cushions of the sofa.

“Is that really what you want, though?” he asked. “You’re so kind and beautiful and you deserve to open your heart to someone and be happy with them.” A flush rose to your cheeks at his sudden words of kindness but you shook it away. “I never knew I hurt you so badly that you were scared to love again-- And I’ll hate myself everyday for that.” 

“Hitoshi…” Your gaze softened. You wanted to reach out and smooth down his hair but you couldn’t. 

He hurt you, yes. But to hate himself and never forgive himself for it? You thought that was far too extreme. 

“When you broke up with me,” you started slowly, unsure how to go about this, “you said that our relationship was nothing more than some cheap dates and sex.” He winced, holding his stomach as if he felt nauseous. “If you’re so regretful now, why did you ever say something like that? Did I really mean nothing to you?” 

“No-- Of course you meant something to me. Y/N, you were everything to me. And it’s ridiculous of me to say this now but I never wanted to hurt you like that,” Hitoshi said, his eyes squeezed shut. “But I did and I’m so sorry. I thought if I told you those mean things you would find it easier to just hate me and move on. Be with Kaminari or someone who could make you happy.” 

You glared at him with both sadness and anger, nails digging into your palms. “I was happy. With you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little.”

Taken aback, you stared at him. You weren’t sure what response you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“But not because of anything you did,” he rushed before you could get the wrong idea. “I just thought you were a good person who truly deserved something better than what I could give. You should be with someone who wasn’t anxious and insecure and messed up.” 

You were unsure if you wanted to smack Hitoshi or give him a hug, so you sat there stock-still.

“Even when I saw you with Kaminari, a part of me thought it would be better off that way,” he admitted, a scornful look on his face as he scoffed at himself. “But that wasn’t my call to make, was it? And how I went about it was wrong and dishonest. I’m really sorry.” 

He tugged at a loose thread on the sofa while staring at you in earnest. There were so many things to say and not enough time in the night to say it. 

“You’re right. It wasn’t your call,” you said, furrowing your brows. “I wish you would’ve told me you were feeling this way all those years ago. I loved you--regardless of what you may have thought. And what you said really hurt me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I fucked up and hurt you more deeply than I could’ve ever imagined. You felt like you couldn’t have feelings for anyone for all those years because of what I did, and if I could take it all back, I would.” 

His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to cup your face, pulling away harshly before he could touch you. 

“You deserve to find love, Y/N. Even if it’s not with me because I know I have no right to anyone’s heart after what I did--”

“Hey, don’t say that!” you interrupted, a wrinkle forming as you scrunched up your nose. You frowned at him. “You deserve to find love again, too. You may have messed up a few times, and I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t hurt, but I still care about you. A lot. And just because you made some really bad decisions doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to ever be happy.” 

He looked down at his lap, hands curled into fists by his side. You had the sinking suspicion he didn’t believe you.

Swallowing your pride, you inched closer to him, lightly lifting his chin so he stared at you face-to-face. The dark purple of his eyes stormed as a conflicted expression overcame him and you wanted to run a finger over his brow and brush the insecurities away.

Quietly, you whispered, “You’re so worthy of love, Hitoshi. And it makes me so sad that you still haven’t realized it.” 

You felt a piece of your heart chip as he pulled away from you, gritting his teeth as he hung his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded choked, as if he was holding back tears.

“You’ve shown me too much kindness,” he said, words shakey. “Even after I assumed you cheated and broke up with you in the cruelest way possible--” 

His voice cracked and he couldn’t speak. With his gaze avoiding yours he pushed himself off the couch.

“God, I’m sorry,” Hitoshi muttered, his face a look of self-disdain. “I shouldn’t even be here in your life right now. I should just--”

Your hand grabbed the one he used to shove himself off your sofa, holding his fingers tight in between yours. With your head bowed, you called, “Don’t leave again. Not yet.”

He froze in his spot, one leg immobile in front of the other in the direction of the door. Desperately, you tugged at his arm so he looked back at you. Your eyes pleaded with him. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be the end until you received your closure and Hitoshi received his. 

“You know that night we played Truth or Drink?” you asked, breaking the silence. 

He stared back at you curiously, slowly sitting down as you patted the seat next to you. Cautiously, he nodded in response.

That night was a pivotal time in bonding with your mememate and it was the closest you had felt with anyone besides your best friends.

Continuing, you said, “You told me about your dad cheating on your mom. And then seeing me and Denki the next day after I lied about who I was with.” 

There was no accusatory tone in your voice, and you stated it as if you were recalling the facts. But still, Hitoshi winced. 

“Yeah, shit.” He placed his palm over his forehead, rubbing at his temple as he grimaced. “I really just jumped to conclusions like that and it was unfair to you. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t reply to his apology, but gave him a small smile. “That night, I told you I thought your response was understandable. It made sense that you were mistrustful at the time. Especially after just finding out about your parents-- People I know you looked up to. Even in regards to love.” 

Hitoshi wore a guarded expression, but still listened keenly to what you had to say. 

“Toshi… My opinion on that doesn’t change just because I now know it was me you were talking about.” 

“Y/N--”

“Don’t get me wrong,” you clarified, not wanting to sound too lenient. “I’m still hurt that you couldn’t trust me. I wish you confronted me so we could’ve cleared up the misunderstanding. I wish you hadn’t stood me up on our anniversary date. But most importantly… I wish I could have been there for you when you found out about your parents.” 

Hitoshi sat there in silence, mouth opening but unable to form the sentences he wanted. 

You gave him a look of regret, one hand still not letting go of his even as he stayed seated beside you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

“It’s not your fault. At all.”

As you shook your head, he faltered. “Still, you went to America, alone, and never told anyone what was wrong. You kept all these feelings to yourself this whole time and I hate that so much.” 

“I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. I don’t deserve to--”

Your fingers twitched. How many times was he going to beat himself while he was already down? 

“Stop saying that!” you snapped, unable to contain your emotions. “You are not a burden. And you deserve so much more than you think you do.” 

His eyes widened at your outburst and his lips parted slightly. 

“It’s good you know what you did was wrong-- You can’t pretend lying and making assumptions was okay because it’s not. But you know it’s not! And you acknowledge that and it seems like you regret it.” Your voice took on a desperate tone as you tried to get Hitoshi to see his mistakes as something separate from his worth as a whole. “You’ve made mistakes, but you can grow from them. Fucking up doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of love and happiness. You don’t have to take all the blame onto yourself.” 

“How can I not take the blame?” he asked, his frustration at himself matching yours. “If I had been a better boyfriend, I would have trusted you more. If I had been a better person, I wouldn’t have lied to you. And maybe if I had been a better son, my parents--”

As if your body had a mind of its own, you threw your arms around him in a hug before he could finish his sentence. You heard a sharp inhale come from him as he sat, rigid.

“Don’t,” you whispered, breathing harshly as you held him tight. “Please, Toshi. Don’t say that. If no one ever told you this, please listen to me then. It’s not your fault. Your parents divorcing has nothing to do with your worth. Don’t blame yourself for the issues they had.” 

His shoulders were still tense despite the shudder of tears you felt.

“You don’t need to blame yourself for everything. Hold yourself accountable, yes. Always strive to be a better person, yes. But don’t think it’s all your fault,” you pleaded. “You don’t have to handle everything on your own. You can lean on someone, Toshi.” You gently stroked the hair on the back of his head. “You can lean on me.” 

At your words, you felt him visibly relax, his body free of the tension as you held him close. 

Suddenly, his arms wrapped around you as he returned your embrace, his strong hands firmly gripping your waist as if he never wanted to let you go. You found yourself loosening up at his touch and you placed your head in his chest. 

Peering up at him through your lashes, you said, “I don’t know if you need to hear this, but I need to say it.” 

His thumb stroked the length of your spine as you continued. 

“I forgive you, Hitoshi. For everything.” He stopped moving as he looked at you in surprise. You simply smiled at him. “Your apologies were genuine and so is your regret. I know you’re a good person and I forgive you, so please stop blaming yourself now.” 

“Thank you, Y/N. So much.” He pulled away ever so slightly, feelings of guilt still flooding him. “But I feel like I still don’t deserve it though--”

A noise of protest bubbled up at your throat. “I swear to god, if I hear the d-word come out of your mouth again, I’ll make you shut up.” After a moment’s pause, you tried to hide your laughter. “Heh. D-word.”

“Oh my god,” he said, his amusement escaping him. With his arms still around your waist, he challenged, “How would you make me shut up?”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Hitoshi laughed a genuine laugh that you haven’t heard in years. The deep rumble had a smile of your own forming on your lips. 

But the mood turned serious when you gazed into his eyes again.

“Really, though…” you said, squeezing the fabric at his sides. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way for so long without telling anyone. I hope you know you can always talk to me.” 

He tilted his head back, staring at your ceiling as you caught sight of his Adam’s apple. “Why are you being so nice to me after how much I hurt you?”

“Because I care about you,” you answered simply. “And I know you still care about me. You wouldn’t be this hung up over everything if you didn’t.” 

There was a sort of smugness in you as you teased him and he let out a breath of laughter. 

“Hah. I do. I care about you. And I’ve missed you so much.” 

You didn’t think it was possible, but he hugged you even closer to him. Your arms released their embrace on Hitoshi as you brought them to your sides. He looked down at you with a strange expression.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you admitted, squeezing your eyes shut as if it pained you. “You’re the first and only person I’ve ever loved and I miss you more than you could ever know.” 

Your head was bowed at his chest as you tried to steady your trembling hands by grasping the fabric at the front of his shirt.

“Why did you never call me? Why didn’t you tell me you were moving to another continent? Toshi, I loved you so much--” Your voice broke off as the tears you were holding in escaped you. “Why did you leave me?” 

His fingers were laced in your hair, holding you tight. He wanted nothing more than to soothe your tears and hated himself for being the cause of them. “I’m an insecure idiot who fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.” 

Through the blur of tears, you saw the wistful look on his face. The best thing? you thought to yourself, touched. 

“No amount of apologizing is going to fix anything,” he said, accepting it as a fact, “but I am so sorry. And I want you to know I’m grateful the person who AirDropped me that day was you.”

He lifted your chin and wiped your tears away with the pad of his thumb. Your knees were touching his thighs as you sat down with your legs folded under you, facing him. Letting go of the grip you had on his shirt, you unballed your fists and instead rested your palms on his chest.

You grinned at the audacity of it all. “I still can’t believe that happened. But I’m glad it did, too.”

“Must be a small world.”

“Or maybe it’s fate.” Your hand found his as you interlocked pinkies with him bashfully. 

Hitoshi looked down at your interlaced fingers and a light dusting of pink colored his cheeks. A sense of enjoyment filled you as he continued to blush, a teasing grin playing on your face. 

Before you lost any courage you had, you pressed your lips against the corner of his mouth-- Not quite a kiss but most definitely an invitation for one.

The red on his cheeks died down as his eyes darkened in color, removing his hand from your waist to cup your jaw. Hitoshi’s palm was warm and soft against you and you leaned into his caress.

“Do you feel like you got the closure you needed?” he asked, his voice a whisper as he leaned close to you. 

“Yes.” You nodded, painfully aware of your close proximity. If you were to lift your head up any more, your lips would brush against his. “Do you?”

“Yes.” 

His forehead was pressed against yours and your heart was being so hard, you were certain Hitoshi could hear it from his spot in front of you.

After a moment’s silence, you said, “Now what?” 

He shrugged, eyes shut. “That’s up to you to decide. I’m happy with doing whatever will make you happiest. And if that means leaving you alone and letting you close this chapter, then I--”

You yelped, silencing him with a gentle shove on the chest.

“Are you crazy?” you asked incredulously. “You think I would ever let you go again?” There was frustration in your voice as you resisted the temptation to kiss the stupidity out of him. “I… I mean, unless that’s what you want?” 

“Y/N…” Now he was the one with the tone of disbelief, like he couldn’t wrap his mind around what you had just said. “I’d want to stay with you. For as long as you’d let me.”

“O-Oh?” Your eyes widened in shock, but soon settled into an ecstatic smile. “Fate must have done us a favor with all this AirDrop stuff, huh? I fell for you all those years ago as Shinsou, and I fell for you again without even knowing who you were. There’s no way I’d throw that chance away.” 

Tired of waiting for him to make the first move, you brought your hands to the back of his neck, and lifted your head up to meet his. You spotted an amused look on his face, but it didn’t last very long when your lips finally pressed against his with a contented sigh.

His movements were gentle and slow, like he was afraid if he kissed you any harder he would find this was only an illusion that would shatter. But it wasn’t. It was real and it was genuine and you wanted to prove it to him. 

You broke away from his touch to pepper chaste kisses on his jawline, starting at the lobe of his ear and making your way down to the sensitive part of his throat you knew would drive him crazy, your hot breath blowing against his neck as a guttural sound escaped him.

“Eager, are we?” he asked hoarsely, his chin lifted. 

You grinned mischievously against him.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture,” said Hitoshi, gently pushing you away with a roguish glint in his eyes, “you don’t always have to keep giving. You should be spoiled for a change.”

You squealed when his hands trailed down your sides to cup the undersides of your thighs, lifting you up as you sat down on his lap. His hands unclasped the button that fastened his coat on you and brushed the collar aside, exposing the supple skin on your upper chest.

“You should be spoiled,” he breathed in between each kiss he planted on your decolletage, “every day of your life.”

Your face burned at the implication of his words, the skin his mouth had touched feeling like they were searing hot. Though his jacket had fallen off your shoulders, you were still overwhelmed by his scent, the woodsy citrus filling your senses as you sighed his name and you still couldn’t get enough. He was more intoxicating than any vodka you had consumed earlier that night. 

Growing impatient at his teasing, you squirmed on his lap, causing him to hiss in response. 

You giggled at his expression and stuck your tongue out at him. “Just kiss me already.”

Tossing his inhibitions to the side, he obliged. 

When your lips met again, this time it wasn’t uncertain and gentle. Each move Hitoshi made was firm and deliberate and if you weren’t already sitting down, your knees would have gone weak and given in.

His teeth grazed your lower lip and he kissed you harder, and your hands found themselves tangled underneath the hem of his shirt. The skin on your arms filled with goosebumps as he mimicked your motions, his fingers toying with the clasp of your bra as his name escaped your lips once more in a strangled moan.

Before it could go any further, however, Hitoshi removed his hands from the band of your undergarments and slowly pulled away from your kiss. 

His face was flushed with beads of sweat falling down the side and his breathing was labored. You were certain you weren’t any better as you rested your forehead against his to steady yourself. 

“Why’d you stop?” you asked with a strained voice, giving him your best pleading eyes.

“It’s late and you need some rest, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to your nose with a smile. “I don’t want to stop--believe me,” he promised, his hands squeezing your thighs that still straddled his lap, “but I also don’t want you to rush into anything you might regret.” 

You pouted, not wanting him to stop, but also feeling grateful he wanted to make sure you weren’t going to do anything you would regret the next day.

“Damn you for being such a gentleman,” you grumbled. 

He ran the tip of his tongue against his lower lip. It was plump and red and it took all your willpower not to kiss it again.

“Only sometimes, princess,” he said when he noticed how your gaze zeroed in on his mouth. “But for now, you should get ready for bed. The sun is almost rising already.” 

Hitoshi made a move to get up and you slowly unwrapped your legs from his hips, standing up shakily. He placed his hands on your hips to help you steady yourself, but that just made the weakness worse. 

Still holding you, he stood up from the couch and looked down at you, resting his chin on the top of your head as you hugged him. 

“You’re leaving?” you whimpered, a pout on your face. 

“Sadly,” he sighed. “I have work tomorrow. Well, in a few hours I suppose. But if you need me to stay I--”

“Oh, my god!” you cried, jumping away from him. “You have work? And yet you still came for me and let me keep you this whole time?! Toshi!” 

You folded your arms across your chest as you scolded him, but he just ruffled your hair playfully. 

“It was the least I could do,” said Hitoshi. “And I’m used to running on little to no sleep. It’s fine, don’t worry about me.” 

“It’s not fine! If you don’t get enough sleep this week I will smother you until you pass out.” You glared at him, holding his face between your hands and examining his tired eyes. Your gaze softened when you saw how sleepy he looked and thought about how well he hid it from everyone. You sighed. “And I think you’re a lot more selfless and caring than you give yourself credit for.” 

You kissed the apples of his cheeks and smoothed his brows. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you said. “You should get going.”

“No, you’re the one I should be thanking,” he replied, giving you one last embrace before getting ready to head towards the door. 

Both of your legs felt like lead, neither of you wanting to leave the other after years of being apart. With a smile, he moved towards the door. 

In silence, you examined him for the first time in four years. He was taller than before-- Bulkier, too. It looked like he worked out since he was in college, his plain shirt stretching against his pectoral muscles. 

But still, he was the same Shinsou Hitoshi you had always loved. 

You glanced at his bared arms and your eyes widened. “Oh, wait--! Your coat!” 

It had fallen off your shoulders and onto the floor during the heat of the moment, and you picked it up and brought it to him. As you held it out, his hands wrapped your outstretched ones around the fabric of his sweater. 

“No, it’s okay,” he said with a shake of his head and a small grin on his lips. “You should keep it. It suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in warning, but hugged the coat to your body nonetheless. “I hope you know this means I’m never giving it back to you now.” 

Hitoshi laughed. “I figured.”

He was about to grab the door knob when you blurted, “O-Or maybe I could give it back to you! If we were to, I don’t know, meet up for some food this week?” 

Turning back in surprise, he was met with a look of utter embarrassment on your face. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire. 

You bit your lip, unsure what had just come over you when you asked him on a date but also not regretting it for a moment. 

“Only if you want,” you murmured, suddenly feeling more bashful. 

Taking the hint, Hitoshi looked at you with a mix of wonder and amusement. “Sure. I’ll get some food with you just to have my coat back.” 

You gasped, cheeks burning. “You know what? Never mind, I’m keeping this--!”

“I’m kidding,” he laughed, tone still teasing. “The jacket is just a bonus. What I’d really be there for is...the food.”

You buried your head in your hands and sighed. “I-- Why do I have to like you?” 

He shrugged, feeling just as lost as you were. “Because feelings are strange.” 

“They are,” you agreed. “But they’re worth it. And so are you.”

Hitoshi smiled as you gave him a gentle kiss goodnight. 

“Have a safe drive home, Toshi.”

“Thank you. Go get some sleep now, kitten. We can talk when you wake up.” 

You nodded feverishly, almost bouncing in anticipation at the thought of talking to him again. “I’m going to sleep right now so I wake up faster and get to talk to you sooner.”

A chuckle of surprise left his lips before he could stop himself. “You’re such a dork, you know? But I love that about you.”

Your face heated at the sound of the l-word as the two of you stared at each other, both in shock that the night happened and even happier that it did. 

“I… I should go now,” he said in a daze. He didn’t want to leave and you didn’t want him to, but you knew he had work soon. 

You nodded, waving at him as he left your house. “See you soon, Hitoshi.”

When the door closed shut behind him, you slumped a little. Tired and exhausted yet wishing you could see him soon. Though it might have been foolish, you couldn’t help but wish he was feeling the same.

Grabbing your phone on the coffee table, you unlocked it to check the time. You were about to shut it off and put it in your pocket when a notification bubble popped up on your screen.

“AirDrop: mememate would like to share a note,” it read, and a grin spread across your lips as you eagerly pressed accept. 

The notepad application immediately opened up on your phone and you read the small message on the off-white display.

mememate: can’t wait for our date, y/n. p.s. i really really like you.

Letting out a surprised cry of joy, you held your phone to your chest, hugging it along with Hitoshi’s jacket he had left you. 

From the other side of the door, Hitoshi had heard your scream and responded with a laugh of his own. A feeling of warmth in his heart as he placed his phone in his pocket and headed for his car. Thank goodness for AirDrop. 

Your heart was pounding and your lips were still pulsing from the way he kissed you. Even as you got ready for bed and drifted off into a restful sleep, the silly smile never fell from your face. 

You were grateful he came to get you at the nightclub, and you were grateful he was the recipient of your memes that day at the amusement park. 

He made mistakes in the past and you were no saint either, but you had an opportunity to heal those wounds and be with Hitoshi again. 

And you just couldn’t wait for your next date together. 

a/n: AHHH THAT WAS A LOT,, pls let me know what you think! i know some readers never want to forgive shinsou at all and that’s okay, but i do think y/n forgives him and still really cares about him [and maybe l-words him? o.o] so i hope u support it 🥺 ilysm and thank you for reading! lmk ur thoughts !! xx 

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Number Nine

Chapter Seven: I Could Be Your Perfect Disaster

AO3 author’s note/info one two three four five six seven eight epilogue extra

All my work is 18+.

I know where you are and I know where you’ve been, but I never thought we would be here again… I guess I don’t know how you’d want it back now. I thought you got yourself away. How do I prove it to myself you’re ready now? God, I want to. Now you want me, but what if your heart’s a liar? ‘Cause if you change your mind again, I’ll burn like a wildfire. From wedding bells to private hells, to fresh new starts and wish-you-wells, from up in lights to up in smoke, we just can’t let this go. Maybe this time it could work if our need is dire. Maybe our future’s so bright it it fucking burns like a wildfire.- Marianas Trench, Wildfire

It was evening by the time Lea woke up. And when she did wake up, it was in his arms. He was so much stronger now than when they’d been together, his muscles far more noticeable. His jawline and cheekbones were sharper, too, but she couldn’t see them in the dark.

God, she needed a shower. He’d usually been a pretty deep sleeper, from what she remembered, so she should be able to shower in the unlockable bathroom with transparent glass shower doors without showing all her bits to him.

Thankfully, she’d brought her travel size shower supplies, so she got through her shower routine as fast as she possibly could— condition, shave, wash face, brush hair, rinse, shampoo, wash body, rinse. It took her longer without a handheld showerhead, though. She’d only just turned the shower off and was in the process of drying her hair with a towel when she heard footsteps on the carpet, then the tile. She froze, scrambling to unravel the towel from her hair so as to hide her body from this man she absolutely did not want to see her naked, not again.

But there he was, staring at her with his mouth wide open, seemingly unable to fully comprehend the changes pregnancy had put her body through— stretch marks on her stomach, mostly. Those were the main thing. Her hands were still up on the towel, in the middle of trying to pull it from her hair so she could cover herself.

“Lea,” he breathed, eyes wide, “you look…”

Fat, her mind supplied for him. Disgusting, short, pale, unnecessarily freckled, and covered in stretch marks.

Giving up with the towel, she crossed one leg over the other to hide what little he could see of that area from him, her arms crossing over her breasts to cover them as best she could despite their fullness.

He took a step closer, his gaze raking over her skin still, but when she spoke, he froze. “Stay there,” she demanded hoarsely, very clearly trying not to cry.

Tim frowned, holding his hands up defensively. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll stay here. Provided you tell me why you’re crying, that is.”

She shook her head, reaching out with one hand to grab the robe that hung outside the shower, snatching it off the hook as quick as lightning and using it to cover her torso, shielding herself from his gaze.

“Look, I’ll— I’ll turn around, okay?” He did so, and she quickly wrapped the robe around herself, tying it so tightly it actually hurt her waist a bit. It was far too long for her, trailing on the wet shower tiles as she stepped out, finally removing the towel from her hair and hanging it back up so it could dry.

“Are… are you decent?” Tim asked, sounding suspiciously like he was grinning.

“In a manner of speaking,” she told him. “Are you laughing at me?”

He spun on his heel, and she noticed for the first time that he was in his boxers, good god. His chest was more defined than she remembered it, and she wanted to stare at the V between his hipbones for hours. Instead, she turned her gaze away, hoping he’d write off the way she was flushing as both the aftermath of a hot shower and the humiliation of him seeing her.

“I still don’t understand what made you cry,” he informed her.

She sniffed. “I just… teared up a little, that’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

“If you cried because of me, it’s a big deal,” he said firmly.

Lea rolled her eyes impatiently. “I’ve cried because of you more times than I can count. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” She moved past him, going to retrieve some clean clothes from her duffel bag, which he’d moved to the couch in the bedroom. 

He sighed, switching on one of the bedside lamps so the room was cast in a soft, warm glow. “We should talk about this.”

“We have talked about it,” she reminded him. “There’s nothing more to talk about. I don’t have anything else to say.”

He was silent for a few moments, sitting on the bed and staring at her. “You haven’t said yes. You haven’t agreed to marry me yet.”

“That’s true,” Lea agreed, nodding, sliding the gorgeous sapphire ring off her finger and putting it on the bedside table with no small amount of regret. “The reason being that I’m not going to. I have no intention of having another few months of happiness only for you to destroy me again. Sorry.”

She turned to leave the room and get dressed, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him. She yelped, stumbling a bit, and he caught her, settling her on the bed next to him.

Lea was glaring fiercely at him for that move when he said, “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to listen. I need you to believe me. Can you do that for me?”

She pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose. “I’ll try,” she finally decided.

He smiled softly at her, taking both of her hands in his. “Lea,” he began softly, “I’m in love with you.” She rolled her eyes, so he rushed on, “And I know I’ve said that before, but I want to explain something to you, so you understand exactly what I mean. Okay?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, but nodded nonetheless. 

He took a deep breath. “So… I had never been in love before I met you. I thought I had, but I hadn’t. I think… I think I did love Crystal and some of the others, in a way. But I wasn’t in love with them, if that makes sense.” She nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I didn’t really understand what it was to be in love. What I felt for you developed so quickly and so strongly that it took me awhile to fully grasp what I was feeling, and I think it took you leaving for it to click in my head, but for me, being in love with you means that as long as I can have you, I don’t want to be with anybody else.”

It wasn’t until he cupped her cheek and brushed her tears away with his thumb that it occurred to her that she’d been crying.

“I’ve missed you,” Tim went on. “I’ve missed holding you, kissing you, touching you. I’ve missed the way your hair smells and the lotion you use on your hands. I’ve missed the way you run your fingers through my hair when you kiss me. I’ve missed the way you look at me, like you understand me in ways nobody else does. I’ve missed holding you at night and waking up next to you. I’ve missed those breathy little moans you make when I first start rubbing your clit and the way you hold me against you when I suck on your nipples. I’ve missed your smile, your laugh. Without you, I’m…” he trailed off for a moment. “I don’t know what I am, but I know I don’t feel whole if your hand isn’t in mine.”

She wiped her tears away swiftly, determined to settle this once and for all. “Tim,” she addressed him firmly, and he met her gaze without hesitation. “Are you absolutely certain that you don’t need anyone else as long as you have me?”

“I’m positive,” he said emphatically. “Look, if— if you want, I’ll sign a prenup so if I cheat or go back on this, you get everything. That’s how sure I am.”

She sighed, leaning back on her hands. “You don’t have to do that.”

“If that’s what it takes to make you feel secure enough to be with me, it’s exactly what I have to do.” He paused before continuing, “Truthfully, I think if you had told me that first night that the only way I could have you is if it was just you—“

“You would not have left Crystal just because a girl you liked wanted you for herself,” she insisted firmly, trying to be realistic. One of them had to be, she figured.

“No,” he admitted, “I wouldn’t have. Not at first. But if you had asked me to, I’d have ended things with everyone but you. Crystal, too. It would’ve…” He grimaced. “It would’ve taken awhile for me to be sure I was okay with that, with ending my marriage to her in order to be with you, but I think after knowing you wanted me, too, and that I could have you if only I wasn’t with anyone else…” he trailed off briefly. “I would’ve ended it with her after thinking about it, yes. I wanted you that badly, even then.”

Tears filled her eyes. “R— really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I remember standing next to you and feeling content, like I finally had everything I needed. That everything else—everyone else—was just extra. You’ve always been everything I wanted.” A pause. “I meant what I said about the prenup, by the way. If that’s what it takes for me to have you again, I’ll do it.”

Lea shook her head. “No, I mean… I know you. I know you’re being honest. Knowing that is enough.”

“Are you saying…?”

“If you really feel that way,” she said slowly, wanting him to fully understand what she was trying to say, “if you really do want me and no one else, if you’re certain I’m what you’ve always needed, then yeah. I’ll agree to whatever it is you’re wanting.”

He immediately snatched the ring back off the bedside table and slid it back on her finger, lifting her hand to kiss it gently. He smiled a bit. “Told you you’d agree to marry me.”

Lea pursed her lips. “Yes,” she admitted, “but you were wrong about how long it would take for me to give into you sexually. It’s been well over two and a half hours.”

“Ah,'' he said with a smirk, “but you haven’t been awake for two hours, now have you?”

Lea glared at him, then looked away, digging her big toe into the soft carpeted floors. “I don’t think you’d really… y’know. Enjoy it. Not anymore. Not with me, anyway.”

The arm Tim had been in the process of wrapping around her waist froze. “Why in the hell would you think that?”

“Well,” she began uncomfortably, “you saw me. You saw what I look like now. I’m—“

“Really fucking hot,” he finished for her.

“Wait, what?” Lea sputtered in surprise.

“You’re really fucking hot,” he repeated helpfully.

She stared at him. “But my stomach is bigger now.”

He nodded. “More to watch jiggle when I fuck you. Sexy.”

“I have stretch marks,” she pointed out.

Tim laughed outright at that. “There’s nothing wrong with stretch marks, first of all,” he informed her, “and second, you got them from carrying my child. I can’t think of anything sexier than your belly swollen with my baby, your tits full of milk. Fuck, I can’t believe I missed out on that.” He clenched his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. “It’s fine,” he decided. “It’s fine. We’ll have more.”

“More?” she squeaked. “You… you want more?”

“Of course I want more!” he exclaimed, as if the mere idea that they might not have more children was downright offensive. “Look, ideally, you’d be pregnant as frequently as possible. I either want to be fucking a baby into you or watching you swell up with one. You can work occasionally if you want, sure, but what I really want is to keep you in bed all the time.”

“You told me that before,” she recalled. “You said you wanted me to belong to you in every way possible.”

Tim whined, looking away from her. “Lea, sweetheart,” he began patiently, “you can’t stay stuff like that if you don’t want me to jump you.”

Flushing, she forced her attention back to what they had been discussing. “I really do look different,” she reminded him. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

He shrugged. “You don’t look that different, but no. I really don’t care. Like. At all. I find you ridiculously sexy. In fact…” He trailed a hand up where the robe had revealed a sliver of her thigh. “When you asked me to help you with your bra earlier, all I could think was how badly I wanted to see every inch of your skin. And then I got to, and everything in me was screaming to pin you against the wall and make you moan my name.”

“Tim,” she hesitated, “I don’t know if we should—“

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he rushed. “I want you to want me as much as I want you.”

Lea fidgeted with one of her curls, water from her shower dripping onto her robe. “It’s… it’s not that,” she told him anxiously.

“Then what is it, my love?” he pleaded, taking her hand in his. “Don’t you want me to hold you again?”

“You already know how I feel, you smug bastard,” she reminded him, a small, teasing smile on her face.

“Well,” Tim hedged, “you haven’t said it explicitly, so…”

That was true, she realized. She hadn’t told him how she felt. At least, she recalled with an embarrassed flush, not while fully conscious.

Lea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re sure you’re in love with me?” she clarified. “You’re never going to want anyone else?”

“I am desperately in love with you,” he corrected, and she glanced at him. “And it’s strange, but I think with you in particular, I’ve always been monogamous on some level. Even when we were together before, I didn’t want anyone else touching you.”

“But you were fine touching other girls,” she said flatly.

“Yes,” he admitted slowly, trying to decide on the right words, “but in retrospect, I didn’t really feel the need to. As long as I have you, I don’t need anyone else. I don’t know if that’s specific to you or if I’m just straight up monogamous, but I absolutely want to be with just you.”

Lea nodded, closing her eyes again. “Okay,” she said, exhaling slowly. “Okay. Alright.” She was trying to prepare herself for what she was about to say, what she was about to admit to him, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready. Still, though, he wanted to hear it. Maybe he needed to hear it. “I never got over you,” she finally forced out, the words rushed and blending together. “I never stopped loving you or wanting to be with you. I hated you—god, I hated you—, but truthfully, all I really wanted was to be yours again.”

He squeezed her hand. “You’ve always been mine.”

She nodded, still keeping her eyes tightly shut. “If you love me,” she began shakily, “if you’re certain you’re in love with me, you should know I’m in love with you, too.”

“I know, angel,” he murmured, brushing a few strands of damp hair behind her ear, “but it’s so good to hear you say it.”

She leaned into his touch, wanting more of him, to feel his skin against hers again.

“Lea,” he whispered into the darkness of the room, “can I kiss you, love? Please?”

“I think I’ll die if you don’t,” she confessed, and then he was on her. His hands were in her hair, his tongue was in her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Before long, he was kissing her throat wetly, panting, “I— missed— you— so— fucking— much—“ between kisses, his fingers tugging on the unnecessarily tight knot she’d tied the robe closed with.

As soon as he got it open, he slid his hand between her thighs to rub her. “Jesus, Tim,” she exclaimed in surprise. “You’re going very fast here.”

“Yeah, well,” he breathed, nipping her neck lightly, “foreplay is for people who haven’t waited three goddamn years to make love to their soulmate again.”

Something about the term he’d used was hilarious for inexplicable reasons. Lea snorted, then giggled.

Tim pulled back, frowning. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, still giggling, “it’s just that term—“

“What term?” he asked, exasperated.

“Make love,” she said, using air quotes and mimicking his voice by dropping her own before snorting again. “I dunno why, it’s just… it’s silly-sounding to me.”

“Well,” he began, sliding the robe from her shoulders, “what would you like me to call it?”

She shrugged. “Not that, I guess.”

Tim hummed, cupping her breasts and kissing her neck again, gently pushing her down on the bed and looking down at her through the curls that had fallen in front of his eyes. “How about…” he paused, watching her face as he tweaked her nipple lightly. “Fucking? Would you prefer I tell you that I’m going to, oh, I dunno.” He smirked, trailing a hand up her thigh to rub lightly at her clit. “Hold your hips down and lick your pussy until you’re begging me for it? Is that what you wanna hear?” Lea whimpered, and she felt his smirk against her skin as he plunged two fingers inside her then, continuing, “Nobody else could please you like I can, could they, baby?” She shook her head wordlessly, her mouth falling open as he curled his fingers, continuing to rub her clit. “I thought not.” He kissed her neck again. “My poor angel, without a cock to fill her up for so long. Your fingers are no good, are they?”

“Yours are… longer,” she gasped, rolling her hips and gripping the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white. “God, that feels good—“

“So you’d be satisfied with just my fingers, then?” he teased lightly, leaning down to kiss the tops of her breasts. 

“No,” Lea admitted. “No, I want…” She bit her lip, eyeing where he was tenting in his boxers for her. It had been a long time, and she was nervous as all hell, but she loved him, and he loved her, too, so she reached out and touched him lightly through the fabric. 

This seemed to spur him on, because he groaned, leaning down to kiss her hungrily as he curled his fingers and thumbed her clit. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he gasped into her open mouth. “Fuck, I wanna lick you. Can I lick you, baby?”

“Anything you want,” she promised, wanting to please him more than she wanted anything in the world. 

The second she’d agreed, he grabbed her thigh and hooked her knee over his shoulder. “Want your pussy, that’s what I fuckin’ want,” he muttered before licking a long strip up her slit before kissing her clit softly. He smiled at her sharp intake of breath, nosing at her core affectionately and grinning up at her. 

Lea smiled back at him shakily, and then he pulled his fingers out, curling them when he slid them back into her, circling his tongue around her clit, barely touching her skin at all.

“Tim,” she moaned, throwing her head back against the mattress, “can I— can I touch you, please? I wanna—“

“Mhm,” he hummed into her, and she gasped at the way he was making her very blood vibrate, her hands flying into his hair the second she registered the permission he’d given her so as to hold him to her. He laughed softly at her eagerness. “My greedy girl,” he growled, holding her leg firmly so it wouldn’t move from his shoulder as he continued thrusting in and out of her. 

When Tim flicked his tongue over her clit, her back arched off the bed and she moaned loudly. “Fuck,” she gasped. “Fuck, please don’t stop, please don’t stop—“

He hummed again, lapping at her expertly, and she clenched her fists in his hair, her chest heaving as he brought her closer and closer.

“Timothée,” she moaned desperately. “God, you’re gonna make me cum, you’re gonna make me cum, please, I want it so bad—“

It was likely her words that made him decide to close his lips around her clit and suck on it gently, just the way he remembered she liked, continuing to rub it with the tip of his tongue and thrust his fingers in and out of her. She bucked her hips against his face as she orgasmed, moaning his name.

Her body was still pulsing with the aftershocks of the absolutely mindblowing release he’d just given her when she felt him pull away from her body, gently putting her leg back down on the bed. 

God, she’d cum so fast! It wasn’t like she didn’t have the occasional orgasm or anything (usually in the shower with the bathroom door locked while she remembered things like the exact thing that had just occurred), but she’d forgotten how ridiculously strong the ones he gave her were. If the orgasms she gave herself were like the tide—gentle and steady and expected—, then the ones Tim gave her were like a tsunami tearing through her body with unrelenting force.

But still, it was way too fast to be acceptable, in her opinion, and she subsequently threw an arm over her eyes, her face flaming in humiliation at the effect he had on her. 

“What’s wrong, baby?“ Tim asked gently, and she felt the bed dip as he sat down next to her. “Are you alright?”

Lea grimaced. “Just… embarrassed.”

He leaned down, kissing her ring swiftly. “What do you have to be embarrassed about, my love?”

Her blush deepened at the pet name, and Lea covered her face with both hands. “I came so fast,” she whined.

He was silent for a few seconds, and then he burst out laughing.

Lowering her hands, she glared up at him with a frown. “It’s not funny!”

“I’m sorry,” he giggled, smiling down at her adoringly. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. You’re just so cute and I love you so much. And there’s no such thing as you cumming too fast, anyway.”

Lea pursed her lips at him. “Okay,” she finally decided.

“Good girl,” he praised with a smirk. Then, a thought seemed to occur to him. “Do you have any pictures of yourself when you were pregnant?”

Lea thought for a moment. “Probably, why?”

His grin widened. “‘Cause I wanna see.”

Lea rolled her eyes. “Get me my phone, then.”

He immediately bent over the side of the bed to retrieve her purse from beneath the bedside table and presented her with her phone once he’d located it.

Lea sighed, propping herself up on her elbow and wincing at the bright screen contrasting against the low light of the room. Once her eyes adjusted, she skimmed over her missed texts and sighed, signaling to Tim that she needed a second. 

She had a text from her mom, asking her to please let her know she was alright as soon as possible (which Lea promptly did and then said goodnight), but the rest of her notifications were from her group chat entitled The Squad, which consisted of her sisters, Sam, and Livvy. 

Ari

omfg ur so right theyre def bangin rn

Lina

I still can’t believe she just left with him tbh.

Sam

Dafaq you on about bro I bet they’re literally fucking as we speak

Lina

You guys are gross, I don’t wanna think about that!

Livvy

No, no. They’re right. Sorry lol

Lea groaned in annoyance at their nosiness.

Lea

Guys literally shut up stop blowing up my phone ffs I’ll tell you stuff later

Promptly putting her phone on do not disturb, Lea opened Instagram and scrolled through her account (which had long since been made private).

She scrolled back a bit too far, accidentally landing on a picture when she was smiling next to Livvy and holding a newborn Cassie at the hospital.

Tim narrowed his eyes at it in surprise. “Shit, you— you were there?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I was there when she was born. Didn’t leave the hospital until you texted her your plane had landed.”

He frowned, looking genuinely upset at that. “I wish I’d have looked for you when I visited before.”

She shook her head, scrolling up. “I wouldn’t have let you find me. Being friends with Livvy made avoiding you incredibly easy. I always knew where you’d be.” Then, she landed on a picture of herself standing with Livvy, baby Cassie, and her sisters. They were in front of a carousel covered in Christmas lights, equally decorated trees surrounding them. “This was at Winterfest that November. I was a little over six months along.” 

Tim took her phone from her, scrolling up again. “What’s this?” he asked, showing her a picture of herself standing in her mom’s house, next to a stroller with a large bow on top.

“My baby shower.”

“You look exhausted,” he observed. “Were you not sleeping?”

Lea grimaced, taking her phone back from him. “That’s the last one before Theo was born. But— yeah, I slept, but I wasn’t exactly comfortable or, y’know. Happy.”

“Happy?” he clarified, looking genuinely concerned now. “I’d like to see pictures of Theo when he was a baby at some point, by the way.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she agreed awkwardly. “And, well. I’d just gotten my heart ripped out by the only person I’d ever been in love with.” 

Tim’s face fell. “Lea,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I… I hate that I hurt you so much.”

She sat up fully and, trying to make him feel a bit better, joked, “Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was someone else.”

He froze, surprised. And then he frowned a bit. “That’s weird, I know you’re joking, but I’m pretty sure I got jealous for a second there.”

Lea grinned, knowing full well that jealousy was something he was unused to. “Really?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I knew I didn’t want you with anyone but me, that I wanted you all to myself, but… Jesus, is this how you felt all the time back then?”

Shooting him a tight and slightly sarcastic smile, she nodded. “Yeah, dude. Literally all the time.” Then she tilted her head to the side in thought, considering. “Well, okay. I usually forgot about it when you were kissing me and stuff. But the rest of the time, yeah.”

He looked at her skeptically. “You felt slightly murderous and heartbroken whenever I wasn’t kissing you? Seriously?”

She nodded again. “Yup.”

“Fuck, Lea,” he groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was making you feel like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” she assured him, smiling softly and taking his hand in hers. “I’ve always known you didn’t wanna hurt me. Even when I convinced myself I hated you, I could never convince myself that you’d hurt someone on purpose.”

He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her partially damp curls. “I hate that you hated me.”

“I didn’t,” she admitted. “Not really, anyway. I worked very hard to tell myself otherwise, though.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to do that,” he mumbled against her hair. “I never hated you, y’know. I just wanted you back.”

Lea nestled against his bare chest, inhaling his scent and focusing on his warmth. “I wanted you back, too.”

“Okay,” he decided, pulling back from her and snatching her phone up again. He held it in front of her face so it unlocked and then opened up a new message. 

“What’re you doing?” she asked, leaning over to watch him type out a text and then put in a phone number before hitting the send button.

“Giving myself your new number. I probably could find that voicemail, but I’d rather have something less…” He winced. “Depressing.”

Tim handed her phone back, and she looked at the message he’d sent—she’d still had his contact saved, had never been able to bring herself to delete it. She hadn’t even blocked him from the new number—and laughed.

Hi this is your future wife

“That’s the text you chose to send yourself?”

He leaned down, nuzzling the side of her face. “Of course.”

“You’re lucky I love you as much as I do,” she giggled. “You are way too confident.”

“With how fast I made you cum earlier, I think I earned it,” he said cheekily.

She gasped, her mouth falling open. “Timothée! Are you sure you’re twenty-nine and not twelve?”

He smirked. “I like when you say my name. Prefer it when you’re moaning it, though. And yes, I’m sure that I am definitely not twelve.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Uh huh.”

His gaze fell to her breasts, pushed together by her arms, and he stared for a moment before declaring, “Okay, may I please have sex with my ridiculously sexy fiancée?”

Lea laughed again. “I’m not allowed to refuse you, am I?” She trailed her hand up the muscles of his chest flirtatiously, biting her lip to fight back her anxiousness. “Y’know, since I’m your sex slave and all that.”

Tim appeared to stop breathing entirely at that, staring at her with wide eyes. After a few seconds of her tracing his collarbone with her fingertips, he grabbed her wrist, yanking her towards him, and kissed her hungrily. 

“No,” he confirmed lowly against her lips, his voice almost a growl. “You’re right, you don’t get to refuse me. You’ll take my cock like the good little slut you are, and you’ll thank me for it.”

“Yes,” she gasped out, leaning closer to kiss him. “Yes, I’m yours, use me however you want—“

He pulled back, gripping her jaw firmly. “Lea,” he said darkly, his gaze intense on hers. “I was destroyed when you left me.” He took a moment to let his words register. “You’ll never do it again.”

“I’m marrying you, stupid,” she reminded him.

Tim’s grip tightened, his eyes swirling with lust. “Don’t talk back,” he corrected. “Just nod and say you understand.”

“I understand,” she told him with an obedient nod.

“Good girl.” He released her jaw kissing the reddened skin gently. “I’ll take such good care of you if you behave for me, Lea.”

“What do I have to do?” she asked breathily.

“All you have to do,” he began, trailing his hands up her bare sides, “is let me fuck you whenever I want.” She was already nodding emphatically when he tilted his head, considering something. “You looked so sad in those pictures from when you were pregnant.”

“I didn’t have you,” she pointed out.

“Yes,” Tim agreed with a nod, “but you have me now. And I don’t intend to miss out on seeing you pregnant this time.” He shoved her to the mattress roughly. “That’s another thing I want you to do for me: travel with me when you can, let me have you whenever I want, and let me fuck a baby into you. As many times as I want.”

“As many times as you want,” she agreed immediately, nodding firmly. “I’m— I’m on birth control.”

He shrugged. “Not anymore, you’re not,” he told her simply. “I intend to keep you pregnant most of the time.”

“H— how many, uh…”

He turned slightly and got up onto his knees for a second, pushing his boxers down and off before kicking them off the bed. “At least four,” he declared cheerfully. “Maybe five.”

Lea’s head spun. “That’s. That’s a lot of kids.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, turning back to her, “but you’ll give me that if I want it.”

“Yes,” she admitted, mesmerized by his cock. It was even more perfect than in her memories— long and thick and beading precum at the tip and god did she want it in her mouth.

Tim must’ve seen the way she was eyeing it, practically drooling from wanting him so desperately, because he chuckled softly at her. “Next time, angel,” he assured her.

She pouted up at him. “But I want to now.”

“I know.” He leaned down and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger to hold her steady before kissing her. “But you’ll be good for me, won’t you? You’ll let me do whatever I like with you?”

“Yes,” Lea grumbled, feeling somewhat frustrated she wasn’t allowed to suck his dick then and there.

“Don’t pout, babydoll,” he scolded gently, crawling on top of her and caging her in with his arms. “I’ll let you use that pretty little mouth mouth on me as much as you like later, okay? For now, though, I need to be inside you.”

“Okay,” she conceded.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Tim cupped her cheek, leaning down to kiss her softly. “You know how good it makes you feel.”

“I don’t really remember how it feels,” she admitted, a bit embarrassed. “I remember loving it and wanting more but the actual physical sensations, I can’t remember exactly.”

“That’s okay,” Tim breathed, kneeing her legs apart so he could settle between them, “I’ll take great pleasure in reminding you.”

Lea didn’t remember what sex felt like, that was true, but she was very quickly relearning what felt like to need him inside her so badly she thought she might die without him.

“Lea?” he asked, her name a breath in the quiet of the room. “Will you… will you tell me you love me?”

Smiling up at him adoringly, she cupped his face with one hand, the other wrapping around his slender back. “I love you.”

As a reward, he lined himself up, nudging her entrance teasingly, and she spread her legs wider, needing him, aching for him. “Again,” he prompted. “Tell me again.”

“I love you, Timothée.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured. “I am very, very much in love with you. It’s…” He hesitated for a moment. “It’s a little scary, actually. Giving your heart to someone.”

Lea smiled softly at him. “I know. But it’s safe with me.”

He kissed her then, and she threaded her fingers into his hair, kissing him back as he began to push into her.

She inhaled sharply, and Tim’s mouth fell slightly open. “You’re so tight,” he groaned. “God, you’re— you’re as tight as you were the first time, how—“

“I haven’t been with anyone else, remember?” she forced out, wincing at the stretch. She really had forgotten how it felt, apparently. He was so large that she half-thought he was going to split her in two.

“Are you alright?” he asked urgently, searching her face. “Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “You’re just… you’re bigger than I remembered.”

Tim traced the lines of her face with gentle fingertips, watching her closely. “But you don’t want to stop?”

“No,” she confirmed. “Just give me a minute to adjust.”

He pushed the rest of the way in slowly, paying close attention to her expression. By the time he was all the way inside her, he was panting against the flushed skin of her neck, his hands running up and down her bare sides. 

“I missed this with you,” he breathed, the words tight from the effort it took him not to take her the way he really wanted, not to rock his hips against hers at all. “I missed seeing you beneath me this way, feeling your skin against mine.”

“I did, too,” she told him, smiling up at him shakily. “I just wish I was more used to it. Or that you were a bit smaller.”

Tim chuckled, nuzzling her affectionately. “I think the issue is more that you’re too small.”

“I’m normal sized,” she corrected, shifting her hips to see if the discomfort had indeed lessened or if it was just that she was used to him when he stayed still. “You’re just… freakishly large in every way aside from being so skinny.”

“I dunno,” he hummed against her lips as he kissed her softly, slowly. “I think I’ve filled out a bit more since you saw me last. Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring.”

“Hmm.” Lea returned his kiss, sliding her hands up his chest. “I stared at you as you were when we first met,” she pointed out, moving to grasp his biceps, which were indeed a bit larger than she remembered. “I loved you when you were even more of a stick than you are now.”

“Oh, I’m a stick, am I?” he growled as she shifted her hips again. “Lea, baby girl, if you don’t want me to pin your hips down and fuck you hard enough to bruise you, stay still.”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, running her fingers over his ribcage. “You’re a stick. I can feel your ribs. I can literally feel your hipbones digging into my thighs right now.” He frowned, glancing down between them, but then she cupped his cheek and whispered, “And it’s really, really, ridiculously sexy.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” he groaned, burying his face in the curls pooled around her neck. “I love how into me you are.”

“I’m more than into you,” she breathed, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “I’m obsessed with you.”

“Baby,” Tim whined. “Please, my angel, I need to— can I just—“

He didn’t need to complete his statement, his desperate pleas. She knew what he wanted. “Yes, Timothée. Show me who I belong to. I’m yours. Prove it to me, please.”

He did reach down to grasp her hip then, his fingers digging into her sensitive skin as he sucked her neck, pulling out of her, only the tip of him remaining. His other hand wrapped around her neck, just under her jaw, and he growled, “Beg me. Beg for my dick. You want me to fuck you? You wanna be my pretty little cockslut, a hole for me to use, to fill with my cum until you’re swollen with my child?”

“Yes,” she gasped, practically writhing beneath him.

“Then fucking beg for it,” he demanded. “I’ll keep your desperate, slutty little pussy full, tie you to my bed so I can use you whenever I want, keep you pregnant all the fucking time. You’re only good for three things: making me happy, being used for my pleasure, and bearing my children. You know that’s what you’re for.”

“I’m yours,” she moaned desperately. “God, I’m yours. I need it, I need it, use me however you I want, I need you to put a baby inside of me, please—“

“Aww,” he cooed, thrusting in half an inch and nothing more, just a tease. “I know you do, angel. I know it’s all you need. You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you? Let me dress my pretty baby up, take care of her so she doesn’t have to work?”

“How could I work if I never leave your side?” she whimpered, running her hands over his chest and arms again.

“That’s my girl,” Tim growled, gripping below her jaw with one hand, the other kneading the soft flesh at her hip before thrusting into her punishingly. “You’ll either be pregnant or letting me drink your milk whenever I want.” She moaned, relishing the rough pace he’d set. “You’ll have to get used to sleeping with your tits in my mouth.”

She kissed him, threading her fingers into his hair. “Yes,” she told him, the words an exhalation into his mouth. “I want that. I want it.”

“I know how sore your tits must’ve gotten without me there to suck on them,” he told her, holding her hips down as he fucked into her.

“They were,” Lea agreed vehemently, nodding, though the moment was jerky with how rough his thrusts were. “They were swollen and aching.”

“Not this time,” he promised. “This time, they’ll never be so full they hurt. I’ll suck these perfect fucking tits so much I’ll have to take you with me everywhere.”

“Yes,” she moaned, lifting her pelvis to meet his. “God, Timothée, yes—“

“That’s my girl,” he growled, slamming into her so harshly she wondered—she hoped—that he might bruise her. “Such a fuckin’ whore for it, aren’t you? Three goddamn years without a cock in you, no wonder you’re so needy now.” He paused momentarily, considering. “Though you’ve always been needy in this regard.”

“I don’t mean to be,” Lea insisted, fisting her hands in the sheets.

“Oh, but I like it,” he crooned, nipping her neck, just above the necklace. “I fuckin’ love how much you want this. I use you like a sex slave and all you seem to want, no matter what I give you, is more.”

“I’ll always want more of you, Timothée,” she promised, arching into him as he fucked her harder, faster, claiming her as his, reminding her that this was for life.

“Can’t wait to marry you,” he grunted, sitting up on his knees and pulling her with him by the hips. He held her in place, her lower body in midair, and slammed into her so hard she jolted. “Can’t wait to make you my wife, fuck—“

Feeling a bit salty despite all the pleasure he was lavishing upon her, she asked snarkily, “Am I going to be the same sort of wife your last one was?”

Tim outright growled at that. “No,” he told her, snapping his pelvis into hers. “No, you won’t. If you fuck another man, I might just kill him. You are mine.”

That was exactly what she’d wanted to hear. “God,” she gasped out as he fucked her even harder, impossibly harder. “As if anyone could ever compare to you anyway, fuck—“

He chuckled. “You like it, don’t you, angel?” When she nodded wordlessly, her eyes glazed over from how good he was making her feel, he demanded, “Then tell me. Tell me you like it. Tell me how much. Tell me you love me.”

“Love you,” Lea moaned, clawing at the mattress desperately. “Love your cock, love the way you fuck me, god, Timothée, more—“

“You’re lucky I love you, makes me wanna give you whatever you want, even if you are a greedy little cockslut.”

“I am, I am,” she nodded vigorously, relishing the way his fingers dig into the flesh of her hips hard enough to bruise.

“You love being fucked, don’t you, mon amour?” he crooned, his voice far gentler than the way he took her.

“By you, Timothée,” she clarified on another moan. “Only by you.”

He hummed, pleased with this. “That’s ‘cause no one else could satisfy you. No one can fuck you like I can, and you know it.”

“Just you,” Lea whimpered. “All I want is you, fuck— fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop—“

“You need to fuckin’ cum, I bet,” Tim smirked. “Feel your needy little pussy clenching around me.”

“Yes,” she pleaded desperately. “I need it, I need you to make me cum. Please—“

“Swear you’ll never leave me again,” he growled. “Promise me you’ll never run from me again, try to escape this. Not again.”

“I promise,” she said without the slightest bit of hesitation. “I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Timothée.”

“Yes,” he agreed, slamming into her and making her body scoot just a tiny bit forward across the mattress with every thrust. “You will. I’ll never be without my baby girl again. Never.” He was silent for a second, watching her face as he considered his next words. “And if you run from me again,” he finally continued, “it doesn’t fucking matter. I’ll find you. I’ll bring you back to me. I’ll keep you with me until the fucking stars burn out. You will never get away from me, never escape this.”

“I don’t wanna escape this,” Lea insisted. “I want you to use me. I want to be yours. I’ve always wanted it.”

He grinned down at her. “Good thing you are, then, huh?”

“Yes,” she gasped, arching her back when he hit a particularly deep spot inside her. “God, you’re so deep, don’t stop—“

“You’re gonna make me cum if you keep clenching around me like that, baby,” he warned.

“Why is that a bad thing?” Lea wanted to know. “I want your cum. I want you to fill me up.”

“You’ll take what I give you,” he growled, snapping his hips against her. “You don’t get my cum until you cum all over my cock.”

Eager to have him filling her, to have his cum dripping out of her, she reached between her legs to rub herself. 

Tim dropped her on the bed, the abrupt change in her body’s position causing him to withdraw from her almost entirely, and he immediately reached down and swatted her hand away. “No,” he snapped. She whined, her clit throbbing with anticipation. “You don’t get to make yourself cum. Not unless I say so.”

“May I?” she pleaded needily, bracing her feet on the mattress and lifting her hips to meet his every thrust.

“No,” he hissed lowly. “I spent three years, three fucking years, wanting you and dreaming of you and aching for you. If you cum with me inside you now, it’ll be because I made you. Because I let you.”

“Yes, Timothée,” she told him obediently. “May I— may I touch you, please?”

“You can touch me, angel,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her neck and cup her breasts, squeezing them roughly as he continued to drive into her. “You can touch me as much as you want.”

Lea ran her hands over his chest, then up his back and into his hair. “I love you,” she whimpered. “I love you, Tim.”

He leaned down to kiss her hungrily, saying, “I love you, too, baby,” into her mouth. “I love you so much. God, I wanna make you cum.”

“Yes, please,” she begged, desperate for him to grant her release.

He reached between them to rub her clit in swift, harsh swipes, and she knew she wasn’t going to last very long at all. “My gorgeous girl,” he groaned, mouthing at her neck. “My love, my Lea. Cum for me. Let me feel you, mon amour.”

Her nails bit into the muscles of his shoulder, her body arching against his so her nipples grazed his chest, and then she came with a moan of his name, spasming around him.

“So perfect,” he grunted, his teeth lightly grazing her throat. “So tight, so wet, so perfect for me. I love you, I love you, fuck I’m gonna cum—“

She turned her head slightly so as to kiss his neck with a soft murmur of, “Inside me, please. I want you to fill me.”

Tim groaned at that, his hands reaching up to grip her hair firmly, and he came, panting and open-mouthed against her skin.

They lay there for several minutes, trying to catch their breath. She stroked his back idly, her eyes closed in blissful mindlessness, and he nuzzled into her hair.

“That was amazing,” he finally told her with a swift kiss to her neck. “I missed you so, so much.”

Lea tightened her arms around him. “I missed you, too.”

He pushed away from her with a groan, slipping out of her, and she inhaled sharply at the change in sensation. He kissed her forehead briefly before standing and moving out of the room. She heard a faucet turn on from the bathroom, it sounded like, and a few seconds after it had turned back off, he was back by the side of the bed, cleaning gently between her legs. He then took off the necklace and put it on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, feeling exhausted again already despite the fact that she’d only just woken up from a nap about an hour before. She could usually stay awake after making herself cum. She’d forgotten how worn out sex always made her. Or maybe it was just sex with him that wore her out. Orgasms given to her by Tim just hit different.

“Baby?” he asked quietly once he’d finished cleaning her.

“Mmm,” she hummed in acknowledgement.

“You’re… you’re not gonna change your mind from some post-orgasmic clarity that’s going to break my heart, are you?”

Lea opened her eyes at that. “No, Tim,” she assured him, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “I’m not gonna change my mind. I love you and I want to be with you.”

“Oh, thank god,” he groaned in relief, squeezing her hand so tightly it almost hurt. “I love you too much to lose you again.”

She hummed again, giving him a gentle smile. “Thought you said you’d just find me if I ran away.”

He flushed, staring at their joined hands, where their fingers were threaded together. “Yeah, I would,” he confirmed softly, “but I’d rather you stayed with me ‘cause you want this, too.”

Lea turned onto her side. “I do want this,” she told him with a yawn, “but what I want right now is to sleep. Come hold me, please?”

“Anything you want, my love,” he promised, eagerly climbing in next to her and spooning up behind her before pulling the covers over them both.

She smiled, nestling into the pillow. “I love you, Tim.”

He wrapped an arm around her bare waist, pulling her close against his equally bare chest. “I love you, too.”

She slept better than she’d ever slept in her life.

Yay! They’re back together! 🥰

Tag list: @meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @vampire-reanimator

To be added, please ask 💗

[watchmegetobsessed]

LUCKY PAIR

a/n: another one :)

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

word count: 1.5k

This fic is part of the LITTLE ONE series, but can be read as a simple oneshot as well! Find the masterpost of the series HERE!

masterlist

Sebastian has always been a humble man. Growing up, with a strong and loving family background, he never really left the path that leads to good manners and appreciation even for the smallest things in life. Not even becoming a successful actor could change the way he sees and feels grateful for everything he has and achieved.

There were times when he thought he wouldn’t find the person he could settle with, feel comfortable enough around to spend the rest of his life with. Let alone start a family with. That was until he met you.

From the very start he felt a sense of belonging to you, like you pulled him in, so easily and fast, enchanted him and simply made him yours. And he didn’t mind it, not even a bit. Dating you has been such a different experience than his previous relationships. As if it made him realize how shallow and loose they were, but now he had the chance to taste what real love is like. With all the good and bad, the two of you have been sharing such a deep connection since the beginning that put his previous dating experiences to shame.

Now that you are pregnant and engaged, Sebastian has been immensely overwhelmed with how amazing his life is getting, all thanks to you. He is amazed by everything about the road to becoming parents, all the changes and challenges, he feels like it all led him to this exact point in life. What he likes the most about it however is you. Seeing you grow your baby, see the growth and the changes every day, the miracle of life happening right in front of his eyes. And he is still having a hard time believing that you chose him to do all of this with, to have the most beautiful gift of life with him.

He has always admired you in many ways, you’ve been a fascinating creature to him from the very beginning and he loved learning new things about you, things that made him fall in love with you even more. After spending years together he could still look at you with the same amount of love he did when you were just getting to know each other. But then came the pregnancy and Sebastian found himself falling deeper than ever.

He has often found himself looking at you with his heart full and chest warm at the oddest moments. When you were doing your skincare routine in the evening, standing in front of the mirror, putting on all the different products, he always has a great view of you from the side, sitting on the bed and he loves how he saw your belly get bigger each time, as you went through the same steps. Or the way you always scratch the lower part of your bump every morning as your good morning to the baby, humming to yourself with your eyes still closed in the soft morning light that floods the bedroom through the massive windows. Or how you draw a little heart on your tummy with your lotion before spreading the scream all over your skin. All these little things have had him melting, so thankful that he gets to see and experience it. With you.

Now the two of you are having a lazy Sunday, Sebastian has been watching a football game on TV and you are sitting next to him, your laptop on the top of a pile of pillows next to you, your legs crossed underneath you as you’re typing away on the keyboard. You’re wearing your reading glasses you recently got and for what he nagged you forever to finally get, but you refused to, feeling like you’re a little too young to have reading glasses. But then you realized you really did need them when you had trouble reading emails on your phone. You gave in and bought a pair, the transparent frame is a subtle accessory on your pretty face. Sebastian hasn’t told you, but it’s doing things to him, especially when you push them up to the top of your head, keeping your unruly hair back with them from your forehead. However now it makes you appear more on the cute side rather than the sexy, though that aspect is still there as well.

You’re snacking on some veggie chips, your latest craving that now takes up half of the pantry, reading something your mother has sent you about the wedding that will only take place after the baby is born, but she’s been so excited about it, she’s been bombarding you with ideas she finds online. You don’t mind it, carefully reading everything she proposes to you and then leaving comments and suggestions of your own before sending it back to her.

You’re wearing an oversized shirt with no pants on, just your underwear, your legs bare and looking so soft and squishy, Sebastian is having a hard time not to reach out and feel them with his own hands.

It’s so domestic, so mundane and simple, seeing you like this in the comfort of the home the two of you share, yet in this moment he feels like he is on top of the world. He swears he could cry from happiness when he looks at you in this state and he wishes he could preserve this moment forever.

He watches you reach into the bag, your eyes still on the screen, but then you realize that the chips is gone and you pout softly, giving the now empty bag a sad look. It’s just then that you notice him watching you instead of the game on the TV.

“What is it?” you ask with a shy, confused look. Sebastian shakes his head, smiling to himself as he leans closer, his lips meeting the corner of your mouth in a soft, chaste kiss.

“Nothing. You want me to grab another bag for you?”

“Ah, no. I shouldn’t even have eaten this bag,” you mumble under your breath, pursing your lips.

“Just eat it if you want it, Doll. There’s nothing wrong about it.”

“Don’t tempt me, I’ve already put on so much baby weight!” you warn him playfully, making him chuckle.

“That’s alright. You still look beautiful,” he assures you, making your heart flutter in your chest. As a reply, you just give his hand a squeeze before returning to your laptop, starting to type away, but Sebastian can’t stop himself from staring still. Licking your lips you notice his gaze again, feeling a little shy under his inspecting stare.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” you start guessing, but he shakes his head no, a hand reaching out to finally grab your bare thigh, his fingers deliciously sinking into your flesh.

“No, I just…” he sighs. “You’re so beautiful and I love you so much. That’s it.”

Your cheeks immediately heat up at his words, not sure where all of this affection is coming from all of a sudden.

“Stop, I didn’t even shower this morning,” you huff awkwardly. You just simply couldn’t muster up the energy to undress, shower and dress again, so you decided to skip, now Sebastian is treating you like a princess.

“I really don’t care,” he smirks, reaching up his palm cups the side of your face, his thumb running across the soft skin under your eye. He simply can’t fight this sudden wave of sentimentality, not that he wants to. Showing his love and affection has always been important for him and he will not shy away from letting you know how he feels. “I know I’ve said this before, but… I really am one lucky man.”

“You always say this as if I’m doing you a favor by being with you, but it’s mutual, Seb,” you softly tell him. Abandoning your laptop you scoot closer until he can wrap an arm around your shoulders, your sides pressed up against each other. “I’m lucky to have you too.”

“Yeah? So you’re not sick of me yet?” he teases you playfully, pressing his fingers into your side, making you jump a little.

“You think I would have said yes if I was?” you ask, holding up your hand, the diamond ring sitting not so subtly on your finger.

“Maybe you said yes just because I knocked you up,” he prompts and you smack his chest, making him laugh.

“Stop that! As if we weren’t already planning to have a baby, sometime soon,” you mock him, narrowing your eyes at him and smirking down at you he just kisses your forehead.

“I know, I know. I’m just still kinda looking for the explanation how someone like you ended up with me.”

“Oh please! Thousands of women were devastated when it got out that you’re off the market,” you scoff at his comment. “I should be thinking about the how, not you.”

“I guess we are… a lucky pair then, huh?” he smirks as you snake a hand behind his neck, pulling him down so your lips meet in a smearing kiss.

“Mm, the luckiest,” you grin against his lips.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[cdroloisms]

Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao) 

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

[erensproudsimp]

Celestial

Armin Arlert x reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Content Warnings: sort of public sex?, Cunnilingus, vanilla sex, masturbation, a lil bit of fluff too

Summary: A date with Armin at his family owned theater, Armin makes you feel like the luckiest girl alive. *cough*y'all bang too*cough*

word count:3.4k

Also, fanart is by atosaido on insta.

Gazing at the sunset at the horizon spreading its rich hues of red blended with orange, purple and cimsons into the grateful sky when you heard your phone chime. The name on the notification itself was enough to pull the corners of your mouth into a smile. Gently you placed the book that you were reading on the table to grab your phone and unlocked it to see the message. It was from your boyfriend, Armin. Your heart swelled reading the contents. Armin requested you to get ready for a date that he was coming to fetch you in like an hour, however he didn't mention where he'd be taking you. Not giving yourself a chance to try to assume the location, you looked at the time. It was currently six in the afternoon, plenty of time to dress up until seven.

Clothes thrown all over your room, scavenging the closet you were having trouble settling on an aesthetic for your outfit. Since Armin was the type of person to take you to places that could be either cosy or extravagant or both, you made up your mind to a dark academia getup. A brown checkered mini skirt complimented with a beige sweater seemed to be quite perfect for the date. Your hair straightener was heating up while you were doing a light make up. Ten minutes later you were ready. It was almost seven as you went outside to wait for Armin's car to pull up to your apartment.

A fresh chilly wind brushed against your face pickling your nostrils but it brought you out of your daydreams to your senses as you felt alive and connected to reality. You rubbed your nose for warmth with your sleeve when right at that moment a white BMW. You swore your heart leaped in your chest upon seeing him. Like a happy puppy running to its owner, that's how Armin saw you when you were running in your boots to him. Throwing your arms around his neck, you jumped for a hug. Armin being quite well-built was able to handle your weight as he lifted you up to spin you around.

"Ahaha y/n I'm so glad to see you," Armin's voice muffled against your hair.

"Me too Armin, me too," you replied pulling back to make eye contact with him.

You had no idea how Armin liked you saying his name, especially when you were screaming it.

"Let's get in the car shall we? It's getting a little chilly," Armin said opening your door to let you in. You gave him a light smile for his chivalry. Closing it after you sat, he went to take his place in the driver's seat.

"So, are you going to tell me where you're taking me?" you asked him.

"Hmmm, nope," Armin answered bopping your nose with his index finger, "I'm keeping as a surprise till we reach it, besides I think you'd probably guess it with the route we're taking."

"Well then, let's see if I guess it right. Let's go!" you excitedly shouted.

Analysing the passing buildings and blocks, a light bulb went off in your head.

"Wait, are we going to your family owned theater?" crossing your fingers you questioned.

"Heh, you've got a good memory," Armin smiled over to you one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh rubbing small circles.

Shrieking in happiness, you couldn't help it as that theater was nothing but a comfort place for you. Pressing the button to pull down the transparent glass, you let the cold wind hit your face making your hair fly, a smile stretching your mouth aware that this was going to be a good night well spent. Across the seat, Armin admired you for a while before pulling into the parking. How he wished he could keep looking at you forever. You were like drugs to him, no matter how much he consumed of your presence or just you in general, he's never satisfied.

Before you could get out, Armin came to your door to open it, extending his hand. Taking it, he pulled you closer to him, faces millimeters away. Smiling against his mouth but you didn't kiss him. Instead, you placed your finger between your lips, "Quite a gentleman, aren't you?"

"Only for you my love," Armin replied dragging you to the theater's entrance.

Hand in hand, you both ran to the magnificent creation that was the building. Nobody was in sight signaling you that you two were the only beings present in that place. The only sounds that could be heard were you and Armin's giggling and the rustling of the trees with the wind. The moon was shining so bright in the sky lit up by thousands of stars. It's brightness was the same as the one Armin brought in your life. He was your sole source of joy alongside the reason why you adored being alive so much.

"You really like the night sky, don't you?" Armin asked as he looked at you staring at the moon.

"A lot. The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I could die happy."

Your heart felt lighter than air at his answer.

"Before we go inside, mind if I blindfold you? I don't want to ruin the surprise," Armin requested holding up a black cloth.

"Sure thing," you replied as he tied it lightly so as not to hurt you.

Rather than taking your hands to guide you inside, Armin choose an easier method which was to carry you in his arms. At first you were bewildered but then when it hit you, it didn't really faze you as he was always doing sweet unexpected actions like this. He treated you as though you were the most precious thing to him, which you in all honesty were.

While he was walking to take you to the destined spot, he couldn't stop himself to gaze at you. You gave so much meaning to his life and to every little thing to him. From the feeling of the first sunlight hitting his skin, he was reminded of your warm smile to the moonlight illuminating the dark sky, he thinks of the way you bring him positivity even in the toughest of situations. He couldn't be in anymore bliss as this was the definition of heaven to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck for support, he was carrying his literal embodiment of happiness.

Gently putting you down, he asked, "Are you ready?"

"I'm more than ready!" mirthfully you exclaimed.

"Okay then", Armin said removing your blindfold, "Ta-dah."

At that moment, you couldn't decide whether you were more likely to smile because of what you were seeing or more likely to cry because of what you were seeing. Your mind chose the later as tears started to run down your cheeks.

"He-Hey, don't cry, why are you crying?" Armin confoundedly wiped your tears with his thumbs as he cupped your face.

"Did you do all of this... for me?" sniffing you looked at him.

"For who else did I do this stupid? Of course it's for you y/n", he beamed.

Apart from the usual dark room with a dark vibe like a traditional theater has, for this date, Armin had set up projections on the ceiling. And it wasn't any type of projection, it was the space scattered all across the white roof.

In awe, your eyes widen at the celestial beauty in front of you. Stars twinkling like little fairy lights, even a nebula in vivid details. It doesn't stop at that as there were loads of other spatial phenomenons occurring. Not only did Armin set up a picnic on the stage but beside it was also a mattress big enough to accommodate both of you to 'stargaze'. The fabric set with Ratatouille in a bowl, a bottle of red wine glimmering under the light and various pastries sat in soliditary splendor in the middle of the wide open space which was the stage.

"I feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have you Armin", you said sitting on the cloth spread on the wooden floor.

"No, I feel like the luckiest man to have the most perfect woman," he corrected you as he was pouring some wine into your glass.

Red tinted your cheeks.

"Cheers ?"

"Cheers," you raised your glass to clink with his.

This night couldn't be any more flawless.

A nice dinner in your favorite place with your favorite person, what else could you ask more?

As soft as clouds, the mattress sunk in with both of your weights. The wine coursing through your veins served as intoxication transporting you into this realm of abstractional interstellar.

Still mesmerised by the exquisite visual that resembled as though some heavenly artist had crushed crystals into his paint and then colored the cosmos with the finest of brushes, it didn't even compare to the beautiful man on whom you were laying on. Your hand on his chest, head on his shoulder, Armin held you so close to him as though you were going to disappear if he looked away. The blues and purples of the projection caressed his face.

Moving strands of your hair away with his finger, Armin asked, "What's the matter y/n?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering how pretty you are."

"I-I thank you," Armin blushed.

Gosh he was so cute.

Lifting yourself up, a frown on Armin's face at your action but then replaced by a astonishing look when he realised that you were straddling him. You had no clue of what you were doing, maybe it's was the wine or maybe it was just your desire for him, nonetheless, you craved his touch.

Your soft skin reflecting the light of the led made his fingers curl with the urge to stroke it. To his surprise, you grabbed his hands and placed it on your thighs revealed with your skirt lifted up. A light squeeze was given to them as Armin began stroking with his thumb waiting for your next move. The light illuminating from your behind aligned your figure making you appear as an angel in Armin's sight. Running your index finger from his cheekbones to his lips, you neared your bodies to press your boobs on his chest as you kissed him. His left hand dragged up your flesh to grab your ass while the right one entangled itself in your hair pulling your faces closer. Lips overlapping each other as you fought for dominance with him. Though Armin seems like a very sweet guy but looks may deceive, well, not completely. In bed he's like a cocktail, a combination of gentleness like flavored syrup or juice and of roughness like the alcohol in the drink.

Pushing your hips to his pelvis area, a groan leaving his lips cued you to further tease him. Up and down you grinded on him. Breaking the kiss to pull back, Armin went lower to your neck to pepper small kisses all over your sensitive skin, all the way to your jaw, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth to back on your neck to suck on your sweet spot. A light pain accompanied with pleasure made a tiny 'ah' leave your lips as he was marking your body. This only turned Armin more than he already was the moment he saw you.

Bringing his face back up , you collided your lips to his, more passionate than before. Sloppily you unbuttoned his shirt.

Abruptly he grabbed your back to switch positions with you. His chest now exposed was in front of your eyes. Removing the fabric off his body, his muscles shined in the light. This man was built like an art piece, his chest sculptured like the Greek soldiers.

"Allow me to be the one to please you," Armin's breath tickled your ear.

Feather like touches brushed your throat down to between your breasts to your stomach through your clothes. He took all the time in the world to appreciate the fact that you were with him and for him. You've probably never experienced such tenderness before meeting Armin. While making out with you, he his hands underneath your sweater to cup your boobs unaware of the dampness pooling between your legs.

With a swift motion, Armin took off your sweater and threw it across the stage. Black laced bra covering your breasts made you look more lustful. Armin's breath hitched in his throat.

"I don't think I'd ever get enough on beautiful you are y/n, everytime I undress you, it always feel as though it's the first time", he breathed.

You tugged at his belt, unbuckling it.

"Then show me how much you want me," you swiped your thumb over his lips.

Armin smirked. If looks could kill, you'd probably be dead by that.

"As you wish my lady."

Armin's big hands stroke your curves, brushing his lips from your collarbones slowly down your bellybutton but he didn't kiss your skin until he pulled down your skirt for your damp fabric to come in view to him. His soft lips didn't hesitate to press against your core.

"Ah- Armin-"

"You look so hot making that face, baby," Armin replied mouth still on you, you felt the vibrations of his voice through your underwear giving you goosebumps.

Armin dragged his tongue from the buttom to your clitoris, sucking on it making your underwear even wetter.

"Does this feel good?"

"Hmmm yes~," you reached out to grab his hair.

He chuckled at your reaction and proceeded to remove your last piece of garment. Your entrance dripping with anticipation, Armin gulped hard.

Like a wild animal out of cage, Armin attacked your pussy with his mouth. You leaped at his rough action and gripped on his hair for dear life as it seemed like this man wasn't going to leave you until he's had every part of you. Out of nowhere, Armin stuck his tongue into you making you arch your back. Thrusting it in and out of you, he gripped your hips in place so that you wouldn't squirm away.

"Gosh you have no idea how good you taste y/n," Armin panted sending chills down your spine.

Your tiny little pants and moans only fueled him to gain speed as he flicked your pearl in his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

"Oh-ah-Armin- Don't stop I'm close ~"

Taking your words into command, Armin didn't cease until you gasped and released everything in his mouth.

He swallowed every single drop of you as though it was his last time drinking any sort of liquid. While he was licking his lips to consumed everything he removed his pants as you were catching your breath. His dick sprung free from his cage, tip leaking with precum.

"May I?"lining his dick in front of your cunt he asked for consent.

"Just fuck me already Armin."

Slowly, Armin stoked it on your wet folds to lubricate it for it to enter more smoothly. Wet sounds of both of your excrements mixing filled the theater.

"Fuck you're so tight,"Armin groaned in his first thrust into you,"Are you okay baby? Do you want time to adjust? "

Still panting over his big size you nodded your head, your arm covering your eyes.

"It's okay love, take your time," Armin gently moved your hand away from your face to stroke your cheeks.

"Okay, you can move now," a minute later you told him.

Intertwining your fingers, Armin held your hand while the other held for support on the bed, Armin began to move.

With the projector in the background, this moment seemed so magical.

"You feel so good y/n arg-"

You hummed still doused in this dreamy state. The world around you blurred as the only thing visible in your peripheral vision was paradise. You could feel him moving so slowly between your walls, each of his popping veins so clearly. With time passing, your need for him grew bigger.

"Please go faster Armin."

"Anything for you," he replied as he picked up speed, this time more rougher on you.

Skin slapping, you arched your back, this time Armin slipping his hand on your back to make your bodies touch each other. Chests rising and falling rapidly, you brushed Armin's hair from his face to see his expressions better.Face twisted with pleasure, this man was so attractive.

It wasn't long until you felt the knot building up in your stomach.

"Y/n I'm-I'm close"

"Me too Armin, please cum with me"

Eyes boring into yours, Armin didn't hesitate to go even more rough with you.

Bending down Armin kissed you as he released his hot fluids into you.

"Are you okay? I hope I didn't hurt you my lady," Armin moved your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

"No Armin, I know you could never hurt me, that's why I love you."

"I love you too y/n," Armin kissed your nose.

Helping you to get up, he took some tissues from the straw bag in which he carried all the food in. While you were tying your hair into a ponytail, Armin wiped his cum from your body.

"I'm sorry I made such a mess on your beautiful skin y/n."

"Armin, why are you even appologising for this, please don't ," you giggled then grabbed his hands and kissed them.

Inhaling a deep breath, Armin got up to fetch your clothes and helped you wear them.

"Let me drop you home okay?" he carried you in bridal style to the car due to your legs shaking and being unstable. Throughout the whole voyage back, you just wished this night could last forever but alas reality is a bitch. His hands warming your thighs till his car reached your house and he took you to your bathroom to help you get into the bathtub.

Not wanting to hold him any longer, you reassured him that you were now okay and that he could take care of the theater to clean it for business the next day. The thought of people coming to a place where you and Armin banged without them being aware of it brought all the blood to rise up in your cheeks.

Parking the car, Armin entered the building with the scent of sex still lingering in the air. Taking care of all the stuff on the stage and cleaning it, he went to remove the projectors. Out of the blue it clicked in his head. Security cameras. Heaving a sigh of relief that he recalled this crucial detail, he rushed into the surveillance room to discard of the recordings for the night. However, before he did that, he did in fact consider to watch it. Debating in his head like attorneys in a courtroom he finally yielded to looking at them. He didn't even play the video that he was already blushing redder than his blood. Pressing the play button, he sat down on the wheelchair.

Holy shit did he not regret watching it. Even in bad lighting, you looked so hot on camera. It felt illegal for Armin to be doing whatever he was doing then.

"Ah-ah Armin-" you moaned his name and that awakened something in him or more like that hardened something in him.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath.

From his pants, he could see the lining of his growing erection but he tried to ignore it. Eventually it began to feel a little painful from the restriction of release. Giving in into his urges, he unzipped his pants to let his dick breath from its suffocation.

He hissed as he spread the oozing precum across the tip looking himself eating you out. With his face buried between your legs, at that moment he couldn't clearly see your facial expressions compared to now.

The way your breath got stuck in your throat, your mouth made an 'o' when you tried to control your moans. The next time he was going to make love to you, he's keeping in mind to prevent you from holding back the sounds you make as he wants to hear each and every one of them.

Stroking his shaft up and down just like he's thrusting in and out of you, his motions rhythmic, he threw his head back on the chair hearing your sweet voice resonating the room.

Sinful.

To his shock, he came at the exact timing he came within you in the recording. Letting his actions absorb, still drown into the cloudiness of his mind, Armin couldn't wait for the day he could at last marry you.

Without further ado, he deleted the clips after he sent them to his phone as a token.

End.

Thank you for reading this. :)