#i’ve been all over the place these past few weeks and haven’t done much

[stargazedwinchester]

Hey, for a request, how about an earlier seasons Dean x Reader scenario in which they got a little crush and flirting going on, sparks between them, but Dean's a little worried that John won't approve? 👀

Your texting moodboard and the image of the "I love you. Don't reply, this is my dad's number" kinda inspired this idea!

Forbidden ♡ Dean

Summary: John doesn't approve of you dating his son, Dean. Word Count: 1,037 Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Thank you for requesting ily!! I love this bc I love JDM <3 what a dilf A little bit of Negan came out here (sorry not sorry)

When your parents passed in such a cruel, sadistic way, Dean was the one that saved you. He was the one that introduced you to hunting, to really get a feel for the life that could’ve been if you knew you could save your parents.

That gnaws at you every damn day.

At this point, you had known Dean for roughly a year, joining him on late night drives to dive bars, drinking til you can’t see. You’d stay with him in motels close to your hometown, just for the sake of company. You don’t have a lot here anymore. No close family, old school friends turned acquaintances, so you can really just rely on Dean and his younger brother, Sam.

Oh, and John.

John is a tough nut to crack. Majority of the time, you can’t tell when he’s being genuine or an absolute dick. You know Sam and Dean had a tough childhood with him not being present enough in their lives, so that fact has already somewhat helped you decide from the get-go. You had tried multiple times in the past to get on his good side: trying to get to know him, stay friendly with his sons, and most importantly, stay out of his way.

“You wanna come with?” Dean invites, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. His dad sits in the front seat of the impala, waiting for Dean to finish up. “You think he’ll let me?” You peer at John, his eyebrows scrunched, glaring at Dean. Dean looks over his shoulder, John ushering him to hurry up. “Hell what he thinks. Come with me.”

You press your lips together firmly, believing that if you join them, it’ll end badly. “Dean.” He calls, his voice stern and impatient. “We need to go.” John rolls the window up, and Dean rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t like me, does he?” You focus your eyes on Dean, who shakes his head lightly. “He doesn’t like anyone. Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll figure something out.” He flashes you a quaint smile that makes your tummy do somersaults. You place a peck on his cheek, and he blushes almost immediately. “I’ll miss you.” He says, and you smile. Dean walks down toward the car, then drives off.

It’s been a couple of weeks, and you haven’t heard much from Dean except the odd text from random numbers. One read: ‘I Love You. Don’t reply. This is my dad’s number.’ Times like these make you ill with worry. Worry that Dean’s not safe and there’s nothing you can do. You trust that he can take care of himself and you care for him deeper than you’d like to admit.

A few hours go by and you find yourself nose-deep in your book, ruminating in the same motel room as before. Dean had mentioned about being gone for a day or two, so he paid for your room on your behalf. There’s some light commotion outside. Since the voile is practically see-through, all you can see is the motel sign gleaming through the window. The rowing gets louder, as you see two male figures almost butting heads close to your room. Putting your book down, you head over to the window and see John and Dean in each other’s faces. Again.

“She’s not an issue, dad! You haven’t even given her a chance!” Dean spits. “I don’t need to give her a chance when I’ve seen enough. You need to give her up.” John retorts, and Dean pinches his brow line. “I’m not giving her up just because you say so, dad! I really like her, so get off my ass, man.” Dean attempts to turn around, but John pulls him back. “I’m not done.” He says sternly. John forces himself to be eye to eye with Dean, his cavillous demeanour ignites a fire inside you. He carries on.

“Listen, man, you don’t get to have an apple-pie life. End of the day she’ll be the first one to run when the bullet flies - and you know what? You’ll end up being the one to pick up the pieces, or the one that gets killed. So don’t you dare come back to me when you realise how much you regret being with her and you wanna come back to hunting. It ain’t gonna happen. Once you give up your life here; there’s no going back.” He threatens. John’s eyes are dark. Menacing. You feel as if you’re rewatching Dean’s teenage years reappear right in front of you. He has always mentioned that his father is a very strict person when it comes to ‘protecting’ his boys. That’s what he calls it. You open the door and meet them halfway. John turns his head and notices the scowl on your face, his aura stagnant. “John.” You state, not even bothering to make eye contact with Dean, but you can feel him staring at you. “I don’t care what you think about me, but what you’re saying to your son is far from the truth.” You say.

“You don’t know me. You clearly don’t know your own son and you have no idea about us being together. I don’t care whether you approve of me or not, but what I’m trying to say is that I love Dean. He may be your child but he’s sure as shit nothin’ like you.” You assert yourself, and John’s demeanour changes. His eyes soften, gazing upon your whole body. He looks at Dean, then huffs. Dean almost refuses to look his father in his eyes, as if he’s scared of what he could say next.

A smirk creeps up on Johns face as he’s still looking at you. His posture relaxes as he lets out a small laugh.”You’re the first person to ever stand up to me about my boys. You’ve got balls, Y/N. I like that.” John says, which takes you by surprise. This whole time you assumed John didn’t like you, turns out it’s quite the opposite. “You’re headstrong and you’ll look after my kid. You may not seek my approval but I’m giving it to you.” Jon looks over at Dean, who’s just as shocked as you are. “Thank you, sir.” You nod, and John walks back to the car. Dean sighs.

“Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse. I was starting to get a little worried.” He looks at you with a shine in his eyes, one that screams ‘my-father-finally-agrees-with-something-i’ve-done’.

“Thank God.” You breathe. Dean takes your hand and walks you toward the car. He opens the back passenger door, planting a kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.”

[boats-n-birds]

literally what have i been doing lately? it makes me so mad 😒

[ladymochimochi]

✦♡✦ Need To Know - Part Two ✦♡✦

Katakuri x Fem!Reader [AO3 Link] Part One Description: Katakuri's fantasies become reality. Tags: Clothed sex, Face sitting, oral sex (F!Receiving), Multiple orgasms, Dirty talk, Desk sex, Size difference (Reader is slightly sized up to better fit Kata), Come shot, Facial, Come swallowing, 18+ MDNI Words: 3.6k ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

It truly was getting to be too much. You could not get the sound of him saying your name that way out of your head. So desperate, so needy. It made your stomach flip and your blood run hot. Ever since that day, it was like you were stuck in a haze - floating through your daily routine around Katakuri’s estate, his moans on repeat inside your head. It had definitely spiced up your private time in your bed chambers at night as well. 

The only issue is that you would never bring this up to him. How were you supposed to go up to your huge and intimidating boss – who you also had a crush on - and casually tell him, “Hey, by the way, I was totally listening in on the other side of the door the other day. It was really hot. Should we...?”.  

Yeah. Not happening. 

So, you had kept your head down and worked diligently while trying to avoid bumping into Katakuri. But that could only last so long and you felt your face go pale when you were told it was your duty this week to clean up his office. 

Not only could you potentially see him in there, it was also the scene of where it all happened. How were you supposed to do your job and not want to die the whole time? 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Fortunately, luck had been on your side and when you had entered his office after knocking, it was evident Katakuri was out at the moment. You quickly got to work, wanting to get your chores done in here before he could return. His office was quite large but not much was in it. Just a large desk and chair and a chaise lounge with a low table, along with a rug, some decor and bookcases. The chaise lounge you always figured was just a part of the decor since there was no way Katakuri actually used it. 

Just as you were wrapping up, you heard the door open behind you and you froze. Of course, your luck could only last so long. You heard Katakuri say your name like he wasn’t expecting to see you and hearing your name from his lips again sent a shiver down your spine. Gathering your courage to face him long enough to get out of here, you quickly turned and grabbed your bucket of cleaning supplies. 

“I just finished, my lord,” you told him. “I’ll be out of here in a moment.” With a small bow, you attempted to leave but he shut the door behind him before you could even cross the room. Panic flooded your senses and you could only watch as he strode up to you. Certain bloodlines within you made it so you weren’t tiny next to him, but you still only came up to about his abdomen. You shyly looked up at him to see him looking down at you and his gaze made it feel like he was analyzing you.  

“M-My lord?” You stammered out, unsure of what to do.  

“I feel like I haven’t seen you around that much these past few days.” Katakuri told you and you felt a lump form in your throat. You swallowed it down and looked away from him. 

“Oh... W-Well, you know, I’ve been so busy cleaning all over the place. So... So many rooms, you know?” You rambled out, your face going the color of crimson. It was a stupid excuse but you couldn’t just tell him the truth outright. You had been avoiding him but you never expected him to notice. He was an important and busy man and you were just a maid that worked for him. It was clear from the other day that he was attracted to you but the fact that he noticed your absence from his presence made your heart flutter. 

His stare only continued and he made no reply to your excuse. It was evident he was not buying it at all and your odd behavior only piqued his interest even more. You began to fidget, hoping he would just let you go and die from shame in your bed chambers. His eyes drifted down to where you were white-knuckling your cleaning bucket and after a second, he visibly stiffened. 

“...You overheard, didn’t you?” His question was so quiet but you heard it all the same. A knot formed in your stomach and you felt tears prick at the back of your eyes. You could have tried to play dumb and say you didn’t know what he meant but you knew it was pointless and also cowardly. Words bubbled up your throat and you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking out. 

“I’m so sorry, my lord. I truly didn’t mean to but...” You started to confess but you trailed off, not knowing how to excuse your spying on him. Not able to face him anymore, you turned your back to him, still death gripping your bucket. You knew it was rude to do, especially to your boss but your heart just couldn’t take it. “It was wrong of me.” You whispered. 

“No.”  His reply stunned you. “It was wrong of me to do that and then put you in this position.” You turned slightly back to him and while you couldn’t see half of his face due to his signature scarf, you could see the tips of his ears were a dusty pink. The sight made your heart beat faster and it was something you wanted to burn into your brain. You turned away again, staring at his desk. This whole situation was awkward for the both of you but here you were and this needed to be taken care of.  

It was time to be honest. 

“It’s alright... I actually didn’t mind at all.” You said, your face burning hot. He stepped closer and you could feel the heat of his body right behind you. 

“Is that so?” He rumbled out, right by your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine and you finally dropped your bucket. Him being so close was making your head spin.  

“Yes. It was...” You trailed off, feeling too shy to say it aloud. But he wasn’t going to let you off like that. 

“Tell me.” He ordered as he stood back up to his full height and put his hands on your shoulders. You lost your breath at having him finally touch you. Your heart was beating so fast you felt like it may just burst from your chest. Was this really happening? Where was this even going? If it was going where you thought it was, you weren’t going to say no.  

“It was really hot. Hearing you say my name like that, knowing what you were doing on the other side of that door.” You whispered, your skin burning. He didn’t immediately reply and the silence was killing you. 

“What were you thinking about?” You breathlessly asked him and he gripped you tighter. You needed to know. What had been going through his head while he stroked himself to the thought of you? 

A beat of silence passed before he replied. 

“How about I show you?” 

You stared up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes and slowly nodded your head, your mouth now gone dry. With that he turned you around and lifted you up, hitching your legs around his waist. You let out a small, startled noise and clung to his broad shoulders. You didn’t expect him to move so quickly after how slow the two of you were going just a moment ago.  

He brought you over to the chaise lounge and sat down on the edge of it. You were now straddling him and could feel his arousal press into you. It was quite large and it made you swallow while wondering how you were going to take it – if this even went that far. 

His large hands moved to your waist to hold you in place and - to your surprise - he laid back onto the large rectangular cushion.  

“Wh-What are you doing?” You asked him startled. Katakuri was the man who never laid on his back and here he was now laying beneath you. Not that you minded really. Having this huge man now pinned under you made heat coil in your lower stomach. 

His eyes roamed over your body and his hands moved down your waist to your ass, pulling your short dress up to bunch around your hips. He then grabbed your ass roughly and you gasped.  

“I’m going to let you in on a secret.” He said as he kneaded your ass. His movement caused your hips to start rocking, grinding your core against his cock still confined to his pants and you panted lightly. “I do lay on my back from time to time. Especially when I’m about to have my hot maid ride my face.”  

His words stunned you to silence and you could only stare down at him wide eyed, mouth slightly agape. You were most definitely wet at this point and you could feel your pussy throb at how seductive he was being. 

“Now, I’m going to need these off.” He said as stopped kneading your ass and he snapped your panties against the skin of your hip. It jolted you out of your stupor. Biting your lip, you continued to grind yourself down on his arousal. You didn’t want to have to get off of him for even a second.  

“Rip them.” You told him like a soft command and his eyes widened, pupils dilating and he let out a growl as he promptly ripped both sides of your panties. You lifted your hips enough to get the ruined cloth out from under you and he tossed them across the room. 

“Close your eyes.” He rasped to you and while the sudden command left you confused, you did as he said. “Don’t open them until I tell you to.”  

“Yes, my lord.” You whispered in response, darkness the only thing you could now see. Not being able to see what he was going to do to you next added another level of heat to the situation and you could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Then you felt his strong hands on your hips and he was lifting you again. A small gasp left you as he brought you up and set you back again. You felt the soft fabric of his scarf on your thighs and you put two and two together that he had you hovering over his face. Knowing your bare pussy was right in front in his face made you feel so light headed, you were worried you may pass out. 

There was a small sound of fabric shifting and then you felt it. His large, hot tongue licked up your slit and you threw your head back as you let out a loud cry. One of your hands went backwards to brace yourself on his broad chest while the other fumbled to find his hair and you gripped it tightly, earning a grunt from the man below you. His fingers dug into your thighs and then he went to work on you like a man starved. 

You moaned loudly as his tongue lapped at your clit. It was an extreme pleasure you had never felt before and you gripped his hair tighter. Katakuri let out raspy groan in response and flicked his tongue faster. You cried out again and began to move your hips. As you rocked your hips in time with his licking, you could have sworn you felt...fangs? Your mind was in such of a sex haze though that it quickly left your thoughts.  

You could feel your orgasm building quickly and you quietly begged him for more. He started to switch between licking and sucking on your clit and it wasn’t long before your orgasm ripped through you. You let out a high-pitched moan and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to snap them open. You rode out your orgasm on his face while he kept licking and sucking.  

Once you were able to catch your breath, you started to shift away from him. But he only gripped your thighs tighter. 

“I’m not done yet.” He growled beneath you and you were about to question him when his tongue plunged into your hole. You screamed out at the hot, wet intrusion. Your hand on his chest pressed down harder and you dug your nails into his flesh. You wished you could open your eyes and watch him go to town on you but you didn’t dare disobey him. His tongue repeatedly went in and out of you and you could nothing but moan, pinned down to his face.  

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.” You gasped over and over, another orgasm coming quickly. “It’s so good.” You groaned out, now having found your voice. Katakuri moaned in response and went even faster in and out of you. Your thighs began to shake and you pressed yourself down onto his face harder.  

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squealed out as you rode out your second orgasm. Once this one passed, you let out a harsh breath and doubled over, still keeping your eyes closed.  

You lifted yourself from his face and this time he let you. His own haggard breathing could be heard and it made your walls clench. It reminded you of him jerking off and you hoped you could hear more of his noises. 

With your eyes still shut, he lifted you again and put you back on his lap. His erection felt even harder than before and you bit your lip. There was shuffle of fabric again and you waited for his next order. 

“You can open your eyes now.” He told you and you slowly did so, getting adjusted to the lights again. You looked down at him and drank in the sight of him.  

His hair disheveled, large chest heaving, half covered face flushed red, eyes absolutely hungry. You could come again just looking at him. It must’ve shown on your face because he swiftly sat up, wrapped your legs around him and stood once more. This time he took you over to his desk and set you down on your feet. But your legs were still shaking and you had to grab him before you collapsed to the floor. 

“I got you.” He said as he held you up. “You doing okay?” He asked you gently and you nodded back. “We can stop if you need to.” He said but you shook your head. 

“No, I’m good to keep going. Please don’t stop.” You told him softly, looking up at him. His gaze over his scarf turned hungry again and then he turned you around, placing a hand on your back. His large hand on your back slowly pressed you down so that your front was pressed down against the top of his large desk. The hand still there gently rubbed your back as it slowly made its way down to your ass.  

He pushed your dress up so that you were exposed to him and he turned his hand to slip two fingers into your wet cunt. The sudden intrusion made you cry out as you rocked your hips back to ride his fingers. He large fingers dipped in and out of you at a brutal pace. It stretched you out good and you knew this was in prep for his large cock.  

After everything he had done to you, it wasn't long before you reached yet another orgasm. You were a stuttering mess of oh yes and please as your third orgasm ripped through you. Your breath was ragged as you rode your high. 

“Please...” You started to beg. “I need your cock, my l-lord.” You couldn’t even catch your breath but your body needed him and needed him now. You could feel yourself dripping wet and your thighs slick. 

He removed his fingers from you and you heard the clink of his belt coming undone. Your mind was fully hazy again with lust and all that was on your mind was his cock. You wiggled your ass at him, excited at the prospect of getting fucked. His hand came down and smacked against one of your cheeks causing you to cry out. 

“Stay still.” He ordered huskily and your eyes rolled back.  

“Yes... Yes, my lord.” You panted, the side of your face pressed against his desk. Then you felt the head of his cock as he notched it at your entrance. One of his hands gripped your hip as he slowly directed his cock into you.  

You moaned loudly at the stretch; he was much bigger than you ever expected but you were determined to take it all. His thumb rubbed circles onto your hip as he entered you inch by inch.  

“You’re doing so good.” He gently said to you and you clenched around him, whimpering in reply. Soon he was seated fully within you and you were breathing rapidly at being so full. Once you were fully used to the stretch, you gave him the go ahead to start moving.  

He started out slow, pumping into you with control. Your body was slowly giving into the pleasure, every thrust feeling better and better. You started to mewl and moan and he went faster, fingers digging into your hip. 

“You’re so big.” You said breathlessly. “It’s so fucking good, yes, fuck me.” You pleaded to him, starting to see stars across your vision. 

The hand that had been leading his cock into you slammed down onto his desk next to your head and you gasped. 

You felt his large frame press onto your back as he bent over to be on top of you and your walls clenched ever tighter around him. He started to drill into you and you could barely catch your breath. To be taken in such of a feral fashion made your eyes roll back into your head. 

“This... is what I was stroking my cock to the other day.” He seductively said down to you, his thrusts unrelenting. “You crying out for my cock while I fuck you like this, after I ate my fill of your sweet pussy.” 

His words alone were about to send you into another orgasm. You cried out again and dug your nails into the wood of his desk. At this point, words were beyond you and you were just a crying, mewling mess. The hand on your hip suddenly moved and he brought it between your body and his desk so he could play with your clit. You started to scream out, your legs shaking violently. It was too much, way too much. The feel of his fingers moving against your clit, the harsh thrusts of his huge cock inside you, the press of his body against you. 

Your vision blacked out for a second and yet another orgasm crashed into you at rapid speed. He picked up his pace, fucking you faster and faster through your orgasm. You were screaming so loud you were sure the whole estate – maybe even the whole island – could hear you but you didn’t care at all. Never in your life had you been fucked like this and you were going to enjoy every second of it. 

You were slowing your rapid breathing down when you realized you had been drooling on his desk. As you were going to lift your head, Katakuri grabbed your waist and brought you up himself so the two of you were standing against the desk.  

“There’s one more thing to this fantasy.” He rumbled out to you, slightly out of breath himself. You couldn’t fathom what else he had in store for you but you were willing to go along with anything at this point. “On your knees, mouth open, tongue out.” He ordered and slipped his cock out of you.  

His words made your whole body shiver and your pussy throb yet again. He stepped away from you and it didn’t take much effort for you to get onto the floor. Your body basically thanked you for doing so. You faced him on your knees and this was the first time you actually got to see his cock. 

Your brain short-circuited as you tried to process how the hell that had fit inside of you.  

What brought you out of your thoughts was his hand stroking his huge cock and you remembered he was waiting. Looking up at him, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue just like he told you to. He groaned and pumped his fist faster.  

This was really what he fantasized about? Holy shit.  

You placed your hands on the floor in-between your spread knees and hefted your chest up, cleavage on display and stuck your ass out, wanting to give him the best view. His face, still half hidden by his scarf, flushed at you doing this and his eyes had a look of desperation in them. His fist went faster and faster until he let out a guttural moan and his cum shot out onto you. 

You closed your eyes as most of it landed on your tongue but some ended up on your cheek and even the top of your breasts. Slowly opening your eyes, you made eye contact with him and then drew your tongue back into your mouth and visibly swallowed.  

“Fuck.”  

It was all Katakuri could mutter after seeing such a display. You tilted your head to the side while still looking up at him, smiling softly but with wicked look in your eye. 

“Was it everything you wanted, my lord?” 

[helioswritings]

“Hey,” Hinata asks you one day, as you both sit on the bed in your dorm, “have you ever been kissed?”

The sudden question startles you, causing you to raise your eyebrows at him. “Huh? What brought this on?”

He shrugs. “Eh, Atsumu talks about kissing sometimes. I’ve never done it.”

“I haven’t either.” You tell him a little quietly. It’s always been a spot of insecurity with you, your lack of experience, especially since people say college is supposed to be the perfect place to experiment and have fun.

You haven’t done any of that, and the only person you hang out with regularly is Hinata, and he’s not too keen on partying either.

“Maybe we should.” Hinata says, a bit obviously.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay Hinata. Let me know when you find someone, and then come back and set me up too.”

He nudges you playfully. “No, I mean maybe we should. You and I. Kiss.”

Feeling like you’re dreaming, you pinch yourself a bit, then turn to him with wide eyes when you don’t wake up. “You want to…kiss each other? Why?”

“Practice.” The tone in his voice indicates that it should’ve been obvious to you, but you’re still not convinced you haven’t been asleep or in a coma.

But on the other hand, he’s right. And practice is good, because it’s be embarrassing if you didn’t know how to kiss. No other reason.

You set your textbook down and turn your body towards Hinata. “Okay. You’re right. Lay one on me.”

“Me? Why don’t you do it?”

“It was your idea.”

“But I don’t know how!”

“Neither do I!”

It takes about ten minutes of bickering and researching on the internet for the two of you to figure out what to do. It makes you feel a little silly, looking up how to kiss, but Hinata is looking at you with a fierce determination in his eyes that only rivals the look he puts on when he’s playing volleyball.

“Okay, are you ready?”

He doesn’t really give a response, as it were, he just…kisses you. He’s not bad, if you were being honest, not that you have anything to compare it to.

The two of you kiss for what feels like ages and when you pull away, Hinata’s face is flushed.

“I think we need to do it again.” He tells you. And you agree.

***

It becomes a thing. The kissing. Every time Hinata is over, he always wants to kiss. And you don’t argue! You like it, you do. But it’s also been stirring up feelings in your chest.

You know you like Hinata, you’ve always liked Hinata. You’re of the opinion that someone would have to be an idiot to not like him. But the fact remains that you don’t know how much longer you can take all of the kissing without shaking him so hard his brain falls out of his ears.

Like now. You’re kissing and his hands are sitting very politely on your waist, occasionally twitching and causing you to laugh because it tickles. Your hands are on his cheeks. The swelling in your chest is almost painful.

You pull away from the kiss abruptly and Hinata frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“I understand for the first time. Maybe the second and third, too. But it’s been weeks since then, and we kiss almost every day.”

“I thought that’s what people who date do.” He tells you, a bit confused.

“What do you mean by that, Hinata?” You feel a bit dizzy.

“Aren’t we?”

“No! I don’t think so?”

You think back to every interaction you’ve had over the past few weeks, and more and more the pieces start clicking.

“Oh my god.”

Hinata hands you some water.

You take it, still a bit thrown. You’ve been dating him for ages.

“Can we kiss now?”

He’s lucky you don’t throw him out the window.

[thesuperiorrobin]

 Damians never question why your hair has always been up since you two met. He figured you just didn’t like your hair getting in your face all the time. He’s never really question it though. It was normal for you to spend the night at his house or Vise versa. But you prefer his house because you get a room for yourself.

You’re sitting on the ground right next to the bed, a small mirror in hand, Titus joins you—kicking the door open—and lays down next to you placing his head on your thigh. You let out a chuckle as he lets out a loud sigh. You pat his head gently and put the hand mirror down beside you and get up from the cold ground. Titus follows you as you walk around the bed. You watch him jump on top of the mattress and go around in circles before he sets himself comfortably in the corner of the bed. You shake your head as you remove the covers and climb in. Getting comfortable yourself before you draped the blankets over you legs and right above your waist. Damian walks into the room moments later.

He eyes Titus “he’s sleeping with you tonight?” You shrugs as a reply sliding the hair tie out of your hair. Damian watches your hair go loose from it being tied up all day.

“It’s fine the beds big, so he won’t take up space” but he isn’t listening at all. Maybe he’s to mesmerized by the fact that you look different—and not in a bad way! Your hair being loose and Wild has a much better look then it being tied up all day in his opinion.

“Damian—dude you listening?” You say and throw your hair tie at him—which hits his face and fails straight to the ground. He crouches down to pick it up and lifts his head up slightly— He spots your bag on the ground and goes up to it. Confused, you crawl out of your spot and go towards the end of the bed, peaking your head over. You watch him unzip it open and dig through it. You don’t say anything and after a few minutes he pulls out a small packet of your hair ties. His green eyes pierced right through yours as he lifted up his head to look at you.

“Never put your hair up again” and he’s gone just like that with your ties in hand. For a few moments you stare at the door. Waiting for him to come back with at least one hair tie but he doesn’t.

You sigh and look at Titus. “Your owner is so weird”

REQUEST

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I’ve been sick for the past weeks so I haven’t been able to get anything done. I’m a getting better but I’m working on request that I haven’t been able to get too.

Sorry if it’s taking a little longer :/

[takamiwife]

your first time with keigo

🔞 fairly nsfw post, mdni please and thank u! 🔞

💌 this is really just the ‘buildup’, if you guys want the actual smut for it please lmk! mwah mwah, love you all 💌

it had been about two weeks since you and keigo started seeing each other, and tonight, like the past few, you found yourselves lying in your bed, limbs tied together, hands running through hair and over clothes, sloppy kisses going from lips to neck, and just about everything but fucking

you had been completely fine with this. you didn’t want to rush anything of course, and it was honestly a refreshing change for a guy to not want to do that on the first date. but you were a woman with needs, and if nothing else, you had to at least make them known

so, during this wet-dream scene, you crawled atop his lap, straddling him. he moved his hands to your hips, grinding you down against him as he groaned

“keigo,” you pulled away, panting slightly. “i need you, badly”

he let out a mixture of a groan and a chuckle, a combination that was indescribably sexy to you

“fuck, baby, me too..” he smiled that charismatic smile of his, teeth brushing against the delicate skin of your neck

you grinned, moving to kiss and bite at his neck, bringing his clothes off along with your trail of soft kisses

you moved your hand to brush against his hardened cock in his pants, reaching for his belt, when you were interrupted

“y/n, y/n, i just.. i just.. um, need a second.” he stuttered out. immediately filled with concern, you raised your head back up, moving a hand to brush through his hair

“of course.. what’s wrong, are you alright? was it something i did?”

“something you did? are you serious? do you feel me right now?” he takes your hand with a smile as he places it over his cock, still trapped beneath his pants. “no, not at all. it’s…” he trails off

“what, are you all janky under there?” you raise an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood. he laughs, shaking his head

“no, just…” he had been thinking about how to say this for the past two weeks. he was a virgin. plain and simple. in keigos mind, this was a travesty. how pathetic was it that he, this supposed playboy, sex master, twenty-two year old man… a virgin? plain and simple, he was advised against just ‘sleeping around’ with people, which he didn’t mind, but he also never had the time nor desire to actually start dating anyone. until you, that is

still, he thought you’d think he was a complete loser, and though he debated about just ignoring it and going ahead, something in him told him he should tell you. and so he did

“i’m a- i haven’t done this before.” he said it so quickly, you could barely register

“you- ohhh, you’re a virgin?” you ask, relieved he didn’t have some incurable disease or had like, three dicks or something

“ah, yea.. is.. that a problem?” he asked nervously

“no, it’s great actually. this cult i’ve been checking out really needs a virgin sacrifice, so…” you sucked in air through your teeth before laughing. “keigo, why would that be a problem?”

“i-i don’t know,” he suddenly felt embarrassed that he spent so much time and energy debating on how to tell you such a minuscule thing. “guess i just thought you’d want someone.. more experienced? i-i guess im just.. i wont be.. good.”

and at this, you couldn’t help but laugh. “keigo!” you said, placing your hands on his shoulders. “i’ve met people who have slept with like.. twenty people, and they still don’t know where the clit is. more experience doesn’t automatically mean you’re good,” you move your hand to his cheek, caressing the soft skin. “it doesn’t matter to me that you’re a virgin. honestly, with how much guys are obsessed with virgins, i’m taking this as a win for the girls.” and with that, keigo smiled as well. you kissed him again, and as you pulled away, you held up three fingers

“okay, i’ve thought of three options. number one,” you put your other two fingers down. “you let me sacrifice you to the cult i’ve been going to. number two,” you raise your second finger, “we can just cuddle and turn on a movie, or keep making out and leave it at that for tonight and we can take as much time as you need. number three,” you held your third finger up. “we keep making out, but see where it goes. if you’re uncomfortable at any time we can stop and just forget about it, okay?” you smile

“what a hard choice,” keigo taps his chin. “all very intriguing options.. but can i go with option three?”

you hum in a satisfied response, climbing back onto his lap as you two return to a make out session that would make a porn star blush.

[wisterialwhymsy]

it takes time

series masterlist

part 3 of as much or as little!! bang chan x gn! reader wc: 2818 + 2 text screenshots warnings: cute fluffy stuff, reader overthinking (a lot), if your names mia i'm sorry, idk this spiralled a little, muffins are a reoccuring theme a/n: i have spent way too long on this lol, hope you enjoy!

It’s been a few weeks since you had that conversation with Chris- the one where you told him your deepest traumas and fears and he offered to teach you how to love again. Whilst Chris had been nothing but wonderful and supportive, you somehow managed to overthink the whole “when or if you’re ready” thing like 574 times. You’d been overthinking about it so much that you’d managed to isolate yourself from him, not a lot, but enough for him to worry.

You groan slightly, not wanting to get out of your warm, comfy bed.

You eventually huff, moving to get up and ready.

You were in the middle of brushing your teeth when your phone suddenly dings.

You chuckle slightly at his message, choosing to finish brushing your teeth before you respond. You then move to the kitchen, placing 9 muffins in a container as your toast cooks. Just as you’re done, the toast pops and you manage to put an appropriate amount of vegemite on it before you shove it in your mouth and gather your things.

“Key, wallet, muffins, bag…” You mumble, patting your pockets. “All set!”

After you slip on some shoes you stumble out the door- opting to walk since the studio was close by, which often led to Chris crashing at your place in the early morning.

Once you entered the building, the receptionist simply nodded at you before letting you in, recognising you from your many visits. 

“JAGIYA!” Han shouted when you entered the room, making you jump slightly.

“Hi!” You say, waving slightly as you’re immediately bombarded by an excitable Felix.

“HI!” Felix says, immediately wrapping you in a hug. 

“Did you bring the muffins?” He asks in a comically serious tone once he hugged you sufficiently.

“Of course.” You respond solemnly, taking the container out of your bag and handing it to him as he cheered.

After Felix retreats with the cupcakes you scan the room, waving at Chris before you go over to Minho.

“Hi Min.” You say, giving Minho, your longtime friend, a quick hug.

“Hey, how’ve you been?” He asks, giving a knowing smirk.

“Good, how’ve you been?” You respond, ignoring the underlying question.

“Fine, you’ve been busy huh? Haven’t seen you in a bit.” He mutters as he raises an eyebrow in your direction.

“Work’s been busy.” You murmur, knowing that he’ll see through your lies.

Han saves you from Minho’s pointed questions by poking your arm insistently. “Hey, hey, hey. Can I have a muffin?”

“What, no hello?” You tease, wrapping an arm around the smaller boy.

“Hello!” Han says with an adorable smile. “Can I please have a muffin?”

“Yes, of course.” You giggle, gently patting his arm as he runs off in the direction of the muffins.

“I’ve gotta go say hi to everyone, but we’ll talk later, okay?” You say to Minho, running off in Seungmin’s direction before he can object.

“Minnie!” You cheer before pulling him in for a hug.

“Hey! How’ve you been?” He greets you as he quickly hugs you back.

“Good! How’ve you been?” You ask, trying to ignore Minho’s eyes glaring into your back.

“Yeah good, been busy moving in with Felix. It’s been fun!” He says as you two fall into simple conversation.

“Hi Innie.” You say, spotting the boy as he walks past and pulling him into a hug as he complains.

“Hi!” He mumbles as he eventually gives in, gently hugging you back, making you hum in content before releasing him.

“Seungmin!” Chris calls out from across the room, prompting the boy to walk over.

“Well, how’ve you been?” You ask Jeongin as begins grumbling about moving in with Chris.

You’re all of a sudden startled by long arms wrapping around you, pulling you close as you yelp in surprise.

“Hellooo!” Hyunjin sing-songs, releasing you just as quickly and opting to bother Jeongin instead.

“Hey!” Changbin says as he joins you. 

“Did you bring muffins?” He asks sweetly, making you laugh.

“Yeah, Felix has them.” You reply, laughing harder as he speeds off in search of the muffins.

“Hey.” You hear as you feel a tugging on your arm.

You turn to find Chris, who had seemed to have manoeuvred his chair over to where you were standing, pulling at your arm and wanting your attention.

“Hi!” You say, turning and looking down at him.

“Helloo.” He mumbled as he grabbed your hand.

“You okay?” You murmur as you gently squeeze his hand, his hesitant demeanour worrying you.

“Can you come listen to something? I need your input.” Chris says as he starts sliding over to his laptop.

“Of course.” You reply, internally excited but also slightly worried about the mellow-seeming man.

You slip the headphones on over your ears, immediately getting lost in the flow of the music.

“Dude.” You say, pulling the headphones off and turning to him, not noticing his hesitant expression.

“This is incredible. Like, genuinely amazing.” You mumble, in awe at his talent.

“Thank you.” He beams. “I’m glad you like it! It’s not done yet but I wanted to show you.”

“Well, it’s absolutely incredible and I feel honoured to have listened to it.” You say, turning to place the headphones back down.

Once turning back, you’re shocked by him wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your tummy.

“This okay?” He mumbles, his voice muffled.

“Yeah, you sure you’re okay?” You ask quietly, your hands hesitantly ruffling his hair.

“Missed you.” He says, pressing his face slightly harder before leaning back,

“You okay?” He asks, and you swear you feel Minho’s eyes glaring at you again.

“Yeah. Work’s just been busy.” You reply, a stone forming in your stomach at your lie.

“Hey, Chris! Oh-” Han interjects as he runs over to where you two were situated.

“I will come back.” He says, turning away as you laugh.

“You can come here Hannie, it’s fine.” You giggle as you step back.

“Sorry- I just wanted to ask if you’d had a muffin?” Han hesitantly turns back around.

Chris’s eyes light up as he snaps his head towards you.

“You brought muffins?”

*✩＊✿✧❀○❀✧✿＊✩*

A few weeks later, the two of you are meeting your mutual friends at a small cafe near Chris’s house.

All of you are cramped around a small table, updating each other on your recent ventures. You sit there, quietly trying to absorb yourself in the tales of your friends' latest adventures and the buzz and chatter of the surrounding tables, but all you can focus on is Chris’s body, pressed tightly against yours.

The feeling of his thigh squished against yours, his shoulder squeezed against you and his hand resting on your lap as you fiddle with his fingers, trying to distract yourself from the lingering sensation of his warm skin gently resting on your thigh.

“Hey, want me to move over?” Chris asked quietly, softly smiling at you.

You pause, mulling it over before shaking your head.

“If you get uncomfortable at any point, or need me to move over, let me know.” He hummed, gently squeezing your hand before returning to the conversation.

You look towards the table, immediately noticing the side eye one of your friends, Mia, was giving you.

Once she noticed you looking at her, she immediately gave you a questioning glance before smirking and raising her eyebrows suggestively.

You roll your eyes at her, before subtly flipping her off.

She bursts into laughter, fortunately everyone else was too absorbed in the conversation to notice. Unfortunately for you, you were too absorbed in the exchange to notice Chris looking at you fondly, an action which didn’t go unnoticed by Mia.

She giggles to herself before going back to the conversation at the table.

You sigh as you rest your head on Chris’s shoulder.

You stay there for a while, listening to the soft hum of the cafe and narrowly avoiding Mia’s questioning side eyes.

The gentle buzz of conversation quietly lulls you into a state of calm sleepiness and you find yourself slowly closing your eyes as you rested comfortably on his shoulder.

Moments after you close your eyes, you feel a hand resting gently on your face, swiping at something just under your eye. You blink your eyes open, resisting the urge to flinch away once you notice it’s Chris.

“Hold still.” He whispers as he gently brushes his finger just below your eye. “You have a loose eyelash.”

“Got it!” He murmurs moments later, holding his finger out. “Make a wish.”

You gently blow on his finger, looking at the spark in his eyes as he watches the eyelash fly away.

“What’d you wish for?” He whispers, smiling down at you.

“Won’t come true if I don’t tell you.” You giggle, smiling cheekily as him.

He gasps dramatically, somehow still maintaining a whispered tone.

“Come on!” He whines. “Please tell me!”

“Nope!” You laugh at his dramatics.

“Fineee.” He grumbles, pretending to ignore you in favour of talking to your friends.

Mia makes eye contact with you again, raising her eyebrows questioningly as you shake your head in response.

You return to the conversation, now confident enough to make your own inputs.

You lose track of how long you sit there for, chatting away and occasionally poking Chris in the ribs.

“I should get going.” A friend says, standing to gather their stuff and farewell everyone.

“We should leave soon too.” Chris mumbles as he starts talking about the bill.

“We?” Mia mouths at you from across the table.

You give her the middle finger again, this time less subtly as someone else notices and laughs.

Later, after you’ve hugged your friend's farewell and sorted out the bill, Chris and you walk along the street.

“How you feeling?” Chris asks as he gently grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers as you giggle.

“Good!” You smile at him. “You?”

“Good.” He says smiling before tilting his head towards your hands. “This okay?”

You hum, nodding your head as you try to ignore the odd feeling in your stomach.

“Did you see how Mia was looking at us?” Chris asks as he pauses in front of his car.

“Oh my god! Yes!” You exclaim, making him laugh.

“She was being so weird!” He says as his eyes trace over your expression.

“Anyways.” He begins, leaning towards you with a look of mirth evident in his eyes. “You doing anything tonight?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so… Why?” You question him, suspicious.

“We should have a sleepover!” He beams, giggling sweetly. 

“And post about it on Instagram to fuck with her.” 

You turn to him in shock, immediately laughing at his mischievous expression.

“Is that a no?” He asks as he holds the car door open for you.

“Oh no, it’s absolutely a yes.” You declare before the two of you erupt into laughter.

“Hey.” Chris murmurs as he walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Hi.” You mumble in response, focusing on mixing the ingredients in front of you.

“This okay?” He asks quietly, resting his chin on your shoulder and gently swaying your bodies side-to-side. 

You hum affirmatively, gently reaching to grab another ingredient.

“What’cha making?” He asks, his voice soft, barely a whisper, but due to the proximity his voice reverberates through you.

“Muffins… again.” You respond, hoping that your voice remains steady and doesn’t betray your fluster.

“Ooo.” He hums, and you feel the vibration against your skin. “What kind?”

“Chocolate!” You respond enthusiastically, inwardly praying he can’t hear how fast your heart is beating.

He giggles excitedly against your shoulder, his gentle swaying speeding up slightly. However, he soon resumes his previous pace, a gentle side-to-side motion as he stands there with his arms around your waist, watching you mix the final few ingredients.

“I’m going to go play Genshin, do you want to join me once you’ve put these in the oven?” He asks, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the oven heating up.

“I’d love that.” You murmur in response and you can feel him smile next to you.

He leans his head back slightly, his arms still encircling your waist, and gently presses his lips against the fabric covering your shoulder- not quite a kiss but rather an unspoken promise, of what, you weren’t yet sure.

He then turned, removing his arms from where they fit nicely around your waist and walking to the next room. But his touch, or maybe the absence of it, lingers, leaving behind a weight you couldn’t quite place- of a question unanswered or a promise you don’t know how to name.

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind and focus on the task at hand as you start scooping the muffin batter into the tray.

“I really don’t want to fight it again…” You groan dramatically as Chris leans his head on your shoulder.

“Pretty pleaseee.” Chris whines, somehow even more dramatic than you.

“Fi-” You begin before you’re startled by the loud sound of your alarm.

“Saved by the muffin!” Chris giggles as you stand to get them out of the oven.

“Please bring me one back.” Chris asks sweetly and you lean down to give him an affectionate pinch of the cheek before you turn and head to the kitchen.

“The muffins done?” Chris asked from his position on the couch once you walked into the room.

“Yup!” You respond through a mouthful of muffin, holding one out to him.

He immediately shoves the muffin in his mouth, humming in delight at its taste.

“These are so good!” He mumbles as you sit down, giggling at him.

“D’you wanna keep playing? Or we can watch a movie or something?” You ask,

“Can we watch a movie?” Chris asks after swallowing the muffin.

“Yeah! What do you wanna watch?” You ask, turning the TV on.

“You can choose, I don’t mind.” He hums, throwing his phone to the side as he snuggles up next to you.

“Mean Girls it is!” You tease as you start searching for the film.

“No! Wait-” Chris starts before you erupt into a fit of giggles.

“I’m kidding! Let’s watch Deadpool and Wolverine.” You laugh as you search for the film, too focused to notice his adoring expression.

“Thank you.” He murmurs before laying down and resting his head on your lap, prompting you to shift your hands.

“This okay?” He asks, looking up at you and you feel your breath stutter.

“Yeah.” You say, immediately trying to distract yourself with finding the film.

Once you find it and set down your remote, you realise you don’t know what to do with your hands.

“Play with my hair.” Chris murmurs, somehow noticing your internal panic despite his eyes being fixed on the screen.

You smile down at him, running your fingers through his soft hair as he hums in satisfaction.

“Chris.” You ask sometime into the movie, gently patting his head.

No response. You pause the movie, only to immediately hear his soft snoring.

You smile to yourself, internally overjoyed to see him getting some sleep. 

His breathing deepens, and you let the quiet sound of the movie, paired with the steady comfort of his presence, lull you into a quiet sleep, the hours slipping by unnoticed.

You wake first, immediately confused by the random movie that was auto-playing in front of you and the heavy weight on your lap.

You look down and the memories of the previous night come back to you. You check your phone upon noticing the light peeking through the nearby blinds: 9:41 AM.

You two managed to sleep for like, 10 hours. Your hand subconsciously resumed its ministrations on Chris’s hair, slightly rousing the boy on your lap.

“Oh! Good morning.” You hum, continuing to gently stroke his hair as he wakes up.

“Morning?” Chris asked groggily, turning to look up at you. 

“What the fuck happened?” He murmurs as you laugh at his confusion.

“You were knocked out, you slept for over 10 hours.” You giggled, smiling down at him as you continued running your fingers through his hair.

His eyes widened in shock.

“How on earth-” He stutters, still stunned.

"I guess I found the almighty insomniac’s kryptonite," you murmur, affectionately ruffling his hair.

He groans dramatically, turning to hide his face in your stomach, his laughter vibrating against you, making you laugh too.

"I don’t know how I did that," he mutters as he sits up, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Do you feel rested?" You ask, stretching your arms.

"Yeah, I haven’t felt this good in a while," he says, his eyes shining with appreciation as he turns to you. "Thank you."

You simply smile in response, squeezing his hand gently and trying to ignore the warmth settling in your chest.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

This is a work of fiction, based entirely on my personal perception of him, and does not reflect his actual character or actions.

ʚ✩ɞ taglist ʚ✩ɞ

@jennibahng @jchasseblog @itzkingbo @velvetmoonlght

[hiveworks]

Interview with Mad Rupert, author of Sakana

September 2023

Sakana, the story of life and love in a fish market, is coming back from its hiatus soon! The strip comic style webcomic began in 2010 and follows Jiro, Taisei, Yuudai, and Chie as they navigate their relationships and learn to face their feelings. We asked creator Mad Rupert, author of Robber Robert and artist of Bunt!, for an interview to celebrate the series return.

Read Sakana | Shop books & merch | Read more Hiveworks comics

Sakana has been your baby for 13 years. What has the webcomic journey been like for you over the past decade?

It really has been over a decade, hasn’t it! There have certainly been ups and downs, periods where I was updating as much as I could, and also long hiatuses. I feel like webcomics have always been an amazing space to practice my craft and stretch my writing and drawing skills alike. You can kind of do anything you like with webcomics, and oftentimes people come up with wackier, and imho more interesting concepts than if they were beholden to a large publisher. Not that I haven’t made my fair share of traditionally-published comics and graphic novels… but there’s just something so gratifying about coming up with your own wild story and working towards its end on your own time. Webcomics are incredibly tough and time consuming, but also the ultimate form of self expression. 

What is the origin of Sakana? What made you want to tell this story?

Sakana actually started as a class project when I was a junior at the Savannah College of Art and Design. I had been accepted into the Sequential Art department’s yearly Japan trip to study comics and cartooning in Tokyo for a few weeks, and our final project was to create 11 comic strips based off of something that made a strong impact on us during the trip. We had visited the old inner market (now demolished) of the Tsukiji Fish Market at 4am one morning, and it was the most incredible place I’d ever been, so I decided to craft a short story that took place in the market. Beyond the first 11 strips, I decided to continue the story for as long as I could as a way to practice the comic techniques I was learning in class. That was over a decade and 600 strips ago! It really has become the most ambitious project I’ve ever undertaken.

Do you have the ending already written? Do you see a conclusion in sight?

Yes! I’ve always had something at least resembling an end in mind throughout most of the comic’s lifespan. For a long-format comic like SAKANA, I think it’s very important to have a rough ending planned out as early as possible, otherwise it becomes difficult to keep the narrative moving in a satisfying direction, drop little tidbits of plot that will pay off later, or even maintain your enthusiasm for the project. To be clear, the details of Sakana's “end” have changed many times, which is only natural with a very long project like this. But I’ve always kept crucial details the same: basically certain characters in a certain place at a certain time doing certain things (to keep from getting too spoilery haha.) HOW they get there, WHY they’re there, and WHAT exactly they’re doing will ebb and flow as the years go by and I myself get older and older. But having a general sense of the end in mind has kept things moving all this time. The story’s got one more volume to go, and then I’ll be done!

Your hiatus is a result of working on a traditionally published graphic novel, coming in 2024. Is there anything you can tell us about your book?

My new graphic novel is called Bunt! and it’s a collaborative effort between myself and my dear pal, Ngozi Ukazu (author of popular webcomic Check, Please!) Ngozi wrote the book and I drew it, and we’re both really proud of what we’ve made! It’s already available for preorder all over the place and it will officially be out in stores in February 2024. We’re really looking forward to getting out there this fall and winter and spreading the word about it!

You recently successfully completed a Kickstarter for an 18+ comic, Robber Robert, as well. What is it like balancing these different narratives, genres, and mediums of publishing comics?

It’s definitely been a struggle at times to balance everything, and I definitely don’t recommend working on 3 giant projects at the same time! I finally had to admit that I couldn’t do it all at once, which led to me putting Sakana and RR on hiatus to finish Bunt!, and then keeping Sakana on hiatus while I finished up RR. I really burned myself out on comics for a while, and it’s been a huge struggle to get myself back to a good place with my work. Finishing Bunt! and RR Chapter 1 has really helped reenergize me, but I can always feel myself trying to overload my work schedule again and again. It’s my greatest weakness as a professional artist.

What keeps you inspired?

Making something for myself, practicing my craft, and putting my own stories out there are all huge driving forces in my life. Learning to stop overwhelming myself with work has also helped a lot. Looking back on all the art I’ve made and all the different things I’ve tried makes me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to, so long as I give myself the time and space to enjoy the process.

Do you have any webcomic or graphic novel recommendations?

I’m a big fan of anything fantasy or sci-fi, especially if the narrative approaches the fantastical elements in a weird, unique, and kind of gay way haha. My favorite manga is currently Delicious in Dungeon, but I’m also a fan of historical series like Golden Kamuy and Bride’s Story. For webcomics, I love anything by Evan Dahm, like his long-format series Rice Boy and Vattu. As for Hiveworks comics, there’s too many to list individually but my current favorites are Fairmeadow by KP, and Tiger, Tiger by Petra Nordlund. 

Any advice for new readers of Sakana?

I would say…despite its high page count, it’s not that long of a read! The strip format keeps it moving at a pretty quick clip when read all at once (but it certainly didn’t feel like that over the last 13 years updating one page at a time!) I know that the format and the black and white rendering might feel a little dated in the current era of Webtoons and full-color stories, but I’m too stubborn to change now, and I really appreciate anybody giving it a shot! Also, no matter who you are, or how much you dislike him in the beginning, Yuudai will probably be your favorite character.

You can read Sakana for free at sakana-comic.com and print books are available at hivemill.com

[delfiore]

—A SUMMER’S TALE.

pairing: vada cavell x reader

synopsis: the summer before college, vada joins mia's family on vacation in france and falls in love with the scenery, and a charismatic lifeguard.

word count: 9.6k

warnings: talk of the shooting

a/n: it's summer so you know my cmbyn flare ups are happening. i’ve been writing this for a few weeks now and i’m super pumped it’s done. pls let me now what you like, what you don’t like about this! i’d really appreciate some feedback!! and i’m sorry if i can’t reply to you if you comment on this as this acc is a secondary blog

The villa had one feature that stood out in particular—a hallway that ran through the base of the house, connecting the kitchen to the open grass area in the back. Even the tiniest gust of wind could collect into a large breeze to combat the sticky heat of the day.

Vada closed her eyes and lifted her arms by her side as she felt the breeze glide through her. She could smell an earthy, hay-like smell of flowers that had been bathing in sunlight wafting in from the garden behind the villa. It didn’t take much to notice; summer in southern France was in full swing.

I could live here, she thought. Four weeks of this? Away from the repetitive scenery of the American suburbs, away from expectations. Only a few minutes since she’s gotten off the car and seen the yellow walls and red bricks of the Mediterranean villa, and she’s been buzzing ever since. She’s never actually left the country before, and the long flight over was jarring, to say the least. But the beauty of what she saw as soon as she landed made up for it.

Mia had instructed her to come along upstairs to put her things away; Vada would be occupying the guest room next to hers. She swore her friendship with Mia Reed started because they both went through a traumatic thing together, but it was moments like these when she was grateful for the perks.

“I could use a nap,” Mia said, rubbing her face.

It was nearly nine in the morning when the girls finished unpacking. Mia’s parents had given them the morning to get settled and get used to the jet lag.

“I’m not too tired,” Vada said, “maybe I’ll go into town for the morning.”

“You sure you don’t need me to come with you?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun. It’s about time I put my four years of high school French to the test.”

The road into town winded downhill, and she was grateful she used one of the bikes the Reeds had available at their villa, as she would have dreaded the trek back up, had she gone on foot. She mapped out exactly the way into the town square and was determined to check everything out before returning for lunch. Thank god for Google Maps.

She had also bought a paper map of the town in a nearby kiosk and, after nearly two hours of exploring, mapped out a general layout of notable places in town. There was a fountain in the middle of the square in front of a church that Vada would use as a reference for everything; from the Fountain facing the church going left would be the town hall and that little kiosk, going right would be the local post office and the way back to the villa, opposite the church facing ahead lead down a slanted cobblestone alley full of restaurants and gift shops, as well as the way to the beach.

It must have been in the high 80s (30s Celsius) that day, so Vada decided to reward herself with some ice cream in the town square before she headed back. It was so hot that when sitting on a bench in the shades, she still had to try and keep the ice cream from melting all over her lap.

“Lillian’s ice cream is nice, but it melts quickly. You should try Karim’s down the street.”

Vada looked up at the voice in surprise, as it was English that was being spoken to her.

“Oh, totally!” She replied quickly. “How did you know I speak English?”

“I haven’t seen you around here.”

“But I could have also known French, right?”

“Touché, but I also recognize a compatriot when I see one.”

You wore an oversized white button-up that barely skirted past your black shorts, and your flip-flops indicated that you might have had a better idea of what the weather was going to be like as opposed to her in her high-neck basketball shoes. Peaking out from between the hem of your shirt was a necklace in the shape of a hummingbird, dangling and reflected in the sun.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Maybe a little." You grinned and shook your head from side to side. "Only tourists go to Lillian for ice cream.”

“So you’re not one, I assume.”

“I wouldn’t say so, no. My family has been coming here every summer ever since I was eight. These people are probably sick of me by now.” You chuckled.

This is your time, Vada, be smooth. “Lucky for you, you’ll have someone new to entertain.” She grinned and pointed at herself.

. . . Adequate.

The melodic laugh that escaped you gave her a new-found confidence, and she decided that it was to be her new favorite sound.

“Alright, since you seem to know the area so well,” Vada said. “What’s fun to do around here?”

Conversation flowed so easily between the two of you, she had almost forgotten that she only met you 15 minutes ago. Granted, you were also easy on the eye, and Vada would always remember the way the water from the fountain reflected in waves across your skin.

At one point she had started talking about the time her family got stranded in the middle of nowhere on a road trip to Phoenix. Vada felt like she was talking too much, but the way you laughed along with her story made her feel like it wasn’t for naught.

The bell tower of the church rang throughout the square. Vada widened her eyes and checked her phone, it was noon.

"Shit, I have to get back. My host family's gonna wonder where I am." She stood up quickly and collected her bike. The height of the seat and her haste caused her to stumble, and she would have fallen if not for you grabbing her by the arm and holding her up.

"Oh, okay. I’m sure there’s a story about a daytime Cinderella somewhere.”

She looked up and you were smirking. "Vada," she said. Maybe she shouldn’t have told you, Cinderella was fine, you didn’t know each other.

She could barely make out your attempt at her name on your lips before you nodded.

“Y/N.” You held your hand out for her to take. There was that touch that changed the course of her summer, the one touch that set into motion a journey toward a certain feeling that Vada had never felt before.

"Bye, Y/N!" She called behind her before rounding the corner, past the post office, and back to the Reed villa.

Mia had been waiting by the front door and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Vada cycling uphill.

"Where the hell have you been? We thought you'd been kidnapped!"

"Wait, could you get kidnapped here?" Vada’s face dropped at the thought, even though she was positively out of breath.

"You could get kidnapped anywhere, V."

"Well, I got lost." She hopped off her bike and set it by the entrance. "My phone died so I couldn't use Maps."

Her friend rolled her eyes and led her inside where a hearty lunch awaited. It was mid-June and apricots were in season for dessert.

It wasn't until late afternoon the next day that Vada regained the energy to go outside again. The jet lag had finally caught on, and she spent the morning asleep until noon. Mia had suggested going to the beach, which was great because she could see how things were, and either get into the water or take another nap.

Mia—being Mia—wore her bathing suit and a thin cardigan as her attire, while Vada decided on wearing an oversized tee and shorts over her bathing suit.

"Don't freak out. I've invited some friends. Just kids from the area," said Mia, once they arrived at the beach.

Vada stayed back, as Mia was greeted by several people similar in age to her, speaking in French at a pace her high school education couldn’t help her understand.

“This is Vada, she’s a friend from home.”

A curly-headed boy stood up from his lounge chair and sauntered over to give Mia a kiss on each cheek, then looked over to Vada and did the same. “Corentin, but please call me Coco,” he said and took both their bags. Vada didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on Mia’s form a bit longer than normal.

“Come, Vada! Mia, where have you been hiding this one? I’m Marlène. This is Sasha.” The brunette pulled her by the hand and gestured to the boy sitting next to her. He was slender with blonde hair part in the middle. “We’re about to go into the water if you want to join.”

“Where’s Noémie?” asked Mia.

“Déjà à l’eau. No doubt to show off to the lifeguard.” Sasha snickered, nodding his head towards the water. He took another drag from his cigarette and rested his arm back against Marlène’s chair.

“Speaking of the lifeguard . . .” Vada followed Marlène’s gaze towards . . . you.

Her mouth hung open as she watched you, in red shorts and a white T-shirt, a whistle hanging from your neck. You pulled your sunglasses up to your head and gave Mia la bise.

Of course, she thought. She had hoped to see you again, but only when there was no one else around, and that you’d catch her by surprise when she was alone once more. She’d only met you, but she wished that she could have you all alone, not like a secret, but like a prized possession.

“And just how many people have died while you’re on watch?” Mia teased.

“Zero, but very soon,” you pointed at her, “one.”

When you turned to Vada, her breath hitched. “Hi,” you greeted with that warm smile again. Even in your work attire, she spotted that necklace next to your whistle.

“Y/N, this is—”

“Vada, the daytime Cinderella. We met yesterday in the square.” You replied. “Did I forget to mention I work here?”

Vada was grinning like an idiot, her cheeks tinted pink at the nickname. “Yup, you did.”

“Y/N!” Over jogged a gorgeous girl, even Vada had to admit. Her black bathing suit hugged her curves perfectly, and though her hair was completely wet, the water droplets clinging to her olive skin made her glow. “T'as prévu aller en boîte ce week-end, ou bien? J'ai chopé l'info qu'y a un nouveau DJ en ville, et il envoie du pâté!”

She was clinging onto your arm, and speaking way too fast for Vada to understand, but she picked up on some keywords: ce week-end, and nouveau DJ.

When she finally noticed Vada there, her excitement subsided, but she walked over anyway to greet her, like an afterthought. “Salut. I’m Noémie.”

“Hi. Vada.”

Just as quickly as you arrived, Noémie had led you away, talking your ear off about something that Vada didn’t have the heart to eavesdrop on. Her eyes followed your form, picking up on the way you kept your arms by your side even when Noémie was practically hanging off of you. In a sporadic moment, Vada thought she saw you looking back over her shoulder at the friend group, and maybe toward her.

“Your phone died, huh?” Mia poked her elbow into her side with a teasing grin.

“Shut up,” Vada murmured. “What’s the deal with them anyway?”

“They were together last summer,” Sasha replied, then turned to the others. “Plan cul, how do you say?”

“A fling, but Noémie seems more attached than Y/N ever did,” said Coco.

“No doubt Y/N has already found a new paramour for the summer,” Marlène commented.

“It’s summertime. Anything’s possible.”

As much as she hated it, you plagued her mind, much more than she cared to admit. She didn’t want to think about what your initial conversation meant to you (if it did at all), or what the lack of words in your second meeting meant. She didn’t want to think about Noémie either, how she seemed so confident to get your attention, and an up-and-down look from her made Vada want to crawl into a hole.

She remembered the handshake. The speed at which she rode away wasn’t entirely to get home in time before Mia’s parents called the police, but to get away from the butterflies that burst in her stomach that moment her hand firmly shook yours. She’d seen how you greeted your friends, but to her, she offered a handshake. Though the gesture itself was completely platonic and can be passed off as a farewell between two strangers, she felt a sense of exclusivity, that American camaraderie you shared with her in a foreign land. Common courtesy as a mode of intimacy. Revisiting it now, Vada recognized it as a sign of attraction and an apprehension to the speed at which it enveloped her.

She would see you around town in your work uniform after your shift, sometimes you’d be talking to people, sometimes you were the buyer yourself. No matter the person though—from the tourists asking for directions to the old owner of the bookstore by the fountain, they always loved you and talked to you like you were their best friend. She’d see you from afar, wanting to talk to you, but then get anxious the moment you spotted her a give her a friendly wave.

Then there were times when you would come by the Reed villa. Philip and Andre always received you like you were an esteemed guest, gifting you fruits from the trees in the backyard. She loved to see how you acted around different people, and to the Reeds who had known you for years, you were awful shy.

“Invite your parents over. We should all have dinner sometime!”

“Oh, my parents aren’t here this summer. My dad’s busy with a conference in Singapore, but they’ll drop by at the end of July.”

Even the times you were invited to stay for supper, it was clear you knew how to hold a conversation over the dinner table. She wondered if you were studying to be a politician because you seemed to charm everyone and had the best manners. Mia would not-so-subtly yield the spot next to you for Vada, and secretly, she was glad to be sitting next to you.

For the first time in her life, she felt a force holding her back, preventing her from reaching out. Maybe it was because she had only known you for a couple of weeks but felt like you’d always been there, like a puzzle finally piecing together.

And every time, right before you left, after you had said goodbye to the Reeds, you’d find her somehow. “Bye,” would be all you said with an adoring smile, but Vada would be thinking about it until the next day.

She and Mia met up with the group again one night, this time at a nearby open-air disco. When she arrived, she could spot Sasha and Marlène already twirling each other around on the dance floor, she was laughing as he spun her around, cigarette between his lips. She felt a pang of envy, imagining that it was your arms around her waist instead as you spun her around without a care in the world, in front of everyone. Let them see. Let them see that you’re mine and I’m yours. If she were being honest, she only agreed to come just so she could see you again. She found you sitting at a table with Coco and Noémie, chatting away.

“Hi.” Her attention was focused on you. She couldn’t be more sober, and she wished she had taken a few puffs before coming.

As if having read her mind, Coco pulled out a couple of joints, lighting one and taking a puff himself before passing it to Noémie.

“You partake?” You shouted over the loud music.

“Oh, she partakes.” Mia nodded enthusiastically. “The first time she did weed she smoked most of my joint. Then proceeded to blabber on nonstop for two hours.”

You let out a laugh. “I like this one!”

She hated, despised even, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be near you, to impress you, to feel special in your eyes as you were in hers. It was human nature; everyone liked feeling special, but somehow getting validation from you would make her ten times happier. She sat two seats away from you—next to Mia and Noémie—and once in a while, she would try and dart her eyes over to look at you ever so subtly. On a couple of occasions, her heart would jump when she noticed you were already looking back.

A few minutes later, Vada started to feel the effect of the weed, and Mia must have too because she pulled her toward the dance floor. Looking back, she saw you talking to Noémie. You didn’t look too happy and neither did she, having her arms crossed in front of her chest. Then, she walked outside and you followed her impatiently. When you returned, a polite smile was on your face when you noticed her looking for you.

“Are you okay?” She shouted, the weed had made her feel bold.

“Yeah! Everything’s fine.” You shouted back.

It might have been the weed or it was something that’s already been there, but Vada couldn’t take her eyes off of you. She took you by the hand, and there was that same spark of electricity again. You let her guide you, your hands never leaving hers as you moved with her.

It was about a quarter to midnight when everyone decided to split because frankly, everyone was too tired to continue. Vada said goodbye to Sasha and Marlène, the latter of whom gave her a big hug and repeatedly expressed her delight that Vada had decided to join them. Coco, already sober, offered to drive Mia home, but his ride was a scooter.

“Sorry, les gars,” Coco smiled sheepishly and asked Mia if she was ready, to which the girl only nodded.

“I’ll walk you home.” You said quietly, surprisingly timid. “Promise me you won’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”

She huffed through her nose and gave you a shove, but she was grinning. It was just the two of you now. Her pride was on the line, and so was her heart.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your voice cut through the stillness of the night. Before that, the only sounds were that of your shoes brushing against the ground and the soft sighs of the ocean.

“Is everything okay with Noémie?”

You averted your eyes, your hand coming up to play with the hummingbird on your neck.

Maybe she shouldn’t have. “Shit, did I overstep?”

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s just Noë being Noë, she was out of line.” Your walls were up. “We were always close, she was the first friend I made here. And last summer we slept together.”

“Oh.” Her steps faltered.

“I stopped it before it could progress into anything beyond that, though. I’m just not ready.”

Vada nodded slowly. Loud and clear. Maybe that was the signal she needed, the insecure part of her thought it was that, but when she was with you, all she wanted to do was listen to the other part.

“I slept with Mia once, sophomore year.”

You looked over at her, seemingly surprised. “Mia? Huh. Never would have thought.”

“It was just that, though.” She flashed you a smile.

Vada felt that surge of closeness between you, your arm swinging beside her as you walked. The obsession with finding anything to relate to you prompted her to say it, like Hey, I’m like you, I know how you feel. Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to tell you, she might have screwed up.

You mirrored her smile, but something about it told her that your heart wasn’t entirely in it. Tell me what you’re thinking, Y/N. She wanted to get inside your head and know everything you were thinking, to go all the way with that closeness. Even as friends, one has to start from somewhere.

It was radio silence from you for the next few days. Vada came up with all the excuses as to what it could have been, and when she grew tired and angry at herself for thinking so much about you, she tried to distract herself by doing other things. She helped Philip collect figs from the trees in the backyard; she looked up the fortress nearby you told her about the day you met and biked all the way over there, even though it was a half an hour's ride each way; she finally took out the book she packed with her and began reading it whilst sunbathing. It was starting to feel like a summer that she should be enjoying.

Her mom called and was happy to hear that her daughter was going outside and doing fun things. “The people are nice,” Vada would say, “I met some of Mia’s friends.” And in true Mom fashion, her mom would quickly squeeze in a “Don’t do drugs and use protection” to which she ended the call and almost threw her phone across the room.

She would also call Nick every other day. I met someone, she said one day after having finally gathered the courage to vocalize her crush. Girl, I know. Mia had told him. When? Literally the second day. She said you were so obvious.

It was as if the weather knew too. It started raining all day when she decided to go to the beach one day, souring her mood entirely. She would sit by the entrance in the backyard watching the rain, and sure enough, she was thinking about what you were doing on the opposite end of town.

“It’s unlike you to be so hung up on someone,” Mia told her when they were hanging out in Mia’s room.

“I’m not hung up on someone,” her words trailed at the end, mindlessly flipping through the magazine in front of her.

“So am I just crazy for thinking that you want to pounce on Y/N every three seconds?”

“Okay, but what about you and Coco? He follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy.”

“Coco’s just shy,” her friend blushed. “And stop changing the subject.”

“There’s nothing between us, at least not yet.”

“So you do want something to happen.”

“Shut up! Mia!” She hid her face behind her hands and writhed on Mia’s bed in embarrassment. “I’m not talking to you about this anymore.”

“Alright, alright,” Mia held her hands up as her laughter subsided.

“Look, I just want to—” Vada took a moment. “I want to test the waters, okay? Y/N is special, and I don’t want to ruin anything.”

Mia nodded, understanding. “I just don’t want you to be misled. I mean, you’ve seen how it was with Noémie.”

“I know.” Vada smiled softly. “I know what I’m getting into. Zero expectations.”

She wanted to believe what she told Mia too, but then when she saw texts from you the next day, there was no hiding that a connection was what she so tirelessly wanted, and needed.

hey it’s y/n Sent 3:23pm

mia gave me your number, i hope you don’t mind Sent 3:23pm

call me when you see this? Sent 3:24pm

Damn you, Mia, but also, thank you.

She didn’t work up enough courage to call you until later that night. Of course, it could have been something dire, but then you would have called her first, right? I am such a wimp.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” she rubbed her hands against her shorts. “it’s Vada. You wanted me to call you?”

“Yeah. I was gonna just text you, but I don’t know . . .” You hesitated for a moment. “Anyway, you ever been to Antibes?”

“No, why?”

“Well, I’m going there on Friday for my apprenticeship, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with? I’m just giving some manuscripts to my mentor, and then leaving them with him for a few hours to review, so we can make a fun day out of it. It’s a one-hour drive, so I don’t plan on staying overnight.”

“Friday you said?” Vada took a deep breath to still her racing heart. “I don’t think I got anything better to do that day.”

“Great!” You said. “I’ll pick you up at 9am?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Cool, see you then!”

There was something frightening about when things go exactly how you wanted them. It was inch-perfect, the puzzle pieces just slotted in place as if they were always fated to be. You were the first to reach out; she thought it would be easier that way, she’d just have to take your hand and come along. But there was a certain apprehension that Vada had as if she was walking straight into the lion’s den like a deer blinded by hunger. What if she loses her heart? She was aware of the dangers of heartbreak, of course—she was no fool—but the thought of giving her heart to you, then watching you walk away with it like an unwanted gift was too devastating.

Mia was practically bouncing off the walls when Vada told her about the phone call, saying that in all seven years of knowing you, she had never been special enough to receive a call. She didn’t exactly say the latter part, but she all but implied it.

On Friday morning, Vada woke up earlier than usual, made herself some breakfast, and was already waiting at the door with a backpack by 8:45. No later than 9:05, you arrived with a Volkswagen Golf, sunglasses on, and a bright smile.

“Music?” You offered, turning on Bluetooth. “Also, if you need a pee break, please tell me. Bladders can be untimely.”

“Noted,” Vada giggled.

The car ride was mostly silent, aside from the music you let her pick and the fun facts you enlightened her with about some of the landmarks you drive past.

“That one I believe was built in the later 1600s and owned by a minor Provence viscount. It was also in a strategic location for the military until it was abandoned after the French Revolution. Also, the viscount built the castle for his second wife, but she died shortly after giving birth to their child.”

“That’s a little sad,” said Vada.

“She was also 14 when she died and he was in his 50s.”

Vada grimaced. “Maybe death was a sweet relief.”

“Yeah. It was more common back in the day than you think.”

“How do you know all this?” She brought her legs up against her chest.

“I like history. I like to learn about the areas I’m in, and in the time that I’ve been here, I’ve had a lot of opportunities to learn.”

She watched your side profile for a moment. “You mentioned some manuscripts. What is it for?”

“Is this an interview now?” You laughed and glanced over at her, and she looked down with a blush. “It’s for my bachelor’s thesis. Technically I don’t start writing until next year, but I like to practice whenever I can. This one that I’m giving to my mentor is a collection of essays.”

“Can I read them?” You looked over for a moment, then reached behind you to grab a file of paper and handed it to her.

Vada settled back and opened the first pages, and read in silence. She could feel you spare short glances at her from time to time, nervously watching for her reaction, but she was so engrossed in your writing it almost didn’t matter that you were sitting next to her. This might have been what it feels like to peer into someone’s soul, to see the traces of fresh blood as they lay their heart onto paper.

It was a beautiful sunny day, the waters shone a deep turquoise, and the French Riviera looked glorious as ever. And yet, she could only get lost in your words.

“This is beautiful,” Vada breathed, setting the papers down on her lap. “You’re amazing.”

You looked ahead at the road, eyes covered by shades, but your large grin was unmissable.

You parked the car on the side of the street in front of several apartment buildings. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” Vada only nodded and watched you cross the street with the manuscripts in your hand. She liked how it felt between you two, and she would gladly accompany you on every trip until you were sick of her.

Mere minutes later, you returned. “I hope you’re ready for the best adventure of your life.”

Only, she knew it would be.

You first led her to the market in the vieille ville, where you bought some fruits and snacks for the way. Vada also got to witness firsthand your bargaining skills, asking for a price and then pretending to walk away until the vendor becomes desperate enough to settle. “I used to be really bad at this, but then I watched my mom do it, and now I kind of just do. These vendors hike up their prices for tourists like crazy.” You walked away proudly with a bag of food.

As the both of you walked through the picturesque alleys and streets, you proceeded to tell her more about the city and its history. She listened carefully, hanging onto every word that left your lips. You told her about how Antibes was first named Antipolis and part of Ancient Greece before it was built by the Romans in the time of Julius Caesar; how in the Middle Ages the city fell under the fiefdom of the Grimaldi family, the main branch of which is now royalty of Monaco.

“Sorry, you gotta stop me before I go on a tangent,” you chuckled, scratching the back of your neck. “I’ve been talking for ages.”

“No, I like it.” She said quickly. “I like listening to you talk. It’s no surprise many artists were so taken with this place.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“Hemingway, Picasso, and Monet all had a fascination with this city.” She had to look that up, but you didn’t need to know that.

“That’s right,” you nodded. “In fact, I’ll show you the spot where Monet painted one of his paintings later.”

After lunch, you both walked along the city walls that looked out to the beach.

“I’m just saying, Ratatouille piqued a lot of interest in the dish, and it wasn’t a coincidence. I mean, I’ve never tried it but I’d love to, just because it looked so good in the movie.” Vada said.

“You’ve never had ratatouille?!” You exclaimed loudly making Vada laugh. “Man, it’s a staple here in southern France! I’ll have to make you some because that is just criminal.”

“Okay, Chef Remy. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Actually, I’ll make a whole batch for you and the Reeds too. They always give me fruits from their backyard,” you said. “How did you meet Mia anyway?”

At the question, Vada’s smile collapsed into a frown. “Um . . .” You watched her, a confused look on your face. “I’ve always known who she was. I mean, it’s Mia, you know? But one day we met officially in the bathroom at school.”

“Oh,” you voiced. You must be confused as to why that was so hard to squeeze out, but the latter part, the part she kept hidden, she had been trying to squeeze out for two years.

“We were in the bathroom while there was a shooting going on.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but you only ended up watching her. Then, a moment later, “I didn’t mean to . . .”

“No, it’s fine.” Vada shook her head. “You didn’t know.”

“I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to.” Your eyes softened and you looked like you had kicked a puppy.

“I know,” she said, taking a breath.

“I see it on the news all the time, but I can’t imagine what it’s like to be there,” you said quietly. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

Vada hated having to talk about it. If she could have it her way, she would bury it deep down so it never sees the light of day again. Still, she has to talk about it to her friends, her family, her therapist sometimes. She hated talking about it because she’d have to see the way people’s faces contort uncomfortably as they scramble to find consoling words to say. They don’t make her feel any better, and she never liked people seeing that broken side of her reflected back at them.

But when she looked at you right now, there wasn’t a trace of ego in the way that you look back at her. Deep down, she had always wanted to lay it on you, to give you a piece of her, not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

Because she wanted you to see it.

Vada found your hand by your side, soft and comforting. She kept her eyes on them; her hand and your hand, intertwined together. You embraced it and rubbed the back of her hand with your thumb before kissing it. A kiss of friendship, a kiss of love, a kiss of two young people in a city far from home together who had only just met. A kiss that said I see you, I hear you, you’ve got me around your corner.

“You wanna go grab some dinner?” She asked.

Dinner turned into even more talk. Towards late afternoon, you said you wanted to catch the sunset before going to the spot you claimed Monet painted the city. It was a quick drive, but you pumped your fists in the air when you got out of the car and were happy with how the sun rolled over the city just right.

“Come on, you’re gonna miss it!” You jogged towards the edge of the water, beaming like a little kid. It had become natural between the two of you to share skin-ship.

Behind the trees, there it was. Across the blue water, Antibes basked in the last few rays of sunlight in stoic tranquility, just as Monet had seen it. Perhaps she was in one of Monet’s paintings, frozen in time, stuck with you.

She found your hand again, your left this time, and once again your gaze followed, but this time, you trailed your gaze to her eyes. God help me, she thought.

There were so many things Vada wanted to blurt out, and she was close to it. Holding back was never her strong suit, but once she got a good look at the depth of your eyes, she felt that they were better appreciated in silence. Words don’t do anything but snitch on you anyway.

She didn’t need to, because the moment she turned to look at you, she felt you grab her face gently and lay the softest kiss on her lips.

The sun continued to glare, yet Antibes stared on.

Did Monet ever paint lovers?

Liar.

Liar.

Vada felt like she’d make a mistake for giving in to it. She saw her younger self in the square that day, by the fountain, eating ice cream. She saw you talking to her, and she wanted to scream and tell herself to stop, to save herself the heartache. No one else was to blame, not even you, only her.

Antibes was a week ago, and she hasn’t really spoken to you ever since. She replayed the kiss over and over in her head, trying to pinpoint exactly the moment when you decided that keeping your distance would be the best course of action.

But then she remembered the way you acted alone with her was much different than how you were with the others around. She saw the way your eyes linger on her when you thought she was admiring the sea. She noticed the way you smiled bashfully when she brought up how good your essays were in front of your mentor. She remembered how you never let go of her hand when she grabbed it while you watched the sunset.

Marlène and Sasha had been a big help in getting her out of her slump. Mia was there to cuddle with her the first couple of nights after Vada told her everything, but rendezvous with Coco had kept her busy. But Marlène and Sasha were cool, and probably one of the healthiest couples she’s ever seen at the age of 20. She felt like their adoptive child hanging out with them, especially when Sasha would greet her by endearingly calling her Petit Vada.

“And have you talked to her?” Marlène asked, leaning over the lounge chair. She and Vada had been sunbathing and swimming at the Reed villa that afternoon.

“No.” Vada sighed. “It’s just—I just don’t get it! Why does she have to be so mysterious all the time? Like one moment we would be fine, and the next she’s somewhere else, someone else entirely.”

“That’s Y/N,” Marlène chuckled and took a sip from her margarita. “You know, when I and Sash first got together, he wasn’t as talkative as he is now. In fact, I was the one to ask him out. Sometimes you just have to suck it up and tell them.”

“That’s so easy to say,” Vada muttered, and put her face in her hands.

“That’s the kind of attitude you should save for when you go back to your other life, your American life. Are you going to university this fall? Summer’s halfway over, you know? Are you going to mull over it and let it pass by you?”

“Yes.” Vada’s voice was muffled through her hands.

“Carpe diem, mon chère.” Marlène shrugged. “It’s cheesy but it’s true.”

Andre being the ever BBQ dad that he was, decided to host a get-together with some friends that night, and encouraged Mia to invite hers. Everyone that Vada met at the beach showed up, including Noémie, except for you.

“She said she was busy,” Noémie waved it off. Vada pursed her lips. The fact that you talked to Noémie first stirred uneasy envy in the pit of her stomach.

She didn’t have the stomach to sit outside and spoil everyone’s fun with her sour face (most of all she didn’t want to give Noémie that satisfaction), so she made a plate for herself and ate in the living room.

“Hey, kiddo,” she looked up and saw Philip walk past her toward the kitchen. “Not feeling the party?”

Vada made a face to indicate a yes, but she didn’t want to explain further. “Just not really in the mood, sorry.”

“It’s okay. You can’t stop Andre from barbecuing when he has the urge or he’d literally combust.”

She nodded and smiled. “We don’t want that.”

“We’re serving fruits now. Want me to get you some?” He pointed at her empty plate.

“Yes, please. Thanks.” She hesitated for a beat. “Hey, Philip?”

The man turned around.

“How did you know that you wanted to marry Andre?”

Philip contemplated for a second, then walked over to the couch where she sat, leaning against it. “I didn’t wake up one day and choose to propose to him, Vada. It’s just one of those things when you start to notice that gnawing feeling in your chest. And you’d have to ask yourself, ‘Would I be fine going the rest of my life without them?’”

Vada nodded slowly and smiled as the man went back to the kitchen. She opened her phone and went to your messages. The last text from you was from a week ago. She began typing.

can we talk? Sent 8:47pm

A mere five minutes later, you responded.

of course Sent 8:47pm

meet me at the fountain at 10? Sent 8:48pm

see u there Sent 8:48pm

Vada found you walking back and forth by the Fountain, one hand in deep your pants pocket, the other holding a cigarette between your thumb and index, and puffing it as if it would give you a lifeline. She got off her bike and set it by the railing of the Fountain where you stood.

“You smoke?”

“Not usually,” you attempted to smile, shaking your arms as if to shake off an invisible burden. You were anxious, it was clear.

Vada didn’t know what to say next, so she leaned against the railing of the Fountain, rolling a pebble back and forth underneath her shoe.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you earlier. I was busy.”

She nodded half-heartedly, not looking up. She wished you’d come up with a better excuse than that.

“Are you angry with me?”

“Angry’s a strong word, Y/N.”

Another puff. “Are you discontent with me?”

She should have prepared herself for the nit-picky bullshit from a writer. “I don’t have a valid reason to be upset with you, not really. Unless I’ve been reading this wrong.”

“You haven’t.” You answered quickly and met her eyes. “I promise. It wasn’t very mature of me. In fact, I think I acted like a total idiot. I’m really sorry.”

“Do you regret kissing me?”

“No, not at all. And you have to believe me.” You sighed exasperatedly, and she almost felt bad because you looked so anxious.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Vada stepped towards you, facing you head-on. “You’re asking me whether I’m upset with you, but I don’t even know what you’re thinking most of the time. And then you disappear as though I did something wrong! How fair is that?”

You nodded and took another drag from your cigarette. Then, you dropped the butt on the floor and stomped on it. “I’m thinking that I really want to kiss you right now.”

Vada scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

You stood up from your spot against the railing, your face now inches from hers. “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is.”

She felt the exact moment her body became as light as a feather as your lips pressed against hers. Her hands clenched by her side, and come up to hold onto your shoulders, because she was afraid her legs might give out under her. You angled your face and deepened the kiss, and Vada sighed into your mouth. This is what the poets all wrote about, the inevitability of giving in to what you’ve wanted for so long. She’s caged in you in between her body and the Fountain, kissing you and touching you as though her life depended on it.

You moved to lower your kisses to her neck, but she leaned back and saw a dark look in your eyes.

The sound of a street musician playing the saxophone in the distance somewhere echoed through the square. Wordlessly, Vada took your hand.

She followed you by bike towards your house, which was towards the end of the street closer to the beach. You returned to speaking only one or two words to her, telling her to put her bike by the door next to yours, to take her shoes off before coming in, and whether she wanted some water.

“Nice place.” It was another thing that she never thought to ask you about, nor did you tell her. But it wasn’t a surprise that your family was loaded too, considering the vacation home in an area like this.

“Thanks. It’s my parents’, though.”

“What do they do again?”

“Well, my mom does interior design and my dad is a football agent.”

“Football agent? Who does he represent?”

“Mostly American players in Europe; Christian Pulisic, Luca de la Torre, Gio Reyna. I remember my dad bringing me along to dinner with Sergio Agüero once because he considered a move to LAFC. That was pretty cool.” You stood against the wall in the hallway, next to the staircase, kicking your feet aimlessly. The small talk was to cover up for something else.

You fell into a deep silence. Vada took a step forward under the yellow light of the hallway and took your hand, stroking it gently.

“Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly.

You and she both knew you were way past just kissing. This was new territory, and there would be no going back after this.

You nodded, and she surged forwards to kiss you slowly. This time, it felt different. You kissed her without the chastity and fear of being looked in on but without the hunger of overcoming lust. It was a perfect blend of passion and appreciation, a marriage of everything felt within the past few weeks.

You lead her upstairs, towards your room. Once inside, your lips were still glued to hers as you let her walk backward, though your eagerness made her trip on your feet and fall onto the mattress.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. ‘M sorry.” The two of you burst into a fit of giggles as you tried to make it up to her with a shower of kisses.

As her giggles quickly turned into pleasant sighs, she decided to surrender herself to you, to her deepest desires ever since the day she arrived. You had charmed her from the moment she laid eyes on you. But now to feel your hands on her in all the right places took her to new heights of pleasure that she’s never experienced before. How beautiful it was to be herself, to be here in this moment, and to cherish and be cherished by you. But most of all, to hear you whisper her name and profanities in the most sinful and vulnerable ways, so unlike your polished and composed self in front of other people.

Vada, Vada, Vada . . .

She awoke in the morning, the sun piercing through the horizontal slits of the shut windows. There was sweat sticking to her skin, but she didn’t want to get up and shower, not when you were still soundly asleep, arm loosely wrapped around her torso. It was then that she realized that you both were still very naked, but she reveled in the skin-to-skin contact like it was giving her strength and vitality. The golden hummingbird sat on your chest, rising and falling with each of your breaths.

Vada caught the moment your eyes fluttered open and focused on her. Then a smile.

“What time is it?” You asked.

Vada leaned over to check the clock on the wall. “7:41.”

You grumbled. “My shift starts at 8:30.”

“You better chop-chop then.”

“I don’t wanna go.”

“Then don’t.” Vada placed her chin on your upper chest. “Stay here with me, and we can recreate last night.”

You chuckled and kissed her once. “That sounds really tempting.”

And yet, you moved to get up, but she held you back. “Five more minutes.”

“Only five?” You smirked.

“You don’t think I can do it in five?”

You grinned like a Cheshire cat and settled back.

Vada had to let you go eventually, you let her stay at yours and do as she pleased. She suddenly remembered that she never texted Mia back about staying out overnight, and sure enough, flipped her phone over to a few missed calls and text messages. After texting her back and reassuring her that she was okay, she got up and went to take a shower.

You came back around four and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, it felt like forever until you walked through the doors again. And the moment you did, she pounced on you like a lion.

“I’m so sweaty,” you laughed but soon became lost in the sensation of her lips against yours.

You made love again that afternoon. Vada could almost picture the routine that she and you so easily fell into, how the puzzle pieces fit together so seamlessly. It almost felt like she had cheated somehow to feel this way, that it truly felt as magical and wonderful as it was laying in your arms, both of you stark naked. You had showered and smelled much like lavender. Your eyes were closed but you weren’t asleep, as she watched your chest rise and fall steadily. Sometimes you would murmur something and she would talk to you quietly, knowing you were tired from a day’s work at the beach.

“I knew I liked you from the first day, at the Fountain,” you said.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?!” Vada looked up and hit your chest playfully.

“I didn’t want to come on too strong and scare you away!”

“Jesus Christ,” she sat up and put her face in her palms. “Y/N, I wanted you so badly. Like, I could not go a day without thinking about you. It was actually becoming unhealthy how much I did.”

“Oh? I’m flattered.” You smirked and rubbed her knee. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because . . . After Antibes, I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”

Your face dropped slightly. “I was scared to get close to someone. I think I caught myself then after we kissed. It was scary how much I wanted your company.”

Vada could understand. You’ve only known each other for three weeks. What were you to each other? Maybe it didn’t matter, there was something comforting about just existing as two souls being present with each other. She realized that the fear she’d harbored about losing her heart was all in vain; you never took it for yourself, you’d only pressed your hand against her chest and encouraged it to keep beating—to keep being hers—while you’d hoped that she would do the same to you.

“If you could go back to that day at the Fountain, and do it differently, would you?” Vada asked.

You thought for a second, then shook your head. “No. I always want to remember you this way.”

Vada swallowed thickly and avoided your eyes. “We’re leaving next week.”

A silence hung in the air, unspoken words stuck in her throat. Tell me to stay. Tell me you’ll come back with me. Tell me you’ll never love anyone else. Tell me you’d forget about me so as to soothe the pain.

“Then let’s make it count,” you brushed a hair from her eyes. “We’re not the first, and we won’t be the last to love each other.”

She dreaded the flight back home, having to pretend leaving you wouldn’t be as hard in front of Mia and her parents, and about 300 strangers. She’d miss biking everywhere and the beach and Lillian’s ice cream (she had grown to like it over Karim’s). She’d remember Antibes and Monet’s spot. She’d remember your face and how you seemed to appear in every memory of this trip.

Vada felt you brushing your finger under her eye and realized that it was wet. Then you brought her into your arms and held her tight as she hid from the world in your neck. You cooed and somehow it made Vada feel worse and started crying harder, clinging to your skin desperately.

She’d find space for the grief she was going to feel in her heart somewhere because she knew she’d rather live with the pain than be without you again.

The last week started on a Wednesday. Vada did the usual things she did the last few weeks—go to the beach, bike to town, hang out with the group; she wanted to soak into that last semblance of her summer routine before she had to leave, and everything would be different. She hadn’t given college much thought either. Deciding to move halfway across the country for it was the least stressful part of the whole process, as she was going in undecided. Mia was happy though, because they would only be a few hours apart by train.

Until then, Vada was too afraid to ask you about what would happen after the summer ended. If she asked, it would mean that it was close and it was real. You’d go back to school in Paris and start on your thesis, and everything would go back to the way it was.

Everything would go back to the way it was. As if nothing happened.

She had lived four weeks with you, how was she ever going to go the rest of her life without you?

She met up with you after dinner one night at the beach. The tides had come in much closer and were pulling on her heartstrings mercilessly. In and out, in and out . . . You were as quiet as the night, your eyes gazed towards the distance somewhere, looking pensive.

Still, she was afraid to ask.

“I lied,” you finally spoke. “I wished I had told you sooner how much I liked you.”

Vada remained silent and nodded. “We’ll call.”

“It won’t be the same.”

She knew too that it would never be the same the moment she leaves France. She realized that though she was afraid to ask, time was not on her side, and she didn’t have the luxury to be afraid anymore.

“Will you stay over tonight?” Vada asked, and you looked so happy that she did.

Once you stumbled through the door, you leaned in to kiss her instantly. Between wanting to kiss you back and suppressing moans, she told you to be quiet as you followed her upstairs, hand in hand. You failed, however, actually, both of you did, as your giggles trailed up the stairs and through the hallway. Vada would be lucky if only Mia heard you.

The day she left for the airport, you came over to say goodbye. You greeted the Reeds first, giving Philip and Andre big hugs, then turned to Mia to hug as well and kiss her on the forehead.

Vada waited in the backyard. She felt almost pathetic and needy for wanting you to come out here quicker. It won’t be the same.

“Andre gave me this to keep for my parents.”You held up a bottle of wine by the neck. “1983, nice.”

Your smile died down when you noticed her silence. “You got everything?”

She nodded. Wordlessly, she stepped forwards to wrap her arms around your frame. She thought she’d cry, but it was as if her brain was already actively shutting down trying to block out this memory to save her the future heartbreak.

You pressed her tightly against your chest and swayed her back and forth. Upon releasing her, you set down the bottle of wine next to your feet and took off your necklace.

“I want you to have this.” You opened her palm and neatly placed the jewelry inside. “That way, you won’t forget.”

How could you ever think that I would forget when I’m afraid I’ll never be able to let go of this summer?

“I wish we had more time,” Vada said.

“Bye, Cinderella.” Your eyes were glossy now.

The car door was wide open, waiting to take her away from you. For a split second, she considered dropping everything to stay.

She leaned in to kiss you once, deep and hard, “Bye, Y/N.” Then she walked away, the hummingbird clenched in her fist.

You followed her and watched her get in the car. You watched her close it with force and you watched her refuse to make eye contact with you, but you saw the way her lips trembled. You watched the car take her away from you and grazed the spot on your chest where the hummingbird was missing.

It was mid-July, the hottest day of the year, and yet, the ocean waves—blue as it gets—continued to crash against the shore, on and on and on.

[8myass]

.. sunshine .. pairing. jeong yoonoh/jaehyun x female reader genre. slight angst, fluff pov. second person (you, yours, yourself, etc.) synopsis. your ex-boyfriend still wanted to spend his birthday, and Valentine’s Day, with you. wc. 0.4k cw. slight stalker!jaehyun, ex-boyfriend!jaehyun tw. pet names (excessive ‘jae’ usage), second chance a/n. birthday boyyy. this is the first work in a series of works i’m completing and posting for jae’s birthday! it’s a week-long birthday writing event! i will post a finished piece for him every day between now (14) and the following wednesday (21). i just wanna say thank you to everyone who is supporting me and my works, i’m super excited to write these for y’all!!

Sitting in your bed, it was unexpected when your ex-boyfriend showed up at your door the previous morning. You were shocked, to say the least. You had every reason to kick him out, to yell in his face to leave you alone, just as you’ve done in the past, but for some odd reason, whatever that might be, you didn’t. 

He was now preparing food for you in your kitchen, knowing his way around the place like he’d been here hundreds of times before when you’d only just moved in a few months after the two of you broke up. You watched him for a good amount of time earlier, pretending like you were just curious about what he was making, but that wasn’t it at all. He knew where everything in your house was. He needed salt? Top shelf in the rack next to the fridge. Mixing bowl? In the cabinet under the sink, thrown in with all the rest of the pots and pans. 

You weren’t an organized person, but your kitchen was the place you stayed in a lot after you and Jaehyun had broken up. It was your safe haven, more or less. So when you realized he knew his way around your house, especially your kitchen, it made you genuinely curious about how he had gotten so used to navigating his way around your place like that. 

When he walked into your bedroom, taking his time and being extra careful not to spill the orange juice on the floor or let the plate slide off the tray before he could get it to you, you were grateful to have him around again after so long, always loving taking a break from cooking every now and again.

You sat up in your bed, letting him place your food on your lap as he sat down on the bed next to you, his own plate on his lap. You were shoving food down so quickly you nearly choked, giggling as you looked over at him with that smile spread across your face that he always adored, “It’s so good, thanks so much, Jae!”

You two talked and talked and talked, you had so much to discuss. You haven’t spoken since the damaging day you broke up, so it was odd having a full-blown conversation with him that didn’t involve screaming or cursing each other out or things being thrown all over the room in a fit of rage. It was calming, and actually very soothing. 

“I wanna be with you again,” he finally broke through the awkward silence the room was sitting in for a good minute, only making the awkwardness stronger and more present.

“Huh? Jae, we weren’t good for each other, you know that,” you sighed, locking tired eyes with his gleaming ones. 

“Nonsense. We can make it work, I promise you. I know how to treat you now, I know what I’ve done wrong in the past and I won’t repeat those mistakes. Please, just give me a second chance. I will make it up to you this time, I will be your perfect man,” he pleaded, all but dropping onto his knees with his hands thrown together in prayer.

“I… I’m not so sure, Jae. It’s a big decision, a big step,” you rubbed the back of your neck uncomfortably, taking a deep breath to calm your growing nerves. You did want him back, you still loved him. And today only made you all the more aware that you were still in love with the man that he was and always will be. 

“It’s okay to love me. Please, love me,” he frowned, genuine sadness filling his expression at the thought of you rejecting this proposal. You were so on the fence with this whole scene. On one hand, you didn’t want to take on the responsibility of working on the relationship and possibly taking all the blame when it doesn’t work out again. On the other hand, you do love him and you do want to work things out with him, or, at least, try to. “Consider it a birthday gift for your valentine boy.”

His smile was genuine and it sent butterflies all throughout your stomach. You couldn’t help but cave, pulling him into a hug, arms wrapped around his neck as your face buried into his hard chest, his own arms finding residence on your waist, “Fine, Jae, let’s make us work again.”

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 7

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,120

A/N: Really appreciate everyone's patience these last few weeks! I've been bounced around to a bunch of doctors, the holidays are always busy, and we got some tough news about my FIL, so it's been rough. But I'm so happy to come back to this series and look forward to continuing it 💜

“Ok fine, I get it now.” Dean huffs as he rests his hands on his hips, taking in the valley below him that glows in the early hours of morning.

You step up beside him, your stance mirroring his as the last ascent was definitely the steepest of the climb. And mixed with the sharp morning air cutting into your lungs, you were feeling it. But as you take in the view, the start of the day shimmering off the bare branches of the forest below you, it was absolutely worth it. Even with all of Dean’s moaning and groaning along the way. 

You close your eyes, the warmth of the winter sun a slight reprieve against the bracing breeze. You take in a deep breath, letting it settle deep inside you, feeling as the inhalation travels through you, winding all the way down to your toes. 

You breath in again, your fists clenching as a familiar pang of sorrow begins to overtake the relaxation. In the quietness and warmth, you feel her. Your Aunt Rose. Your teeth clench as you feel tears prickle at your eyes. But as you take in another breath, you won’t let them fall. Because you’re happy to have her here with you. This is exactly what she would want for you. She would be happy for you. Proud, that you had taken a giant leap out of your comfort zone, and that warms you more than any sunshine. 

You open your eyes again and take in one more deep breath as you look out past the vally, the tears drying without having fallen, and you let it all out in one big sigh, your body humming.  

“Good?” You turn to Dean, who offers you a gentle smile, and you swallow down the lump in your throat and nod, your lips soft but upright.

“Well,” he shifts to fully face you, his stature casting a shadow over you. “If you’re done with all you’re breathing,” he raises his eyebrows. “How about some breakfast.”

The diner clock reads 10:34 when you and Dean walk into Billies, him once again holding the door open for you before you step inside. You’re still surprised by the gesture, even though this is the second time he’s done it, but you appreciate it nonetheless. 

Once Dean steps in behind you, you start to head for your usual spot at the counter, but Dean catches you by the elbow and points to a booth towards the middle and against the opposite wall. It’s the same one, or at least close to, the one he sat at a few weeks ago when you first ran into him here. 

You really enjoy sitting at the counter, but after all the nice things Dean’s done for you the last few days, you figure you can let him pick the seat. Plus, something tells you this man has a routine, and you’re not going to try and mess with it. So you lead the way to the spot he pointed out and throw yourself onto the fading vinyl with a slow whoosh as it adjusts to your weight as Dean settles in across from you.

“I’ve never actually been here for breakfast.” You comment as a middle-aged woman steps up to your table and places down menus and automatically fills Dean’s coffee mug before she motions to yours and you nod. You haven’t seen her before, so you’re assuming she must do the morning shift. 

“Thanks, Denise.” Dean shoots her a smile that leaves you feeling slightly jealous of the woman before he wraps a large hand around the mug, and brings it up to his full lips, closing his eyes as he enjoys the first sip with a hum. Your breath catches. 

God damn why are even the simplest things with him so hot?

“You’ve been missing out then.” He says as he opens his eyes and sets the coffee back on the table. It takes you a moment to remember what he was talking about. 

Breakfast, right. 

You reach down the table and grab the tin of creamer as he continues. 

“As good as the lunch is, Lloyd back there makes the best damn eggs you’ve ever had.” You nod your head as you stir your coffee, watching as it lightens to your preference – like milk chocolate. 

“I’m actually not a fan of eggs.” You place your spoon onto your napkin, the liquid saturating the paper as you take your own sip, your shoulders scrunching up towards your ears as the hot liquid settles in your chilled body, even after Dean kept the truck well heated on the drive back. The last few days had been the coldest since you arrived, and the weather was calling for snow soon. 

You almost miss Dean’s wide eyes and gaping mouth before he quickly shakes it away.

“Who the hell doesn’t like eggs?” His nose scrunches and you can see the visible confusion on his face. 

You just shrug.

“Never really been a fan. Especially when I go out for breakfast. If I’m going out, I want something I don’t normally have.” 

“Which is?” Dean raises a brow as he takes another sip, this time keeping the mug in his hand instead of setting it down, and your heart rate spikes again.

Down girl. You remind yourself. It’s breakfast, not a date. Nothing was going to happen after this.

“Pancakes.” You grin. “With strawberries and cream.” You watch as Dean’s lips part at your answer, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head but he swallows his comment down with another sip of coffee. 

“Fair enough,” he settles on instead. 

Only ten minutes later, Billie makes her way over, your breakfast orders in hand – Your pancakes, complete with a whipped cream swirl, and Dean with the “hungry man” platter, filled with three eggs, two pieces of toast, a few slabs of bacon, and finished off with a side of hash browns. Your stomach feels queasy just looking at that much food. 

“I see you made it out alive.” Billie smiles down as she places the dishes on the table and looks between the both of you. You let out a laugh, remembering your conversation from a few days ago as Dean’s brows knit together.

“What now?” He looks between the two of you. You purse your lips, trying to bite back your smile.  

“I had Billie vouch for you before we went hiking.” You pick up your fork and make the first cut into the pancakes, appreciating the perfectly golden brown fluff. “Had to make sure you weren’t going to throw me off the cliff or anything.” You smirk at him as you take your first bite, and your body slumps as you moan as the food hits your taste buds, the perfect combination of vanilla and strawberry.

“Oh my god, this is so good,” you say over the food, not caring that it’s impolite. Dean wasn’t kidding about the breakfast here. It was heavenly. 

It takes you a minute to realize both Billile and Dean are staring at you with wide eyes, so you push yourself back upright and swallow your food down, heat rushing up your neck and cheeks. Billie gives her head a slight shake and a smile appears over her shock. 

“I’ll pass along your compliments to Llyod.” Billie pats you on the shoulder then heads back towards the counter, and you shoot her an embarrassed smile as she goes.

“Told ya breakfast was good.” Dean points at you with his fork, a gleam in those gorgeous green eyes before he turns back to his plate before he can see you lick your lips, wanting something sweeter than what you ordered. 

“So you thought I was going to kill you?” Dean looks up at you before taking another bite. You smile over your food, swallowing it down.

“Look, we obviously didn't get off to the best start.” You raise your brows at him. “In case you forgot, you did point a gun at me, which I really didn’t appreciate.” He clears his throat and looks down at the table, heat brightening his cheeks.

“Yeah I might have forgotten that part.” You just smile even though he’s still avoiding your gaze. 

“So yeah, I asked Billie if you were a psycho who would kill me if I went hiking with you.” That gets a huff out of him.

“Really?” He holds his hands out in front of him, gesturing to himself. “Do I look like a serial killer?” His eyes find yours, astonishment shining in his irises. 

“A girl can never be too careful.” You smirk.

“Fair enough.” 

A couple forkfuls of silence later, you clear your throat.    

“Know if anything fun is happening this weekend?” You ask as you watch Dean take a massive bite of his eggs, which were almost gone already. 

You asked to make small talk, but you were also curious. The town turned out to be pretty quiet, quieter than you thought you would appreciate, and loneliness was starting to grate at you. Turns out, four weeks alone wasn’t as relaxing as you expected it to be. It was nice at first, but now it was starting to get boring. Hence the hike this morning. But now that was done, and you’ve read, meditated, shopped, and ticked off every checkbox of your relaxation reset this trip was meant to bring. Though it sounds like the town is bustling with city tourists during the warmer months, there is not much going on while there’s snow on the ground. Really, the only thing you could think of was to head to Max’s. But truth be told, you didn’t feel like sitting at a bar alone again. You were missing your friends. 

“No clue,” Dean swallows down his bite and chases it with some coffee. “I’m headed up to Bolton for some work.” He puts his fork down and leans back as he rests his hands on his thighs, a near empty plate shining up at him. 

Bolton. That sounded familiar, but you weren’t sure why.

“What’s Bolton?” You ask before you take another bite from your still half-full stack of pancakes.

“Town ‘bout an hour from here. I have some work I gotta take care of.” You raise your eyebrows as you swallow down your food before you open your mouth. 

“You’re a traveling mechanic?” You can’t stop the smirk that starts on your lips. It sounds a bit ridiculous. Especially considering he had his own shop here. 

He sighs and rolls his eyes as your smile grows. 

“If you want to put it like that, sure.” He draws out crisply, though his smile matches yours. “There’s a few classic car collectors up there that have me on retainer to keep their cars in good shape. A lot of them buy and sell them for investments.” He picks his fork back up and stabs at some lingering potatoes. “So they have to be in working order if they want to make back a profit.” He shoves the scoped food into his mouth. 

Well that was a surprise, and your eyebrows show it. You hadn’t expected pick-up-truck-Dean to be a closested classic car maestro. 

“That actually sounds cool.” You match his bite with one of your own, each mouthful of pancake just as good as the first. 

“And being a regular, small-town mechanic doesn’t?” He shoots back and you breathe out a laugh as you lick your lips. 

“I didn’t say that.” But Dean just rolls his eyes again with a smile. 

Grumpy Dean may be a pain in the ass, but this Dean was starting to grow on you. He was actually, dare you say, fun?

“There’s a car auction on Sunday and one of my regulars wants me to check out a few of the cars he plans to put up beforehand.” 

“Sounds fancy,” you comment absentmindedly as you take the last bite of pancakes you can manage. You’ll need a box to take home the rest. “I’ve never been to a car show before.” You put your fork down and sit back, happily full. 

“If you want, you’re welcome to come.” Your eyes shoot to him. “Can’t imagine you’re into cars, but,” he shrugs as he trails off, like he’s not inviting you on a weekend trip with him.

Your mouth falls open and he looks at you when you don’t respond. 

“What?” He asks genuinely, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“How’s everything over here?” Denise suddenly appears, hands on her hips and a smile on her face. 

“Perfect as always,” Dean beams up at her and she just rolls her eyes at him before she looks at you.

“Such a schmoozer.” Denise smirks at you and you tighten your lips with a quick nod, still in a half state of shock by Dean’s invitation to go away with him this weekend. 

“Anything else I can get you kids?” Denise turns back to Dean. 

“Just the check.” He reaches down for his mug and tips it back, finishing it off. 

“And a box.” You jump in, your voice suddenly back. 

Denise reaches into her apron and rips off a piece of paper from a pad and drops it on the middle of the table.

As soon as the check lands, you reach for it at the same time Dean does, but you’re quicker, and you snatch it up and pull it to your chest as he grapples for it. 

“What are you doing?” Dean stares into your eyes, clearly asking you to give him the check, but you have no intention of doing so. 

“I’m paying for breakfast.” You explain simply and you reach over to your hiking pack and pull out your wallet, grabbing your credit card and handing that and the bill back to Denise.

“Be right back.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” Dean falls back into his seat. You smile.

“I do. Consider it a thank you for fixing my car, and taking me hiking.” And you mean it. Because the truth is, you owe him a hell of a lot more than just a breakfast, but considering he won’t let you pay for the new battery or the gas from today’s trip, it was truly the least you could do.

“Here ya are, sweetheart.” Denise returns a beat later with the receipt and a to-go container. You accept both, and you’re sure to leave her a 25% tip as you usually do with morning waitstaff since you know for a fact they earn a lot less than the afternoon and evening crews. 

After you sign your name, you throw your card and wallet back into your bag.

“Thank you,” Dean’s voice from across the table gets your attention. You smile at him.

“Of course.” And he smiles back at you.

“Just don’t let my mom know I let you pay. She’ll have my ass for it.” A laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it and your head falls back with it. 

“Deal.” You lick your lips as your laugh dies down. “I promise not to tattle to your mom.” You pick up your plate and dump the rest of your pancakes into the box, taking a moment to push down the edges around the lid. 

Once it’s secure, you scoot out of your seat and grab your bag, throwing it over your shoulder and picking up your leftovers as Dean also stands. 

“After you,” He holds his hand out and you give him another smile, your body warming from toes to ears as you brush by him, the heat following you out into the cold and into the bed of Dean’s truck as he drives you home.

“Ugh this feels so good.” You moan as you sink further into the tub, bubbles tickling your chin as your body relaxes into the near scalding water, but that’s exactly how you like it, especially after having spent your morning in the bristling cold. You had stretched out once you finally got home, but you could already feel the start of soreness in your glutes and calves from the hike.

Your phone pings next to you, briefly interrupting Vance Joy. You grab the wash cloth hanging off the edge of the porcelain and wipe your hands off before you grab it off the floor, your home screen illuminating with a text message.

Dean Winchester.

Your heart rate spikes at his name as you sit up straighter and quickly open the notification, curious what he could be texting you about.  

If you do want to come up to Bolton this weekend, just lmk. I’m leaving Saturday morning. 

You squeeze your lips together and throw your head back against the pillow behind you, a smile spreading on your lips. 

Before you can even think about what you want to do, your phone pings again. You hold your phone up, a new message appearing under the last one. 

Probably should mention, I’m staying at my mom’s place as she lives up there. She has a couple spare rooms and she wants you to know she’d be happy to have you.  

“What the fuck.” You whisper to yourself as you stare at the words. His mom. You had no idea this was going to involve his mom. Your excitement starts to fizzle. 

“This is weird, right?” You ask out loud as you dangle your arm and phone over the tub’s edge and rest your head back, letting everything sink in. 

It wasn’t enough to just be going away for the weekend, but now you’d be meeting and staying with his mom. 

Who the fuck goes on a trip with a man they barely know, to stay with his mother of all people? 

Aunt Rose would. Your inner voice answers the question you had no intention of responding to. 

Hell, she would have jumped at the opportunity for the chance to meet new people and enjoy a fun weekend at a fancy car show.

You blow out a slow breath through puffed cheeks. 

If you were being honest, it did sound cool. You’ve never been to a car show before, not that you know much about them, but you do “ohhh” and “ahhh” whenever a nice car drives by. You can at least appreciate them. And what were you going to do this weekend? Spend another evening alone at Max’s with the hopes of maybe finding someone to go home with? 

But you know that’s not what you want to do. 

Oh god, Sydney is going to murder me. 

You bring your phone back up and open a text.

I’m in. 

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[fandom-imagines-stories]

These Lips Speak Lies

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 7048

Summary: A prequel to Honor and Espionage, Aramis tells the story of how he and the reader met, almost killed each other, and fell in love. 

Notes: Wow, okay I know this is crazy long but I just couldn’t help myself. I loved the Spy Reader and Aramis dynamic so much that I just had to continue. What better way to tell the story than to start at the beginning? If you guys love this saga as much as I do, be sure to let me know!

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

The group gathered around the small fireplace, at home in the space they’d all spent many evenings since the incidents at Ambassador Laurent’s estate. With the country escape having bored you both, you and Aramis returned to Paris before Treville’s orders and hosted many dinners. The others concocted exciting tales to keep you amused and to distract you from your painful idleness. 

It was a similar affair, though in a few days, you’d be cleared to return to your work. Due to his pleading and lack of injury, Aramis had been allowed to go on a few missions, given that he still kept an eye on your recovery. 

You stood to pour another round of wine into everyone’s glasses, but Aramis tugged you back down, kissing your cheek. 

“Allow me, darling,” he said. He picked up the bottle and refilled your glass. 

“I am capable of lifting a simple bottle, Aramis,” you scoffed. “You said so yourself, my arm is entirely healed.”

“That does not mean I cannot still be a dutiful husband, hm?” He raised a brow and kissed you again, this time meeting your soft lips with his. 

“If all it took was me getting shot for you to act like this, I would have tried it ages ago,” you teased.

He scowled, gave your lips another quick peck, and stood. Aramis tended to his companion’s cups before returning to his place beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

For a while, the five of you drank together, merrily telling stories of past adventures and other close calls. The fire was dying down by the time D’Artagnan leaned over to you.

“I have to know,” he said with a smirk, “how did the two of you meet?”

Porthos’ brow furrowed and he leaned back in his chair. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard the story myself.”

“Nor I,” Athos said, pouring himself another glass. 

“I could have sworn we told the tale at our wedding.” You thought back to that day, but, quite honestly, you only remembered that night. The images in your mind made you blush and you snuggled a little closer to your husband. 

“They were both probably too drunk to remember,” Aramis snickered. 

“Well I haven’t heard it at all,” D’Artagnan said, turning to you with a pout. “Was it on an assignment?”

You blew out a breath. “Yes and no.”

“Did you work together?”

This time, your husband answered. “Yes and no.” 

“Cut to it, will ya?” Porthos bellowed. “We want to hear the story.” 

“Alright, alright,” you laughed. You turned, smirking at the man beside you. “Aramis, darling, would you like to do the honors? I’ll correct you if you get anything wrong, of course.”

He brought your lips to his one more time, earning a semi-annoyed huff from Porthos. 

“My pleasure.” He stood, pacing in front of the fire. “Now, I’m sure you all remember the mysterious stranglings that plagued the city five years ago?” 

The three members of the audience nodded. 

Aramis’ smile grew. “This is the story of how we solved the case-”

“Nearly died on several occasions,” you interjected with a giggle. 

He reached for your hand and kissed it. “And fell in love.”

-

By morning, they were dead. Nobody knew how it was possible, but there was no denying it. Paris was being hunted. Specifically, the women of Paris. Two noblewomen had turned up, both strangled and found in the streets, blocks away from their homes. 

What worried Aramis was the bodies before them. Women from the lower class had been dying for weeks now. And worse, nothing was being done. It made his blood boil knowing a killer was stalking the streets and he was guarding the king’s dinners. 

But when he brought the murders up to Treville, the captain told him that he already had a man on the job, though Aramis had heard nothing of such an assignment from any of the other musketeers. He told Aramis to let it be as if it were little more than a pest problem being handled. Aramis didn’t understand it. How could the captain be content forgoing the proper resources to bring these women’s killer to justice? 

Aramis, certainly, was not. 

So, despite Treville’s explicit instructions, Aramis decided to conduct his own investigation into the murders. And, with his two usual companions away on a mission of their own, he would have to solve this problem alone. 

Luckily, he had plenty of connections with the women of the nobility. And, with the growing terror amongst them, they were more than willing to cooperate.

“At first,” Lady Brizman whispered, though there was no one else in the courtyard to hear them, “we thought, maybe, Juliet- Lady de Fontane- was, well…” she trailed off, lowering her voice even more as if to conceal a scandal, “seeing someone. We thought maybe things went badly and her lover killed her.” 

Aramis nodded. “But then Madame Wilton was killed in the same manner.”

“Exactly,” she exclaimed. “Now I have my servants triple-check anyone who comes to the house.” She smiled, leaning against the garden gate. “Except for you, of course.” Her hand trailed up his arm. 

“Well, if you hear anything more, or feel at all frightened and in need of assistance,” he flashed her a charming smile and tipped his hat. “I’m at your service, madame.”

He waited until he was out of sight to hit his hand against the wall with a frustrated growl. It was the same thing he’d heard from the last four women. Suspected affairs turned serial killer. But, according to every woman he’d spoken to, the victims’ whereabouts on the days they were killed provided very little opportunity for them to have encountered the killer.

There had to be some kind of connection, a place where they met, or a person they knew. But where- or who- could connect women of different classes? 

Aramis turned on his heel and stopped suddenly. 

“Of course,” he muttered to himself. He gazed across the street at the seamstress’s shop before him. 

All of the women killed before worked as either suppliers, delivery girls, or seamstresses themselves. And surely Lady de Fontane and Madame Wilton frequented such establishments. The killer must have used these shops as hunting grounds, watching from the side until he found his perfect victim. Perhaps he even stood where Aramis stood. The thought made the musketeer shudder. 

Aramis scoped out the area. Another shop down the road gave him a pretty good idea that this must be where the women were being taken from. He determined that he would come back in the evening- when the women were taken- and see if he could catch the beast. 

-

He’d sat there for hours, hidden from the common passersby, keeping an eye on every person who walked down the street. The sun had set, leaving the road in darkness, but the windows of the shop still held a light. Someone was working late. He just hoped it was only the dressmakers. 

Several figures passed by him, none appearing the most trustworthy, but all vacating the street too swiftly to be scoping out the shop for their next victim. 

All but one. 

A figure in a dark, scarlet cloak crossed the street, tucking themselves into the darkness of the alley beside the shop. Aramis eyed the villain darkly and navigated the alleys and corners in order to catch them by surprise. As he crept toward them, dagger drawn at his side, he noticed their stance. Like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey. 

He lunged first, grabbing their arm and pinning them to the wall, arm stretched across their chest. 

Her chest, he observed as the scarlet cloak fell open slightly. He tried not to let it distract him. A woman was just as capable of murder, as his years had taught him. 

“It’s dangerous here at night, mademoiselle,” he hissed. “I might ask what you’re doing, skulking about the shadows.”

“I might ask you the same thing.” You aimed your pistol at his abdomen and cocked it, raising a brow with the click. You stared defiantly in his dark eyes. He was handsome, you observed, but that could very well be used to lure women into his trap. This could be the very killer you’d spent weeks searching for. 

But those eyes…

“I am a King’s Musketeer, patrolling the streets for the safety of those such as yourself,” he said, failing to keep the suspicious bite from his tone. 

You took a moment to look over him, indeed finding the crest on his shoulder, and sighed.

“Then we have much to discuss, monsieur,” you huffed, lowering your weapon and hooking it back to the belt around your waist. 

Aramis did not let his guard down, instead standing straighter, poised for a possible attack. Who knew what a killer like this could be capable of… even if she did have the loveliest voice. 

You rolled your eyes. “I do not have time for this, come with me.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him to a door that led to the upper quarters of the shop itself. 

In his surprise, Aramis didn’t fight you, following blindly up the stairs to a small room with a cot, a candle, and a small desk scattered with piles of notes and maps. He jerked his arm away from your grip, frustration melding with his misunderstanding. 

You ignored him and walked over to the papers and grabbed something from atop them. 

“Would you explain to me what’s going on?” He demanded. 

“What is going on is that you have absolutely no idea what you are doing,” you snapped, whirling around to face him with the ring you kept on your desk. Upon it, was the crest of the Musketeers. You held it before him and watched his face contort from irritation to utter confusion. 

“You’re a…” He gazed upon your face again, as if trying to read something there.

“It appears we work for the same regiment, monsieur,” you said coolly. “Captain Treville believed that I would have a better chance of catching the killer because I am better able to blend into this area of town, whereas a soldier such as yourself would be immediately spotted, as tonight has clearly displayed.” 

“I was doing fine before I made the mistake of following you into that alley- which I may add, you looked just as suspicious as I may or may not have,” he argued. “The fact that I am here shows that I am just as capable of following this case as you are, if not more so given that I have the authority of a musketeer.” He stepped toward you. “Tell me, what exactly does Treville have you for?”

“I’m afraid that is privileged information,” you glared. “Tell me, were you or were you not told to leave this case alone?” Now, you stepped towards him. “Because I know for a fact that Captain Treville wanted me alone searching for the killer in fear of scaring them into hiding.” 

Aramis looked away. 

You scoffed. “Exactly what I thought. Another ‘hero’ dying to make a name for himself.” Turning back to your notes, you dismissed him with a wave of your hand. “You can run back to the garrison. I have women to protect.” 

Aramis remained, though whether it was shock or stubbornness that prevented his feet from moving, he wasn’t entirely sure. Instead, he moved to look over your shoulder. 

“These are your observations then?” He asked. 

You didn’t bother turning to look at him. “I’ve been staying in this apartment for the past three weeks. It has given me the opportunity to study the pattern of workers and regular buyers, but it has yet to yield any clue as to who is targeting them.” You couldn’t help the irritated sigh that fell from your lips. “I have followed up on every man that has been to the shop since I’ve been here and all of them have been checked out. The killer must be keeping to the shadows, hunting like a wolf at night.” 

“What makes you so sure the killer is a man?” 

You scoffed. “Because I saw the bodies. The bruises around the neck were far too large for them to have been strangled by a woman.” Setting your pages down again, you faced him with your arms crossed impatiently. “Now if you don’t mind, monsieur…?”

He removed his hat. “Aramis. My name is Aramis.” He made no motion to leave. In fact, he stood his ground firmly, which only made you more annoyed. “And how exactly do you plan to catch this man, madame…?” He mimicked your questioning tone. 

“Y/N.” You saw no point in giving him a false name, though you were half tempted to leave him guessing. “And I shall catch him in the act.”

Aramis chuckled, running his fingers over his facial hair. “And how do you plan to do that?”

You raised a brow. 

His smarminess fell. “You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, Monsieur Aramis, that I am perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“You’re going to give yourself as bait?” 

“I’m going to lure him out of the shadows by giving him a target that isn’t defenseless.” You held up your pistol. “If he agrees to come in quietly, then he’ll be hanged in the morning. If not… well, I’ll have the pleasure of making Paris a safer place tonight.” 

Your fellow musketeer crossed his arms. 

“I’m coming with you.”

“You most certainly are not.” 

“I only wish to assist you in catching the killer,” he said.

“You think because I’m a woman I cannot do it on my own?” You challenged. 

“I’ve learned never to underestimate a woman, darling.” He leaned in. “I just don’t trust you.”

The sound of your hand against his cheek rang through the small room. 

Aramis put a hand to his face, already reddening where you’d hit, but his smug smile never faltered. 

“Do you let your emotions get in the way of every mission or am I special?” 

You raised your hand again, but this time he caught it, his face darkening.

“It was only cute the first time.” 

You jerked your arm out of his grip, eyes defiant and tone threatening.

“If you get in my way for so much as a second-”

“I assure you, we want the same thing,” Aramis said. “Think of me as your backup plan, if being bait doesn’t go quite the way you expect.”

“I don’t need backup plans,” you said. “I’m always right the first time. It’s why Treville sends me instead of any of you.” 

You slipped by him, tucking your pistol into the belt beneath your cloak as you walked to the stairs. You stopped at the exit and sighed, turning back to face the other musketeer. 

“Well?” You gave him a smirk. “Are you coming or not, Monsieur Aramis?”

He motioned with his arm, returning your smug expression. “After you, Madam Y/N.” 

“It’s mademoiselle,” you corrected.

“So you haven’t found a man who can put up with your arrogance, how surprising.”

You rolled your eyes and went back downstairs. 

-

Aramis returned to his spot in the alleyway across the street from the shop, keeping a close eye on the swift-moving cloaked figure across from him. Heat still lingered in his skin, his frustration showing in the red of his cheeks. He’d known you for a few short minutes and already, you’d burrowed your way into his mind. He convinced himself it was anger and nothing more, but the familiar ache in his chest suggested otherwise. 

“A woman spying for Treville,” he muttered. “I’ve never heard anything so… brilliant.” He could tell, just from the confidence in your gaze and the way you pointed that pistol at him that you were just as capable as any musketeer in his regiment. And a woman could go far more unnoticed than any man in uniform. 

As much as he hated to admit it, his anger was overridden by his admiration. 

You kept an eye on his shadowed figure, your irritation mixing with intrigue. 

Why should a musketeer care so much about what was happening to these women? But care he did. You could see it in his eyes. 

Those eyes. 

“Focus, Y/N,” you hissed at yourself. “The killer must be here somewhere.”

A figure stepped out of the shadows. “Yes, well, unfortunately, you won’t be around to catch him.” 

Hands grappled you from behind. 

“Let go of me!” Your cry carried across the street. 

Aramis leapt into action swiftly, but not as quick as the man waiting behind him. The blow to the back of his head prevented any plans of rescue. 

You fought against your captors even as the fabric covered your eyes. 

“Feisty one, isn’t she?” A voice sneered. 

“Maybe we should have left her for Claude.”

“Let’s get her in the cart.” 

“I will ensure you all hang!” You exclaimed, trying not to choke on the bag over your head. 

They dragged you to what must have been a cart that they promptly threw you into the back of, along with something else. 

Or someone. 

“Great,” you sighed. 

Treville was not going to be happy. 

-

“Aramis, wake up.” You shook the man’s shoulder with bound hands, examining the wound on his head. It had stopped bleeding at least. “Great help you are. Wake up.” 

Aramis groaned, eyes fluttering open and closed. 

“We have a problem,” you said, sitting back against the wall of the stables you were taken to. 

He tried to sit up, holding his head where dried blood now stained. 

You put a hand on his back to steady him. 

“Where are we?” He asked. 

“From the length of the ride, I would say it’s an estate at the edge of the city.” They had been careful to keep you from seeing anything on the way here and they’d taken the cart directly to the make-shift prison they were keeping you in. 

“Did you see them?”

You shook your head. “Bastards put a bag over me. Felt their disgusting hands though.”

Aramis tensed, jaw clenched as his eyes looked you over for injuries. “They didn’t hurt you did they?”

“No. No, I’m alright.” You couldn’t help but be touched by his clear concern. “Just angry at myself for letting them catch me to begin with.” 

“We were expecting a single madman, not an ambush. You couldn't have known.” 

“That’s the thing.” You pushed yourself to your feet, pacing around the small space while he leaned himself up in the corner, standing shakily. “The murders were carried about by a single person. Of that I’m certain. What could someone possibly gain by stopping us from catching him?” 

“They told me you were a clever one.” 

Both of you jumped at the voice. You moved instinctively in front of your injured companion. 

A woman stepped into the moonlight that streamed through the stable windows. You could just see her through the barred opening in the door. She wore a dark dress and gloves and a stern frown. She couldn’t have been much older than you. 

“All of this could have been a forgotten tragedy, but the musketeers had to stick their noses into it, didn’t they?” She adjusted her gloves. 

“You aren’t the killer,” you said. “Your hands have hardly seen the sunlight, let alone crushed the life out of another woman’s throat.” The venom in your voice was clear, not your usual feigned charm. This was not a situation that required being personable. 

“I can’t imagine what it’s like.” She wrinkled her nose. “A woman shouldn’t know such things. The details of a death.” 

“If you let us go, I’d be happy to give you a demonstration,” you hissed. 

She laughed. “Such spirit for a musketeer’s slut.” 

You gritted your teeth. 

Aramis put a hand on your shoulder. He shook his head, giving you a warning glance. 

“Who are you?” He asked. “Why are we here?” 

“Aramis, I’m offended you don’t remember me.” She smirked. “You are very familiar with a dear friend of mine, Lady Brizman.” 

His mind reeled, still pounding from being hit. Then, he placed why she looked familiar. 

“Lady Augustin.” 

“I was never pretty enough for you to chase, hm?” 

“It had far more to do with your husband than your looks, I can assure you.” 

Between her jealous words and the way she grimaced at the mention of her husband, the pieces came together. 

You stared her down, smiling as you understood. “It’s him, isn’t it? Your husband is the one killing those women.” 

“Lord Augustin is sick,” she snapped. She took a deep breath. “He just needs time. I’m going to help him.” 

“Then you’re just as despicable as he is,” you spat. “Maybe worse.”

“Y/N,” Aramis warned, seeing the terrible look in the woman’s eyes. 

Lady Augustin stepped closer to the locked door, her face inches from the barred opening. “Oh, he’ll have fun with you,” she said.

You reached your arm out of the opening, but she backed away laughing. 

“I’ll send my men down to fetch you when my husband returns home.” Her voice echoed cruelly down the corridor of the stables. “Think of it this way, dear Musketeer- with you to keep him occupied, how many women will your sacrifice be worth?”

“You won’t get away with this!” You called after her, clawing the outside of the door like a trapped animal. “You will face justice! You and your vile husband!”

You brought your arm in to pound both of your fists against the wood, trying to force the door open. You hit it again and again, splinters digging into the flesh of your hands. 

“Y/N,” Aramis said again, this time softer. 

“We have to get out. You heard her. I won’t let him have me.”

“Y/N-”

“They’ll kill you too,” you said, your panic clouding your judgment. “They’ll kill you and he’ll strangle me like all of those women and then he will never stop. We have to get out.” You felt tears hot on your cheeks more than you felt the blood now dripping from the scrapes on your hands. 

“Y/N, stop.” Aramis grabbed you around the middle, pulling you away from the door. 

“No!” You cried. “We have to stop them. We have to-” You choked on a frightened sob. 

You couldn't remember the last time you were this scared. 

Aramis wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him so you couldn’t go back to the door. 

“Let me go,” you demanded.

“Not until I know you aren’t going to tear your hands apart on a door that isn’t going to open,” he said softly, tucking you against his chest. “We’ll get out. We’ll find a way. I promise.” 

You took a couple of deep breaths, laying your forehead against his chest to calm yourself down. You pushed away, hastily wiping away your tears. 

“You’re right. Now isn’t the time to let them get to us.” You squared your shoulders and tensed your jaw, turning your face away so he couldn’t see your embarrassment at losing control. 

“Wait.” Aramis put a hand on your shoulder, turning you so you had to look at him. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

“Not in my position, it’s not.” 

Pushing away from him, you moved to the other side of your straw-covered cell. While your legs ached to move, you knew you needed to conserve your energy for when they returned. 

When Lord Augustin used you to appease his sick appetites. 

“I’m going to just…” Aramis leaned against the wall, sliding down to ease the horrible pounding in his injured head. 

He forced himself to stay awake, trying to think of a plan of escape. Treville would realize the two of you were gone. Perhaps he would send Porthos or one of the others to search. 

Aramis grimaced. 

That would take too long. By the time anyone found the two of you, Lord Augustin would have put a bullet in Aramis’s skull, and… he didn’t want to think what would happen to you. 

You’d have to work together to find a way out, to tell Treville and the King that the killer was a nobleman and you’d have to find decent evidence in order to convince the court that a member of ‘higher society’ was capable of such crimes, otherwise, they could simply frame some poor stable boy. 

You’d seen it happen before. 

“I’m sorry you were dragged into this,” you said softly. 

Aramis laid his head back, shrugging. “It was my own fault. Not my mission, remember?” He gave you a smirk. 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s right. You should have minded your own businesses and then you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Ah, but then you’d miss my company.” 

You snorted. 

He closed his eyes. 

And you both waited. 

-

They came for him first. 

Men in dark clothes- hired thugs, most likely- unlocked the stable cell door and slid it open. 

You leapt to your feet, eyes on the pistols in their hands. 

“Stay away,” you spat. 

One of them sneered, taking a step toward you with his weapon aimed at your stomach. He ran a hand down your cheek. 

“Oh, we’re not here for you, beautiful.” He pressed his gun against your soft skin. “Too bad though. I would have loved to have a chance to soften you up for the madman.”

“Leave her alone,” Aramis said, getting to his feet. 

One of the other men kicked him back down, landing a blow to his leg and then his stomach once he was back on the ground. 

Aramis groaned. 

“Stop it,” you cried, jumping forward to try and intervene. 

The blonde man with you caught you around the waist, holding you there while the other two continued to beat on the poor musketeer until blood dripped from his mouth and his breathing turned ragged. 

The whimper fell from your lips before you really even understood why. “Aramis.” It almost felt like a prayer. 

Whatever feeling had overtaken you in that moment gave you enough strength to break away from your captor, snatching his weapon in the process. You forced him back with a powerful shove. 

“What in the-” He started, but the loud shot from his own weapon- and the bullet through his chest- silenced him. 

Aramis took the moment of shock on his comrade's faces to cease his painful performance and swing his legs into theirs, knocking them both off their feet before they could turn their attentions and their weapons to you. 

“Someone will have heard that,” he said. 

“Then we better act quickly.” You grabbed the sword off the belt of the man you shot.

Aramis took both from the men on the ground. 

You exchanged a look and ran out of the cell, taking the first turn you found and cutting down two more guards as you went.

“You know,” Aramis said, catching his breath, “we make a decent pair, you and I.”

You snorted. “They hit you too hard, soldier.”

He chuckled and continued down the corridor, leading the two of you into some kind of cellar, but not one for wine.

“My God,” you gasped, hand lifting to your lips in shock.

Before you laid the remains of at least half a dozen more women. The smell alone made your stomach turn.

“Monster,” Aramis muttered, eyes widening with every bloody sight. 

The strangled women were just the beginning. Butchery was his real interest. 

You swallowed back bile. “We need to get to Treville.”

Aramis simply nodded. Something inside of him snapped. He clenched his fists. 

You noticed the tension in his back. 

“We need to go.” When he didn’t move, you took his hand. “We’ll send someone to give them a proper burial,” you said. “But we can’t do that if we’re dead, Aramis.” 

He nodded again. Aramis let you lead him out of that horrible room. 

With his hand in yours, you felt as though the darkness in this house couldn’t reach you. This man who had infuriated you just hours earlier now filled you with the courage you needed to keep walking after seeing those poor women lying there. 

You ducked into a smaller corridor to let a group of servants go by and to let Aramis rest. You could tell that his head injury still troubled him and you couldn’t have him fainting on you in the middle of a fight. 

“We have our evidence now,” he said darkly. He shifted, his body brushing against yours with every move, every breath. 

Having him pressed so close to you, you held your breath, afraid that if his skin brushed yours, you’d break completely.

“That could have been me,” you whispered, some of your panic from before seeping into your tone. 

Aramis lifted a hand to your cheek. “We’re going to stop him.” 

Perhaps it was the intensity of the moment or the terror of facing such a violent death that drew you to him. Or maybe it was just his eyes. 

Aramis leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

And you let him. 

You couldn’t remember you’d felt a man’s lips when you weren’t trying to draw information from them. 

“We could find the exit,” he suggested. “Find Treville and bring him here to arrest the lord and lady.”

You looked at each other, knowing both of your answers without having to say anything. 

The two of you took off down the hallway to arrest the Augustins yourselves.

- 

The manor house felt more like a small castle the more you made your way down twisting corridors and endless stairs. With every careful step, Aramis was right behind you, stolen guns at the ready in case you ran into the villains. 

Having always worked alone, you expected to feel more uncomfortable with him there. It was far more difficult to sneak two people around, but his presence provided more assistance than irritation. The idea of being in this place alone made your skin crawl. 

“You there!” Someone shouted. 

It was definitely harder to sneak two people around. 

“It’s that musketeer!” Another guard shouted. “Get him!”

“You seem to be quite popular,” you muttered, whittling around and firing a shot into the chest of one of the incoming thugs. 

“What can I say?” Aramis shot another. “I have that effect.” 

You laughed, surprised by the light sound that came from you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly laughed. Either his arrogance was growing on you or you were more rattled than you thought. Perhaps a mix of both. 

The two of you stood back to back, fighting off more guards as they ran towards you from both sides of the hall. 

“He has more guards than the king,” you exasperated. 

“But not better ones.” He expertly disarmed his opponent, using the man’s sword to run him through. 

“We’ll have to hurry. Lord and Lady Augustine will try to escape.” You took down another, clearing a path for the two of you to reach the upper chambers of the house. Grabbing Aramis by the arm you pulled him into a room with a heavy wooden door. 

“We won’t be able to hold them off for long,” he said, pushing a heavy-looking table in front of the entrance. 

You stared out in front of you. “We won’t have to.” 

Aramis whipped around, finding the two owners of the house standing before you in front of a large dining room table. 

“How nice of you to join us,” Lord Augustine said. He pulled out a chair. “I’ve heard so much about you mademoiselle.” His cold eyes shifted to the man beside you. “And you, musketeer.”

Aramis held out his sword. “Don’t come any closer.” 

“You’re in my house. I don’t think it’s polite to give me any orders.” Augustine stepped towards you. “Such a fine neck…”

You shuddered. 

Aramis put his arm in front of you. “I’m arresting you in the name of the king for the murder of at least a dozen French women.” 

“We won’t be going anywhere,” Lady Augustine said. She pointed a pistol at your head over his shoulder. “Now drop your sword, musketeer, or I’ll be forced to cut this evening short. 

Aramis lowered his voice. “I need you to reach into my trousers.”

“What?”

“There is a pistol tucked in my waistband that they failed to take away.”

“Why didn’t you use it before?” You hissed.

Lord and Lady Augustine exchanged confused and irritated looks. 

“I’ve been saving it for something like this.” Honestly, in the chaos of the evening, he’d half forgotten it was there. He shifted closer to you to make it easier. “Just grab it.” 

“You are a strange man,” you muttered. Keeping an eye on the woman aiming a weapon at you, your hand traveled across and down Aramis’ back.

He did his best not to shiver at your touch, liking it far too much given the situation. 

“Make one more move and I’ll blow your head off,” Lady Augustine threatened. 

“Now, now, there’s no need for that.” The Lord gave you a wide smile. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement. I’d hate for someone so fine to go to waste.”

“I’m going to enjoy this,” you growled. 

Aramis’ shoulders tensed. “Do you have it?”

In answer, you raised the hidden weapon and fired it under his arm. The bullet struck Lady Augustine in the chest, propelling her backward and making her pistol clatter to the table. 

Lord Augustine launched himself at Aramis, swinging a knife wildly, his cool exterior replaced by a rapid monster. His ferocity took Aramis by surprise, almost failing to deflect his first attack. 

The two of them locked in battle and even in his weakened state, Aramis kept him at bay. But Lord Augustine’s fury was hard to combat. He knocked Aramis’ sword out of his hand and raised his own blade for a final strike. 

A great shot rang through the room.

Aramis turned to find you clutching Lady Augustine’s pistol in your hands. 

“For the women of Paris,” you muttered, letting the weapon fall from your exhausted grip. 

-

Everything moved fairly quickly from there. Augustine’s guards were arrested for aiding him, the bodies from the basement were removed to be properly buried, and Treville was furious that Aramis went against him but could hardly say anything about the results. 

But for all of the good that came out of it, Aramis hated every second for he was being hailed as the singular hero who solved the case and brought the killers to justice. You were left to the shadows of isolation and secrecy. 

He hadn’t even been allowed to see you since the soldiers had arrived at the manor. It pained him more than he could explain. Being apart from you felt like being kicked as he had in the cell- over and over until all he could feel was the ache. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Porthos asked, snapping his friend out of his trance. “Is that Augustine still bothering you?” He took the seat across from Aramis, shaking his head. “I’m just glad you shot the bastard. Men like that always have a way of escaping justice at a trial.”

Aramis opened his mouth to object, to announce that he hadn’t defeated the monster, that he’d almost been killed himself had it not been for the woman he couldn't get off his mind. But he felt Treville watching him from his office balcony and kept quiet.

“Aramis!” The Captain called down to him. He motioned for him to come with him and vanished behind his door. 

“Must be in trouble,” Porthos muttered teasingly. 

Aramis didn’t laugh. 

He trudged up the steps with the memory of Augustine’s threats toward you playing on his mind. Aramis pushed through the door feeling weighed down by all of the events and emotions plaguing him for the last several days. 

“You look like hell,” Treville sighed, leaning over his desk with a look of concern. “Come in. Sit.” 

Aramis did as he was told without any of his usual banter or clever remarks. 

Treville ran a hand down his face. “Have you mentioned the woman you worked with to anyone?” 

Aramis shook his head. 

“Good.” Treville took a seat. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, Y/N’s anonymity is imperative to her position with us. If anyone were to find out who she was or that she worked for me, it could put her in grave danger.”

“I understand.” 

“However,” Treville blew out a breath, “since neither of you seem to be able to stop moping about it.” He waved to someone in the corner of the room. 

You stepped forward. 

Aramis jumped up out of his seat, eyes widening. “Y/N.”

“Hello Aramis,” you smiled. 

For a man you’d wanted to shoot the first time you met him, the urge to run into his arms nearly overtook you. 

Treville cleared his throat. 

“I will give you two a moment to speak.” He eyed Aramis on the last word. “I can’t stand watching both of you sulk about anymore.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said quietly. 

Aramis bowed slightly as the captain left. 

The two of you turned back to each other. 

And closed the space between you. 

Aramis wrapped his arms around you, holding you as tight as he had when he held you in that horrible cell. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his presence even as it broke down the wall you’d spent years building around yourself. 

“I wasn’t sure what happened to you,” he said. “I knew that you were alright, but I haven’t been able to stop worrying.”

You pulled away to look into those eyes that had been in your dreams every night since you saw them first. 

“I was concerned that perhaps your injuries were worse than you let on,” you laughed lightly. “But I’m sure you’ve encountered worse.”

“I can handle a bump on the head, I assure you,” Aramis smiled. 

“I’m glad that the king’s finest can handle themselves.” You playfully poked his chest. “Even if they occasionally require a woman to rescue them.”

“I believe I rescued you first.” 

You raised a brow. “Whatever helps your precious musketeer ego.” 

Aramis chuckled, raising a hand to your cheek. 

You leaned into his touch.

The two of you drew closer. 

Abruptly, you pushed away. Your feet paced in front of the captain’s desk, trying to put distance between you and the man before you. 

“What are we doing?” You exclaimed, running your fingers through your hair. “A week ago, I never would have thought twice about an assignment, but you have changed everything for me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Aramis wondered, taking a slow step toward you. 

“You don’t understand, Aramis. I’m not like you.” Your heart, usually cold and guarded, was breaking as you spoke. “I don’t live in the day and the battles and the light. I live in the secrets of this city. I am a shadow. I’m not real.”

“You are.” He closed the space again, putting his hands on your arms. “You are real.” 

“I am a lie,” you cried, shaking your head. “The things that I have to do… the depths to which I have had to sink in order to accomplish a mission… I could never ask you to live with that.”

“I don’t care about any of it.” He lifted his hand to your face again, running a thumb along your bottom lip. “Even if these lips speak lies, I know that there is truth in your heart.” He looked into your eyes. “And I know that you feel what I feel, otherwise you wouldn’t have come back to me.” 

“Aramis-” You blinked back desperate tears. He was right, of course. You couldn't remember the last time you’d felt like this. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt.

Now it was you who closed the air between you, catching his lips with yours, finally letting yourself be true. 

-

“And the rest is history,” Aramis beamed, kissing you as if it was for the first time. 

The three men before you sat in awed silence. Porthos even looked to be on the verge of tears.

“That’s a beautiful story,” he said, clearing his throat to keep his emotions in check. 

“Well, it was until the captain found out.” You winced at the memory. 

Needless to say, Treville was far from thrilled that his top spy was seeing one of his more ostentatious soldiers. Things especially got messy when Porthos found out, followed by Athos. And now D’Artagnan.

“So what happened after that?” D’Artagnan wondered. “The two of you don’t exactly have a lot of time in between assignments, I imagine.”

Aramis shrugged. “I spent every minute I could with her. And with every minute, I fell more and more in love.” 

“And what of the, um,” D’Artagnan cleared his throat, “more delicate parts of her work?” 

Aramis shot him a look. 

“We deal with it,” you said, pouring everyone more wine. “I do what I have to to protect this city and its people, just like the rest of you.”

“And she’s damn fine at her job.” Aramis kissed her cheek. “I can’t count all of the plots that have been defeated because of her courage and cunning.” 

You glanced at him. 

He cleared his throat. “Not that I know about any of the ones I’m definitely not supposed to know about.”

You rolled your eyes, rustled his hair, and pulled him in for another kiss. 

“I’m glad she’s on our side,” Athos said, giving you a smirk. 

“Here here,” Porthos cheered. 

The five of you clinked your cups together. 

It was a long and winding path that brought you here and an even longer one laid before you. But with these men to walk it beside you, with your loving husband to hold your hand along the way, it was a path you were more than happy to walk. 

[controlmyfeet]

dad!matty is everything to me. maybe something with reader having a grand reveal that she is pregnant and matty losing his mind and after the news he always keeps his hand on her belly AHHHHh!

when we are together - matty healy

future dad!matty healy x reader

fluff

warnings: emetophobia, pregnancy, simp matty

a/n: at first i loved this, then i hated it, and now i think i like it. i hope you do too. also to everyone that sent requests, i saw them and i’m working on them but it’s going to take a while! thank you for your patience <3

2463 words

i thought the nausea was just a consequence of the migraine i had at the beginning of the week. for the past month, i’ve been trying to adapt to my new job. i’ve been working at the same place for almost a year, but recently i moved to a new department, and everything has been so stressful that i haven’t been sleeping or eating enough, but it’s been two days, and i am once again spilling whatever i had for dinner down the toilet.

it’s 3 a.m. and matty has been to go to the studio early in the morning, so i decided not to wake him up. but when i hear our bedsheets rustle a little louder and the sound of the bathroom door sliding open, i realize it was no use.

“oh baby,” he says softly and reaches towards the counter to grab a hair tie. he runs his fingers through my hair and puts it in a loose ponytail to keep it out of my face. “let go, you’re alright.”

he sits with me until after i’m done throwing up, his hands running up and down my back. i try to use the feeling of him to control my breathing.

“sorry i woke you up,” i say, still breathing heavily after a long silence, my arms propped on the toilet seat and my face still hovering over the toilet bowl, just in case.

“don’t apologize, darling” he squeezes my left shoulder and leaves a little kiss. i turn my face to look at him, eyebrows frowned, and lips pursed “i’m worried about you.”

“i probably got a stomach bug or something.”

i see his sleepy face flash with the sudden realization, “when was the last time you got you’re period?”

as soon as i hear those words, i feel a wave of panic wash over me. i was supposed to have my period almost two weeks ago. my period was mostly regular, maybe some days earlier or later, but never weeks. with all the stress and meetings at work, i must’ve forgotten about it.

“oh shit”

he tries not to laugh at my reaction, seeming too calm about this situation. we’ve talked about having children someday, but this is so sudden. we have nothing planned.

“i can run to the store and grab a few tests,” he says before i start overthinking. hands moving to cup my cheek so i can focus on him, his warm skin contrasting the cold toilet seat. “if you want that, of course.”

“yeah”

“okay, let me just grab a shirt then” he moves to stand up, way too excited for someone who woke up in the middle of the night to his girlfriend vomiting. but i quickly grab his arm, pulling him closer.

“matty, wait,” he shuffles closer to me and i hug his arm tighter. “and what if i really am pregnant?”

“we’ll do whatever you want,” he grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “you know i’d love to have a baby with you, and i understand if now it’s not the best moment. but we could work it out, right? we’re in love, we’re settled, and we’re surrounded by people who love and care for us; we’d be alright.”

i nod and take a deep breath, feeling much happier and calmer about the situation. and also very grateful to have someone so understanding and loving by my side.

“do you want to lay for a bit, or do you want to stay here in case the nausea comes back?” he asks, still holding my hand.

“i’ll lay down, i don’t think there’s anything left”

slowly, he stands up and helps me get up. i turn to the sink and he helps me hold my balance on the counter, standing behind me while i brush my teeth and holding my waist so i can stand up straight.

“you know i love you no matter what, right?” i feel his lips moving against my hair after i spit out the toothpaste. “and having a baby would just make me love you even more.”

i turn around and wrap my arms around him, hiding my face in the crook of his neck and leaving a kiss there. “i love you too.”

matty helps me to bed and adjusts my pillow before grabbing a used shirt and his wallet. he sits with me for a while. calloused fingers stroking my hair softly and his low voice telling me i’ll be alright. we’ll be alright. he pecks my lips before telling me he’ll be right back.

before i can even hear our front door closing, my thoughts are already taken over by little feet, bouncy curls, and big brown eyes.

–

i realize i had fallen asleep only when i feel matty’s fingers brushing my hair away from my face and his lips pressing against my forehead. “you ready?” he whispers

we make our way to the bathroom, and i take the three tests he bought. i place them next to the sink and he sets a timer. before i can feel the anxiety creeping in once again, matty pulls me into his arms and rests his chin on the top of my head.

“i don’t know if this is more scary or exciting,” i whisper and wrap my arms around his waist tightly.

“i know, baby. but we’re in this together, okay? i’ll be here for anything you need.”

he runs his fingers through my hair, and i leave a kiss on his chest. the room is quiet for a while; the only noise i can hear are our breaths and his heartbeat. the silence makes my earlier thoughts come back. pink chubby cheeks, little hands wrapping around my finger. high-pitched giggles echoing throughout the house.

“i think we’d make pretty cool babies,” he says after a while, reading my thoughts.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” i can feel his grin on the top of my head. “half me, half you? that’s a recipe for the coolest kid ever.”

we stand holding each other in the middle of the bathroom until the timer goes off. hiding my smile on his chest as he kisses my head. when the ringtone echoes in the cold bathroom, i feel a rush of adrenaline running through my veins, and i’m pretty sure my hands start to shake.

“i’m not sure if i can look” i let a nervous laugh out and cover my face; he lifts a hand and softly caresses my arm.

“do you want to do it together? or do you want me to look first?”

“no…no, let’s do it together.” i cup his face and give him a chaste kiss.

matty takes each of the tests out of the little cup and turns it around. and as soon as he does, i see the two little red lines, and before i can even process it, matty is already looking at me, waiting for my reaction. but i can see the twinkle in his eyes and the smile he is trying to hold back and i let out a laugh.

“i’m pregnant,” my eyes crowd with happy tears threatening to spill over “we’re having a baby!”

“yeah?” he asks, fully smiling now. i can just nod. and smile.

matty wraps his arms tightly around my waist and lifts me, peppering kisses all over my face. his laugh mixed with sobs. i hold him just as tightly.

“oh darling, i love you so much.” his voice is muffled as he rests his head on the crook of my neck, tears of joy dampening my skin.

“i love you too, matty,” i reply, nuzzling my face in his hair “i can’t wait to see you with our little baby.”

i feel his grip tighten around me, more than i thought possible. face still hidden in my neck and leaving little kisses there.

“you’re going to be the hottest mum ever.” he lifts his head to give me a heartfelt kiss when i start laughing, “best mum too.”

–

it’s been a few weeks since we found out i’m pregnant, so to enjoy the little free time the boys had before going back on tour, matty and i decided to host a sunday lunch at our house. we haven’t told the news to anyone besides our parents. we wanted to enjoy it by ourselves for a bit, even though i worried at first that denise’s enthusiasm would give it away.

i was chopping up some peaches for the pasta salad recipe i saw on tiktok while sitting on a stool. i usually would do this standing up, but matty has been watching over me like a hawk and insisted that i sit down, saying that i shouldn’t overwork my body. whatever that means, i guess. i haven’t even started showing yet, i can’t even imagine how he will act when my bump starts growing.

he comes into the kitchen carrying a few packs of beer and some of the extra ingredients i asked him to buy, and settles everything on the counter. he steals a small piece of the peach i’ve been cutting and comes behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“how are you feeling, my love?” he asks, moving his right hand to rest on my stomach. i stop what i am doing and turn my head to face him.

“i’m good, i think the nausea phase might be coming to an end.” he nods and i place my hand on top of his. “you’re gonna have to be more discreet, y’know?”

“what do you mean?” he frowns and i fight the urge to run my thumb over the crease between his eyebrows.

“i mean that if we’re going to keep a secret, you can’t be with your hands on my tummy all the time!” i explain while holding back a laugh. “and you also can’t treat me as if i was made of glass.”

“but i want to feel her!” he protests and his frown gets deeper as he tries to prove his point by pushing his hand more firmly on my belly. i move both of my hands to cup his face.

“baby, there is nothing to feel yet.” i try to be serious, but matty’s desolate face sends me into a fit of giggles, “and you don’t even know if it is a her, we won’t know for a few months still.”

my attempt to reason with him completely fails as his face turns into one of shock, as if the things i was saying were the most absurd he’s ever heard “oh, i know we are having a little girl, alright? i’m a hundred percent certain.”

still laughing at my boyfriend’s antics, i give up on reasoning and entirely turn around, wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing his lips to mine.

–

adam and carly were the first ones to arrive, with little baby hann clinging onto both of their hands. soon, ross arrived with his girlfriend, anna, and matty started grilling the burgers, knowing that george and charli would most likely be late as usual. after our talk in the kitchen, he sulked but understood that he couldn’t be on me all the time or it would look suspicious. sure, he is an affectionate person, but with how he acted, everyone would notice that there was something more to it. still, he would go out of his way to pull my chair and refill my water while not subtly caressing my belly.

i had told everyone i wouldn’t be able to drink since i would have a medical checkup the following day and had to do some routine blood tests. which wasn’t exactly a lie, but i was leaving some crucial information out, of course. so when george and charli showed up with an entire jar of clericot, i knew we’d have some problems.

she bought my excuse at first, sharing most of the drink she made with carly and anna, but after two glasses, she started getting a little persistent.

“girl, i made this whole jar of clericot just because i know you like it!” charli complained, almost pouting at this point. and it really is one of my favorite beverages for the summer, but it’s not worth it. i can see matty at the grill giving me not-so-subtle glances as if to say, ‘don’t do it’.

“i can’t, charli, it’ll mess up my tests,” i tried to reason while nibbling on a slice of seasoned peach, but george’s girlfriend is just as stubborn as my own boyfriend.

“oh c’mon, just one glass won’t hurt,” she protested. “it’s not like you’re pregnant.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, my eyes widen and matty turns his head so quickly that it might’ve given him whiplash. so much for being discreet. we exchange looks while my brain works to come up with something to back up my excuse.

“well, uhm, i–those are some very important tests i got to do.”

“oh yeah? what are they for?” carly–who usually would just watch and laugh at our banter–joins in, not at all convinced by my excuse.

“cholesterol?”

no one responds. the girls are exchanging suspicious glances with george and adam–whose little boy on his lap is too preoccupied with his toy cars to pay attention to the conversation–as i turn to matty, begging for some backup. he just looks at me nervously and shrugs.

“that is such bullshit!” ross, who had been helping matty at the grill, exclaims after almost a full minute of silence.

matty comes up behind me with a big smile and wraps his arms around my shoulder. “just tell them at this point, love,” he whispers just for me to hear and leaves an encouraging kiss on my neck.

“well?” charli asks, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. as well as everyone else’s in the room. i take a final look at matty before turning back to them.

“we’re pregnant!” i exclaim, now smiling so widely my cheeks hurt.

all i can hear is the cheer and the laughter from our friends as matty presses several kisses to my cheek before they come to congratulate us. i stand up from my chair as soon as adam pulls matty into a hug and ross is the first one to embrace me, soon followed by charli.

the day resumes with a toast and lots of smiles after the food is served. adam and carly tell us stories of their baby boy, and george reminds us of all the anecdotes of the boys in their pre-teens. and i can’t help but think how it will be when our little one meets its lovely uncles and aunties.

[pennyserenade]

wish you were here.

chapter five - fade into you | ao3 link | previous chapter

pairing: javier peña x female oc, javier peña x named female oc (mariella) rating: t (teen) tags/warnings: angst, brief mention of infidelity, alcohol word count: 2.1k summary: Mariella and Javier continue to feel their way through a friendship. a/n: sorry this is taking me so long to write. love you

A tattered floral scrapbook of Mariella’s sits, face up, on the table. She stands in the corner of her kitchen, looking at it as though it has wronged her in some way. And in some ways, it has. 

In one hand she holds a glass of water and in the other, her telephone. Henry Rath’s number has been typed in, and her fingers hesitate to dial it. The trip down memory lane has proved to be a bitter one. So much of her life had been documented in that scrapbook, from graduations to weddings to the first house, to the very last birthdays she and Henry would spend as a couple together. It was hard to ignore him when he was all there—a little piece of him merged forever with a little piece of her. 

She knew it wasn’t fair, what she did to him. Or rather, what she’s doing to him. In the past three months, he’s left a handful of voicemails she’s deleted before even finishing. She screens most of her calls, just on the offhand chance that it might be him, and each time it makes her feel wrong. At first, it started off with good intention—she wanted to leave him alone, to let him go back to his life. But eventually, the more she thought about what they had done, the more ignoring him became less altruistic. Every time she hears the phone ring, she thinks of him in that hotel room and that little girl that hung on his hip, and she wants as far from it as possible. 

She places the telephone back in its cradle. The excuses are endless: it is Tuesday and she works tomorrow, so she shouldn’t start something she doesn’t know she can’t stop; he probably isn’t home from work yet; he’s likely forgotten about it and to call and remind him now would be cruel; his wife could pick up; closure isn’t the sort of thing either of them are particularly good at. 

Mariella picks up the telephone again. She waits patiently as it rings. 

“Hello?” Chucho answers. 

She leans back onto the counter, swirling the water in her cup. “Hey, Chucho. I was wondering if Javi’s home.”

“Javi?” he asks, sounding surprised. 

“Yeah, Javi. I never thanked him for helping me with my classroom last month and I’d like to.”

There’s a beat of silence before Chucho speaks again. “Javi’s always home, just never know where,” the man laughs. “Would it be alright if I had him call you back? I gotta go find him.”

Mariella glances over at the scrapbook on the table. “That’d be lovely, Chucho. Thank you.” 

When he hangs up, she moves over and closes the book shut. If she wasn’t so goddamn sentimental, she might throw the whole thing away but she is, so she can’t. Instead she tucks it away in the cupboards over her oven, where she’s stored a lone bottle of tequila for about two years now, and then she sits back, waiting. The phone rings a few moments later and she doesn’t hesitate to answer it. “Hello,” she picks up. 

“Mariella?” Javier asks. His voice is low, almost a whisper. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t called you sooner. I wanted to thank you for the classroom. I’ve been using it for about a week now, and it looks wonderful.”

On the other end, she can hear him shift with the phone. “It was no problem,” he replies softly. Then, after a pause, he says, “How are you, Mari?” 

“I’m good, Javier.”

“That’s, uh, that’s good.”

“How about you?” 

More movement. “I’m good too.” 

“My dad says he hasn’t seen you in the movie store as of late,” she says. Javier coughs awkwardly. 

“No? I guess I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy avoiding me? ‘Cause if so, I assure you that’s a safe zone. I don’t work there during the school year, remember?” It’s meant to come out teasing, but, at the current moment, she lacks the exact humor needed to pull off the weight of that sentence. She punctuates it with a laugh that is more of a huff than anything.

He protests. “I—That’s not why.”

“No?” she asks simply. 

“No, not really. There’s just been a lot to do around here. We got new horses. There’s a fence that needs to be built. Chucho just needs me more than the television does.” He attempts to laugh, but it sounds forced. She doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“Think you could spare an hour or two to go get dinner with me?” 

“You want to get dinner?” he sounds in disbelief. 

She can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. One of my new student’s parents owns the bar downtown. They gave me two coupons for a free dinner.”

“Oh,” he replies. “Well, I’ll have to get cleaned up. Can you wait?”

“Sure.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you there at, uh—“ Another pause, “—how about seven?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright, see you then,” he replies. 

“Yeah, bye,” she adds awkwardly, hanging up. 

Slumping her shoulders, she lets out a deep sigh. Why must everything feel so fucking hard lately?

—-

“Thought you didn’t go to bars,” Javier says, bringing his beer to his mouth. He’s teasing, she can tell: that slanted brow, the pursued lips working hard not to press into a comely grin. She takes a sip of her own drink, and shrugs her shoulders. 

“I don’t,” she hums in response. 

The dinner crowd at the bar is surprisingly large, but conversation is easy to have. It’s nicer, really, in a place like this - too busy to have to worry if the table next to you is listening in. Not that she and Javier have ventured to any topics unsafe for public consumption. They’ve been good, drinking their beers, making small talk the way one might with a friend they’ve grown apart with. It’s got an intimate air to it, but it’s stilted for a strange, heartbreaking reason. 

They don’t talk about all that happened weeks ago, or why they’re sitting here now. Mariella doesn’t mind, really. This is the thing she enjoys about Javier, what she has seen in him since the beginning: he isn’t interested in brewing in the past. If she were a better woman, this might worry her, but luckily enough she isn’t. She understands all too well the temptation to look forward and never backward. 

The beer is making her feel warm and pleasantly buzzed. In the corner, there is a jukebox playing soft country songs and some people are dancing slowly in the middle. She and Javi watch them curiously, resting back in their chairs. 

“How’s the teaching going?” He looks back over at her. 

“It’s going well. The kid’s are as brilliant and witty as ever,” she smiles softly. “How’s the farm?”

Javier shrugs his shoulders. “It’s work. For the first time in months, I’m finally getting a full night’s rest, though, so I won’t complain too much.”

“I’ve always loved that piece of land,” Mariella says, looking back at the dancing patrons. “Miles upon miles of greenery. And the horses! I love driving up and watching them run.”

This makes Javier smile. “Chucho is proud of it and he should be, I suppose. I certainly appreciate it more now than I used to. In Colombia, it was like that—beautiful, I mean. And so green. Standing out in the fields sometimes reminds me of being back there.”

“Do you miss it?” she asks, before she finds the sense to know better. 

Javier’s eyes rake over the crowd, too. He watches a young couple in the corner for a bit, smiling as the boy’s hand gradually works its way lower on the girl’s back. Before he touches her ass, Javi looks back to Mariella, his smile faint but present. “Sometimes,” he answers. 

“I’d love to go someday.”

“You should,” he encourages. “It’s magnificent, really, unlike anything else. That shit they say in the news—it’s true, but not nearly that bad. Not for regular people with clean hands.”

Mariella shakes her head. “Just when I thought you had me sold, you had and go say that.”

“What, your hands dirty?” he narrows his eyes. 

She holds her palms out. “Red,” she nods, though they aren’t. He breathes out a quiet laugh. 

“I think you’d be alright—but go to Mexico first.” 

“You sound like my mother,” she laughs too. 

Looking over at Javi, Mariella debates whether to ask him if he wants to dance or not. The beer has made her feel a little more relaxed, but she’s not without her reason. She remembers the first day they met - really met - and how he said he didn’t know how to dance anymore. She also remembers the kitchen, and the incident that has driven them apart for a month. 

Before she’s given the chance, a woman stops in front of the table. She’s pretty — big blue eyes, an endearing grin — the kind of woman for whom the country accent was made to be spoken by. “Javi,” she says, someplace between shocked and amazed. 

Mariella feels bad at first, thinking this is going to be another one of those small town run-ins he hates, but when she looks over at him, she can tell it’s not. Something softer takes hold of him, something almost tender.  Mariella feels almost like an intruder as he says, “Hey, Lorraine.”

Lorraine’s eyes meet Mariella’s, and then go back to Javi’s. Javi understands. “Mariella, this is Lorraine. She’s my—“

“His old friend,” she finishes for him, extending her hand for Mariella to shake. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve known about you for years. You’re all your Daddy talks about on Sundays sometimes.”

Lorraine can’t be much older than she is—maybe five or six years—and yet she seems so much more mature. She looks like what Mariella feels she’s been trying to attain her whole life: this perfect, well-rounded, soft-spoken girl who says words like ‘Daddy’ and manages not only to sound sincere, but sweet. 

Mariella shakes her head and smiles politely. “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

Lorraine glances over her shoulder, holding her finger up to a man standing by the entrance. “My husband,” she supplies, looking back at them both. “Listen, I better get going but I just wanted to say it’s nice to see you out and about, Javi. A lot of people here missed you.” Lorraine looks over to Mariella. “And really, it’s lovely to meet you, Mariella. I wish I had more time to sit and chat, because so many people have been telling us about your school. I’ve got a little one about school going age, and I’d love to put her in it.”

“Oh,” Mariella says, “Well, I can give you my number if you’d like.”

“Could you?” Lorraine smiles. “Oh, that’d be lovely.”

Mariella reaches into her purse and rummages around for a pen. When she finds it, she takes one of the napkins from the table and quickly jots down her information. “I wrote down my home number and the school’s. I wouldn’t mind answering any questions you have, but if you’re interested in enrollment information, the office number will be most helpful.”

Lorraine nods. Her hair bounces with her head, and Mariella can’t help but feel like she’s encountered a real life Barbie of sorts. She can imagine that she and Javier must’ve been real good friends, but it doesn’t do anything more than amuse her. 

“Bye, Javi,” Lorraine says, throwing up a hand. She pats Mariella on the shoulder on the way out, “Thank you again,” she says softly. 

Mariella rushes out an “Oh, you’re welcome” and Javier offers a wordless smile. They both watch her return to her husband, but Mariella returns her eyes to Javier long before he does to her. She watches the way a frown takes over his lips. 

Javier brings his beer back to his lips, seemingly shaking the encounter off. The tenderness is replaced by whatever was there before. It’s no less kind, but certainly not as intense. 

“She was my fiancée, once upon a time,” he explains. Mariella wouldn’t have asked, but she’s happy he’s willing to give her that information freely. She nods her head, not saying anything in reply. 

Her eyes return to the crowd, and they both settle into an introspective silence. Mariella forgets she ever wanted to ask him to dance in the first place. For a little bit, she even forgets her own troubles, too. 

She didn’t entirely know why she had called for Javier like she had earlier. He’d been on her mind, sure, but no more than Henry. In fact, a lot less than Henry. Something inside of her had told her to do it, so she had. She’s happy she did, now. 

Misery loves company they say, and she thinks she might’ve found herself a companion in one Javier Peña. 

[reminiscingtonight]

She’s All Mine

Rose Lavelle x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

She’s All Yours (Part One)

[WOSO Masterlist]

When there’s a slight knock on your door, you barely stop your automatic groan before it escapes. 

The past couple days have been rough. Between a new case being assigned to you and the fallout of a previous case falling upon your desk, you can’t even recall the last time you slept in your own bed. You’ve been living off shitty coffee and fumes the past couple of days, doing everything you can to sort through all of your documents, trying to get everything in order. 

Rubbing tiredly at your eyes, you look up just as your secretary opens the door, an apologetic look on her face when she takes in the files thrown everywhere on your desk. 

“What’s up?”

“Someone’s here to see you.”

You frown, eyes already back on your files, sorting through the papers. “Are they on the list?”

“Uh, well… no.”

You sigh, not looking up. Although you’ve been at this for a while, you still haven’t made too much progress. There’s one specific document you were looking for, and if you don’t find it before your meeting tomorrow, you’re more than screwed. “Liz, you know the rules. If they aren’t on the list, they don’t get access--”

“Well I can’t exactly say no to them.”

Her voice is tight, making you look up with furrowed brows. “What do you mean? I’ve seen you say no to people twice your size or those big suits who think they hold all the power.”

She fidgets in her place, looking more and more uncomfortable as the seconds tick by. “No I mean it, I can’t say no to her. Like it’s… It’s not possible. At all.”

Your confusion has morphed into concern, seeing your normally calm and collected secretary so unsettled. “Liz--”

“It’s Rose Lavelle. She’s here to see you. And turning her away is like… it’s like turning away royalty.” The last word is whispered out in awe. Liz is a huge soccer fan, that much you know. Now you understand why she’s so hesitant to turn away your visitor. 

After running into Rose by accident all those weeks ago, the two of you have struck up an interesting relationship. She kept true to her word, taking you out to coffee a few days after your initial meeting. And then she did it again. And again. Along with coffee came late night dinners, catching meals after her games, going out to see movies, things of the sort. The two of you have gone out quite a lot, if you’re really thinking about it. The only thing the two of you haven’t done is put a label on anything. 

All at once you’re dropping the papers in your hands, subconsciously running a hand through your messy hair. You nervously clear your throat. “Uh, it’s fine, she’s fine, you can-- go ahead and send her in.”

Liz nods, quickly ducking back out the door. 

In your head you’re quickly counting to twenty, trying to make yourself look a bit more presentable before you know Rose is coming in. A brief look at your reflection through your laptop has you cringing. You really did look like you haven’t been home in days. 

Before you have too much time to worry about your state of dishelvement, there’s another light knock at the door and then a familiar brown head of hair is poking its way in.

It’s embarrassing how just the sight of her takes your breath away. 

“Hi.” Rose gives you a soft smile that you can’t help but return. 

“Hey.” 

She takes a seat on the other side of your desk, careful not to knock over any of your papers. 

“Sorry for the mess. It’s been a hectic week.”

Rose chuckles at the way your eyes are quick to zero in on the cups of coffee in her hands. “Sorry, you look busy.”

“No! Don’t worry about it, I can take a quick break. I’m never too busy for you.”

It isn’t until Rose blushes that you realize you accidentally said the last sentence out loud.

You nervously scratch at the back of your neck. “Um, how’s your day going?”

Rose shrugs. “Had an early practice. And then I missed you so I thought I’d drop by.”

Your heart does a funny little jump at the thought of Rose missing you.

“I’d ask how your day is going, but I think I can guess by this…” she trails off, crinkles by her eyes betraying her amusement at the state of your desk. 

When Rose reaches across your desk to hand you your drink, you both pretend not to notice the way her hand lingers. As casually as you can, you drop your free hand onto the table, gently grasping her hand in yours. 

Rose’s cheeks turn pink, but she flips her hand over, intertwining your fingers. 

“Anyways. So there’s this event tomorrow night.” You nod, taking a sip of your coffee. It takes everything in you not to moan out in content. Sometimes it’s amazing, and sweet, how Rose remembers the little things you like. You’re a little too busy savoring the sweet taste of your drink to notice the way Rose has started to nervously fidget in her seat. “I was wondering if… would you like to come?”

You look up, drink forgotten in your surprise. “Like… as your plus one?”

Rose is looking everywhere but at your face now. Her cheeks are slightly red and she tries to untangle your fingers in embarrassment. You don’t let her. If anything, you tighten your grip. “I mean, only if you want to. No pressure or anything. The others are bringing their partners too-- Not that we’ve labeled ourselves, or anything! Um, I uh-- I just, it would be more enjoyable if you wanted to come? I don’t know, it’s totally okay if you don’t want to--”

“Rose. Breathe,” you chuckle, giving her hand a light squeeze. Rose blushes again, mouth instantly closing shut. “I’ve got a meeting in the early afternoon tomorrow, but if I’m out in time I’d love to be your plus one.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, not able to hide your smile. “Yeah.”

Rose’s lips split into a shy grin. 

You spend the next couple of minutes catching up with one another. You haven’t seen Rose since last week when you dropped by to watch one of her games, so you take this time to relish in her company. The two of you chat about anything and everything. Time always seems to fly by when you’re around each other, so when you next catch sight of the time, it takes everything in your power to not let your panic show. You’ve spent way more time catching up with Rose than you thought you had. As much as you hate it, you know you have to get back to work. Especially if you want to make it to the party tomorrow. 

Rose notices the way your eyes have drifted to your computer, correctly guessing what has caught your attention. “I should probably let you get back to work, huh.”

When she stands up, you’re quick to follow her onto your feet. 

She waits until you walk around your desk before she’s leaning in, arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. You try not to melt too much against her, but you’re only human. And Rose gives some of the best hugs you’ve ever had. 

When the two of you break apart, Rose leans in to press a kiss on your cheek. It lands dangerously close to the corner of your mouth, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining things when she seems to linger for a moment, still in your personal space. Rose’s eyes dart down to your lips momentarily, almost as if she’s considering closing the gap. 

For an exhilarating second you think she’s going to kiss you.

The hope fades just as quick as it comes when Rose steps back with a nervous cough.

“Call me when you get off work tonight?”

You let out a light laugh. “Not sure if I’ll make it home any time soon but I’ll try.”

Her face scrunches up adorably in disappointment. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

You raise a hand up to your head to give her a stupid little salute. “I’ll try my best, ma’am.”

Rose laughs, punching you lightly on the shoulder. “You’re an ass.”

“Drive home safe,” you chuckle in return. 

With one last look over her shoulder, Rose lets the door close behind her. 

It doesn’t even take a second before you find yourself missing her already. 

---

Soccer players are fun. If there’s anything you’ve taken away since getting to know Rose and her friends, it’s exactly that. 

After drowning in paperwork for nearly a week, this party is definitely a welcomed break. 

The second your meeting finishes, you rush to get home. It’s a scramble, getting ready for the party, but you manage to get dressed in time. Despite your protests, Rose is there to pick you up, a shy smile in place. 

From the second you lay eyes on her, it takes all of your self control not to drag her in for a kiss. 

She’s hot. Like even more than she usually is. And that’s saying something. Her dress has you nearly salivating, and you have to try your best to not ogle her like a schoolboy. 

Sometimes the cat and mouse game the two of you have going on is fun. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, toeing the line between friends and something more. Neither of you are stupid, you both know you’re eventually going to get together, but at this point it’s just a matter of seeing who’s going to crack first. 

Of course you can always make the move first, but you’re nothing if not competitive. And while you find it hot, Rose is unfortunately also just as competitive. She also doesn’t happen to like playing fair. 

The two of you haven’t even been sitting down for five minutes before she’s dropping a hand onto your leg. And it would be fine, really, but her hand rests dangerously high on your thigh. Although you’re trying your best to listen to the story Lu has started, it’s taking everything in you to just keep your composure. Your skin feels hot under her touch, and it doesn’t take long for you to start questioning your sanity.

The smirk living on Rose’s lips tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing. 

It’s infuriating how much her cockiness makes you want to kiss her more. 

A loud noise has you craning your head to find its source. When you do, it’s hard not to smirk yourself. All you need is to see a glimpse of Sonnett before a plan pops up into your head.

“Wow, Sonny really looks like she’s out to get some numbers tonight.”

Rose turns her head in the direction you’re looking at. Sonnett’s good looking. You know that, Rose knows that, everyone knows that. Honestly it’s a surprise that no one’s snatched her up yet. 

Rose shrugs, eyes narrowing inquisitively at you when she looks back your way. “Son’s just dressing up as she does. The numbers would be an extra perk, not her intention.”

“Five bucks.”

“What?” Rose tilts her head in confusion, amusement dazzling in her eyes. 

“Five bucks I can get Sonny to kiss me.”

The amusement’s quick to drop. Rose tries to play it off with a scoff, but you’re not fooled. Rose is cute, but even more cute when she’s jealous. “No way. I’m not a perv.”

It’s hard to hide your grin. Step one achieved. Now onto step two. “Fine. A kiss if I can get Sonnett to give me five bucks.”

For the second time in seconds, she freezes. There’s a confused question floating around in her eyes, but she still snorts out a response. “Are you serious?” 

“Deadly.”

It only takes one word for her to realize your intentions. Rose narrows her eyes at you, annoyed at how quickly you played her. “You know what, go for it. If she doesn’t give you the money, you owe me a kiss.”

It’s a win-win situation no matter if you get the money or not, but the only thing at stake is which one of you will have to break first tonight. 

“Deal.”

Rose’s eyes feel hot on your back as you push your way through the crowd. Sonnett’s quick to give you a grin when she spots you heading her way. 

“‘Sup dude?”

You don’t waste any time with introductions. “Sonnett. Give me five bucks.”

The blonde quirks an eyebrow at you. “Have you ever heard of this thing called ‘asking’?”

“Sonnett,” you sigh.

“No!” she laughs. “Why do you even want five dollars?”

“I bet Rose a kiss if I can get you to give me five bucks.”

At that, Emily puts her drink down. She turns, catching Rose staring at the two of you. Emily’s always been one of the most vocal of Rose’s friends. The blonde has lamented, whined, and groaned about when the two of you were finally going to make things official, oftentimes muttering about how this back and forth was annoying her, not that she really had a stake in anything. But now that it’s actually come down to it, you can almost see the gears turning in her head. 

It only takes a couple seconds before she’s sighing, digging through her wallet for what seems like way more than five dollars. “Take my whole wallet. Go get your kiss.” 

Sonnett’s pushing you away with a laugh, ushering you back towards Rose. 

You give her a little stupid salute before you’re skipping back to the midfielder. 

Rose is struggling not to laugh when you pop back up next to her, sliding the money gifted to you from your friend across the table to her. “Do I even want to know how you got this?”

“No. Now about that kiss…” you trail off, definitely not missing the way Rose bites at the bottom of her lip.

God was she sexy. And god did you just want her to kiss you already.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she stutters out, face turning red at the thought of actually finally getting to kiss you.

“Rose,” you huff. “Do you really think I went through all that trouble just to not get my kiss?”

“You actually want to kiss me?” She sounds surprised, almost as if she’s forgotten how long the two of you have been pretending not to be into each other. 

“Like insanely so.” You’re not even embarrassed by how desperate you sound.

Three years later, Sonnett will stand up with a mic, taking all the credit for finally getting the two of you together. You’ll be dressed in white, rolling your eyes at someone you have now long considered your best friend while Rose does exactly the same, only with a slightly peeved look on her face. Pinoe will try to argue her case for being the one responsible, given that she’s the one who told Rose to invite you, while Sofia will offhandedly try to give credit to your shared ex-boyfriend. It’s honestly a shit-show, your wedding reception, but the two of you won’t care much, more than happy to finally have matching rings on your hands. 

But in the present day, you and Rose are happy to just finally have your first kiss. 

“Go on a date with me. Like an official one,” you murmur seconds after you break apart. 

“Only if I get to pay for it,” is her response, Rose never one to be outplayed.

She’s a competitive one, she is, but Rose is a competitive girl you get to call yours, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — final part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k words

warnings: explicit language, angst

summary: you and steve finally have the long overdue conversation that probably should've happened days before filming ended and not at the wrap party. but better late than never, right?

CHAPTER SEVEN | ❝𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆❞

“We’re in the home stretch. Tomorrow’s it.”

It was a bit difficult to pinpoint what exactly Jessie’s words did to you at that moment. On one hand, you were happy that filming would be done tomorrow because it was always satisfying seeing all of the hard work that had been done by the cast and crew get wrapped up in what felt like a pretty bow. 

And then on the other hand, from a more personal standpoint, it was hard to feel truly happy about it all because of where things currently were with you and Steve; this weird and distant place that when you thought about it too hard only confused you. You had the strongest feeling that you wouldn’t see him again, or even simply talk to him, once filming was done, and although you liked to pretend that that didn’t matter to you, you still found it hard to make peace with that fact. 

You took a long sip from your morning coffee and decided not to think about him right then. 

Jessie continued on. “And depending on how today goes, we might even be able to end a bit early tomorrow.”

The two of you were currently walking to the complete other side of set because a scene was being filmed in twenty minutes and since you weren’t needed anywhere else right then, you decided to watch.

“That’s great,” You said, nodding at her words. 

“Anyway, though, I feel like I’ve barely gotten to see you lately so I haven’t been able to tell you this, but you’ve been doing so fucking great these past three months,” She told you before taking a bite from the bagel she had in hand. “I have no idea what I would do if you weren’t coming to Europe next month.”

You let the happiness that Jessie’s words managed to hit you with wash over you— it was a nice contrast from the sadness you’d been feeling lately that you masked as indifference— and you fully embraced her words. As that next stage started getting closer you felt more and more excited for it. You were ready to be in a completely different place, far away from where it felt like your personal life was on somewhat of a downward spiral. Over the past few days, you’d come to the conclusion that you were better off keeping work as your sole priority. 

Although it had actually been simple finding some sort of work-life balance when your and Steve’s “arrangement” started and most of your evenings and nights became filled with him— you realized that you didn’t have to fully consume yourself in your work to still be good at it, and everything Jessie had just said to you only further confirmed that— now you didn’t care about having any sort of balance. Because focusing only on your current job and also what you’d be doing next in Europe made it easier to not think about anything else. And that had especially been useful this past week because you truly didn’t want to think about anything aside from work— not about Steve and how easily everything with him went to shit, not about how it all hurt you so much more than you’d allow yourself to admit, and definitely not about the lingering regret you’d been feeling although you also believed that what you’d done was ultimately for the best. 

Of course, you knew that shoving it all down and not facing it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, and perhaps a conversation between you and Steve was sorely needed, but you were upset with him, even a little angry. And then you were also equally upset at yourself, which made you really not want to say anything to him or even think about the situation. 

“Thanks, I’m a little scared but also so ready for it,” You said and then didn’t hesitate to say your next words. “I really can’t wait to get out of LA.” 

“You and me both, honestly,” Jessie said with a quick nod. Before she could say anything else, she was pulled into a conversation with the Director of Photography about her thoughts on how the scene should be set up; what kind of shots she wanted, etc. 

As they talked, you simply looked around and let yourself take everything in for a second; watching the various crew members move about, some putting final touches on the set and others talking to the handful of extras and prepping them. It was the fact that everyone was essentially working together to achieve the same vision that made you smile. 

This was what you loved, this was what you would never get tired of. It was what made it all worth it in your eyes. To you nothing was as important as being a part of this. 

Barely a second later, Steve walked onto set and your mind quickly reminded you that he was in the scene that was about to film, which immediately washed away your smile and your happiness was replaced with that familiar feeling of indifference. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you had an actual conversation with him. He would really only talk to you when he needed something, and it was in those moments that you were reminded you were still his assistant, because when you were actually friends with him it didn’t really feel that way. Until two days ago when Martin, his new and more long term assistant, took over, so then actually needing things from you became a rarity. 

It didn’t take long for your gazes to meet, somehow it was still startlingly easy to lock eyes with him in a crowded room, and for the briefest of moments nothing was said or done. 

Until you gave him a small curt nod and a half smile, and then walked away, quickly deciding that being anywhere else was more important to you right then. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Production wrap parties had always been your favorite. Seeing the entire cast and crew come together to celebrate the work that had been done over the past few months always warmed your heart. It almost felt as good as watching the final product of the movie.

However, this time you couldn’t find the heart to enjoy the party like you normally would, and it was fully because of Steve. 

The party was happening in one of the Executive Producers' huge homes in Hollywood Hills, but apparently the house was not big enough for you and Steve to not see each other. There was some sort of dance of avoidance happening between you two in the expansive dining room area that the majority of the party was taking place in— walking around each other and pretending as if the other didn’t exist as you both got pulled into various conversations. That painfully went on for almost an entire hour until Steve apparently got tired of the dance and game of pretend and finally went up to you. 

You were alone, probably for the first time since you showed up at the party, and you were standing by one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows admiring the view of the city. He lightly tapped your shoulder to grab your attention, and it felt almost insane how easily you were able to tell it was him simply by his touch.

“Hey…” He said as you turned around to face him. “Can we talk?”

There was something about that three worded question that made you confused and the tiniest bit angry. 

“Now you want to talk?” You asked, keeping your voice level as you spoke because you didn’t want anyone to focus on you and him, but you still narrowed your eyes at him. “After a week of nothing but radio silence?” 

“I know, and I fully deserve you being mad at me right now,” He said softly. “But, please.”

You hated that somehow the look on his face and softness in his tone managed to loosen your resolve, making you ultimately nod at him. “Okay.”

It immediately became an unspoken understanding that this long overdue conversation couldn’t happen right here in this open space where there was potential for anyone to interrupt at any moment. And luckily right then everyone else was seemingly in a world of their own so they didn’t notice you and Steve heading down a random hallway and walking into the first room you saw. It was one of the many bedrooms that you assumed was in this house and you quickly noticed the sliding door that led to the balcony attached to the room. 

You walked out onto it and Steve followed you. After taking a quick breath, glad to have some fresh air filling your lungs because it somehow made things a bit more bearable, you looked at him. “So… let’s talk?”

You didn’t necessarily know what you expected him to say or how this conversation would begin, maybe with some unimportant and forced small talk that would feel weird because there was a point where the two of you were so far past that. However, you definitely didn’t expect him to immediately start with “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so fucking sorry for this past week, and avoiding you and pushing you away,” Steve said and you could only look at him, slightly stunned by his apologetic words. “I thought I was completely okay with what you said that night at your apartment, the last time we really talked, about us just being friends and nothing more, but…” He trailed off with whatever he was about to continue with, which made you both confused and curious. 

“What?” You asked softly, breaking through his thoughts. You desperately wanted to hear everything that was going through his mind. 

“You said that you didn’t want us to be real and that you could never see us being anything more. And I felt like such an idiot for feeling the complete opposite way,” His gaze was off of you and instead he was looking straight ahead. “And it was just too hard to see you and pretend that everything was fine.”

And there it finally was, the “why” behind him pushing you away that you had desperately wanted to know, and it was a “why” that actually made so much sense because you knew that if the roles had been reversed you would have done the same thing.  

His words, especially the first part of them, also reminded you that you weren’t completely innocent in this situation. Because what you said to him that night, which became the main reason why he’d been so distant, wasn’t true. 

“I’m really sorry too,” You said, which made him look at you again and you could see that he was confused why you were apologizing right then. “I lied… I honestly really do see it; us being more, being real. I could see it so goddamn easily sometimes and it made me want it even more. There were so many moments over that past month where it all felt too real and like everything we were doing meant something more than just sex or just a friendship. Especially when you surprised me for my birthday. That was the best thing that happened to me in a long time. And actually, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you started speaking again. “Also, it was dumb of me to think that the sex part of it ending wouldn’t really matter because we’d still have the friend part and everything would pretty much stay the same. Because nothing will ever be like these past three months, and specifically the last five weeks. We’re not gonna see each other as often anymore and it’ll be rare if we’ll even be able to talk as much. It’s all gonna be so different.”

It was as if everything that you had forced yourself not to think about this past week was coming out at full force as word vomit. You had no idea how much sense any of what you were saying made, but you hoped it all would lead to some sort of point in the end. 

“Why did you lie that night?” He asked, and it was the question you should’ve been expecting to hear. 

“Every time I thought about us being more I would tell myself that us being together in that way wouldn’t make sense; our lives are so different. So, I thought it would be easier to lie to you because then you couldn’t try and convince me that somehow we do make sense together,” You answered. “But, there hasn’t been a day where I haven’t regretted lying and not taking it all back. Right when you left, I wanted to run up to you and tell you the truth.”

He glanced at you for a brief moment and then just as quickly looked away. “I wish you did.”

“I do want something more with you. I fully want something real,” You told him, letting those honest words fall from your lips for the first time ever. “But, the thought of trying something and it all ending horribly scares me so fucking much and makes me not want to even take that chance… And I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, it scares me too.”

The question of “So, where do we go from here?” lingered in the cool air and neither of you had a clear answer to it. Was it possible for the two of you to actually and solely be just friends after admitting you have feelings for each other? If you were being a thousand percent honest with yourself, you weren’t entirely sure. 

You leaned back against the closed sliding door and let your thoughts run. Things were quiet between you and Steve, but it wasn’t the awkward kind. Instead, it felt as if both of you were fully consumed by your own thoughts right then and neither of you really knew what to say. And then, at the same time, you two also didn’t want whatever this moment was to end just yet. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but also the complete opposite, you spoke. “I’m kinda just realizing this now, but even though we never admitted it to each other or probably even thought about it ourselves, I think we were in some sort of a real relationship. Because honestly the only thing missing was the label; we were doing practically everything else two people in a relationship would do. And I think that’s why you avoiding me and barely talking to me felt so much more devastating than I’d like to admit. It felt like the worst break up, and I never want that to happen again.”

Steve was quiet for a few moments. It was easy to tell that he was thinking, fully letting everything you just said sit with him. You didn’t have to fully verbalize it for him to know what you wanted, and more specifically what you didn’t want. 

“You’re right,” He finally said, eyes meeting yours. “This past week has been so shitty. I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I’ve missed you too. I was also mad at you and confused, but I really did miss you.”

“How badly did I ruin our friendship?”

You shook your head at his question. “Not bad enough. In my eyes, you’re still my best friend.”

“You’re mine too,” He said and then after a beat of silence said his next words. “Let’s just keep it that way.”

You only looked at him for a second before asking, voice soft and quiet, “Are you sure?”

You didn’t want him agreeing to something that only you saw as right and things ending up just like they had before. You knew that you couldn’t bear the past week having any kind of a part two. 

Steve nodded at you. “Yes, I think we’d be better off as friends. I want you in my life forever.”

“I hope you know what it means now that you just said that,” You told him, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re never getting rid of me.” 

He smiled at you, it was the kind of smile that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever from him and you’d forgotten how much you missed it. You got the sudden urge to kiss him, which startled you because this, what you two just decided on, didn’t involve that, and you quickly realized that it would be hard to learn to not want that even a little bit anymore.  

You pushed away everything you were feeling and then closed a bit of the space between you two and held out your pinky. 

“This is super childish and cheesy but let’s promise to not let this end,” You said. You knew it was dumb, but the idea actually helped to make you feel the tiniest bit better about everything. “Y’know, promising to stay friends forever and all that stuff you say at, like, summer camp.” 

“Okay, deal,” Steve nodded as he linked his pinky with yours.  

You smiled at him. “I take pinky promises very seriously, by the way. So, this cannot be broken, Steven.” 

He laughed a bit. “Don’t worry, I also take them seriously.”

“Good to know.”

Even though pinkies were linked and you did really believe that this was the best decision to make, deep down inside of you, you wished that the circumstances could be different. That the two of you were the same people, but in completely different situations. You wished for something cheesy and Hallmark-like, something easy, where there wasn’t distance or work that made things so much harder than how they should’ve been for you two. 

And then there was even a part of you that wanted to say fuck it because why not try? Even if you and him ended up crashing and burning in the end, at least you wouldn’t have to live with the never-ending “what ifs,” no matter how short-lived the relationship was. 

But, in your mind, the cons severely outweighed the pros and you knew that it wasn’t worth it and you couldn’t allow yourself to risk it; you needed to play it safe. Your friendship with him was more than enough; it was hard to even remember the last time you had a friendship that felt as important as this one.

Therefore, you instead decided to find solace in the thought that in another life, in a completely different universe, no stupid outside forces were preventing you from being together— not even your overthinking mind could stop it— and the two of you were happy.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: pls don't hate me for how this ended lmao there will be an epilogue. i repeat. there will be an epilogue! (it wasn't planned at first but i decided i didn't want to completely end it here) so i'll see yall next week for the actual final part of this series<333

final part!