#just in sheer disbelief how he still expected me to stop assuming while he stayed being unfair to me and never changed his way of being

[babbyspinchh]

men will be like 'im sorry u took it that way' while behaving in The Very Way that made u take it a certain way

[todoscript]

monopolize

SUMMARY: Having realized Bakugou and Midoriya’s infatuation with you, Shouto decides to make a firm point at showing that you’re his and his alone.

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader (feat. bakugou katsuki & midoriya izuku)

genre: smut. slight angst. pro hero au.

word count: 8.0k+

warnings: 18+. characters are aged up. dominant!shouto. possessive!shouto. (!!!)coercion. exhibitionism. bondage (kinda). slight degradation. praising. squirting. humiliation (bakugou & midoriya receiving).

author’s note: so the idea for this fic came to me one day while i was studying chemistry and it kinda got out of hand the moment i started writing it...haha, oops... but anyway, shoutout to rosie ( @shoutogepi​ ) for listening to me ramble about this and encouraging me to write this shit, love you lots babe! <333 also a reminder to please look over the warnings before proceeding, thank you!!!

If your open jaw is not enough to emphasize your shock, then the bag that hits the floor after escaping your grasp does that job for you. It also alerts the three existing presences in the room of your arrival, to which all eyes maneuver to the door of your shared bedroom, witnessing your appalled state at what is lying in wake.

Lounging on the futon, Shouto breaks your awed silence. “Welcome home, love,” he greets, warmly as per usual whenever he arrives home from work before you do.

You’re utterly surprised by how indifferent he sounds despite the two additional faces in the room. After all, it’s not every day you’d ever expect the Pro Number One and Two heroes to be here in your very bedroom, bound by what you have to assume is your boyfriend’s ice.

Unsure how to go about your reply, you instead opt to slowly walk into the room, assessing the situation. Your wary gaze darts between the angry red eyes of Bakugou Katsuki and the strained green ones of Midoriya Izuku. “I... U-Um… Shouto? What is all of this? What are Midoriya and Bakugou doing here?” You finally manage to address the elephant in the room, yet Shouto does not tackle your questions with as much haste as you are hoping.

He gets up from the bed to meet you in the middle, gathering you in his arms before his lips find your temple—the kiss he presses soft and tender, but the fact that there are two other pairs of eyes glancing over at you from such a compromising position warms your cheeks buried in his chest.

You don’t catch how Bakugou practically wrenches at the sight while Midoriya turns away, abashed. There’s hurt discerned in their expressions that can only be akin to pure jealousy. But you don’t know that. Well, not yet anyway.

“Let me explain, love,” Shouto starts, his voice a meager space away from your ear that he tucks a hair behind, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but are you aware that these two both—”

“That’s it! I don’t have to stay here and listen to this crap!” Bakugou’s loud voice bursts out, cutting the rest of Shouto’s words short just before they fall to your ear. Watching as a fever of energy begins emitting from Bakugou’s palms trapped in the ice, the dual-haired hero quickly acts by erecting another glacier to impede the blonde’s abilities, effectively keeping him trapped there. Bakugou can only grit his teeth as he remains bound. Meanwhile, you gape at the lengths Shouto goes to prevent these two renowned heroes from leaving this space.

The chill that diffuses throughout the atmosphere of the room pairs fittingly with the frigid stare Shouto points at your guests. Ensuring the cold doesn’t affect you, he regulates your temperatures with his fire side while your body is still pressed against him before continuing. “As I was saying, these two men in front of you both harbor the same feelings for you as I do,” Shouto says. You slightly turn to meet his heterochromatic gaze with confusion written on your face, unsure what his words exactly imply.

Reading this, Shouto’s hand at your waist travels to your nape. “I’m sure you must have realized it by now, love... The way their touches linger on you for far longer than necessary whenever you meet them...” His calloused hand rubs at the back of your neck, the other traveling up your chest that yields a strained noise from your mouth.

“Or how they flirt with you whenever you visit my agency while they’re there, thinking I don’t notice. Telling you how good you look or how pretty you are.” His words meld into your skin as his lips meet below your jawline, the sensation of his nibbles manifesting your noises into frail moans that lights blushes in your spectators’ cheeks. All attempts at disregarding those cases as friendly compliments are hindered when your attention is captured by Shouto’s wandering hands and hypnotizing voice.

“Though I wholeheartedly agree with every statement, I think it’s only right of me—your boyfriend—to be a little concerned when they’re always giving you those looks.”

You bite your lip in hopes of suppressing the next noise that threatens to spill from your mouth before curiosity overtakes you. “What looks?” you pry yet not entirely ready for the answer. Shouto breaths in closely next to your ear, voice guttural and full of weight.

“Like they want to fuck you.”

His claims have your eyes blown out wide, timbre compelling goosebumps across your skin at something so vulgar departing his mouth. You try to muster out a comprehensible thought for the sake of the two heroes, but the words are drawn back in your throat. Shouto catches your guarded look.

“Now, don’t go saying they’re just being friendly with you, baby. I mean look at them. Are those the faces of two men who just want to be friends with you?”

The air has suddenly grown tense, the tension so taut it could be cut with a butter knife. Hesitantly, you shift to meet Bakugou and Midoriya’s eyes to gauge a response from them. To your surprise, all you can perceive are the sheer expressions of shame painted on their faces—red smearing their cheeks with humiliation as they can’t help but glance at anywhere else but you.

“Well?” Shouto chimes in after you’ve fully grasped the reality of the situation.

Peering into his icy heterochromatic eyes, you gulp. You know you have no right to be lying to his face, no matter how much you insist it isn’t so.

“N-No,” you admit.

A grin curves on his lips before he kisses your cheek.

“Mm, smart girl.”

Despite you waving your white flag, Shouto doesn’t stop his touches from wandering your body. He palms at sensitive areas that leave you burning. Those whimpers you’ve desperately tried to conceal unfetter from your lips when his hands inch upon skin hidden beneath your clothing. His touches are firm with a mixture of warmth and coolness that has you holding your breath. The sensations cloud your thoughts, making you forget where you are as the other presences in the room now in the back of your mind.

Midoriya and Bakugou can’t bring themselves to look anymore—can’t bear to gaze at such intimacy they can never hope to attain. Especially when your cute noises leave a twitch in their pants, a feeling they fail to cast off in shame.

“Todoroki... you made your point, now please let us out of this ice,” Midoriya says through his dry lips. Though the verdant-haired hero knows he could free himself on his own with his strength, if Shouto has anything to say about it, he’d just conjure another pillar of ice as quickly as a snap of a finger to replace the shattered ones. Considering that’s what he’s done to keep the two of them from leaving thus far.

“You can’t be fucking serious about leaving us here, Icy-Hot,” Bakugou adds with far more hostility in his tone as he shoots a glare at the red and white-haired man.

The reminder that the top two Pro Heroes are still present in the same room as you while Shouto trails his large hands at every expanse of bare flesh he can find delivers a jolt of embarrassment throughout your body. Embarrassment that somehow kindles a lick of heat in your abdomen.

“On the contrary, this is only part one of what I have in store for you two tonight,” Shouto says, lips playing on the fine line of a smirk. “In fact, I plan on ingraining in your very minds that my love belongs to me and only me by making you two watch her come undone on my cock.”

There’s disbelief throughout the room, trying to comprehend the lengths behind his words.

“W-Wait, are we really doing this in front of them?” you sputter.

“If you’re that uncomfortable about this love, then I’ll simply leave them in this room and fuck you in the next one so they can at least hear every little thing I’m doing to you,” he offers, tone descending multiple steps that rack shivers down your skin as he circles your body, standing chest to your back.

“But having an audience entices you, doesn’t it? After all, look at how wet you are.” He hooks an arm below your leg, lifting it slightly so his free hand can slip into your panties beneath your skirt, no longer blocked by your thighs clenching together. You find yourself winding an arm behind his neck to keep balance. Your eyes shut tight from both mortification and pleasure at how he strokes your slit in front of the two heroes. Sure enough, there’s an abundant amount of slick gathered at your center, the shameful squelching at your throbbing cunt not eluding anyone’s ears in the room.

“Mmm, already such a drenched fucking mess. It’s like the fact that all three of us lust for you makes you even wetter,” he whispers into your ear like a red-winged devil professing your sins to you—sins you should feel disgraceful for, yet you can’t help the exhilaration simmering in your chest. After all, having three powerful, attractive men vying for your attention is nothing short of every girl’s dream. To deny the effects this has on your body would only add dishonesty to your list of sins. Shouto takes your silence as confirmation.

Parting from your panties, he reveals his fingers coated in your shiny essence to everyone in the room. Bakugou and Midoriya water at the sight, groans stifled under their breaths as the many nights of dreaming about how sweet you taste come back to hit them all at once. The saccharine dripping between your thighs is so close, and yet so far as Shouto remains firm on his word about keeping them bound throughout his show of dominance.

Though driven in such compromising circumstances, the two Pro Heroes can’t find it within themselves to tear their eyes away from you. Perhaps in actuality, a deep, dark longing inside them secretly confesses to wanting to watch you unravel amidst the throes of pleasure, even if your undoing is due to someone that isn’t them.

“What a naughty slut you are, admitting you get off at the thought of more than one man wanting to ravage this body of yours.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear, heightening your mortification and the ever-growing wetness at your center.

“However, I’m all you need, isn’t that right, sweetheart? I’m the only man that can reduce you to this soaked, quivering mess from just my voice alone, and the only one whose cock makes your body shake with pleasure that leaves you sore for days.”

“Yes, Sh-Shouto…” you airily whimper in reply.

Shouto’s index finger presses against your trembling bottom lip, slightly smearing your slick on its plushness before he cups your face to stare directly at Bakugou and Midoriya.

“Go on then. Tell the Number One and Number Two Pro Heroes who you belong to,” he commands lowly in your ear. Before you can speak, heat ignites in your cheeks. You glance down and take note of the prominent bulges within the two’s tight clothing, their cocks positively aching to break free from the confines. The fact that the two seem to be getting off on the sight of you manhandled by Shouto is something to acknowledge.

“I… I belong to you…” Your voice wanes.

“Who? Be more specific, baby.”

“I belong to the Number Three hero, Todoroki Shouto,” you say, more clearly this time. The response is sufficient enough to satisfy the man behind you, who turns your head so your lips can connect in a passion of teeth and tongue dancing together that leaves your lungs gasping for air, detaching with ragged breaths. While you’re recovering, Shouto tugs you closer by your chin, pressing your foreheads against each other, where you gander into the depths of his gray and turquoise eyes swimming with lust.

“That’s right, and no one else is going to fuck you like I am tonight.” He sneaks a side-glance at his fellow heroes. “They can only watch as I drive my cock into your pussy over and over again, wishing they were me.”

Midoriya remains silent, letting his troubled expression speak for him, blush persisting on his face. Bakugou, on the other hand, decides to spit a few words out.

“Fuck. You.”

Make that only two words. Still, the venom dripping off each one gets his point across, in that he’s absolutely livid. But sadly for him, it has no effect on the calm and collected Todoroki Shouto.

Taking you by the hand, he leads you to the futon, sprawled out flat for your small audience to behold the entirety of your fucking tonight. Shouto kisses the back of your hand before leaving you to continue standing. He settles himself on the sheets with his arms propped behind him to view up at you as you obediently wait for his orders.

“Well, love, you know what to do. Take off some clothes for me,” he says gruffly. You oblige, slowly peeling off layers. Your skirt piles into a heap on the floor at undoing the zipper holding it in place, quickly followed by the blouse tossed over your head which leaves the remaining clothing on your body your mismatched lingerie. The dainty, silk intimates are the only thing separating you from being fully exposed to everyone.

Even given a sparing view of you from behind, Midoriya and Bakugou readily eat you up. If they somehow haven’t been undressing you with their eyes before this, then they certainly are now. Bakugou zeroes in on your pert ass, emphasized by your panties, and itches to grasp its softness in his own palms, desiring to squeeze, rub, and spank till his heart’s content.

Contrarily, Midoriya has his sights set on the clasp of your bra. What he wouldn’t give to unfasten it from your body and have the article of clothing slip off your skin, putting your beautiful breasts on display, nipples likely stiff and begging for the attention of his fingers and mouth.

It’s unfortunate for them that no such fantasies will come true tonight. After all, you don’t belong to them. You belong to Shouto.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, you rub your thighs together to create some friction between your lower lips, trying to subside the throb growing in your belly. But you can only endure for so long when Shouto is staring at you with such scalding intensity. You’re struggling to hold onto the remnants of your dignity before it’s stripped away from you at the next command.

“Baby, you’re gorgeous, but,” Shouto hums, admiring the view for a second longer before cutting to the chase, “I want it all off.”

Not wasting any time, your thumbs hook under the waistband of the silk, quickly casting the panties to join the pile below your feet. The way your web-like slick connects your folds to the material before breaking off as your panties reach the ground does not go unnoticed. Your bra, of course, is the next to be discarded—unhooked and tossed, unveiling your tits to the chilly air.

Defenses torn down, you stand bare and exposed to all eyes in the room. You don’t miss the glint flitting in the mismatch of Shouto’s eyes, staring at you like he’s uncovered a beautiful pearl beneath the ocean. Though this is far from your first time engaging in your sexual desires with him, you always fall prey to that carnal look of his, which seemed even more lecherous tonight. He runs a finger on his lips pulled into a seductive smile, eyes piqued at your naked form.

Prickles of arousal travel down your spine. You can’t discern whether it’s the very thought of your vulnerability or the fiery looks you swear are piercing into you at every angle that has you tingling with anticipation.

Either way, such spark coursing through your veins drives you into Shouto’s waiting arms as he beckons you to him. He welcomes you onto his lap, allowing your thighs purchase next to his own while his large hands grope at your soft skin. It isn’t long until your lips meet again, Shouto coaxing—no—prying them open with his tongue as it finds yours, brushing the underside and chasing with zeal. His roughness has you at a loss for words, quite literally as all you can respond with are the airy moans leaking out between each fervent lip-lock. When Shouto grabs at one of your mounds, index finger circling your perky nipple, you let out a surprised squeak.

Your two bystanders’ dicks stutter in response at the noises, having absolutely nothing to do but watch and listen in envy. Every time they hear such a sweet succession of sounds from you, they fidget in their positions, attempting to pathetically generate some pressure against their clothes to alleviate the pain in their cocks.

Shouto does not miss the way they struggle within his periphery, smirking at their pitiful attempts to find any form of relief. At this, a sly thought flickers in his head.

With his hands on your hips, he guides your body further against his own. You find your knees supporting you up while your upper body leans over Shouto, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you steady. The position he’s led you in doesn’t grant you many options, besides obliging to be pliant in his hands.

Peeking over your shoulder, you flush with heat when you realize your ass is perked in the direction toward Midoriya and Bakugou. The troubling thoughts of whether you should feel flustered or flattered by their mesmerized state at how spread you are, hovering above Shouto’s lap, is ripped away when the Pro Hero begins cascading his hands across your skin. His palms waver back and forth within the boundaries of your ass and thighs, every now and then squeezing your warm flesh during his crossings between the two.

“Mmm, Sho…” you whine, the palpable neediness in your voice begging for him to touch your throbbing center already. Bakugou and Midoriya wish for the same, tormented by how slow he decides to take his caressing. If it were up to them, they’d already be tongue deep in your pussy already, perhaps even bottoming their cocks inside your walls, considering how soaked you must be. But no, Shouto wants this night to last. And he’s going to set the pace however he sees fit.

One of Shouto’s hands creeps beneath your leg to maneuver them further apart before his palms find their place at the underside of your poised ass. A short sigh floats amid your parted lips at how he spreads your cheeks, exposing your cunt freely to the two. You hear a groan, followed by an obscene “fuck…” that has you wondering what the view must be like from their perspective to render them so awestruck.

And man, if only you could see your pretty little cunt—wet, glistening, and fluttering on nothing, pleading for stimulation. Stimulation that Shouto grants sparingly as his middle and ring finger suddenly prod your slit, tearing a surprised gasp from your mouth while you toss your head backward.

Your slippery pussy coats his fingers in an opalescent sheen. He hums at the debauched image of your body yearning his touch. “Such a slutty, needy pussy… So messy, even though I haven’t even taken my clothes off yet.” Shouto takes the sullied fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue at your delectable taste abiding his digits. It’s obscene how he makes a show of drinking up the honey from your thighs to taunt Midoriya and Bakugou, groaning between licks like it’s the one thing keeping him sustained. Well, then again, Shouto could probably survive on your essence for days if he tried, considering his favorite places to be is between your thighs anyway.

Head tilting in the direction behind you, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the two licking their lips while the other swallowed a large, heavy gulp. Before you can question it further, Shouto’s words resume ringing in your ear.

“It’s all for me right, love?” he asks as though he doesn’t already know the answer.

Your body quivers as he dives down to continue prodding your cunt before you can even respond properly. “Y-Yes, it’s just for you, Sho— Ah..!” You try your best to muster the words out. But his fingers give you no moment to spare. A jolt of pleasure spikes through your body as he reaches your clit, leaving your voice hanging in the air.

“Unnf... f-fuck...”

Shouto is relentless this time, attending to your bundled nerves at an excruciating rhythm that has you swaying your hips into his hands. Then all coherent thoughts are whisked away when you feel two fingers penetrating your sloppy pussy, thrusting into places you could never reach on your own, and prepping your walls for what’s to come.

“Baby, you take my fingers so well, you’re practically sucking them in,” he praises, reveling in the way you writhe in pleasure at him playing with your cunt. Whining, your legs move further apart involuntarily, allowing him deeper access.

You shake amid his ministrations, teeth pulling at your bottom lip at every sultry sensation rushing through your body. Wrinkling the fabric of his white shirt, your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails sinking deeper into clothed skin when you feel that familiar ache boiling in your abdomen.

“Your thighs are trembling just trying to hold you up. Going to cum soon, love?” Shouto asks. He chuckles at how vigorously you nod your head next to him, knowing your voice would fail you by the moans threatening to unravel precariously from your lips.

“Good, I want you to fucking scream. Show them how well you can cum from my fingers alone, yeah?” he murmurs beside your ear, not giving you much warning than that before suddenly increasing his movements on your cunt.

“Ah, Sho..! Sho!”

There’s nothing for you to do other than to chant his name over and over again like a mantra. You squeeze your fingers into his skin to make sure you don’t end up dissolving in his hands from the fire flaring inside you, threatening to melt you entirely.

And he loves every bit of the needy noises you make. Knowing it’s his name that echoes in the room around them, resounding in the very minds of his rivals who witness firsthand the way you scream out amidst the throes of pleasure—the scene better than any imagination of theirs they’ve conjured in their delusional fantasies—feeds Shouto’s ego deliciously.

The strained gasp you choke out when his lips make contact on your jawline has him smiling against you, the kisses he plants there blooming loving blemishes on your skin. You struggle to keep yourself together from all the sensations storming you at once. There’s something euphoric yet… foreign coursing through your body that you can’t discern, and you’re half-worried of what’s to happen when you reach your imminent release.

“Sh-Sho, wait..! Oh god, I’m gonna—!” you warn, but that only compels Shouto to speed up his pace in a last push for you to cum. From his bruising bites to his fingers methodically working you with skilled ease, it isn’t long until your escalating high peaks into intangible relief.

And god, the throb feels almost uncomfortable but so blissful at the same time.

The pressure builds up to an intense climax that has your walls clamping around his fingers, and your thighs shaking beside him while you yell out Shouto’s name. Holding you through every step of the way, his fingers steady inside you as you convulse around them. The ones at your clit continue rubbing your sensitive, swollen bud throughout your release to widen the intensity.

As your whole body trembles at the haze-induced orgasm, you lean against the hero for support.

“Ohhh baby...” His purrs rumble deep within his chest, an extra lick of delight in his tone. Your eyes are shut while you stumble down from your rapturous high, whimpering when Sho removes his fingers from your pulsating pussy.

“D-Did she just..?!” Midoriya questions incredulously, to your surprise.

“Fuck! I can’t believe she fucking squirted!” Bakugou follows.

At that, your eyes shoot open. You muster the energy to lift your body off Shouto’s lap and reveal to yourself the evident damp spot left on his pants from what you very much have to assume is a result of you gushing your release on him.

Trepidation creeps underneath your skin, swallowing you in mortification.

You really did that.

Squirted in front of the top three Pro Heroes in the country, making a mess on Sho’s pants with your flowing, translucent cum. The very reminder of it spouts your head with your overthinking.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to— I-I mean... I didn’t think I was ever a squirter. It’s just—”

“Love.”

A single word is enough to dispel your ramblings. You look up at Shouto like a deer caught in headlights, expression harrowed by apprehension. At that, he holds your shoulders, pulling you forward so he can press a reassuring kiss against your forehead. The tender gesture numbs the uneasy static racking through you, moving away to glimpse at the endearment hidden within the smoldering fog swirling in Shouto’s eyes.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures through hushed words he embeds unto your skin, hands warmly running down your sides. “Besides, you squirting on my fingers was so so sexy.” His seductive allure returns almost as quickly as it disappeared amidst his soothing tone. His touches and the extra flair in his voice makes you hot all over again despite just cumming.

“I must have made you feel incredibly good, getting you to cum so hard like that. Even giving those two over there a show. Just look at them...” Shouto whispers closely, nudging you in the direction of your onlookers whose reddening faces visibly recoil when your eyes cross. It’s as if they’ve gandered into the abyss—anxious at what’s to come yet can’t seem to look away. You flutter between their expressions, gauging their blushes and furrowed brows, before lowering your gaze at the prominent stain on the crotch of their pants, pre-cum seeping at the surface due to the arousal built watching you ruined on Shouto’s very fingers.

A part of you wonders how pent up they must be. Your curiosity dances upon lewd thoughts about how stiff their cocks are and how their lengths would look freed from the constricting clothing. Veiny, hard, and painfully red all because of you. All because of what Shouto is doing to you.

It evokes you with a newfound surge of confidence, finding solace in your sea of uncertainty. And coupled with Shouto’s loving demeanor, you don’t seem to remember what you were ever so self-conscious about to begin with.

“Look at how depraved these sad men are.” Shouto clicks his tongue, a voice in his head confirming of what he already long knew. Deep down, he at least assures himself that his former classmates are aware of their place. In which they’re only allowed to look—not touch—and if they so much as plunge into forbidden territory, he’d rise above the waters to bite their heads off. He recognizes this from just a simple inspection of their faces.

Deterring after hearing Shouto’s words, Midoriya’s eyes cast downward to the floor, brows softened with hurt. His expression is burdened upon not only stigma but guilt, lusting after a woman that isn’t even his while allowing the absurd thought he could steal you away from the fire-and-ice hero to ever cross his mind.

Meanwhile, the blonde mulls over in defeat more so than shame. Although never one to yield from a fight, Bakugou had long realized this battle was over before it even began. You were deftly out of his reach. All he can settle for now is the afterimage of your undoing played back in his head, the recording surrounded by a thick cloud of envy.

Shouto reads their compliance clearly—a wordless surrender witnessing your aftermath of pleasure. As a result, a grin surfaces his lips. Unfortunately for them, the sly devil latent inside him is far satiated. Perhaps it’s time to move onto the next course.

His fingers brush along the underside of your chin, leading your half-lidded eyes to him.

“Baby,” he says, and the way he calls to you in that low baritone makes you receptive to his every word, “why don’t you go over there and help our guests get their cocks out of their pants, hm?” You nod slowly, half-wondering if he read your mind during your indecent contemplation. Shouto kisses the corner of your lip before you stand from the futon and saunter toward the two pillars of ice resting in the room.

Your steps are slow and languid, the consistent sway of your hips hypnotizing to both sides. Reaching the two, you lower to your knees, bending forward and offering Shouto a view of your exposed cunt that still drips of your essence. He bites his lip, palming his bulge through his pants until he begins freeing himself of the unnecessary clothing that would have been discarded by now if he wasn’t so absorbed in your climax.

In the meantime, you kneel in front of the top two Pro Heroes, mooning over who to approach first until your red and white-haired boyfriend answers for you.

“Midoriya first. And then Bakugou.”

You can practically feel the fire lighting inside Bakugou at the command, knowing Icy-Hot gives the order in favor of Midoriya just to get under his skin. You do well to ignore his malice by crawling over to the green-haired hero, hovering above his bound form, and meeting his emerald eyes that are wide and fixated on your every move.

The proximity between you two has the air trapped in his lungs. He holds his breath out of fear that if he lets go, you’d vanish into a mirage. But his throat hitches the very moment your fingers trace up the fabric of his pants, disembarking across his thighs and toward his painful erection that twinges at your touch. It’s fortunate enough for him that you don’t disappear and that the sultry look you give him as you drag the zipper of his pants down isn’t a figment of his imagination. You catch a glimpse of his briefs, along with the head of his dick peeking above the waistband, still strained by a single layer of fabric.

Midoriya swears he can cum right then and there when you lightly palm his hardness—the first relieving sensation he’s felt all night before it’s surmounted by you tugging down the waistband. Cock released from its confines, it jumps forward out of excitement before slapping back against his navel. Midoriya hisses at being open to the air, his feverish skin stinging surrounded by the coldness throughout the room.

As you predicted, the Number One’s cock stands stout and protruding red at being neglected for so long. It begs to be touched.

“P-Please…” The whisper is almost inaudible, but you discern the desperation in his tone.

Midoriya’s pleading expression staring down at you nearly sways you to grant pity on him, but you know you’re given no position to do that. So sadly, you move on. The hero laments you leaving so soon, a whine quietly squeaking from him, left with nothing but his length stiff on his abs as you make your way to Kacchan.

Unlike the former, the blonde actually makes an effort to free himself one last time, a struggle you pick up on when you near him. He’s gritting his teeth together, heat slowly radiating off his body stoked by his anger. Yet that somehow all dissipates at a simple glance of your face. There’s a glassiness in your eyes that renders him silent.

His narrowed stare wanders toward your plush lips, looking so damn soft and kissable. If only he could muster the willpower to break free and move forward to capture them in his own, seal them tight so he wouldn’t have to hear Icy-Hot’s name spilling out of them anymore. But your steady gaze on him freezes him into the ice, halting his motions as if you were medusa. He hears nothing but his racing heart palpitating in his chest as he waits for you to make a move.

“Hm, Bakugou’s been a bit of a brat tonight, wouldn’t you say, love? How about you tease him a bit?” Shouto suggests mischievously.

Turning in his direction, you see him sitting on the bedding, naked and stroking his cock listlessly as he waits for you. The sight encourages you back to Bakugou’s erection to finish the task you started, thighs shuffling against each other at a glimpse of your prize between the Number Three hero’s legs.

As if you couldn’t get anymore seductive, you adjust yourself right between the blonde’s spread form, carelessly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you bend forward, back arching. Bakugou has no idea what he’s in for, fearing for the worst knowing you plan to tease him. He starts muttering a question that never reaches your ear, the words splintering off when he deftly realizes you’re pulling his pant’s zipper between your fucking teeth. Making sure never to break eye contact with him, you drag the metal down at an excruciating pace, each tooth of the zipper undone so slowly it’s practically torture to him.

“Shit... Y/n…” he groans wantonly as you reach the end of your destination. After being contained all this time, it seems his cock wants to come out with a vengeance. You gasp when it suddenly springs past his briefs, nearly making contact against your cheek.

Bakugou sputters an filthy amount of curses, finding the image of you wincing in shock and glancing up at his thick cock towering next to your face with the tip oozing of his pre-cum to be utterly pornographic. Well if this is truly reminiscent of a porn scene, you’d be wrapping your hands around the base of his cock by now, fisting it before delightfully enveloping the tip in your hot mouth. But the call of your name behind you cracks that fantasy into pieces.

To his dismay, your attention swerves from the embossed vein lining Bakugou’s dick to Shouto’s muscular body, idle on the futon, where he gestures a finger at you. You return to your usual place atop his lap, except this time there’s no longer any barrier of fabric to prevent you two from feeling each other’s heat.

Shouto grazes his hands on your back, humming into your neck. “Well, baby, you saw how hard their cocks were. How does it feel to have the top three pros all craving you at once?”

You pause amidst your reply, the little kisses he brushes on your jugular serving to distract you for a moment. You have to ask yourself if your boyfriend is throwing a trick question at you. Giving it some thought, you decide to tackle it honestly.

“It feels... pretty good,” you murmur, a tad squeamish while he maps the expanse of your neck with his lips. It’s an answer he anticipates according to the next question he follows up.

“But of all the cocks in this room, whose do you want the most?”

“Yours, Sho.” Compared to before, your answer is given promptly. Shouto grins at how eager you are for him. “Only yours.” You affirm one last time, effectively hammering a nail into Midoriya and Bakugou’s chests. Shouto’s hands traverse your waist, then to your thighs, giving your flesh a solid squeeze.

“That’s right, you’re my fucking cock slut and no one else’s.” You almost choke when he lurches forward to grind his erection against your wet core, emphasizing your innate effect on him. Whimpering at the slippery friction of his hardness on your swollen clit, you find yourself moving in tandem with his motions.

“My my, still that needy even after you already squirted all over my fingers? Your pussy is just so so greedy for me, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes... F-Fuck, Sho, please let me put your cock inside me. I want to cum on your cock so much!” you plead, voice rising at every insufficient jerk of your hips. It isn’t enough to just rub your sensitive little pearl against it. You need the thing inside you since yesterday, and you’re more than willing to throw your last fragment of modesty out the window to get it.

Luckily for you, your neediness seems to work in your favor as Shouto has no objections at granting you your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, baby. I told you I’d be driving my cock in and out of you in front of them, didn’t I?” He runs his fingers on the edge of your cheek, admiring the cute desperation readable over your features—eyes glazed, skin hot, and cunt positively dripping. “Of course, I intend to keep that promise. But first…” He lays you two into his favored position, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his thighs. He peers up at you while nestled back on the sheets.

“I suppose since I forced them here, the least we can do is continue giving them something to remember. It is going to be the first and last night they’ll see you like this anyway,” he reasons. The two mentioned pique hearing the statement. You yourself grow considerably hotter, realizing he’s angled you in a way that grants your audience another enticing view of your body above him.

“Well, princess, why don’t you start riding your stallion then?” Shouto incites his request as more of a command than anything else, and you begin earnestly catering to him by lifting your hips. You align his length toward your entrance. His calloused hands spread on your thighs at the anticipation of watching the head of his cock enter your wet heat.

“Ooooh yeah, keep going baby, take it all in,” he encourages through purrs reverberating in his throat. With each inch you swallow between your folds, his expression knits into pure bliss, brows narrowed at how well your tight pussy hugs his cock. He looks up and catches you slowly unraveling before his eyes. You strain to keep yourself together, eyes shut in pleasure at the delicious burn swelling in your stomach.

There’s a stifled noise parting your mouth that hangs open as you gradually envelop him to the shaft. Shouto’s thick cock slowly bottoms inside your walls and makes you feel so complete. While he lets you adjust to his sizable girth, his palms grope your skin, soothing the tense burn churning inside you.

“Mmph…” you whine, hands trying to find some leverage, laying flat on his abs. You give yourself a second, followed by another until the short pain you feel morphs into a delectable buzz.

“I… I’m going to move now, Sho,” you tell him before flitting up and down his long length, progressing tentatively. His heterochromatic eyes are dark and murky, watching his cock glisten in more of your sheen while you glide it into your pussy at a steady tempo. You make sure to take everything offered to you to the fullest, from the tip to base where his balls brush the underside of your ass. Shouto is more than endowed and you don’t ever plan on taking any part of his gift for granted.

“Mm, even after I prepped you, you’re still so tight for me,” Shouto groans, your cunt rippling waves in his body. Despite being consumed in your ministrations, you have to note how sinful he looks below you, sweat shining on his skin and tufts of red and white hair sticking to his forehead. It’s hard to believe a man as handsome as him could be so possessive with you, going through such lengths to prove to his rivals that you only belong to him. But man, do you find it to be hot. The notion once again has your cunt clenching considerably.

“It’s because—ah—you’re so th-thick,” you tell him, and in turn, he gives you a devilish smirk that adds fuel to the fire lighting in your abdomen. Before you can conjure another thought, he suddenly thrusts his hips up to meet yours, reaching a particular spongy spot that causes you to cry out.

“Why don’t we increase the pace then? Ride me faster, love. I want you to cum hard on my cock in front of them.”

Oh boy, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You swiftly nod, gathering some ardor in your thighs that helps you bounce more fervently on top of him. What was once subtle claps chiming in the room escalates into a concert of skins slapping against each other. Gripping your hips, Shouto meets every heavy drop with a firm thrust upward, continuing to reach the same place that induces heaven across your entire body.

Your moans are uncontained now, flittering out at how good Shouto’s cock is making you feel. The sounds are beyond intoxicating to him, like a midnight song he could get drunk on and gladly switch to repeat.

Every slam into your spread pussy steals your words away while reducing him to hissing between his teeth, your folds enshrouding him with unimaginable euphoria that has his onlookers glaring in envy.

The sight is one that Midoriya and Bakugou will surely replay throughout their wistful days after tonight. Your breasts swaying in time with your sloppy movements is a marvel to gawk at as the two implant your glazed body bouncing atop Shouto into their memories, their deluded imaginations going to work at inserting themselves into the fray.

Your hips plunging in sync at each surge of Sho’s cock has stars twinkling across your bleary vision, eyes rolling in the back of your skull. His cock penetrates you in ways no one else could, brimming your body with sublime rapture that you relay honestly in your wails.

“Fuck, you feel so good—” Shouto mutters his praises. He effortlessly keeps up his drilling and angles himself perfectly so the tip reaches your erogenous zone throughout. His hands are digging so deep into your skin, you have no doubt your hips will be daubed purple by the end of the night.

Sweat thoroughly coating his body, his aggressive rutting into your velvet walls has his cock twitching inside you. He recognizes you’re nearing your climax as well when you slowly grip him like a vise. “Gonna milk me, love? Squeeze all the cum out of me and into that slutty pussy of yours?” He asks the question through grunts he spits between his teeth, the sounds coming out on the cusp of feral growls. He’s amused by how your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you try to form any kind of response. The rampant motions make it hard for you to grasp any sense of reality other than the sensations that collide your nerves.

“Y-yes, yes! I’m so close, Sho— Please—!” The moment you have a hand on your wheel of cognition, you start begging like it’s second nature, uncaring of the other two in the room as tears dot the edges of your lashes for relief. And how is Shouto to deny you when you’re playing such a lewd act?

“Need it so bad, n-need to cum— Ah—!”

In the very next second, your body dives to where your back forcibly lands snug on the futon, choking your words to a startling puff. Shouto shadows over you, leering down like he’s sizing his prey one last time before going in for the kill.

“Hm, since you’re begging so nicely for me, I’ll gladly help you reach your bliss, baby,” he says, tongue running along his bottom lip before he resumes driving into your pussy.

He hooks his hands beneath your knees to spread you apart further, giving his cock no repercussions on pistoning forward at unbridled speeds. Your fingers delve into the sheets, gripping the cloth like it’s your lifeline. You feel your lower body slightly lifting off the bedding due to Shouto wanting you two impossibly closer, cock thundering against you.

What you’ve yet to realize—trapped within your tornado of ecstasy—is your spectators freeing themselves from the ice, glaciers reduced to pieces at their powers. The whole exhibition had been too much for them to handle, quite literally snapping their restraints. Their clothes are gone within a flash, articles of them thrown half-hazardly on the floor. It leaves nothing to stop them from finally granting some form of bliss on their neglected cocks, fisting their lengths in conjunction with your symphony of moans.

That aside, they don’t matter to you at this moment. All you have eyes for is the man above you, whose heterochromatic gaze returns your shared adoration with equal fervor, if not more so.

“Well, love, you wanna cum, right? Then you know what to do,” Shouto grunts, lowering his torso so he can close a bit of the distance between your faces, “Tell me, who’s making you feel this fucking good right now?”

Brain a scrambled mess, you’re thankful the answer you scrounge for is a simple one.

“You, Shouto! Unnf, it’s your cock that’s making me feel good!” you exclaim, your back bowing off the bed when you perceive the coil tight in your abdomen nearly about to break. Your wanton reply has him sending his satisfaction back tenfold into you through the expert rocking of his hips.

“Yesyesyes, oh fuck— Y/n, cum all over my cock! Let go, baby!”

You scream the moment the order is given, Shouto slamming into your g-spot the impetus you need to come undone in violent spasms. Firecrackers spark beneath your skin at the ecstasy hitting your every nerve. Seeing you reach the apex of your high—eyes lidded and limbs trembling as you throw your entire body into the sheets—encourages Shouto toward his release, pumping himself in and out of your fluttering walls.

“Fuck! Y/n!” he pants raggedly before snapping his hips in place, dick twitching inside you. A gasp rips your throat as you feel his thick ribbons of white cum fill you to the brim. Shouto remains inside you for a good minute longer, hovering over your sluggish, sweaty body to seize your lips in his while you two slowly descend from heaven. You move sweetly and slowly against him, savoring the moment in the presence of his tender loving.

Meanwhile, Midoriya and Bakugou have already blown their loads all over themselves, creamy spurts painting their skin. They lean back to find their groundings, unable to even speak after what was surely an excruciating event for them both.

You’re still unsure how to go about confronting the aftermath of it all, deciding to only imbed your eyes onto Shouto due to the embarrassment that starts simmering in your mind now that you’ve come down from your highs. Your fingers rise to swipe a few stray strains of damp red-and-white hair off your boyfriend’s forehead, murmuring something kept between the two of you.

“Going through all of this just because you were jealous? You sure are insatiable, Sho.”

He chuckles at the jest behind your words, giving the other Pro Heroes a once over before he comes back to you with a satisfied grin plastered on his face, making you question whether his devilish tendencies have truly left him after tonight.

“What can I say? I guess I just want to monopolize you, baby.”

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater​ , @elaineygrace​, @multiyfandomgirl40​ ,  @lovelymischief​ , @rami-malek-trash​ , @dazzlingseb​, @avgravy​ , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​, @alanathedeer​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ 

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

[liam-cadmus]

Sasuke thumps his head on the table, annoyed at the cooing he can hear from upstairs. He straightens up before letting the wet rag fall on the counter, moving to the sink to wash his hands, wincing at Ino’s very loud squeal. He grumbles, before walking around the island, walking to the bottom of the stairs. “Ino, shut the fuck up!” he says calmly in a loud voice, listening to Ino closing the door upstairs and appearing on the top of the stairs with a journal? book? on her arms, with some pictures haphazardly balanced on top. 

She walks— sprints down the stairs, sidestepping him and dumping the pile on a table, her nails digging to his arm. “Sasuke, you didn’t tell me you were childhood sweethearts with Hinata!” she exclaims, making him splutter in disbelief, cheeks coloring in bemusement. “What do you mean? I never—” he caught sight of the pictures, before groaning, hiding his face in his palms. He doesn’t remember, and he didn’t expect that Ino will see this. He thought Ino was the better choice to help him with organizing his house, rather than Naruto and Sakura. 

“We were not sweethearts. We were just friends,” he enunciates, tone slightly defensive, “and besides, it broke off when the massacre happened.” he added glumly. Ino sighs out in exasperation, with pity? amusement? exhaustion? before flicking him on the forehead, spreading the pictures in a line. His brows raise when he caught some glimpses of Shikamaru’s hair, looking at Ino expectantly. “My mom was genin teammates with their dads. Playdates.” 

She huffs forlornly, “You three are hopeless.” He just gives her a shrug, watching over her shoulder as she looks at the pictures one by one. The pile doesn’t have that much pictures, mostly drawings with crayons with scribbled names or half-assed drawings, some with neat lines and proper colors and some mostly empty and scarce. She giggles at one, seeing a wobbly stroke of brown crayon, and small writing in the corner saying : Shika fell asleep again. - Hinata and Sasuke.

He rolls his eyes, failing to hide the smile slipping on his lips as Ino plucks a picture of Mikoto, Hiashi and Shikaku with their three kids in front, ranging around 2-3 years old, wobbly standing and holding unto each other with tight grips. “You were adorable,” she teases, hand hovering over his chubby cheeks and doe onyx eyes, making him scowl, “I was not.” 

“You were.” she laughs, “although you look like an cat hissing a fit whenever you’re scowling.” It was a running joke with Team 7, who at this point are used to his glares and scowls, his intimidation tactic failing, instead looking like one of the cats in the Uchiha compound. He nudges her shoulder instead, Ino taking another picture , moving platinum blonde hair away from her face, blue eyes lighting up in mischief. A shy Hinata peeks from behind him, with a dozing Shikamaru sitting on the ground on his other side, leaning on him. He has a wide smile, hand resting on the tiny brown ponytail. 

Ino snickers, as he takes another one, seeing the three of them wearing kimonos walking hand-by-hand on the streets, the orange tint of the lanterns reflecting off of their dark hair. There’s another one, with the camera close to their faces, a lavender eye and upturned pink lips on the left corner, with Shikamaru’s hair popping up from the bottom, Sasuke’s eye appearing on the right. “You were such cute kids.” she comments, Sasuke finding it hard to refuse the compliment. Maybe, he isn’t, but Hinata and Shikamaru definitely were— are. He flushes at the realization, averting his eyes and stacking the papers instead. 

He tugs on Ino’s shirt, making the woman stand, before relenting to his request, going up the stairs. “Fine, fine, I’ll get going with organizing it.” He smirks, “I’ll let you shift through them later, just finish them first.” She perks up, before darting up, the enthusiastic “Yes!” echoing. He doesn’t get why Ino is excited about it, after all, she was also Shikamaru and Hinata’s bestfriend, she should’ve seen their childhood photos. “I never saw yours, or ones with the three of you. They didn’t even tell me you were childhood sweethearts!” she answers his spoken out loud thought, he glowers grumpily at the sweethearts mentioned, before pocketing his hands. 

He wanders back to the kitchen, taking the discarded rag and wiping the marble counter, moving down to the bottom cabinets. He lets himself hum and get lost in his thoughts, efficiently barreling through his old essentials, throwing away the long used cleaning supplies. He dusts his pants off, swiping at the dust and cobwebs clinging on his arms, before washing his hands carefully. He runs a wet hand through his hair, the black strands staying out of his face as he dries his hands off.

The rest of the house is already clean and organized, including the Itachi’s old bedroom which was surprisingly in good condition, the awards and clothes well kept and free of dust. His old bedroom was easy to discard of the old stuff toys and smaller clothing, changing the muted blue bedding for dark grey, softer ones, and refilling his closet with clothes that do fit him, with his now better color scheme. He absently places the new tea cups on the counter before placing the kettle over open flame, taking the bags of groceries to the fridge while waiting.

He places the tin of cookies beside the cups, as he fills the fridge with fresh cartons of milk, alongside the newly bought perishable goods. He washes the vegetables, plucking a cherry tomato and eating it while placing the fruits in the basket. He pours hot water as the tea bag bobs on the surface, opening the cookie tin to get a shortbread, nibbling on it as he listens to the fumbling from upstairs, heard from the kitchen. He stays quiet as Ino budges the door open loudly, stomping down the stairs, the wood creaking loud as she appears in the doorway, papers flying in her wake.

She looks at him with a determinedly grim expression, offering a smile— that looks more like a grimace, before waving two scrolls in her hand. His mismatched eyes narrow in instinct, the gold sheen on the white paper and the chakra presence of his parents intact on the delicate sheet. “What is that supposed to be—?” he asks hesitantly, not liking the information about to be told. “I don’t know, you tell me. I just found them in a box named Sasuke, with a seal on it.”

A box with my name on it? he thinks incredulously, mouth opening to ask before he shuts it closed, taking the offered scrolls instead. His brows knitted together in concentration as Ino takes the full cup of tea, taking a chocolate cookie daintily. He channels his chakra through the frisky seal, before it opens, his parent’s chakra hitting him full-force. He unfurls the top with bated breath, meticulously written words with precise and sure strokes of ink in beautiful handwriting— his mother’s appear on the sheer reflective white paper. It’s a marriage contract, he realizes, as his eyes follow the words written, the stark black ink blurring against the blinding white.

Marriage contract. With the Hyuugas. Ensuring the bond, and making peace. No more fights. His Sharingan whirl in horror, even if he is inwardly pleased, a pink blush appearing on his cheeks. He blinks, each time dragging on longer, before he reads the last part, seeing the Hyuuga Hinata written in Hiashi Hyuuga’s writing, blocky straight letters against Fugaku’s neatly scribbled one. The date is stamped with the Hyuuga and Uchiha stamp, as he releases a tense breath, shaking fingers following the chakra infused signature of his father.

He stays there staring at his mother’s writing, the cursive handwriting and the loops making him reminiscent of his own, ‘pretty’ handwriting. He exhales through clenched teeth, before pushing it aside, Ino taking it from his hands. He focuses on the other one, blowing the hair out of his face while his chakra unlocks the seal. Ino lets out a surprised ‘ah’ of understanding, munching quietly while she mouths some words, her chakra simmering under her skin. “So it is a marriage contract,” she murmurs wistfully, rolling it to a scroll, “I had my suspicions.”

“I assume you already seen one of these?” he asks, while his eyes start to skim through a different handwriting, tilting his head on the swiftly written words, the ends of some letters dragging lazily. He inhales deeply in realization, Ino letting out some sort of squeak, her eyes widening. “That’s Yoshino Nara’s writing.” He winces, before pulling the curled bottom of the scroll, patting it flat on the counter as he catches on his name on the bottom. Again. With Shikamaru’s name on the side.

Ino whistles in a low voice, amusedly looking at the scrolls side-by-side. “You have a lot on your plate, Uchiha.” He groans, pinching his nose in annoyance before whining pitifully, “Why me.” Ino smirks. “Stop being dramatic, I’m sure your parents wouldn’t contract Itachi with a kid your age. And it seemed like you were being prepared as a heir for emergency situations.” He levels her with a flat stare, “Well, it worked out, because I somehow became the clan head.” he answers with his dry humor.

“Stop with your deprecating shit Uchiha, and find out a way with these.” she points to the scrolls, while he leans on the counter, resting his head on his palms. His elbow digs on the hard surface, but he pays it no mind, biting his lip. “Are these still true? I mean, isn’t Hinata and Shikamaru engaged right now?” he hisses, remembering the two lovebirds recently declaring it. He turns a hopeless glance at Ino, “Can I turn this down? Since my parents aren’t technically here to make it true?”

“Sasuke, you could ask Shikaku-san and Hiashi-san about it.” Ino admits, “Although I’m not sure how this will work considering it’s a chakra-focused marriage contract.” He blows a shaky breath out, before dropping his head on his arms. He mumbles, the sound muffled on his arms, while Ino leans closer to hear the muted, quiet voice. “I don’t want to ruin their marriage.” 

“You aren’t ruining it, Sasuke, you didn’t even know,” she insists, frowning at the tiredly spoken admission. “Maybe they can consider you?” she tries to lighten it, only receiving hunched shoulders and Sasuke burying his face further in his folded arms. The state of the Uchiha is depressing, the male still deep in his after-war depression, even if others are already moving on. Not that Ino can blame him, the people around him constantly crushing him down with whispers and insults behind his back, some of them failing to hide their disdain. 

She sighs, rubbing at her childhood friend’s arm, listening to Sasuke calming down his breathing, his chakra tense and tight like a string. She became Sasuke’s confidant, after his time in the cells, trusting her enough to let her look through his memories. She soothes him, until his chakra coils uncurls into light flickering. Sasuke rubs at his eyes in exhaustion, temples pounding and his eyes aching. She doesn’t open her mouth, instead helping Sasuke clean up the used cups and tin, wiping off the crumbs and droplets of tea on the counter, before taking the scrolls and placing it on the table. 

She arranges the pictures and drawings, placing the scrolls on the side, making sure to not let it roll off. “You know, you’re allowed to be loved, Sasuke.” she smiles, as Sasuke’s eyes dart to her in a glance, “You’re not unlovable, you just grew up unloved.” Dark mismatched eyes cloud over as she pats his shoulder, “I’m here, your team’s always here. You’re not alone. Not anymore.” she presses her cheek on his, “You’re like my little brother now.” 

Sasuke huffs a amused breath, “I don’t fit in the little, in your description.” he says, but hugs her nonetheless, letting himself be vulnerable for once. “You’re always gonna be like a little brother, you don’t have the bones to be an older one.” Sasuke turned misty eyes to her, “I guess not.” 

“You’ve always have been. Now, I’m gonna go and let you settle in. Just send me a hawk, Chiya if possible, when you want or need help, okay?” she says, while she tightens the laces on her shoes, the door ajar. He nods, “I’ll think about it. Thank you, Ino.” She flashes him a smirk, making him grunt in amusement, as she flips her hair over her shoulder. “Ta-ta.” 

The door slams shut, as the tea cups dry off on the rack, while he returns them in their proper places, eye trailing over to the scroll on his way to the stairs. He stops by the table, thumb grazing the seals while he sits down, letting his cheek sit atop his hand. His eyes reads the words again, repeating it over and over his head, dazed. He takes two empty sheets of paper, taking a brush and an ink pot before settling down on the chair. 

He writes with clear lines, signing the letter with a flourish. He seals the scrolls with his chakra, stamping an Uchiha crest on the outside before summoning two hawks, tying it securely in their claws. Ishi and Aya stays on his shoulders, rubbing their wings on his duck butt of a hair affectionately before flying out the opened window, flapping of wings disappearing into the night. Hopefully, they receive his invitation, and talk about the contract. 

No, Shikaku did not die. And yes, Sasuke does have two intact arms. Bless me, I wrote this at 10 pm, and finished in 2 hours. I need sleep. I think I forgot to emphasize that Sasuke has a Rinnegan-

[acebladespades]

Can I have 5. Comfort Item with Solaire and Oscar? A modern AU is preferred, but canon is fine as well.

Title: To act like a true knight

Fandom: Dark Souls

Characters: Oscar fo Astora, Solaire of Astora.

Word-Count: 5770

AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34015300

Summary: On a winter's night, Solaire loses his equipment.

Author's note: It is going to be 1k words, I said. It will be a comedy fic, I said. And now... look at this almost 6k angst fest haha. I hope you like it :D

Prompt: Comfort item.

@sicktember

“Look, there’s the idiot.”

“By the sweet tits of Lady Gwynevere, what the farmer said is true!”

“Ah, our favorite buffoon never fails to put a smile on my face.”

“Astora would be a far duller place to live in without him. But...shouldn’t we stop him? That fool will freeze to death at this rate.”

“Ha! Solaire’s head is thicker than a bowl of oatmeal. You’ll get frostbite on your toes and nose before he even considers listening to a word you say. That wouldn’t be very smart of you, would it? Besides, you are already ugly as sin. Frostbite will do no favors to your hideous mug.”

“Shut your hole, bastard. Your features are hardly what I would call carved by the gods themselves. It is a blessing our helmets keep me from gazing at it too often. On second thought, I was wrong. Lord Nito really outdid himself when he made you in his image.”

“Aye, aye, keep talking.”

The two elite knights turned their backs on the frozen field and walked away, laughing and mocking each other. Their minds were too clouded with drink for either of them to notice the presence of a third elite knight nearby.

He had followed them outside.

He had remained quiet as his two fellow knights mocked Solaire, and he continued to do so until the drunk men were once again inside the tavern.

“Pathetic.” Oscar said under his breath before returning his attention to Solaire “All of you.”

Solaire was too far away from him to listen to his derisive mutterings. Even if he had heard him, Oscar doubted Solaire would have dared to say something in return.

Oscar was an elite knight.

Solaire was a lowly upstart, just freshly knighted in the battlefield a few months ago.

As foolish as he was, Solaire was well aware of his place in the world and he acted accordingly.

But he still has much to learn.

“Curses.” Oscar said in resignation, the falling snow starting to form small mounds on the top of his helmet and on his pauldrons.

Yet, when he started walking, he did so towards Solaire and not the rowdy tavern.

I knew I should have stayed out of this. If I catch a cold, you’ll answer for it, Solaire.

The snow and the cold slowed Oscar’s pace. It took him a moment to reach Solaire’s side.

The lower knight failed to notice Oscar at first, too focused on trying to pull some carrots out of the frozen field.

Underneath his helmet, Oscar frowned.

He would not be so easily ignored, especially not by Solaire.

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but the ground is frozen. You’ll never manage to harvest these crops.”

Solaire gasped and jolted in surprise. In his shock, he pulled the carrots’ stems too strongly and ripped them from their roots.

Solaire straightened his back and looked at Oscar. His face was hidden behind a thick piece of cloth wrapped around his head and neck, leaving only a small slit between the folds for his eyes.

At least you had the common sense of protecting your face from the cold. Hardly an achievement, but worth mentioning.

“See? What did I tell you?” Oscar pointed at the stems on Solaire’s hand. “It was bound to happen. I don’t know what else you were expecting.”

Solaire looked down at the stems he was holding. Disappointment quickly showed in his eyes.

He let go of the destroyed leaves, ashamed, as if he had been defeated in a duel before his lord and a royal court.

Ridiculous.

Still, Solaire’s regret was genuine. His actions had been foolish and improper of a knight, but his heart had been in the right place. That alone deserved some acknowledgement, even if just a little.

“Well, now you know this little quest of yours was a fool’s errand all along. ” Oscar folded his arms on his chest. More than to look severe and imposing, he did so to keep himself from trembling. How Solaire had endured so many hours out in that sheer cold he couldn’t comprehend. “You should have known better from the start. Don’t forget you are a knight now, Solaire. It’s time you started acting like one.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Solaire replied harshly.  He dedicated a quick glare to Oscar before grabbing a new bunch of frozen stems and repeating the process. “Now, if you are done talking, please leave. I need to get back to it. The pleasure was all mine, sir.”

Oscar was speechless.

Had Solaire, foolish and gullible Solaire, really talked back to him?

Was he willingly ignoring him?

Had he ordered him to go away?

With his entire body burning with anger, Oscar forgot about the cold simmering in his bones and grabbed Solaire by his forearm. With a violent pull, he forced him to stand up.

“I told you to stop! You are making a fool out of yourself.”

Even more so than usual.

Oscar had to bite his tongue to keep those words from escaping him. They were too cruel. Furious as he was, he wasn’t as heartless as to mock Solaire in that manner.

“Knights do not harvest crops for the farmers, help milkmaids make butter, cut lumber for the blacksmiths or shoe other men’s horses. You looked ridiculous enough when you did all these errands when you were a soldier, but back then, it was only your own reputation you were tainting. Things have changed now. Your actions affect us all, Solaire. A knight’s actions are every knight’s responsibility. Make a fool out of yourself and you make a fool out of us all.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Solaire broke free from Oscar’s grip easily, more easily than Oscar had expected. For a moment, Oscar feared Solaire would retaliate with an attack, but all Solaire did was to glare at him again. “So what if I am a knight? This farmer’s crops will die if they don’t get harvested soon. How will he feed his family if this happens? Did any of this ever cross your mind or that of your friends, or were you three too busy laughing at me? Don’t think I didn't see you. Don't think I didn't hear all you said.”

Shame almost found its way into Oscar’s heart. He fought against it, unwilling to bear the faults of others as his own.

I did nothing wrong. It’s not my duty to speak up for upstart knights. Those who can't defend themselves shouldn’t be knights at all.

“You are wrong.” He said sternly. “They mocked you, but I did not. Bold of you to assume I would waste my breath on you, Solaire. By the lords, knight a peasant and suddenly he grows prideful and defiant. Maybe this too was inevitable. But what else could I have expected from Astora’s biggest buffoon? ”

Oscar had not intended to say the last sentence out loud, but Solaire’s impertinence and stubbornness had depleted his patience.

He had tried to be kind to him, he had genuinely attempted to save Solaire from the cold and from further humiliation, and in return, Solaire had confronted him.

It wasn’t fair.

Without warning, Solaire took a violent step toward Oscar.

Against his will, Oscar took a step back.

They stared at each other, with nothing but the winter winds breaking the silence.

Though the visor of his helmet kept Solaire from noticing, it was Oscar who looked away first.

He had known that insulting Solaire wouldn't be amusing or satisfying, but neither had he expected it to fill his chest with guilt.

“Just leave.” Solaire said under his breath. There was no anger in his voice, only exhaustion.

He turned his back on Oscar and focused once more on the frozen crops.

Soon, it was as if he had forgotten about Oscar’s presence completely.

Stubborn fool.

Oscar thought of walking away and conceding Solaire his wish.

His arms and feet were already getting numb inside the gelid confines of his armor. His nose was stuffed and his throat was starting to get sore.

A fever and a cold by tomorrow's morning were mandatory.

Perfect, what a wonderful way to end the day and start the next. Was it worth it? Lords, I knew I should have stayed in the godforsaken tavern.

“Do as you wish, then.” Oscar turned his back on Solaire. “Don’t be shocked when everyone mocks you tomorrow for allowing some farmer to trick you into doing his work while he gets drunk.”

“What?”

Oscar ignored Solaire at first, decided not to dignify him with an answer, but the honest disbelief in his voice prevented Oscar from leaving him to his fate.

With a heavy sigh, he turned around.

“That downtrodden and sick farmer that so much begged for your help didn’t look so sick to me. He is healthy enough to be dancing around and singing in the tavern about how you fell for his lie.”

“No.” Very slowly, as if his arms and legs had turned into stone, Solaire stood up. “That’s not true. He… he is very sick, you see. He can’t dance. He has a bad leg, a childhood injury that never truly healed. It never stops hurting, but it gets worse during winter. That’s why he...he asked for my help. His family...”

“I doubt his imaginary wife and children will starve to death any time soon. He seemed rather proud of his bachelorhood, now that I think about it. A jolly and happy life, free of brats and a nagging wife , or so he called it.”

“Oh my, what a misunderstanding. No, no, you got it all wrong.” With a trembling hand, Solaire pointed at the small house and the other end of the field. “His family is over there. They can’t leave the house in this weather. The… the children, they would get sick. They can’t help their father harvest these crops in this cold… and that’s why I...I...”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable even for Oscar. Had his fellow elite knights been there to witness Solaire’s moment of realization, they would have laughed at him without any regard for Solaire himself.

Oscar, perhaps, would have laughed too.

Yet, at that moment, he felt no desire to laugh at all. His anger, so incensed just a moment ago, vanished from his heart.

“I’m a fool.” Solaire said with what sounded like a drowned laugh. He dropped to his knees as a blow of wind snatched the cloth wrapped around his head and took it away, exposing Solaire’s face to the freezing cold. “What did you call me? Astora’s biggest buffoon… well, you aren’t too far off.”

He laughed again, but it was a hollow sound.

“It’s always the same.” Solaire lamented. “Always.”

“I see.” Oscar did not know what else he could say, but he knew that neither he nor Solaire would benefit from staying out in the cold any longer. Gentler than before, he helped Solaire back on his feet. “We’ve no business here. Let’s get back to the tavern before we freeze to death. I’ll see that the farmer receives a proper punishment for his impertinence.”

“No.” Solaire refused to move when Oscar pulled him. “Don’t. What good would any of that do?”

“Plenty. He’ll never dare to trick a knight again, and he’ll be a good example of what happens to those who think they can get away with such insolence. Do not worry, his punishment shall be harsh, not lethal.”

“No.”

“Solaire, you can’t possibly allow this to---”

“I said no.”

“Are you trying to impress me by being stupidly kind and forgiving? If so, let me tell you that it isn’t working. Now, if you are done with this little act of yours, let’s get moving. Hurry; I won't carry you if you pass out. I’ll just leave you here, so you can become a giant snowman for the children to play with.”

“Go where? To the tavern, so that the others can mock me?” Solaire took a step away from Oscar. “Haven’t they mocked me enough? No, I won’t do it. I may be an idiot, but even an idiot has pride. I’d rather stay here and be a snowman by tomorrow’s morning than be everyone’s laughing stock any longer.”

“That would be futile. They are still going to mock regardless of what you do, so might as well be warm and out of danger as they laugh at you. You cannot blame them for it, Solaire. If you don't want to be treated like an idiot, you shouldn't act like one.”

It was the truth. After the stunt he had pulled, Solaire would receive little else than mockery and laughter from knights, merchants and peasants alike for the days to come.

What else does he expect?

What else does he deserve?

Why does he...

Solaire fixed a weary gaze on Oscar. He said nothing, and there was no need, for it was enough to make Oscar’s thoughts come to a halt.

Concealing his regret under a neutral tone, Oscar reached out for Solaire’s arm a third time.

“I won’t allow it.” He said. “If anyone dares to laugh at you, they’ll answer to me. If you are worried about my fellow elite knights, don’t be. I’ll keep them in check too, you have my word.”

Rather than grateful, Solaire seemed baffled, as if Oscar had promised him to make him an elite knight first thing in the morning.

“Why?” Solaire said. It was then Oscar noticed how pale he was, and how loudly his teeth chattered. “Why would you do that? We are nothing to each other. I don't even know your name.”

“By the Lords, you are never satisfied, are you? I didn't offer you to be your friend and my name is none of your business. I want to help you, that's all. Of all people, you should understand, Solaire.”

“And I want to. I want to believe you mean what you say, but for all I know, it’s all a trick, just another one of the elite’s jests against me.”

“That would be a rather poorly executed jest, and I would be the victim of it, not you. By staying here with you, I’ve already caught a cold. My head hurts, I can't feel my hands, my nose is stuffed and it will be a miracle if the snow hasn’t rusted my pauldrons and greaves. Do you think I’d endure all these mishaps just to trick you into some ridiculous situation?”

Solaire’s expression softened, but suspicion and wariness remained in his eyes. Oscar was already starting to consider knocking Solaire unconscious and dragging him to the tavern by one of his legs when the lower knight finally gave him an answer.

“No, I don’t think you would.” Solaire said. He spoke so lowly that Oscar could barely hear him. “Forgive me for not trusting you. I did not intend to be rude, I just…”

“Oh, Solaire.” Oscar rested a hand on his shoulder on what Solaire interpreted as an understanding gesture. Sadly, he was quickly proven wrong. “You talk too much. I’ll listen to your apologetic speeches all you want, but only once we are back to the tavern. Understood?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” Oscar said with relief. “Let’s go then.”

“Wait!” Solaire exclaimed. “Just give me a moment to retrieve my equipment and then we--”

He looked around in all directions. Oscar did the same, but all he saw was a thick blanket of pure-white snow.

“I left them here.” Solaire pointed at a spot a few steps away from his feet. After a brief moment of pondering, he pointed at a more distant spot on his left. “No, I left them there. My helmet, my talisman, my sword and my shield. Or was it over there? No, it was here!”

“That doesn't matter.” Oscar snapped at him. “We don't have time for this. You’ll retrieve your equipment tomorrow.”

“I can’t leave it behind.” Solaire got on his knees and began digging with his hands. “My shield and sword will rust… my talisman will get destroyed too...and my helmet…. No, no, what a dreadful thought. I cannot leave it behind!”

It didn't take long for droplets of blood to start splattering around Solaire’s hands, but that wasn’t enough for him to stop digging.

“It’s not here.” Solaire admitted reluctantly. He stood up, no longer bothering to hide his desperation. He looked around restlessly, his panting creating small clouds in the freezing air. “I… I don’t remember. I--”

He turned around and faced Oscar, as if he could give him an answer, but there was nothing Oscar could do other than look at him in sympathy from under his helmet.

Disappointed and tired, Solaire looked down at his bleeding hands.

“Let’s go.” Oscar said as gently as he could, though it still came out like stern order rather than a kind offer. “There’s nothing left to be done here.”

Solaire did not answer.

Oscar was starting to fear he would once again refuse when he finally muttered a low, “Yes.”

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

Oscar did not have to carry Solaire. There was no need, as he only passed out after they entered the tavern. They were received by a jolly crowd. Some mocked Solaire loudly as soon as they saw him, whistling and applauding at him as if he was returning victorious from a duel; others were more discreet and simply gossiped among each other, covering their smiles with their pints and hands.

Before Oscar could order them all to be quiet, Solaire collapsed on the floor. He fell flat on his chest, as if a wayward arrow had pierced his heart and lungs.

A silence colder than the wind outside spread across the tavern.

“By the Lords, is the idiot going to die?” an elite knight said to his friend as he stopped leaning his ear against the closed door.

He spoke of Solaire as if he was a horse with a broken leg and not a man agonizing on a bed.

“How should I know? You’re the one listening to the whole thing, you stupid sod!” The other elite knight answered. Behind them, a small and curious crowd had gathered. Among them, there was the farmer responsible for that whole mess.

He was crying like a criminal sentenced to be beheaded publicly by tomorrow’s morning.

“I never meant for this to happen.” He muttered in between his sobbing. “It was a jest…”

“Quiet, you!” One of the elite knights exclaimed. He shooed the peasants away, threatening violence upon them if they did not disperse and returned to their own business that instant.

They all obeyed, even the farmer, though he was still crying when he left.

“That was a bit harsh.” The other elite knight told his partner. “They were doing nothing wrong.”

“Perhaps, but I couldn't hear a damn thing with their blabbering and that farmer’s cursed sobbing. “ The elite knight rested his helmeted ear against the door and closed one of his eyes as if that sharpened his hearing. “Now you shut up too so that I--”

The door opened.

The elite knight sprung backwards like a scared cat. He crashed against his partner’s chest, and together, they watched a third elite knight emerge from the room.

“By the Lords, Oscar! You almost scared me to death!” The elite knight exclaimed. His anger soon waned, overtaken by his curiosity. “Speaking of death... Tell us what happened! Hurry, before the peasants come again like chickens hungry for breadcrumbs of gossip. What will happen to the idiot? Is he going to die?”

The last word came distorted with an amused snort.

“Hey now, ” the second elite knight said to his partner. “I may find Solaire’s antics fun and entertaining, but you shouldn’t laugh at him right now…not in his current state.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve had too many drinks and… Nah, to hell with it! I am not sorry at all!” The drunk elite knight exclaimed, no longer bothering to repress his laughter. “Why should I be sorry? Why should we pretend this is not what Solaire deserves? Serves him right for allowing some peasant to deceive him. In fact, where is that farmer? Bring him before me so I can kiss him on both cheeks for granting me some joy on a stressful day! Where are you, you magnificent bastard? Come here! Now now, don’t be shy--”

The elite knight never got to finish, for his helmet was forcefully removed from his head by Oscar. Before he could react or understand what was happening, a gauntlet shaped like a fist crashed on his mouth.

He fell on his back, blood dripping from his mouth and busted lip.

“Oscar! Have you gone mad?!” The second elite knight asked in distress as he went to his partner’s side and helped him sit down.

“You damn bastard.” The injured elite knight stuttered, touching his bloodied mouth tenderly with his fingers. “You loosened my front teeth. You won’t get away with this, you’ll see! Once I’m done with you, you won’t be knight enough to guard the public muck pit!”

“You talk too much but you say so little. Typical of a fool.” Oscar said,unaffected by the other’s threats. “How about you stop wasting your nasty breath and do something good for a change? Guard this room, the both of you. Do not let anyone enter, and should the healer need anything, make sure you get it for her.”

“What, are we the guardians of the idiot out of a sudden? As if!” The drunk elite knight stood up, despite his friend doing his best to keep him quiet and on the floor. He spat a bloodied phlegm on Oscar’s tunic. “Look at you, acting so smug, trying to put yourself above everyone elsr, like you always do! Take your selfrightouness and cram it up your ass, Oscar. As if you cared about the idiot at all… as if you didn’t hate the way he makes all of us Astoran knights look like fools! What is that you always say? If he didn’t want to be treated like an idiot, he wouldn’t act like one. Well, you are absolutely right! And if he didn’t want to be at death’s doorstep, he shouldn’t have stayed out in the sheer cold for hours like an absolute nitwit!”

“Well, aren't you fond of my sayings. Here's a new one for you.” Oscar said calmly before pulling his fellow elite knight closer to him and landing another punch on his lips. The other fell to the floor again, and this time, he spat out not only blood, but two teeth. “If you didn’t want to get your mouth torn apart, you wouldn’t have opened it so much.”

The injured elite knight couldn’t answer. A sudden rush of vomit, mostly caused by the amount of drink in his stomach, finally came gushing from his mouth.

“Make sure this fool stays down and doesn’t cause any more ruckus.” Oscar said to the second elite knight, who looked at him as if he was a scolded child. “And please, do as I told you. Guard this door and make sure the healer has all she needs while I’m gone.”

“I.. I…” The elite knight looked at his almost passed out partner and then at Oscar again. He sighed, almost as exhausted as Oscar was. “Very well. But, where are you going?”

“I won’t take long.” It was the only answer Oscar gave him.

As he left the tavern, the curious crowd looked at him as if they had just witnessed a murder. They all stepped out of his way as Oscar passed them by.

All except for a farmer with red and swollen eyes.

“Sir.” He muttered to Oscar. “Sir, I’m so sorry. You have to believe me, this is not what I wanted. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Oscar stopped and glared at him from under his helmet, but his expression soon softened.

If he did this, it is because he is following our example. This is what we elite knights have allowed.

“Sir.” The farmer kneeled next to Oscar and tried to hold his hand. “Please.”

Oscar backed away from him as if he had been burned and left the tavern without saying a word.

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

He felt unreasonably disappointed.

Perhaps, it was because of it that he refused to stop digging.

They’re not here.

The rational side of his mind whispered

They’re not anywhere.

A more fantasious but no less persistent side added.

“They are here. Somewhere.” Oscar replied to himself. If anyone saw him talking to his own mind, they would think of him as a madman clad in stolen armor, not as a rightful knight.

It would not be a baseless supposition, for an elite knight did not dig into the snow like some mutt in search of a lost bone.

Thankfully, or perhaps regrettably, there was no one around to look at him and laugh. Or, in a more idlilic scenario, to offer him a much needed hand.

You know who would be perfect for that? Solaire! But no… Lords, no. He had to go and get himself sick! And by doing so, he left this cursed task all to me! Who does he think I am? Some pig trained to search truffles for him? Some squire he can send to find his ridiculous equipment?

“They’re not here!” Oscar exclaimed, unable to state otherwise any longer. Snow had leaked through his gauntlets, freezing his fingers and lacerating his skin with dozens of sharp and small cuts.

He retrieved them from the snow and tried to stand up, but his knees and ankles were numb with cold and pain. After a long moment of effort, Oscar got back on his shaky legs. He turned around and looked at the many holes he had dug on the frozen field. Some of them were starting to get filled again with fresh falling snow.

Disappointment and anger faded and gave way to despair.

The helmet, the talisman, the sword and the shield.

If he didn’t find them soon, it wouldn’t take long before he lost track of the place where he had already searched.

And then…

So what if that happens? All I’d have to do next is go back to the tavern and forget about this whole thing. I’d owe no explanations to no one, especially not Solaire. That is if he isn’t already dead by then.

Oscar stopped thinking as he had been struck by an invisible hand.

Truth was that Solaire had not asked him to go find his equipment for him; he had been too moribund to do anything else other than rave like a lunatic about how much he needed to go back and retrieve his possessions before they got ruined under the snow.

Oscar didn’t understand why. The helmet was nothing special, the talisman was little more than an old rag and the shield was a mockery of what a knight’s shield should look like, with that foolish sun painted all over its surface.

The only piece with some value to it was the sword, and even that was highly arguable.

But even so…

“Dammit.” Oscar slowly walked to a new position and knelt down.

He repeated the process again.

Even if I am looking for nothing else than a bunch of scrap metal whose value is strictly sentimental, I will not give up. I will not be defeated by Solaire’s simple task! Who does he think he is? Who does he think I am?

He dug and dug.

Blood leaking from his gauntlets painted the red snow.

He kept digging, but he found nothing.

He moved to another spot, then another.

The result was the same.

My hands, my legs. I’m tired, I want to go back… no, no! Solaire stayed out in this cold for hours! Does he think I can’t do the same? Who does he think I am? An upstart knight, best an elite? Never!

Anger fueled his movements, but Solaire was not the reason behind it.

Why did he do it? What was he trying to prove? I don't get it… I don't… What am I…?

Oscar’s sight became blurry and his thoughts began to scatter.

Amidst his fever, he looked at me. He said…

His fingers scratched a solid surface.

"Please."

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

He had survived the night.

His recovery would take a while, but his life was not in danger. The healer had done her job well.

Solaire had wanted to thank her, but she had left without waking him up.

Had she taken care of him for free out of the kindness of her heart, or had someone else paid her in Solaire’s stead?

Solaire could only wonder, but he knew the latter was more likely. He wanted to care more about the matter, but he had too little strength of body and spirit to focus his thoughts on anything beyond the room and bed he occupied.

The mere idea of going outside and facing the world was disheartening.

He was not naive enough to think his close encounter with death would soften the people’s hearts, especially not after he had survived.

He would be everyone’s laughing stock for the days to come. If he had managed to earn some respect from other knights since being knighted on the battlefield months ago, all of it would have been lost last night.

All his efforts had been wasted in an instant.

But I cannot stay here forever… I have to go back to my life. I have to live among my people, eat in their company, protect them and fight by their side. I have to face them with my head high.

The thought was meant to be comforting, perhaps even wise, but it only discouraged him further.

Solaire covered his eyes with his forearm and breathed out a bitter chuckle.

"But such is the life I've built for myself." Solaire muttered with a hollow smile as the silk of his shirt absorbed his tears. "Such is the life of Astora's biggest buffoon."

He wallowed in his self-pity for longer than he had done in his life. Eventually, realizing the futility of it and disgusted at his own weakness, Solaire stopped

Crying had solved nothing. The world outside  and its people remained unchanged.

Perhaps it would be best if I face it now .

Slowly, Solaire got himself out of bed. The taverner and the few people in the tavern at that time in the morning were as good a start as any.

Or perhaps…

The idea that so often fluttered around his mind became so vivid that it felt almost like an order towards himself.

Why not go through with it?

Lately, Solaire often considered it.

Why not attempt to become an Undead and leave Astora for good?

Could he really say he had something dear enough to him in his homeland to be bound to it any longer?

Friends and family he had none. His achievements were seldom recognized, his missteps were always remembered. He had believed things would change for the better after becoming a rightful knight, but last night, he had discovered he had thought wrong.

I love Astora. I love my people.

Solaire thought once he was done putting his armor on. It was too heavy for his tired body, but he was a knight. It was time he started acting like one.

But I can’t —

The sight of his equipment disrupted his thoughts. Solaire didn’t believe his eyes at first.

His helmet, his talisman, his sword and his shield.

Someone had found them and returned them to him. Solaire had not wanted to think about his lost equipment. He was sure they were lost for good, he was convinced that he would find them ruined by the snow once he went to retrieve them later that day.

But there they were, right before his eyes. Solaire promptly knelt down to inspect each piece. The feather of his helmet was gone, but the helmet itself was undamaged. His talisman was dry; whoever had found it must have hung it in the tavern’s hearth. His sword and shield would require a blacksmith’s care, but they were perfectly salvageable.

“But…” Solaire stuttered, relieved and confused in equal doses. “Who?”

Then, he remembered he knew the answer.

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

Oscar lifted his visor just enough to release his sneeze. He had not slept well, and the fever from last night had not disappeared yet.

But last night was gone and a new day had dawned.

There were duties he had to tend to, and they cared not if he was sick or healthy.

Such was the life of an elite knight.

“Look.” His fellow elite knight said to Oscar, bumping him strongly on the arm. Without his front teeth, he sounded like a completely different man, but the venom and resentment in his voice was palpable. “Your lady has come to bid you farewell.”

Oscar didn’t understand what the other meant at first, but everything became clear when Solaire’s voice reached his ears.

“Wait!” Solaire exclaimed. He had followed them outside the tavern.

Oscar saw how the two other elite knights walked away from Solaire and ignored him as if he was ridden with disease. They said nothing in derision to him, they simply turned their backs to him and left.

Oscar tried to do the same, but Solaire approached him before he could escape.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Solaire asked.

Oscar answered by turning his back to him, but he didn’t walk away. He supposed Solaire still had something to say.

He was not wrong.

“Thank you.”

Oscar remained still for a little while, but he left without saying anything in return.

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

Solaire watched the three elite knights go.

As they became lost in the distance, he could no longer distinguish the one that had helped him from the other two.

He stayed outside for a moment. Eventually, Solaire went back inside the tavern.

The idea from before never faded from his mind, and it gained strength whenever he heard a distant chuckle or insult thrown at him.

But when Solaire returned to the room and looked at his beloved equipment, he decided he would not go trough with it.

Perhaps, one day, he would.

But not today.

Now properly dressed and with his shield, his sword, his talisman and helmet in place, he left the room to face the world with his head high.

Not today.

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x (named) f.reader 

genre: angst, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, lil spooky

word count: 5.2k  |  reading time: 30 min

chapter summary: you explore the woods next to the manor and still can’t avoid Taehyung completely

warnings: a lil spooky woods, small talk about fairies and ghosts

All chapters  |  Masterlist  |  Read on AO3

Chapter 2: Staying on your toes

The formidable Victorian Manor kept engorging you and you had the need to do something, particularly to leave, given that Kim Taehyung's presence in the building was only adding to the feeling of commitment. Perhaps you should do what you had just told Yoonji and go on a hike, get out of there and get your mind off things. Enjoy the perks of the vacation for a while.

So you decided to do just that and picked out your favorite dress that you had brought along. It had an ivory color, puffy sleeves, and reached your ankles. Paired with a thick, brown belt that looked like a corset, you didn't wear it very often. You definitely wanted to but didn't feel bold enough to wear something so vintage-looking. However, now that you were staying in a mansion, you couldn't help yourself. In fact, your entire suitcase was filled with those outfits you always wore to look at yourself in the mirror and then hesitantly take off again. That poet shirt and black, leather pants that made you look like a pirate, the forest green coat slash cape that your grandma had knitted for you, the little floral dress, the plaid skirt that belonged to your mum when she was a high school student. You had the chance to wear it all, now that there weren't any judging eyes on the horizon. Well, there was a pair of dark brown ones, but they didn't count if you didn't care.

The library was right next to the sitting room you were in earlier. It was a smaller room than the rest in the building, yet still so big for it to be filled with just books. You found the hiking guide on a little, round table by an armchair. Inside, there was a map highlighting six different paths, some long and some short, some going up the mountain and some diving through the forest to reach a stream of fresh water. The guide provided information about the place, as well as photographs to identify the flowers, mountain tea, herbs, and mushrooms found in the trails. You noted it was the time of the year that the mushrooms bloomed (in contrast to the tea that apparently grows in June) and excitedly grabbed the guide to take it with you.

In the kitchen, you found the most adorable basket that you were sure had been hand-made. As you bent down to grab it, you could have sworn you saw something pass behind you. Quickly, you turned around, expecting to find your vacation buddy. But there was no one. You shrugged, assuming he must have seen you and fleeted, as he should. But when you pulled the heavy front door closed with difficulty, you noticed Taehyung had been out on his own excursion. He was deep in the garden, snapping pictures of the scenery. He had his back to you and his face buried in his camera, so you managed to slip by unnoticed.

The forest began right next to the estate and got so dense, so quickly, you couldn't even see the house after having walked for about five minutes. The trees were taller than they looked from your bedroom window, engulfing you whole and hiding the sky and sunlight from your eyes. The temperature fell dangerously in the woods. It all made you feel relieved as if you knew Taehyung couldn't bother you here; you were alone and safe to be yourself.

"I wonder if there're any animals around," you mumbled at some distant sounds. It couldn't be anything dangerous, like wolves or wild boars, right? No way, they wouldn't encourage people to go hiking in the forest if there were.

Is what you told yourself.

"Oh, mushrooms!" you squealed and ran to the side of the trail, where two mushrooms, a smaller and a bigger one stood close together. They were a light beige color, with a thin stem and a big, flat cap. On top of them, they had some brown spots. You took the guide out of the basket and flipped through the pages to identify the fungus. The second one on the list seemed very similar. "Macrolepiota procera, commonly known as the parasol mushroom, has gained its name from its shape: a large, prominent fruiting body that looks like an umbrella. It is a fairly common species on well-drained soils and very sought-after and popular in Europe, due in part to its large size, seasonal frequency, and versatility in the kitchen."

You got a big smile. You had never picked mushrooms before, and you hadn't even known how much you wanted to until now. This was so much more fun than it sounded. You bent down and cut both of the mushrooms from the root, feeling the velvety roof of their cap and causing some of the brown spots to rub away. A couple of steps later, you found more. You picked the big ones, leaving the smaller ones that still had a round head to grow further. But there were more. Higher on the ground and farther away from the trail, you had to climb the rocks to reach them, careful not to get your dress dirty. You had by then filled about a third of the basket. Should you pick more? You didn't want to get too many in case Taehyung wanted to try some. Oh, sorry, I barely have enough for me was the way you wanted to go about it. You climbed a little higher, using your hands for leverage. A couple more couldn't hurt, right?

Just as you straightened your back again, you managed to see behind a rock. More mushrooms! You turned around the rock to get better access and were met with a sight you didn't expect to see. The mushrooms had grown in a circle. A big, thick, perfect circle.

"What's this?" you chuckled in disbelief. You squatted down next to the circle to inspect it better. "Wow, that looks almost like someone planted these with a compass. Truly, how can nature make something like that?" It looked so beautiful, you almost didn't want to ruin it.

You reached out a hand to touch a big mushroom right in front of you when a strong wind suddenly blew and made you lose your balance slightly. You held yourself up with both of your palms on the soil. The wind blew again, making you shudder from the cold. "Oh, I should head back soon. Just a few more mushrooms and-"

A loud, thumping sound coming from your left made you turn your head fast, your hands finding blindly your basket. You didn't see anything, but more noise was produced, and by the level of it, whatever it was causing it was getting closer. You jumped back down the way you had come before you even realized it. Struggling to get to the trail with the basket in one hand and the other guiding your way, the wind kept picking up and blowing your hair all over your face. You were just a step away from the path again when your foot got intertwined with your dress and you landed on your knees and elbows in the dirt. But the noises and the wind still weren't backing up. You cried out in sheer panic as you grabbed the basket that had landed on its side and spilled half of the mushrooms, and started running down the trail. Not looking back, not slowing down.

You were running for long enough to lose your breath, yet were still nowhere near the beginning of the forest. Had the trail always been so long? Had you been walking so far without even realizing, distracted by the beauty of the place? Or had you gotten completely lost? You stopped for a minute, bending over with your hands on your knees, to refill your lungs, before you started jogging again. There weren't any more noises other than the chirping of the birds, so you deemed yourself safe, but kept up the fast pace. The sooner you got out of these woods, the better.

Finally, the trail got wide and met up with the rest of the paths at the beginning of the forest and you cried out again in relief. The house appeared behind the trees, too. You stopped again to catch your breath, looking back and forth between the neatly groomed gardens and the crowded, dark woods. You were strangely so happy to be out of there, you didn't even care if that meant you had to see Taehyung again. You dusted your dress as much as you could to make yourself presentable, although it was stained with dirt that wouldn't come off. You sighed but still, that was a small price to pay. You got out of there without a scratch!

The wind was even stronger out in the open, almost physically pushing you back inside the house. And you let it. You let the door smack back closed and make a loud sound that echoed up the stairs, announcing your arrival. You peaked through the hallways trying to see if you'd catch a glance of the photographer since he was no longer out in the garden, but everything was still and silent. Dusting off your palms and dress once more, you headed to the kitchen to leave the basket with the few mushrooms that were left inside before going to change. You opened the door and were met with exactly who you were searching for, but were hoping not to find.

Taehyung was standing in front of the stove and turned his head at the sound of someone entering, looking at you surprised, almost like he had forgotten somebody else stayed there as well. His wide eyes raked down your form before you had a chance to hide from his gaze. "What happened?" he barked with eyebrows furrowed.

You acted casual. "I went on a hike in the woods."

Taehyung turned all the way around and pointed at you with a knife he had in his hands. "I was actually referring to the state of your dress."

"Oh," you said, looking down as if you had no idea what he was talking about. "There was some mud in the path."

"Was the mud knee-deep?"

You clicked your tongued. "I fell, okay?" you admitted, raising your arms. "I tripped and fell, not a big deal."

But he looked at you with eyes that could be mistaken as concerned. "Oh no, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You were quick to dismiss him with a wave of your hand, finally moving closer to the counter to hoist your basket up. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I said I just tripped. It happens all the time." You grabbed the fabric in between your fingers, swerving the dress around to look at it better. "My dress got ruined though," you mumbled more to yourself. "I don't know if it'll come off."

"Oh.." you heard the boy express his disappointment. "That's too bad. It's a very pretty dress."

You shot your head up again to glare at him. "Yeah, ha ha," you mocked, immediately thinking he was being sarcastic.

But his eyebrows raised high in defense. "I mean it! It's cute and looks good on you."

You turned back to your mushrooms to avoid his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. What are you..." You cut yourself off before finishing that sentence. You didn't need to know what he was doing. Yet he let you know anyway.

"I'm making some ramen for lunch."

That got your attention. You leaned closer to him and saw the pot of simmering water he had on the stove, as well as the cut-up vegetables on the counter in front of him. "Ramen? They have ramen here?"

Taehyung started putting the ingredients in the water once it started boiling, along with the flavor packages. "They don't, I brought some with me from home."

You laughed for a millisecond before your hand flew to cover your mouth with a slap. Then you looked at him, waiting for the "just joking" or something similar, but when Taehyung continued occupying himself with his lunch, you realized he was being serious. "You brought ramen to a Victorian Manor to eat? Instant ramen, like the one dollar kind?"

The boy dropped his jaw in offense. "I didn't know what kind of food they'd have here, what was I supposed to do? Starve?"

You almost agreed. "Even so, not what I would've gone for. Plus, you're here now and you're still choosing that over real food."

Your words seemed to be affecting him enough to make him provoked and defensive, yet not enough to stop him from throwing those flavor packages in the water. "Oh, yeah? And what real food do you plan on eating, princess?"

You scoffed at the nickname for a heartbeat, then quickly raised your nose high and looked away to present your hard-earned basket. "I'll have you know, I am having fresh, wild mushrooms that I handpicked myself in the forest," you said while emphasizing every single word in your sentence. "Can't get more real than that."

Taehyung abandoned his food in favor of getting close to you, intrigued. "You picked mushrooms?" You nodded. He glanced at the basket you were presenting as your dear prize. "How do you know those are good to eat?"

"They had a guide."

"What? Let me see that." He grabbed the brochure from your hands. He looked back and forth between your mushrooms and the ones pictured there for a good minute before he shook his head. "Those don't look the same to me."

You snorted. "What are you talking about? It's clearly the same kind. They have the same color and spots and-"

"Yeah, but these look tall and skinny, whereas the ones you got look shorter and wider."

"I mean, they can't all be exactly the same! Some are big and some are small," you insisted, rolling your eyes. "The point is they have the same, basic characteristics."

The boy looked into your eyes for a moment and then shrugged. "Alright. If you're sure about that."

You grabbed the guide back from his stolen grip, laying it on the counter. "I am!"

Taehyung raised a challenging eyebrow. "So sure you are willing to bet your life on it?"

"What?" you chocked out, suddenly unable to take your wide eyes off his.

But he just shrugged again, acting nonchalant. "I mean, a lot of fungi are poisonous, and a lot of them look very similar. If you are so certain that this is an edible species and not something that looks like one, then by all means; eat them." You opened your mouth to reply but only stuttered. "Have you ever picked mushrooms before?" he asked you with confidence.

"No..." you admitted in a whisper.

Taehyung sucked in a breath through his teeth, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "So you have zero experience. Oof... I don't know, man, if I were you I wouldn't risk it. Wild mushrooms are a dangerous game to play." And with that, he turned back to his pot.

You stared at his back, biting your bottom lip as you contemplated your next move. If you hated one thing, it was the idea of giving someone like Taehyung the satisfaction of being right. Then again, that would be a small wound to your ego compared to, say, maybe dying. You opened the garbage can and emptied all the mushrooms inside without another word.

"Wash your hands, too," he called, proving he didn't have to be looking at you to know what you were doing.

You washed your hands. You could just feel the stupid smirk he had on his face, which made you jerk your arms in the air to rid them of the water quickly, before attempting to escape what felt like a very confined space all of a sudden. But right as you were at the exit, he called for you once more.

"Would you like some ramen?"

You froze in your step. "No," you called out, a statement that was instantly contradicted but your stomach growling. You cursed under your breath. Of all the times, this had to be it! Hiking and, let's be honest, getting a good scare, had deemed your energy completely off and your need for food reaching dangerous highs.

"Uh-huh," Taehyung said amusingly. "Nevertheless, I'm going to put in enough noodles for the two of us. In case you change your mind."

The statement sounded surprisingly sweet and candid, making you lower your icy guard for just a second. Enough to look over your shoulder. Taehyung was giving you a big, boxy smile, showing off his teeth and hiding his eyes away. You didn't think you had ever seen him smile like that. No, wait. That first time you had met- that day he was all smiles like that. Just one day, three years ago. After that, it was all poker faces and judgment. Or so you thought.

"Thank you," you mouthed, unable to do otherwise. You dragged your feet to the island and took a seat, watching as the young man finished making a meal for you both. You couldn't help but wonder why. Perhaps he didn't dislike you the way you did him, the way you thought he did as well. Perhaps it had something to do with not even remembering knowing you; in his eyes, you might be a new person he has to be nice to. Or, perhaps, god forbid, Yoonji was right and he wasn't that bad after all. The truth was that, aside from the occasional snarky remark or lack of basic courtesy, he had been acting... fine. Not how you would expect or how you remembered. Almost made you feel like the asshole here.

See? You felt uncomfortable around him again. No matter what it was, you couldn't seem to catch a break, always on your toes for him.

Taehyung set two bowls on the table filled to the brim with a smile, which you reciprocated in short. You thanked him and after that made sure to keep your eyes solely on the food as if it was a task that demanded your undivided attention. In the awkward silence, your chewing sounds were amplified like they were trying to mock you. On the one hand, you wanted to say something, anything to kill this atmosphere, yet on the other hand, you had nothing to share with him. With the quickest glanced you could muster, you dared to steal a look at him, see if he seemed just as uncomfortable. To your bad luck, he was already watching you.

"Is it good?" he decided to ask when you lowered your eyes in panic and gulped down a huge bite to force the moment to pass.

You tried to reply but you had already stuffed your mouth full. It's okay, however, because Taehyung seemed to understand your muffling perfectly. "It's perfect..." you mumbled after swallowing.

He nodded and played with his food for a while, looking deep in thought. "So, um..." he spoke up again. "I know you don't wanna spend your vacation with me here but, do you want to eat together at least?" You'll be honest, you never could have expected this coming. You looked at him silently, not knowing what to say. "I mean-" he continued, "-that way we can split the task of cooking: one day I'll cook and the other day you. It'll save us time and resources, don't you think?"

You chuckled and took another bite. "Right, like you cooked today instant ramen?"

He rolled his eyes at you. You'd never seen him do that before, it stood out a lot. "Today doesn't count, okay? This one's on me."

"Sure..." you mocked him.

"I'll have you know I'm a great cook. You'd be surprised at the number of girls that have fallen for me because I made them breakfast the morning after," he boasted.

That sentence made your toes curl. And no, not in a good way. Your body was physically trying to get away from the situation. But you stayed put. "And you'd be surprised at how low some girls' standards are."

Taehyung stared at you with narrowed eyes as you continued eating with no problem. You had to, if you wanted to support your statement. "Mushrooms," he suddenly changed the subject. "Where did you find them?"

You wanted to indulge in a sarcastic answer, since the real one was so obvious, but held yourself back. The man was obviously trying to make conversation and you understood it in part, considering how terrible silence around him felt. So you took a moment to think about it, and found something worth sharing. "Actually, that was crazy, I found some mushrooms that were in a circle!"

He frowned. "Circle?"

"Yeah. It was a circle about the size of the center of this island. Like, perfect circle like a person had made it."

Taehyung's hand dropped on the surface next to his bowl, making a loud slapping sound, as he looked at you with wide eyes and an open mouth. "Wha- a fairy ring? You found a fairy ring?"

It was your turn to frown. You titled your head to the side. "A what? What's a fairy ring."

He shook his head. "Uh, nothing just... Folk tales." Then he looked at you seriously. "But please tell me you didn't mess with it. Those mushrooms weren't from that ring, were they?"

The conversation just kept getting more confusing. "Uh- no. No, I didn't touch it."

"Oh, good," he exhaled.

"But why? You're scaring me, what's with that fairy ring?"

But he just smiled at you, closing his eyes. "Nothing, nothing. It's just myths, you know? It's not true." He seemed to think about that answer for a moment before adding: "But just in case, never mess with one, and especially never go in one."

"I'm confused. Aren't fairies supposed to be a good thing?"

Taehyung chuckled. "Not at all. Fairy rings are not supposed to be good. I wouldn't mind photographing one though."

You noticed he was drawing small circles with his fingers on his bowl while looking at you for a response. Right. That's how conversations go; he says something and you respond. And in this case, since he had expressed an interest in the mushroom circle that only you knew where was located, the right way to respond would be to offer to take him there. But no way. You would never go back there, especially not with him.

"I'm finished," you said then, pretending that along with the food the conversation was over as well.

Taehyung picked that up immediately. "Oh. Yeah, me too," he said and pushed his bowl away.

You got up and tried to take the two bowls away. "I'll do the dishes," you declared.

But Taehyung jumped up and stopped you with both hands wrapped around your wrists. It burned. The skin contact burned. What the fuck, you hadn't touched one bit up until then and he had just ruined it but placing those hot handcuffs on you. "No, I'll do them," he said with a very certain voice that made it hard to go against.

You still tried to, though, pulling weakly your wrists away. "No, no, let me. I mean, you made these-"

"No, Amy."

Oh, no. Not the name, too.

Taehyung finally released his grip on you and smiled. "I said this one's on me. You should go change, try and save that pretty dress before it's too late."

You nodded. It felt like there was no more room for protests, not even words. You just basked in the weird grin he gave you as you walked backward until he turned to the sink and you were free to run to your room.

And run you did. You hid in your room, where you knew you wouldn't be bothered until you heard Taehyung walk up the stairs and go into his. The dress was dropped at the side of the bathtub of the bathroom of the west wing after a few attempts to get it clean, which had proved to be pretty good but not quite enough. You had your books all out and open in front of you as you lay on the floor yet occupied yourself with your phone, trying to get enough signal to search what exactly was so sketchy about those so-called fairy rings. Because you were almost certain the photographer was just playing a trick on you. Then again, you couldn't stop thinking about what had happened when you had tried to pick those mushrooms.

What if... there were fairies? What if you had angered them?

After some hours of researching and reading, your books and you had moved on the bed. You had lit up some candles around the room, mostly for the atmosphere, since they were standing there almost begging you to light them. A couple of logs in the fireplace proved you had given lighting that a go as well, but it was soon revealed as futile; you had no experience in those things. And you certainly didn't want to ask for help. So you settled for the heavy blankets of the bed, curling around your books, your eyelids putting up a struggle with every blink, as you stared at the window that had gotten blurry from the humidity, refusing to fall asleep.

You simply had too much on your mind to sleep. Even though there was someone else in the house, you felt alone. And feeling alone made you a little edgy, after everything that had happened that day, and all that you had read about faes and witches, ghosts and ghouls in that afternoon. You hated being alone. But what you hated, even more, was knowing someone was only a few rooms away and you couldn't even talk to him.

The moment you closed your eyes for a second too long, a loud bang made you scream. A strong wind had blown the window right open, making the casements hit the wall with an intensity that threatened to break them, as well as throwing on the ground the candle that was sitting on the sill. You jumped quickly off the bed to run to the disaster. The fire of the candle had thankfully been gone by the time it hit the floor, still, liquid wax was spilled all over the place. The wind was cold and slapping your face aggressively as you tried to close the window again.

"What happened? Everything okay?"

Of course, Taehyung had arrived. Before you even had the chance to turn to him, you felt his arms move around your body, his chest pressing to your back, as he grabbed the window and helped you close it. He secured it immediately.

"Thanks, but I had it..." you murmured as you pulled away. You probably didn't, but anyhow. Taehyung had a much softer expression than what you had expected. As if nothing had just happened.

"Did the window open suddenly?" he concluded from the circumstances.

You nodded. "I don't know how it happened, I thought it was stuck," you offered a weak explanation. Taehyung acknowledged your words with his eyebrows and then looked around the room like he was trying to check for any more damage. His eyes fell on the candle on the floor and he bent down to pick it up. "How did you come here so quickly?" you asked.

Putting away the candle, he dipped his hands in his pockets and raised his shoulders. "I was just coming up the stairs when I heard you scream. I thought something had happened to you and came to save you."

You grimaced at his way too chivalrous words. "What could happen to me...? You keep acting like I'm too clumsy for my own safety."

"I mean, if you keep screaming like you're being murdered, what do you want me to do?"

You scoffed. Without waiting for him to properly leave, you walked back to your bed, getting rid of your books so that you could lie down. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Taehyung going around the room and blowing out the candles that had remained lit, so casual about it as if it was the most normal thing to get you ready for bed. You didn't complain.

"Didn't you eat dinner?" he asked you when he got to the door. "I didn't see you in the kitchen at all."

You got under your covers and looked at him. He just looked like a dark silhouette due to the contrast of your dark room and the bright hallway. "I wasn't hungry," you lied. The truth was you had snacked on some cookies you had in your purse because you didn't want to get out of the room and risk seeing him. Still processing your interaction from lunchtime, you couldn't overwork yourself with more to worry about. Yet he still came into your room to change that.

You thought your conversation was over, but Taehyung was still standing at your entrance, staring at you. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he was silent, sighing a couple of times. When you opened your mouth to tell him to leave, he spoke.

"I have a confession to make."

Oh. "What confession?" You took deep breaths as you waited for him to keep going. It didn't help that his face was too dark for you to see because he was keeping silent and you were growing impatient. What could he possibly have to confess to you? It can't be anything good. Did he do something? He raised a hand to scratch the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. Was this perhaps about the first time you had met? Had he remembered you?

"Those mushrooms you picked actually looked fine," he exhaled. "I just got jealous and made you throw them away."

A gasped. "You asshole! I can't believe you!" You sat up to glare at him more passionately, his confession having triggered you more than you thought it would.

But Taehyung just laughed. "I'm sorry..."

"You have no idea what I went through to get those!"

The man extended a hand towards you. "I mean, the point still stands: mushrooms can be dangerous and you shouldn't risk it if you don't know what you're doing."

"No, I don't care!"

"Which–" he kept talking over you, "–you clearly don't."

"I don't wanna hear it," you whined. "All you do is terrorize me!"

Taehyung laughed again. He probably didn't think you'd get that upset, but those mushrooms had been hard to get and very rewarding as a great achievement for your brain. Now it all had been for nothing. Even if, still, Taehyung was kind of in the right.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered again, a smile obvious on his lips.

You crossed your arms over your chest. "Just go! I don't want to see you anymore!"

He immediately nodded. "Alright."

"So don't come back here again." You're not sure why you added that. Why the possibility of this man sneaking in your room in the middle of the night had even crossed your mind since there didn't seem to be any reason for that.

"Goodnight," he simply said while closing your door, peeking at your upset form one last time, as you scoffed at him for the millionth time.

"It better be!"

Next chapter

[oreolesbian]

the rescue

The silence was piercing. 

It wasn’t the first time they had been in a desperate situation, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, but Din had felt the sheer strength of the dark trooper nearly piercing through his helmet. He had suffered under the power of only one, let alone an armada. 

Gideon, as pompous and arrogant as he was, was almost right to laugh. To triumph over their failed attempt to overtake him. 

They had the darksaber, the beskar staff—they at least had a chance. 

Din glanced over at Fennec, usually a beacon of confidence, and watched her hands white-knuckling her blaster. 

Mandalorians are good at killing. That’s what everyone said. Piled on top of all the other myths and stories about his people. Yet they were struggling to bring themselves back, to restore order to their cursed planet. 

The darksaber, still in his hand from where Bo refused to take it, grew heavier. 

The doors were banging in harder, and harder, and harder, until—

“Incoming craft, identify yourself.” Bo was leaning over the comms channel, staring intently at the grainy footage of an X-wing coming their way. 

Din frowned over his own terminal, seeing the same footage. The New Republic had no reason to know they were here. 

Grogu cooed from his position on the floor. 

It wasn’t until Fennec commented that he even noticed the banging had halted. 

Gideon looked frozen to the floor in a mix of awe and terror. Assume I know everything. But did he know this? This...shadow coursing through the halls? This—

“A Jedi?” Bo breathed, drawing everyone’s attention.

Indeed, it was. If the bathing green light of the lightsaber was any indication. 

The stranger swept through the droids without a moment’s hesitation, a vengeful angel cloaked with an unfathomable amount of power. Din had seen the things Grogu had done: the healing, the levitating, the trances. All of it was powerful and beyond his understanding, but this. 

He had never felt more entranced. He had seen the other Jedi, Ahsoka, move, but only from a distance. One could only assume, like the stories spread about the Mandalorians, that the ones of the Jedi were elaborated as well. After all, they had been wiped out. Surely beings of such immense capability, of such terror-inducing godly abilities, could not be killed. 

This one definitely couldn’t. His blade swept easily through the monstrous machines, his hood neatly over his head as he twisted the blade and crushed the metal innards with nothing but his mind. Sparks of blaster fire swiveled around the hallways, blurring the footage, but it mattered not. 

It was as if the galaxy was put on stand still, holding its breath as the Jedi grew closer and closer, enough time to allow Gideon, in his true showing of character and pure panic, to roll and fire at Bo. 

She dropped the ground with a pained grunt, her armor blocking the fire, but leaving Grogu exposed. 

Din wasted no time. He dove in the line of fire, taking in more hits to his armor before the others could take Gideon out. 

He turned to check on the kid, only to find him on top of the terminal, leaning over the screen with a small, three-fingered claw leaning longingly over the figure of the Jedi. The two of them stared at each other.

They had been through so much. But Din knew this was his goal. To get the child to his people. To keep him safe. And he was no fool. He saw what lingered in those big black eyes, so innocent yet so wise. 

Longing.

He turned to Fennec. “Open the doors.”

She whirled on him, eyes wild. It was obviously everybody’s first time seeing a Jedi in their full glory. No matter his good intentions, they were all scared. 

“I said, open the doors.”

She tightened her hold on her blaster, sharing a look with Cara while still trained on the blast doors. “Are you crazy?”

She made no move towards the buttons. Huffing, Din did it himself, allowing himself a hardening breath before allowing the Jedi a path straight to them, the eerie green glow easing into the bridge amongst the smoke and debris of the decimated dark troopers. 

The lightsaber deactivated with a steady hiss before being clipped back onto its home on the man’s belt. With gentle movements, the hands—one gloved, one not—tossed back the hood, revealing a face much younger than they had expected. 

His hair was a darkened blonde, a mop over his blue eyes, and his face was passive, as if he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes effortlessly cutting down into the dark troopers. 

“Are you a Jedi?” Din asked, holding his head high despite his trepidation. 

Then, the unexpected happened. The man smiled. 

“I am.” His voice was soft. He held out his hand. The others shifted their blasters in preparation, drawing a chuckle. “At ease. I come as a friend. My name is Luke Skywalker.” He nodded towards Grogu. “He called for me.”

“The kid called for you?” Kaska echoed in disbelief. 

“Through the Force,” Din said, watching Luke’s smile grow wider. 

Cara spoke next, her voice almost hoarse in her shock and her blaster dipped low. “Wait, the Skywalker? The one that killed the Emperor?”

Luke’s head dipped. “That is a story that’s been told, yes.” Din noted a brief hesitation on his face before looking back at Grogu, who was peeking curiously around a chair. 

Luke caught sight of him and softened, dropping to his knees and extending a hand out. “Hello, little one. It’s nice to meet you.”

Din felt a surge of protection, stepping closer to the kid and ready to fight the Jedi, no matter how powerful he was. He continued to be caught off guard as Luke continued smiling at him. 

“You’ve become close to him. He spoke fondly of you.”

“He doesn’t want to go with you,” Din croaked, knowing it was a lie the minute he said it. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to protect the kid, to bring him to his people. Luke was his people. But after losing him, he couldn’t help but want to hold on a little bit longer, to maybe hold out and believe that he could keep the kid around. 

He watched Luke nod slowly, his eyes impossibly understanding. “And he does not have to if he chooses. I only came to offer my aid. I will respect his decision and yours, whatever it may be.”

Then he rose back to a stand, curling his hands at his waist. Grogu continued to coo, catching both of their attentions. Luke continued to smile, but there was something more behind it, a sadness, a memory of some kind that the kid was pulling up. 

Din couldn’t get over the Jedi’s age, how a face that young surely couldn’t have been around for the purges like Ahsoka had been. And yet, if his abilities hadn’t shown enough, he had gone through much more just to be here in this moment. Which was how it clicked.

Luke needed Grogu as much as Grogu needed him. 

If the Jedi were to truly return to the galaxy, they needed to be around each other, to share their knowledge amongst one another, to feel safe. 

He sighed. 

Luke cocked his head, eyebrows furrowed curiously. “I believe he wants your permission to go.”

“My permission?” Din stared at Grogu incredulously. 

“Like I said, he cares about you.” Luke stepped forward, offering a sympathetic look. “I know you have no reason to trust a stranger, but I swear to protect him with my life. He is strong in the Force, but talent is nothing without training. He can stay here with you, but if you truly want him to be safe, he needs to master his abilities. I can help him with that.”

Din glanced between the two Force-users, overwhelmed. He knew, more than anything, about sticking with your own kind. Being a Mandalorian was everything to him, his blood. Being without his own, to see so many imposters, to see the sacrilege on the very name of his people by others who would never even come close to understanding… 

He lifted Grogu into his arms, stroking one of the big ears. “You...have my permission, Grogu. You belong with him. He’s one of your kind.” He swallowed. “I’ll see you again. I promise.”

He looked to Luke to confirm his promise, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders as Luke nodded warmly. 

The clawed hand was suddenly back, and pawing at his helmet. Din’s throat felt tight, and he couldn’t stop the sudden warmth behind his eyes. Just as he moved to lower Grogu down, he noticed Luke turning his head, his eyes lowered. Unbeknownst to him, Luke had first-hand experience with the gripping private moment that included revealing a long-hidden face, for he had been one of the only ones to truly know Vader’s face, to hold him as he lay dying. A final goodbye. 

Grogu pulled at his helmet once more. 

Din gave a shaky smile before allowing himself to snap the armor back, just enough to where they could see each other. Just them—Grogu and Din. No one else in the galaxy mattered.

Then the tiny hand was at his face, brushing along the weeks-old stubble with a bubbling curiosity. Din chuckled. “Alright, buddy. It’s time to go.”

Another gurgle. 

He snapped his helmet back into place before lowering Grogu to the ground, his arms still looped around his boots. Luke turned back with another polite smile, before startling as a figure bumped into his legs from behind him, whistling excitedly.

Luke laughed. “Grogu, this is Artoo. He’ll be coming with us too, if that’s alright.”

Din almost laughed with him when Grogu spun around, entranced by the lights on the astromech droid. He cooed as he waddled over to him, further and further away from Din. 

Luke kneeled once more, allowing Grogu time before lifting him up into his arms in a gentle cradle. 

Then, the blue eyes were back on Din, serious and determined, yet kind. “Thank you for trusting me, Din. Please, if you need anything, I’ll be there.” He turned to the entire group, humbled by their awe-stricken looks. “May the Force be with all of you.”

And then, as quick as he had arrived, he was gone, leaving Din to stare and ponder how the mysterious man had known his name.

[werejusttouchingeachother]

Yes, Sir

Req: Yesterday I was really desperate to be in the middle of a sekai sandwich, and honestly? I still am🥵

Pairing: Reader x Sehun x Kai

Genre: smut(m) + CEO!au

Words: 3007

Tags: slight derogatory kinks, sir kink, anal, dp

A/N: To the anon who requested this, 1. I love you and 2. Please let me know what you think!

A two-months-long internship at one of the most reputed modelling agencies was nerve-wracking enough. When you’d been accepted for your summer programme at O&K Models, you’d expected to be getting coffee for a bunch of snobby models who wore Gucci and ate like birds. 

What you hadn’t prepared yourself for was to be working alongside the CEOs and making coffee for them: Oh Sehun and Kim Kai.

The duo complemented each other perfectly—Sehun was always fun and charming, teasing and flirting with you any chance he got while Kai was more of a reserved, quieter boss who only spoke when absolutely necessary with a gaze intense enough that you couldn’t look at him for too long without your mouth suddenly going dry.        

But then you’d caught him gazing at you. What were mere glances had turned into blatant staring during meetings and slow smirks when he saw the blush creep up your face as he refused to look away, lingering touches on your elbow or arm when he wanted to talk to you, always gazing deeply into your eyes when you narrated his schedule in a way that made you forget what you were even saying in the first place and had you scrambling for words. 

You’d assumed you were just overthinking it or reading too much into something that wasn’t there but then one night when you’d drove back to the office headquarters because you’d accidentally taken the list of models for the upcoming Fall Fashion Week along with your files, you’d ran into Kim Kai at the copier room.

“Mr. Kim,” you blurted, eyes wide as you froze where you were standing. You hadn’t bothered switching on the lights since you just needed to switch off the machine and leave but now Kim Kai stood at the door, arms crossed and a perfect eyebrow arched high.

How the hell does he look so attractive even in semi-darkness?

The streetlights from outside cast a slight blue glow into the small room with its closed blinds, the light somehow illuminating the side of his face.

“What are you doing here? It’s way past your office hours, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice sounding louder than you’d ever heard it due to the silence surrounding you.

Your breath caught slightly at your name falling from those plush lips—never had he called you by your first name in the entire three weeks you had worked here. It was always ‘Intern’ and he’d left the nicknames and terms of endearment to Sehun who creatively exploited it thoroughly.

“I, uh.” You cleared your throat as you tried to recall why you were here. Fashion Week. The list. “Right, I took the shortlist of the models for next week’s show along with my files by mistake and left some copies here that I forgot to throw out. I’ve kept the list back at Mr. Byun’s desk so don’t worry, I’ll just be on my way now.”

You forced a polite smile and strode forward to the door, fully expecting him to move. When he stayed still, a teasing lilt to his lips and intense gaze focused on you as you stood awkwardly in front of him, you hesitated before lifting your eyes to look at him.

Because the only other alternative was to stare straight ahead at his chest where the white shirt was stretched across the broadness of it since his arms were crossed, looking like the button would pop off any second.

“Do I intimidate you, Y/N?” Kai asked, his voice low and husky in a way that made your stomach flip.

You licked your lips nervously and immediately regretted it because that just made his gaze fall on your mouth. Your breath caught in your throat and Kai uncrossed his arms, burying his hands into his pockets and stepping forward so that you now had to tilt your head up to look at him.

“Answer me, Y/N,” He said in a tone that was demanding and authoritative in the way it usually was but for some reason was extremely turning you on right now.

Kai prodded, “Are you scared of me?”

You swallow, the sound echoing slightly as you finally manage to mutter, “I’m not scared, Mr. Kim. Maybe a little intimidated.”

He cocks an eyebrow in surprise at your reply, leaning forward. You can’t seem to breathe at the close proximity and from the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, you know he can tell.

“What are you intimidated by?” He steps forward, making you take a step back in surprise. “The fact that I’m your boss?” Another step, you take one back. “My looks?” Another step. “The way I look at you?”

You’re pressed up against the copier machine now, your hands behind you and clutching the edge of the machine for dear life as you look up at him.

“Y/N.” You blink at the sheer command in his voice, feeling your heart jolt.

“Yes,” you answer weakly, your heart hammering in your chest hard enough that you were sure he could hear it.

“You smile easily around Sehun,” Kai cocks an eyebrow challengingly, his hands suddenly rising to grip the same edge you were basically hanging off, his arms now encaging you between him and the machine.

“But you get nervous around me,” he continues, his voice a low rumble that made your toes curl. “You flirt with him all the time but you can barely look at me. I’m getting mixed signals here, Y/N. Do you like me more or not?”

Oh my god.

Your mouth had parted open sometime when he’d been talking, feeling slightly speechless as you blinked at him. What was he doing? Was this a confession or was he just playing with you?

You didn’t care, to be honest. He was making you nervous as hell but you would have never imagined that in a throng full of top-notch male and female models, Kim Kai would have taken interest in you.

A part of you couldn’t believe it. It felt like a fever dream, like if you closed your eyes tight enough or pinched yourself, you’d wake up and be in your car, driving back to your apartment.

Although Kai always got your stomach tightening with even the slightest glance, having him at such a close proximity right now where you feel the warmth of his breath fan across your face, surrounded by the musky perfume he wore, you felt like you were on the edge. He was so so close and yet, he wasn’t touching you. You’re certain that if he even laid a finger on you at this point, you’d melt into a puddle from the sexual tension that was suffocating you in the stuffy dark room.

And then, he said in the softest huskiest whisper:

“If I kiss you, Y/N, will you stop me?”

A short breath of disbelief leaves your lips involuntarily as your eyes widen at him. You still can’t seem to form a coherent thought that you can articulate so you do the next best thing.

You act on instinct and cock your head, gingerly pressing your lips to his.

And that’s all it takes.

It’s as if you unleashed a beast—Kai is immediately grabbing you roughly to him, pulling you flush against the length of his body as he devours your mouth hungrily. You moan into the kiss, your knees buckling and nearly collapsing in his arms as he holds you tightly, pressing you against the copier. You clutch at the lapels of his jacket, feeling overwhelmed in the best possible way as he slips his tongue inside your mouth.

Kai’s hands are rough on you as he grips your hips, roughly sitting you atop the copier machine. You hear it creak threateningly and you freeze, clenching your thighs as you pull away from him.

“It can’t hold my weight,” you breathe heavily, eyes wide as you try to not put too much pressure but Kai’s hands are already shimmying your skirt up, not bothered by your concerns.

He stops for a second as he stares at your thighs, hands atop the black lace thigh-highs you were wearing.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he groans as his fingers reach higher and slip under the waistband of your matching lace panties. You hold your breath as you lift your ass from the machine to help him quickly yank it down your legs, his own foot lifting to stamp the thin suspended garment between your ankles and kick it aside.

He leaves the black stockings on, his hands roughly grabbing your knees to spread your thighs open before one hand reaches up. Your back arches at his impatience as you feel his fingers on your pussy—you think you’re probably slick with arousal and one look at the lust-crazed gaze in Kai’s eyes is enough to confirm that you were.

You don’t expect him to not hesitate, already quickly inserting a long digit inside your dripping entrance and curling it over your clit in a way that had you making filthy noises as you moaned, “Sir, I—”

His hand suddenly came to the back of your head, fisting around your hair to yank your head back so you could look at him.

“Call me that again,” he growls and you comply immediately, whimpering ‘Sir’ over and over again as he grabs your waist roughly and lifts you up. He’s yanked down his pants and underwear and when he holds you up in his arms, you can feel his erection against your wet entrance as you wrap your thighs around his slender waist.

“I want to see all of you in light so bad,” he grunts as he looks at you. “And touch and kiss every inch of your body until you’re begging for me to fuck you but I can’t wait right now.”

“God, please, just fuck me,” you groan as you slide your arms around his neck and feel his hands grip the flesh of your ass tightly.

“Wanna rephrase that?” Kai asks with an eyebrow cocked and you decide to play dirty, wrapping your hands around the back of his head, burying your fingers in his luscious locks as you press your forehead against his.

Lips on his, you plead with as much desperation as you felt, “Please just fuck me, Sir.”

Kai’s growl is absolutely feral as he slides his dick over your slit, collecting your fluids before pushing inside your pussy. You moan loudly as his hands control you—sliding you down over his length until you’re stuffed full of him. You bury your head in his shoulder as Kai bounces you up and down, the head of his erection brushing against your G-spot repeatedly in a way that had you screaming louder with each thrust.

In fact, you’re so loud that you don’t even hear the door open behind you until light spills into the room, illuminating the beads of sweat of Kai’s forehead and that’s when you realise Sehun was at the door, frowning.

“Kai, I swear to god.” You look over to see him rolling his eyes as he yanks his sleeves to his elbows, already unbuckling his belt. “I can’t believe you started without me.”

You’re breathing hard as the sudden reality sets into you—Sehun had just walked into the copier room where you and Kai were fucking like animals and he was quickly undressing as if to join you.

The realisation washing over your features makes Kai smirk up at you, the same dangerous smirk he’d had since he entered this damn room.

“You never did answer me, Y/N,” He says with a mocking tint to his voice and you’re whimpering now as he has slowed his thrusts. “Do you like me or Sehun more?”

You hear Sehun scoff at your back and you feel your stomach twist—either with the impending orgasm or the fact that Sehun was most likely removing his clothes behind you.

“That’s hardly fair,” he comments and his voice is closer now. Goosebumps rise on the back of your neck as you feel cool fingers on your hips suddenly, teasingly drawing over the curve of your ass.

“How about we both come inside her so it’ll be easier for her to decide?” Sehun’s playful nibble on your ear at the end of his filthy question makes you moan softly, arching your head back until you’re leaning back against his broad chest.

“Faster, Kai,” you’re whispering as you feel the orgasm that had been so close that you could almost see it, was now slipping quickly away from you.

“What’d you call me?” Kai grunts and you can’t even find it in yourself to call him ‘sir’ again, not when there was a growing frustration eating at you from your denied release. You felt Sehun’s chest pressed up against your back, his arms coming around you to hold you up until you were sandwiched between the duo.

“Patience, baby,” Sehun grinned and you gasped as you felt his long erection against your ass. Kai pulls out, arms still holding you up and you moan as Sehun moves his length all over you, collecting both your fluids and coating himself in it. You gasp loudly as you feel him push himself into your pussy, his length filling you in a way Kai didn’t and the feeling is so new and pleasurable that your eyes roll back in your head.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” Sehun mutters as he thrusts slowly inside you.

“Like a slut,” Kai agrees, making your pussy clench at the term and Sehun groans as he feels it.

“You like that, don’t you?” Sehun grins, pulling out and making you whine in protest. He pumps himself a few times and then you feel the wet spongy head suddenly push against your anal opening.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, eyes shooting wide open as you clutched onto Kai’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry, babe, I got you,” Sehun mutters reassuringly as he kisses the nape of your neck. “Trust us and just relax for me.”

You bury your head in Kai’s shoulder as Sehun painstakingly slowly pushes himself inside you, inch by inch. The slight sting of pain shifts into an indescribable pleasure as he stretches you out fully, his length making you feel like you were stuffed full. It wasn’t enough—you needed him to thrust.

“Se—oh my—Kai,” you broke into a high-pitched wail as Kai pushed himself inside your pussy. Your chest was heaving as you gasped, feeling him enter your tight walls that were stretching to accommodate him. Kai’s hands gripped your ass then, filling you to the hilt so you could feel his balls nestled against your pussy as both their dicks stuffed you completely full, your body suspended between them as they held you up.

“Oh god, I’m so full,” you mewled, tears stinging your eyes at the overwhelming sensations rushing through your body as you leaned your head back against Sehun.

“Shh, you’re doing great,” Sehun soothed you, kissing your throat. Kai was watching your face closely, no words of comfort from him but you could see the concern in his eyes. He suddenly leaned his head forward and you closed your eyes as you felt his tongue dart out and catch the tear rolling down your cheek.

And then both men began moving.

You whimpered as they found a rhythm, thrusting in and out of you as the lost orgasm quickly came back a vengeance, growing to a height that had your head spinning as they both fucked you fast and rough.

Your bodies were pressed up against each other, echoes of skin slapping surrounding you, the smell of sweat and arousal thick in the air while they both pounded into you mercilessly. You’d never had two men at once and definitely not ones with such impressive lengths and girth.

Your words were barely decipherable, moans and groans of their names as you felt the tightening in your lower abdomen, your heart pounding as they brought you closer to the high you so desperately wanted.

“I’m gonna come,” you panted, feeling your walls convulse in a tell-tale sign that you were close. “I’m gonna come, oh my—”

Kai slammed his mouth against yours, swallowing your scream as you came around his length. It immediately set off their orgasms as you felt Kai shoot his cum deep inside your pussy and Sehun came shortly after. Your body was trembling as thick spurt after spurt of cum shot filled both your holes, filling you up until you could feel it leaking over their dicks and dripping down the curve of your ass.

You collapsed in between their bodies, arms hanging limply off Kai’s as you tried to catch your breath. Kai slowly pulled out, holding your legs since he knew very well that you probably couldn’t feel them and most definitely couldn’t stand right now.

Sehun held you up by your waist too, his dick growing soft in your pussy and you could faintly feel the thick cream spill down in trickles on your thighs, completely ruining your stockings. Both Sehun and Kai stare at your legs as if mesmerised by the contrast of the white against the black.

“Damn, Y/N,” Sehun breathed, softly chuckling. “You did so well. I’m so proud of you, babe.”

“Not yet,” you heard Kai say, making you fully open your eyes to look at him as he pulled his pants back on. “I meant what I said about the light. I want to fuck you properly—not in a dark small copier room. In the light, in all positions and surfaces of our house. Think you can handle that, slut?”

Say no. Your body is exhausted and you can’t even feel your limbs, you’re sticky with tears and sweat and cum and you’re most probably sore from that rough delicious fucking, don’t you dare—

You licked your lips, leaning back against Sehun’s shoulder to smile at Kai as you say, “Yes, sir.”

[xfandomwritingsx]

The Long Road - Jesse Pinkman - Part Two

-gif source unknown-

Description: Set after El Camino. You can’t handle never seeing Jesse again so you go after him.

Warnings/Labels:  Fluff. Warm, soft Jesse Pinkman fluff.

Approx. Word Count: 1,700

A/N: I need more Jesse in my life. I just need it, okay?

Part One

-

Your phone rings early the next morning, before the sun has even had proper time to get set in the sky. The caller ID reads a number that you know isn’t his. You’d done your research on him before approaching. You had his cell number. This isn’t it.

“Hello?” you answer cautiously. There’s a long silence on the other end.

“Is this… Ashley Adams?” It’s Jesse’s voice for sure and you smile at him trying to recall the name you’d given.

“Aarons,” you correct him. “Ashley Aarons.”

“Right.” Another short pause. “This is Paul Driscoll. Your uhh, neighbor, I guess.” You’re not sure whether you want to laugh or cry at the classic sound of his voice. It fills you with a warmth that has been absent in you for far too long.

“Are you on a secure line?” Not the most tactful way to phrase the question, but your patience is running low and frankly, for what you both paid to get here, it shouldn’t matter if it was a secure line or not.

“Payphone,” he confirms. “About three miles outside of town by a gas station. You?”

“Burner phone.” You sit down on your cheap hotel bed and finally feel yourself relax.

“What the fuck is going on?” he snaps. “What the fuck are you doing here? Are you okay?” You suspect if the payphone wasn’t bolted to the ground, he’d probably be pacing like mad right now. You can just picture him spinning in circles in the booth, free hand swinging around wildly. Honestly, you’re having a hard time not laughing in sheer relief. It’s been years you’ve been trying to get to him and you’re finally hearing him. You’ve seen him. You’re talking to him. “I didn’t sleep last night! I’m supposed to be at work in thirty minutes and I’m going out of my mind!” It’s such a foreign thing to hear Jesse mention work. It just reminds you that he has a life now. A real one. “Are you fucking okay or not?”

“Calm down,” you say gently. “I’m alright, I promise.” It’s not even him and his new life he’s worried about unraveling right now. His only concern is you and that makes you feel like you’re floating. You’ve never been more alright than you are right now.

“And what the hell kind of name is Ashley Aarons?” The laugh bubbles out. Out of all the questions he has tumbling through his head, that’s one of his firsts?

“I didn’t pick it!” you defend, stopping yourself from flopping back on the bed like a teenage girl. “I pissed off the vacuum guy, alright?” You expect a chuckle or maybe a scoff, anything. Instead he goes silent for a moment.

“You went to the vacuum guy?”

“Well, yeah. I couldn’t find you unless I was clean.” You state is like it’s obvious because to you it is, but Jesse hadn’t fully realized what you being here meant or what it took to get you here. The air shifts around you.

“Why did you need to find me?” The question hits you hard and sharp. What the hell kind of answer is there to that question?

“Jesse, I…” Words fail you, but he waits on the other end. “I just had to see you.” The silence on the other end is painful. Did you make a mistake? “Can I… Can I see you?” Your words tremble and there’s a desperation in them. You’ve never been one to beg, but after everything you’d gone through to get to him, to may actually kill you if he said no.

“Meet me at my place in twenty minutes,” he finally says, easing the squeeze around your chest for the moment at least.

“What about work?” He scoffs on the other end.

“I got vacation time. They’ll fucking live.”

---

Standing at his front door the second time is somehow even more daunting than the first. His door swings open much faster and he’s pulling you into his living room before you even have a chance to say hello. He closes the door and puts his eye up to the peephole, presumably checking for anyone following you.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” he asks when he looks back to you.

“No,” you assure him. “Kind of the whole point of the vacuum asshole, but honestly I lost contact with everyone over a year ago anyways.”

“How did you find me?” His bafflement is shown in a scrunched expression and you think back, trying to come up with a simple, easy answer.

“By not sleeping for two years?” is the best you can do. His face evens out and he motions to the couch next to you.

“Have a seat,” he offers. “I can go make us some coffee.”

“You drink coffee now?” He cracks a smile at you.

“Yeah well, I learned drinking beer this early is frowned upon by upstanding people so coffee it is.” You both chuckle and you nod to him, accepting his offer. You carefully move around to the front of the couch as he walked towards what you assume to be the kitchen. “You still take it the same way?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, surprised and humbled that he remembers how you like your coffee.

Jesse’s home is something you hadn’t expected. It’s large, but modest and made to look and feel like a log cabin. His furniture is covered in a soft brown leather placed around a glass coffee table in front of a working fireplace that fills the room with a warm glow. You’re able to shake the cold out of your bones and shed your thick coat, draping it over the armrest next to you.

If his house is anything to judge by, Jesse has done damn good for himself. While that makes you feel happy and proud even, there’s a small part of you that fills with fear. Good house, a job, friends… what if he doesn’t want you in his life anymore? What if all you do is ruin what he has?

Jesse interrupts your thoughts, coming back into the room and hands you a white mug with Alaskan mountains painted on the side. You smile up at him and gently blow into the mug as he sits down next to you and drinks from his own cup. He shifts to bring his leg up onto the couch and face you, throwing one of his arms over the back of the couch.

“Never thought I’d see you in a white cable knit sweater,” you tease, reaching over to pluck at the sleeve of his attire. He looks down at it and laughs.

“Yeah, I’m wearing all kinda goofy shit now.”  He leans in and lowers his voice just a little. “You should see me in the hat with the fucking earmuffs.” You can’t help but laugh. You have no doubt that he owns such a hat nowadays and the idea of him wearing it is just so wholesome and humorous.

“You look good,” you tell him when the chuckling dies down. He doesn’t say much, but makes a noncommittal noise. Your hand reaches out to him without thinking, your thumb brushing the skin above his eye where a faint scar dips into his eyebrow. Your fingers trace down to the more prominent scar on his cheek and you almost melt into his couch when he leans his face into the palm of your hand and closes his eyes.

“Story goes I used to box in college,” he shares. “The guys joke I must not have been very good if I couldn’t protect my face.” He turns his face and presses his lips to the heel of your palm.

“You would make a shitty boxer,” you agree lightheartedly, pulling a smile to his face. He leans away from you and steals the mug out of your hands, reaching to place both cups on the coffee table before coming back to you, sitting just a little bit closer.

“So you’re telling me,” he starts in a more serious tone. “That you took two years, left everything, and came all the way out here to bumfuck Alaska to find me?” The disbelief, the reluctance to accept there’s not some hidden meaning that he’s missing is just so innocent that all you can do is nod. “Why?”

“Jesse,” you sigh. The sound of his name on your tongue has him leaning towards you, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck and pull your forehead to his. “Do you really have to ask?” you whisper. Your own hands running up the front of his sweater, looking for something to hold onto.

Your name is a soft murmur from his lips before he’s tilting his head and your eyes are fluttering shut. You both lean into the kiss, leveraging yourselves on your hips and legs to lift up closer to one another. It’s a hard, needy kiss with your fingers twisting into the knitted fabric on his chest and both his hands lifting to hold your face carefully as though you might disappear if he held on too tightly.

Heart so full that your chest feels heavy and constricted, you open your mouth beneath his for air. While he allows you to break for just that moment, he comes back with a heated passion that you’re all too happy to return. His arms slip down around your waist, pulling you across the small bit of couch left remaining between you and nearly onto his lap.

When you finally pull away from each other, he looks up at you with something you haven’t seen from him in years. Hope.

“You have a place yet?” he asks, breathing heavily and you can tell by the way his eyes keep darting to your lips that he’s having a hard time focusing. You shake your head.

“Not yet.”

“Good. You can stay here.” His fingers at your back graze your skin where your shirt shifted up and a shiver goes through your spine. He wants you. All your worrying was for nothing.

“Won’t your friends ask questions?” He shrugs.

“Probably.” A hand grips behind your thigh, tugging. You follow his pull and let him lift that thigh over his hips so that you’re straddling him as he leans onto the couch back. “Just gotta get our stories straight.” A cocky smile sits on his lips that you hadn’t realized you missed so badly. “Means we should get reacquainted, Ms. Adams.” He leans up to kiss you again, but you pull away.

“Aarons,” you correct him again. He shakes his head at you and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” he says. “C’mere.”

You can worry about names later.

~~~

That’s it! Just imagine Jesse living a happy, criminal free life in Alaska. It gives me the warm fuzzies everywhere. Anyways... I hope you enjoyed! Like, comment, reblog to let me know!

Feeling super sweet and generous? Buy me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/writerashley

Keep up with my progress on Instagram! https://www.instagram.com/thatfandomwriter/

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH23

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 4, 330

- Author Note: So im late, i will do double update! so please check on next chapter too~ :) thank u for whoever that read my cliche story HAHAHA i have no words to describe how im embarassed i am AHAHHAA anyways ~ 

Previous | Next

Chapter 23

Promotional month embarked the start of everything.  Hectic schedule, unreasonable amount of sleep time in a day, the most would be 2 hours and not to mention the studios and practice rooms would be their second home for the time being. The boys had been practicing non-stop these past few days until their official comeback early in February. This time their popularity soared higher than their previous comeback. It felt like a dream, but the boys did it. Their album sales make it digital or physical had risen drastically in comparison to previous sales.

The impact of Bangtan Sonyeondan to the industry was no joke. More people showed their support and their fanbase grew two times bigger than before in the blink of an eyes. Phenomenal indeed. Overwhelmed by the support, the boys promised to work harder this year to repay Armys’ love. Entering the last week of their You Never Walk Alone promotion, the boys were ready to start their Wings Tour around the globe. Unlike before they went to few continents depending on the demand of the respected country however this time their schedule was utilized for the first half of 2017.

Seul massaged her aching muscle and sunk on the couch with sulky face. The dorm was quiet and cold since none of the boys were home at this time.  They would only be home around dawn to get short nap before heading to their next schedule early in the morning. Following the change of their schedule, Seul would take an evening shift and went to their place right after her shift. So, she could prepare advanced breakfast for them. It became her routine to come around 2 in the morning and stayed for two hours or more, making sure the boys got a proper breakfast despite their busy schedule.

Mrs Hwang on the other hand was well informed pertaining to Seul’s unusual activity and she would make Hoon, more like force his son to pick her sister up every day from work. World is a scary place, she did not want to risk Seul’s life though that girl was the one who insisted to change her caretaking schedule out of sudden.

Glancing on her phone screen, she decided to call it a day since it was already 3 A.M and surprisingly she managed to pull her work within an hour. Seul had informed Hoon in advance so the younger guy would not pick her up considering he had exam the next day. She did not want to be blame for his bad performance later on.

“Should I watch Tae’s drama to kill time?” grinning to herself, Seul made up her mind to catch the latest episode. As she expected, the boys had recorded every episode up till the latest one.

What a supportive boyfriend!

It took Seul a moment to remember the last episode she watched, then it came to her realization she was following the drama diligently every week. Seul never missed any episode since she watched this with her mother. Of course, her mother would watch it, we were talking about her so-called adoptive son on screen.

Satisfied with her choice, Seul sat with her leg cross on the couch gleefully. She was excited to see different side of Taehyung on screen. A side which could only be seen on screen. Indeed, BTS V nailed it so perfectly. There were times Taehyung would give her a call as soon as his drama aired that particular day just to hear her opinion. She couldn’t understand why her opinion matter in this anyways.

 “Seul-seul! Did you watch?” Taehyung’s voice croaked in happiness. Apart from his members comment, Taehyung anticipated Seul’s point of view every week caused him to automatically give the girl a call after a new episode aired.

Seul laughed softly at Taehyung’s weird antic “I watched it Tae” he hummed. “So how was it this week?” he chewed his lower lips knowing how bluntly honest she could be. Taehyung valued her honesty even though sometimes Seul would never leave her sassiness behind, he didn’t care. He basically grew up with Min Suga’s sarcasm so to hear something similar from Seul, he was already immune to it.

“Hurm.. do you want to hear the good one or the bad one first?” she poked fun making Taehyung pouted in his seat.

“I want to hear good one first” Seul could imagine Taehyung’s pouty lips as a protest whenever he was forced to make a complicated choice.

Pressing her lips together to suppress her laughter, Seul regained her composure to have a decent conversation with him “You are certainly better if we were to compare with the episode which you first appeared. You look natural and comfortable with your character now. As I mentioned before, I like how you portray your emotions through your deep eyes. It is not a joke. How did you do that?” she professed earnestly.

Her compliments flustered him “Urm…Thank you..You are flattering me”

“I am not..You really did well Tae. Don’t tell me you are blushing” she teased.

“YAH I AM NOT! Alright, I am ready to hear the bad one” Taehyung murmured under his breath with hope it was not as nasty as her first comment back then. “Listen carefully Kim Taehyung, I am about to say something that might hurt your heart” the tone of her voice was stern and cold.

“Ji Seul you are scaring me! Stop sounding so serious”

“I am trying to, okay give me a moment” he heard her heavy breathing at the end of the line as if she was in the middle of night work out. What was on her mind?

“Tae-ah..I think you are too adorable for me to handle. Shouldn’t Hansung be manlier?”

Taehyung gasped “Is that an insult?” her small giggle tickled his heart. “Or is it your way complimenting me?” he pressed. There were times he craved for this kind of attention from Seul, made him feel normal guy around his age. To have a simple conversation with a friend gave him tranquillity.

“Will you take that as an insult since you really hated cutesy stuff nowadays?”

“Armys think I am cute. I will live with that if it comes from Armys and you. Yah, I am serious. Tell me right now what is my flaw?” he insisted.

Seul shook her head “Couldn’t find it. You are a rookie, but you are doing great. My mom thinks your acting is real and she really into it. Don’t ask me who is her favourite character, because she is choosing you over Minho. Aren’t that too much that she’s giving extra attention on you?” Taehyung beamed.

“Why? Are you jealous that Ahjumma favours me more than you?”

“I am used to it, Bangtan boys this, Bangtan boys that. You can take my mom’s love, I have Eodeng and Eomuk to love me” he cringed at the response. “Ew, that simply means you have Jin hyung’s love. Those two brats are the mini Kim Seokjin” she rolled her eyes in process.

She retorted sarcastically “Who are you calling brat? You are the brat!”

 She found herself smiling at the memories, being with Taehyung made her comfortable. Something that she could feel whenever she’s with Jin and Hoseok. Returning her attention back to the screen, Seul watched the drama and clasped her hand excitedly.  A silly smile would appear on her face every time Taehyung appeared on screen along with small awe in between.

Few months ago, she ridiculed the power of Bangtan Sonyeondan on her now as time passed it slowly turned her into a fan. Guess, she was being supportive of her friends.

Yes, supportive sounds fitting.

 ------------------

“Sejin hyung quick quick my bladder is about to explode” Jimin whiney voice filled the emptiness of the hallway. Other members stood sleepily behind him. Meanwhile, Jimin was getting impatient to finish his business inside. “Gosh, why are you so whiney” he pressed the button hurriedly, entering the password.

As soon as Jimin heard the beep, he squished his small body between the door and Sejin and ran inside ignoring the older guy that were already pressed against the wall.“That kid!” Sejin hissed while shaking his head. He gave a soft pat on Jungkook back, making the maknae moved inside with a big yawn “Get some sleep everyone, you need to be ready in 4 hours” he ordered.

Jungkook screeched softly feeling his muscle stiffened at the sight before him “Seul?” he stared in disbelief. Sleeping peacefully on the couch was Seul with Hwarang still running in the background. A soft smile spread across his face since the last time he saw her was two weeks ago. He almost lost his balance when he felt someone crashed against his body from back, Kim Taehyung groaned in frustration.

“Yah, Gukkie why are you blocking the way” his bangs were poking his eyes making it hard for him to see the obstacle in front of him. Furthermore, in this sleepy state everything appeared irrelevant to him except for his comfortable bed. Confused, Taehyung’s eyes followed Jungkook and upon it landed on Seul’s figure, his eyes widened in sheer surprise.

“Seul? Seul is here?” he spoke lowly fully aware that their manager was still there.

“What should we do? Sejin hyung is here!” Jungkook started to panic. The hyungs made their entrance with questionable look but soon they gawked at the scene in front of them. It would be a huge trouble if their manager found out about Seul. The chances of her being fired was high.

It is 5 A.M why is she not home? Yoongi cursed, taking a glance at Sejin whom thankfully still at the doorstep gathering bags in process. Everyone was trying to come up with ways to hide Seul or to face Sejin’s wrath in a minute. Without wasting any time, Taehyung marched forward taking Seul in his arm casually surprising everybody in the room.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi inquired with concern look.

“We need to hide her”

“Yes, but where?”

“Lets just bring her to my room” Taehyung suggested earning a low protest from Yoongi and Jin. Nonetheless, they followed him afterwards.

Seul stirred in her sleep a little and snuggled her face at the crook of his neck, liking the familiar smell and warmth. Even in her sleep, she knew how to play with his heart. Taehyung tried to control himself from smiling foolishly as his main concern right now was to hide Seul from Sejin.

“I will distract Sejin hyung” Jungkook blurted out and quickly dashed to the main door followed by Hoseok behind. Namjoon and Jin assisted Taehyung to his room, opening the door for him so he could move Seul to safer place.

 “Hyung I forgot my headphones!” “Me too I forgot my-my game console!” Hoseok and Jungkook hollered in unison causing the older guy to eye them suspiciously.

He wiggled his finger to his headphone which hang loosely around his neck “That is your headphone Hobi and as for you Jungkook, I didn’t see you play any games today let alone having your game console with you” closing the door behind him, he placed the bags on the floor.

Hoseok gulped nervously exchanging nervous look with Jungkook “Urm…Sorry I seem to forget, but really I forgot something in the van!” he tried his luck one more time to convince Sejin. They knew it was not easy to lie on his face since he could read them so easily. Their manager knew when the boys were hiding something, like right now.

“I smell fear and lies. What are you hiding from me?” he quirked his brows prying answers out from the two boys before him.  

“Nothing, nothing” Jungkook palmed his hand against the wall awkwardly with a sheepish smile. He heard the commotion behind him meaning the hyungs were doing something about Seul, though he had no idea how much time they needed for him to stall their manager.

“If it is nothing, why are you blocking my way? Is there something that I shouldn’t see?”

Hoseok held both his palm out while cracking a nervous chuckle in between “Jimin.. I mean Jimin peed in his pant and it is disgusting. We have to clean the floor first. It is dirty, you can’t walk” Hoseok facepalmed at his idiotic ideas. It sounded ridiculous.

“YAH WHO PEED IN PANTS?” clueless Jimin exited the bathroom as his eyes threw daggers at Hoseok way. Hoseok grinded his teeth together chasing Jimin away from the scene but of course he would not budge even an inch. Park Jimin was persistent to begin with. He never let anyone taint his name.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his head in frustration ‘Jimin-ssi, can you be a little cooperative. Why out of all time’ the manager did not buy the boys lies so he forced himself inside. Being tall giving him advantage to dominate the boys. His eyes scanned the empty living room with suspicion whilst Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok were having their secret banter behind.

“The caretaker came to clean the place?” he noticed the cleanliness of the place as he made his way to the kitchen. “I guess…” Hoseok murmured silently.

“Jimin-ssi, Seul is here we are trying to stall him! You are ruining the plan” Jungkook whispered under his breath making the shorter guy gasped realizing his own mistake. When he dashed inside, he didn’t catch a glimpse of anyone in the dorm. If and only he realized it sooner this thing could be prevented. The three musketeers kept their eyes on the manager hyung whom busy inspecting every corner of their place.

Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi exited Taehyung’s room as their eyes spotted the three boys stood in line with their hands neatly together, they shot them a bewildered look “Yah are you crazy! Don’t act suspicious, hyung might find out!” Namjoon scowled lowly afraid that the older guy overheard him.

“Get into your room now and act naturally” Jin mouthed them. The three musketeers scurried off almost bumping into each other before each of them got into their room without trouble. The sound of heavy footstep alarmed the remaining members, and they decided to avoid their manager at all cost.

 On the other hand, Taehyung had already changed into his pyjamas in order to appear more convincing in case their manager decided to appear magically in his room. From time to time he threw a nervous glance at the door feared to witness an unwelcoming sight. Judging from the message in their group chat, Sejin was inspecting every nook and cranny of the dorm started from Jungkook. Taehyung’s room is a room away from him that scared the shit out of him.

He stared at Seul while trying to find perfect way to hide her from their manager. “Screw this” caressing his fluffy hair out of frustration, he turned off the main light and slipped under the cover beside Seul. Taehyung bit his lower lips, apologizing non-stop since he was about to initiate something inappropriate. The girl was unconscious, and he was literally touching her without her consent.

She will understand, she will. Taehyung prayed in his head that Seul would not wake up until this nerve wrecking scene ended.

“Fuck” his eyes rounded upon seeing the shadow behind the creak of his door. Using his long hand to reach the lamp on his night stand, he switched off swiftly. Taehyung pulled the cover under his chin, wrapping one of his arm securely around Seul’s waist. His heart pounded due to the proximity and it doubled when he heard Sejin’s footstep approaching his room.

His body froze when he felt Seul making a slight move in his embrace. On the bright side, she’s not awake however her face was buried deeply in his chest. The heavy lump on his throat caused his breath to hitch.

Ji Seul, what are you.

“Taehyung-ah, are you asleep” Taehyung snapped out his thought, and brought Seul’s body closer to him. He shut his eyes tight pretended to sleep with hope they wouldn’t get caught by their manager today. Not today, they couldn’t risk losing Seul.

Sejin twisted the door knob, poking his head inside. He squeezed his eyes to adjust to the darkness “Guess, he is asleep. That was fast” he mumbled. Taehyung’s mind overloaded with negative thoughts and his heart thumped crazily that he swore the eerie silence in his room adding the tension. The sound of the footsteps sounded so close yet unclear. He was sure it was just few steps closer from his bed. Like a reflex, Taehyung tightened his arm around Seul’s keeping her close.

Exasperating a soft sigh, he was relieved when the sound of the footsteps faded away. The soft slam came from the door convinced Taehyung that his manager had left the room, yet he did not want risk getting caught, so he stayed like a statue for few minutes. Taehyung grinned upon hearing Sejin’s faint voice behind the door “Park Jimin, I told you to sleep. Why are you still standing there?” Sejin frowned.

Jimin cleared his throat awkwardly “Is..Tae asleep?”

“Yes, his room is dark, and I bet he is asleep”

“D-d-dark what?” Jimin continued to curse something vulgar in his head. After finding out Seul was in Taehyung’s room he couldn’t help but to worry. It triggered his protective instinct and jealousy. He couldn’t let his guard down just because Taehyung is his best friend even though Tae was never vocal about his feelings for Seul, his man’s instinct could not be wrong. Something bloomed whenever they were together.

The older guy snapped him out from his deep thought “What is wrong with you? Go sleep and stop worrying about Tae. Clock is ticking Jiminie, you don’t want to miss even an hour worth of sleep” he exclaimed.

“Fine, I am sleeping” his lower lips puckered out of habit.

“I will be here around 10, make sure everyone is ready by then” Jimin nodded obediently and threw a final glance at Taehyung’s door. Everything will be fine, Jimin convinced his racing heart.  

 ----------------

Groggily, Seul forced her heavy lids to open and that when she realized the unusual warmth behind her. Seul squinted her eyes one last time in order for her foggy brain to function properly. A small light from the curtain illuminated the dark room but was not enough for Seul to get a clear view of it. On top of all, she was beyond relief that her outfits were still intact, remain untouchable. Meaning no funny business happened. At least, she was not kidnapped by some sasaeng fans, she hoped.

‘I swear I was in the living room watching Hwarang’ she grew frustrated of her failure in retrieving her memory. Seul couldn’t recall whether the boys were back home or not. Shrugging her unimportant thought away, Seul fisted the sheets under her gathering her courage to face the individual behind her.

Seul, move slowly don’t wake up the tiger.

Shifting under the sheet, she changed her position slightly to face Taehyung. In 3,2,1 she was ready to see whoever beside her but to her surprise, someone was cradling her head halting her earlier intention to catch the culprit.

“Seul, you awake?” his voice trailed off. She recognized that voice.

Seul touched his hand “Jungkook?” she whispered in daze.

His low yet squeaky chuckle made her smile “Yes, it is me. Come on let’s get up quietly. We don’t want to wake Tae hyung” Jungkook stroked his hand down to her waist, slowly sweeping her off from the bed.

Setting Seul down on the ground, she inquired “Tae? I am in his room. How?” Jungkook let out another adorable giggle, embracing her tight. “You fell asleep while watching hyung’s drama. Let’s talk outside” while keeping Seul in his embrace, they exited Taehyung’s room at ease.

She pulled away making an abrupt stop facing the giggly maknae, why was he in good mood today. “Tell me why I am in Tae’s room? I thought I was kidnapped!” she pursed her lips in annoyance.

“Sejin hyung was here, so we had no choice but to hide you”

“Hiding me in Taehyung’s room? How clever” she wheezed.

“Then you wish to be in my room instead?” Jungkook look amused as playful smirk spread on his handsome face.

She squirmed under his intense gaze “I didn’t mean it that way, you could wake me up. I can hide in the closet and leave afterwards” he sent a disapproval glare at her way.

“No way we are making you walk alone at that time, now stop complaining” he took few steps forward, pulling the sulky girl into another tight hug. Jungkook nuzzled the top of her head, exhaling a low sigh “I miss you” he murmured.

Her heart did the weird dance again, “You woke up early today, I thought you were not an early riser” she wrapped her arms around him, returning the hug with equal passion. “You think I can sleep knowing you’re sleeping on the same bed as Tae hyung?” he said sulkily.

Seul giggled “Are you jealous? Then, I blame it on you for letting Tae got into the way” her tease making the visible frown on his forehead two times thicker. She looked up “Aigoo, you may develop wrinkles at this age” her hand smoothed his eyebrows, giving it a soft caress along the shape.

Closing his eyes with a soft hum, Jungkook let himself drown under Seul’s magic touch “You are losing your baby fat again. I don’t like that” she gave his cheek a soft stroke with a slight frown.

“Don’t worry I will earn that back after our promotion ended. Besides, I had a good breakfast every day thanks to you. Did you come late at night for your work just to prepare those meal for us?” he pecked her fingers, interlacing it with his.

“You guys are barely home so I thought it is wise to change my caretaking schedule a little. On the bright side, I can prepare breakfast for you guys. I bet Jin had no time to prepare proper food for all of you, I don’t want to wear him out” her eyes glimmered in concern. The mere thought of filling seven empty stomach washed away the worries in her.

Jungkook protested “But that’s mean you will be walking home alone, and it is not safe”

“About that, my mom made Hoon picked me up from work every day. Don’t worry, I will be fine. Worry about yourself, you need to eat healthily. Stop skipping meals” she cringed. “I saw your Vlive, all of you look dead tired. And, I am sorry I couldn’t make it to your Wings tour last week. I had to fill in for Sera” she sighed.

His hand skimmed, featherlight, over her shoulders “It is okay, it is just the opening tour this year, I will make sure you attend the next one. Hobi hyung and Jin hyung were not happy that you couldn’t make it to our concert. However since you bribed them with food the day after, they lowkey claimed that it was okay for you not to attend as long as you prepared yummy food to make it up to them” she chuckled at their silliness.

“As expected, how easy it was to persuade those two. Don’t remind me the long ass text that they sent to me showing off their protest and resentment” Seul’s face scrunched a little at the vivid memories. Jungkook laughed along and the couple continued their conversation in the kitchen. Seul reheat the food for the boys to savour when they woke up with Jungkook’s help.

“I think I need to go before your manager come. Oh, say hi to everyone” she hung her apron carefully and gathered her belongings. Meanwhile, Jungkook continued to sulk behind, “Can’t you stay for breakfast? It is still early, hyung will be here around 10” his voice was a little more than a whisper but in cutesy way.

She flashed him a soft smile “I can’t Jungkook maybe next time. I have an errand to run” he watched her back as she made her way to the entrance. “I want to meet you again before we fly off to America next month” Jungkook leaned against the wall with one hand inside his pocket.

She saw the disappointment in his eyes, so she walked up to him. Dazed Jungkook set his eyes on Seul as the girl tiptoed a little giving a soft peck on his lips “There. I will see you around, don’t miss me too much” a sweet rush of embarrassment coursed through Jungkook.

“O..kay..” his eyes sparkled causing Seul to chuckle. Jungkook might be a little blunt in showing his affection towards her, but whenever she initiated the skinship first, the guy would turn into a total baby.

Seul was about to push the door getting ready to leave but only to be greeted by Sejin’s confused face. She felt an extreme fear in her system, was she caught for real now? Fuck, she muttered.

“Who are you?” he pushed the door wider to see Jungkook stood frozen behind Seul with an extremely disturbed face.

“Hyung…You are urm.. early?” his voice broke into a small shriek.

Quirking his eyebrows, the older guy stepped inside closing the door behind him carefully “You have a long explanation to do Jeon Jungkook. To the lounge now. I want everyone in the room. 5 minutes” his voice was rough and Seul felt like pissing in her jeans.

Seul swallowed a heavy lump on her throat “When I said everyone, that includes you Miss” he pushed the glass back on the bridge of his nose, leaving astounded Jungkook and Seul behind. Jungkook made eye contact with Seul and they exchanged looks of panic and questions.

   This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved

[purplesurveys]

1130

survey by nadine07

Where were you three hours ago? Was passed out on the living room couch and probably dreaming away, lmao.

Were you with anyone? Both my dogs were in the living room with me, if that counts.

Have you had anything alcoholic in the last 24 hours? Hmm, I’m trying to remember but I don’t think so. I went outside to eat, but I doubt they put any alcohol in my meal since I literally had a truffle-based pasta. No plans to drink this weekend, either.

Are you wearing shoes right now? Nope, I’m always barefoot around the house.

How long have you known your 1st phone contact? At least since the 6th grade cos I think that’s when she had transferred to my school.

Are they a relative? Nope, I went to school with her. We were seatmates for a while in sophomore year and that’s when I was able to see how talented she was at drawing and painting. She ended up transferring to UP as well after getting accepted to the fine arts program so we got to be collegemates as well, though I don’t really remember what university she initially got admitted to.

Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? Yeah, because I’m a dumb fuck when it comes to these things. I WILL SAY though that I’ll be so much kinder to myself should this ever happen, and no longer tolerate her bullshit and emotional/mental abuse under the guise of ~unconditional love. There’ll be a lot of shit she’ll have to pick up and fix, and I wouldn’t get back with her unless she acknowledges her mistakes and seek to correct them.

Would you ever go skinny dipping with the last person who commented you? That would be Leigh, and no. Idk if I’ve shared this or if this has ever come up on a survey but Andi actually once asked me if I’d like to be a part of a threesome with them and Leigh, and I just had to immediately decline because I view Leigh as a younger sister more than anything and I can’t bear to see her all naked loooool.

When was the last time you saw a movie in theaters? December 2019.

When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? I think the morning of New Year’s Eve. I was already starting my healing process by then and the holidays were getting me feeling kind of peaceful, so I sent her a few voice notes thanking her for the year that was but giving her a heads-up that I might not talk to her for a while, because I realized I was starting to get happier on the days I didn’t force conversation with her.

I honestly thought ‘a while’ would only take a couple of weeks, but I’ve since gotten used without her presence and it’s been 3 1/2 months since our final encounter; and I think it will stay this way now.

Has anyone called you beautiful today? No.

Are you still friends with the last person who broke your trust? That would be JM, and yeah. I find him ridiculous for lying to our faces about joining a fraternity in law school (frats are a big yuck where I live because of their toxic hazing and misogynist culture), but I mean I still sort of understand why he had to do it - obviously not for the above reason, but for the perks and support that usually come with joining frats. From now on I’ll always see him as someone who can smoothly lie to my face, though.

Does drama seem to follow you everywhere? No. I would hate that lol, that would just be too much to handle.

Do you feel like anyone is playing mind games with you right now? No.

How would you feel if your best friend hooked up with your ex? I think my literal first reaction would be to laugh out of sheer disbelief, and then proceed to call her stupid for cheating and for choosing to cheat with her. After that’s died down, I think I’d mostly feel disappointed and betrayed.

How long did your last relationship last? The stint lasted 4 years, but we were technically together for 6 years if we’re counting the whole on/off thing.

If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? No. That’s what I had thought and they left. I’ve stopped trusting my feelings about these things anymore, and will assume anyone is capable of leaving.

Does it make you uncomfortable to talk on the phone around people? I just don’t want to be loud enough that I’m almost screaming around other people, but I can’t always monitor that since I have to concentrate on what I’m hearing on the other line.

Would you rather be 10 years older or 10 years younger? Probably 10 years older so that I can see into my future.

Have you ever kissed someone the same night your met them? No.

Do you bite your fingernails? Occasionally. I pick at them more frequently.

Would you consider yourself very flexible? Nah. Like I said on a previous survey, I can’t even reach my toes either while standing up or stretching on the floor.

Do you embarrass easily? Yeah.

Have you ever tried to talk your way out of getting a ticket? Yup. It’s happened twice; one of the occasions I was able to handle by myself and the other time Gab had to step in to talk to the officer because he was adamant about the ticket and I had started crying.

Did it work? Yes, both times. I’ve only been issued a ticket once, from this annoying grumpy officer in Alabang.

Have you ever been banned from anywhere? Trying to remember if I have been, but I don’t think so.

Do you have a ringtone or do you leave your phone on vibrate? The important messaging apps are on vibrate. I’ve turned off notifications for some apps and I have just the silent banner notifications for others.

What was the last thing you drank from a mug? I’m drinking coffee from one right now.

Has your #1 ever seen you naked?

Does your #2 know your deepest secret?

Will your #3 repost this?

Does your #4 smoke?

Were you born in the 90's? Yes, but by the end of it so I never considered myself a 90s kid.

When was the last time you paid less than $1 for something? The parking fee in Feliz.

Have you loaned anything out to anyone recently? Nope.

Are any of your siblings married? None of us are.

Who was the last person to spend the night with you at your house? Gabie.

How many different picture ids do you have in your wallet? Just my driver’s license and TIN ID.

Do you have a hard time making decisions? Depends on the weight of the decision. The heavier it is, the more I seek out friends who can provide fresh perspectives.

Has anyone kissed you when you weren't expecting it? Idk, Gabie probably snuck in some surprise ones a few times. IBetween the two of us I was more likely to do so, though.

Did you like it? If she did then I probably did during that time.

Who was your date to senior prom? We have junior prom, not senior prom. I just bought my favorite cousin since I had no interest in boys and was still learning how to make guy friends at that point.

Does your dad smoke? No, he’s never tried.

Is your mom over 50? She is turning 50 this year, but not until September.

Do you want to get married? It would be nice to experience it.

Have kids? Yes.

Are there any movies coming out you wanna see? Not that I know of. There are movies I do want to see, but they’ve already come out, like Ammonite and I Care A Lot.

Do you ever feel like you're leading a double life? No.

Do you have any plans to get a new tattoo or piercing? Tattoo, yeah. I’m just super chill about said plan and am not really in a hurry about it. I’ve yet to think of a design and where on my body to place it.

Do you know anyone named Christine? I know several people named Christine but they go by a nickname, like Tin.

Do you know anyone who's biracial? Sure, I went to high school with a couple of girls who are both half-brown and half-white as they both have European dads. I believe one of them is part German while the other girl is part Swiss.

Do you know anyone who works at Walmart? I don’t think so. I know my aunts who live in the US will occasionally shop there though, hahaha.

Has the last person you rode in a car with seen you in your underwear? I mean yeah, as a baby and as a young kid (it was my mom).

Are black bras sexy? They can be, sure.

Spell your full name without 'C','I','R', or 'Y': Obn.

Open the nearest book, turn to page 11, and type the first sentence: I’m at a Starbucks rn and didn’t bring any books with me.

Are you currently listening to anything? There’s jazz music faintly playing at the moment.

Would you ever consider getting breast implants? Before I definitely used to, when people still liked to make fun of small boobs. Nowadays I don’t feel the need to anymore.

If you could spend 30 minutes with someone who's gone, who would you pick? I’d probably pick my great-grandpa over my grandpa. I never met the former; and if I only had 30 minutes with my grandpa (who I did grow up with) I think it would just fuck with me psychologically.

Are you on birth control? Nopes.

Do you know anyone who is bisexual? Lots.

Would you walk into Walmart naked for $10,000? Yes.

Does anyone call you babe? No.

Do you hate it when people try to play with your hair? If I’m not close enough to them I would feel bothered, yes.

Who would you tell, or who did you tell when you lost your virginity? I think I had just told Sofie then.

Were you in a relationship 6 months ago? Yeah but it was cracking and it was cracking fast. It’ll be hitting 6 months this March, actually.

Are you still with that person? No.

Are you the kind of person who has crazy mood swings? No. This happens to my mom and I hate it very much, so I try to watch my actions and not switch rapidly between different moods.

This is question 69...so have you ;)? Sure.

How long is it until your birthday? Around a month and a couple of weeks.

[talldarkandroguesome]

13th of Morning Star, Third Entry

Sahan brought Tel and I clothing as we waited by where Cadwell teleported us in. Tel seemed to be in shock and I decided they probably needed some time. They were trying to keep their modesty as we drew the eyes of the merchants and city dwellers alike. 

I cared little for my bared body and so I made sure to stretch and languish as an entertainment for those sparing a look in our direction.

Once dressed, Tel was waiting for Er-Jaseen to return with the others. I took the opportunity to go and get a bottle of some sort of liquor, from the taste of it a very rushed whiskey of some sort or another. It felt like fire from tongue to belly and was the perfect remedy to what we had been through. I returned and sat besides Tel. I asked if I could get them anything, food, a drink, some intimacy. They wrapped their arms around me and took the bottle I offered them readily.

We stayed with our arms around another, occasionally kissing  and passing the bottle back and forth. At one point I caught Lyris trying not to look in our direction so I waved at her.

She tried to look away even harder, so I called out to her and she came over, Sahan and Cadwell behind her. I patted the ground next to me and she sat down. I offered her the bottle which she took with a thankful nod. As she took a drink, I kissed her cheek. She seemed a bit surprised and I noticed a flash of something cross Sahan’s face with a twitch of his mouth, but I just smiled and had more to drink.

It was not too long before a portal opened up. Then another. And another. Then even more. And from these portals, a thunder of black soul gems began to pour out forming massive piles that stood half as tall as the buildings in the city. People in the city came out to see what the horrible cacophony was caused by.

We knew that these were likely to be all the souls that had been stolen from people like us. We all went to watch what was happening. It was mesmerizing.

And once the piles finished spewing crystals, they closed back up. Tel continued to stare at the piles for a while. I began looking around to see how many piles there were and to try and calculate how many souls there must have been when I saw a flash of movement. Tel dove into a pile, their arm outstretched. As they dug in, the top of the pile began to fall downward, falling on top of them and soon Tel could not be seen, buried beneath a pile of large soul gems.

Soon enough they came back out, cradling a gem in their arms. I smiled. I knew what it meant. I asked Tel if they had found their soul. They just nodded, staring at it, almost in disbelief. I gave my congratulations. I know how difficult it had been for Tel and their beliefs to be without their soul and could empathize with that horrible aching, cold pain.

Then there was the sound of another portal and I turned to see Er-Jaseen, now no longer glowing or clad in Akatosh’s armor. They fell to their knees and Lyris and I rushed over to his side, the others soon behind us.

I exclaimed my joy and how he had managed to succeed. Yet for the great deed done, he looked utterly devoid of all energy. I offered him the whiskey and he accepted it gratefully, then drinking it until the bottle was completely empty. 

As I looked him over for injury I asked what if anything else I could provide to him. But he was too distracted by the sight of the soul gems that towered around the city. He spoke in a disbelieving voice as he said, she did it, then walked towards one of the piles. When he noticed Tel, he congratulated Tel on finding theirs, then turned to me and said mine was among these. I knew it was, but with as high as the piles were, I could only say it was... somewhere.

That seemed to spark something in Er-Jaseen, for he began calling to the gawkers for any vestiges in the city to be brought forward. Then he and I spoke of the overwhelming number of soul gems, the sheer volume of souls, lives, that had been stolen.

Then the gravity of Er-Jaseen’s actions struck me anew and I faced him, gave a formal and sincere thanks, and kowtowed before him. I wanted to ensure that I gave him the greatest respect I knew how to give, then with my head still lowered, my head on my hands, I told him that he had given me my life and family back. That he had saved Nirn. Saved the Pact. That I, and my House were forever in his debt.

Then other people came and gave him hugs and slaps on the back and cheers. the celebration of those of us who were there for the worst of it surrounded him with joy and praise.

At some point, Er-Jaseen asked about were Tharn was. I had assumed the worst and that he had not survived. And yet, it turned out that as soon as he had made it to the Hollow City, while the others were still recovering from being surrounded, he ran off and to a portal, presumably to his homeland.

Lyris wondered aloud if it had just been to steal the Amulet of Kings, but Er-Jaseen assured him that, according to what Meridia had told him, it would take many long years for the amulet to regain any power. Given Tharn’s age, I presume that he would not be able to get much out of the amulet unless he was willing to go down the slippery slope of sacrificing another life to it. I think he has likely seen enough to know that it would end up for the worst.

As Tel began digging through the soul gem piles again, Galerion arrived. I had mixed feelings about it. Of course he needed to be involved, he would have to help organize the process of sorting soul gems and trying to return them to those who they belonged to. And yet, I could not help but imagine that he was going to try and claim more than his fair share of responsibility for Er-Jaseen’s success. I made a note to myself that I should immediately begin to make songs that put Galerion properly in his realm of influence. Yes, he helped organize, but he was not the reason for the success of any single part of stopping the Planemeld. And I know that I want to solidify him as his proper place in history, an aid, support, organizer. Nothing more.

Er-Jaseen reported that, according to Meridia Herself, the tear in the veil between Nirn and Oblivion was repaired. Of course, Galerion began working a spell and did so for a long time before agreeing that it had been. As though the word of Nirn’s hero and a god were not enough for him to trust, only his own magicka. The arrogance.

Just as Er-Jaseen asked if there were vestiges left in the city and Galerion began to explain how many there may or may not be, Tel came over to me, another soul gem held gingerly in a palm. I did not need to ask to know that it was mine. I could feel Tel’s warmth inside me from where their hand was on the crystal.

My instinct was to try and get my soul back into me. I could feel a longing from not only myself, but from my soul inside the crystal, to try and get back into my body. I held it to my chest, half hoping it would just move from the soul gem into me.

Of course, it did no such thing. There was no way it could be so simple as that.

Then a fear struck me. If my soul were back in my body, I would become mortal once more. This body would be the last one I would get. And if I was to be killed in some manner or another, that would be it.

Yet, if I hid my soul gem somehow, then I could not be killed. It was something the House had feared, for they did not wish for me to become heir to the Grandmaster and then not be able to be killed. But I also knew that given the circumstances that uncle Tanval passed away, I was likely to be an even greater target of assassination than usual.

I did not want to be able to die. The pain of death was no gentle, warm light or peaceful darkness. It was a shot of pain and a twist of anguish. Sure, I would go on to an afterlife. Yet it would hardly be pleasant.

Then again, how could I be sure my soul gem would be protected? Someone only had to discover its location and destroy it. Or worse yet, someone find it by accident and use it, effectively ending me without any warning.

A sickening fear took hold in my belly. I felt nauseated.

A hand landed on my shoulder and I know I must have started, so lost in my thought as I had been. Lyris gave a chuckle and asked if we were ready to get back to Nirn.

I said I was very eager to get back.

Of course, I still felt ill from fear, but I did not want to be in this horrible plane any longer. I needed to get out of Coldharbour. I did not know what to do beyond that, but I needed to escape out.

Tel came with me with a smile and Er-Jaseen followed shortly afterwards.

Valos waited at the portal and asked us what Tel and Er-Jaseen and I were doing back here since he thought he had just sent us back to Nirn.

I tried to keep things light by saying we had to take a direct teleportation for our hero to face the Prince of Pain and give it back to him. Lyris laughed.

Sahan said he wanted to go back to Hammerfell and help his friend. Lyris said she was going with him. I could feel that there was definitely much developing between them. So we all wished them luck, since we were going back east. I gave Sahan a big kiss on the lips and Lyris another on the cheek and the rest exchanged hugs. Then they were off.

I turned to Er-Jaseen and Tel and asked if they would like to rest at my manor for a day or so, for old time’s sake.

Er-Jaseen looked down and said that there was something he had been wanting to do for a while back in Blackmarsh, but that he had been unable to do without his soul.

I told him that of course I understood and that we would not keep him from it, since I assumed it was to do with communing with his Hist tree.

Er-Jaseen shifted for a moment, face down before he looked up and sheepishly said that he was done with his male stage of life and needed the hist to take him into his female stage.

Well, that made a lot of sense. The Hist was integral to such a change. I congratulated him and said I expected that it was very exciting. After a moment of staring at me, a large grin spread across his face and he said he was very excited indeed.

Then he added that he was also going to see what he could learn back in Blackmarsh that could help him to try and save the Hist tree and villagers that were currently stranded in Coldharbour. I reminded him that I would assist in any way I could, he had only to ask. He thanked me and said he would do so if he needed additional support, but that in the meantime the Mages Guild was working with the villagers on ways to ween the tree off of Molag Bal’s poison so that they had a hope of transplanting it back on Nirn.

I invited Er-Jaseen to stay with me anytime he liked and he agreed to come and visit when he was in Morrowind again. I told him I looked forward to being able to converse under less stressful circumstances, then I kowtowed again. He looked a little confused, but I could not do anything less in my gratitude.

We said our goodbyes. I gave him a deep kiss. Tel gave him a hug. And then he was off, leaving Tel and I standing there with Valos, a question lingering in the air between us. And I realized that Tel had only been with me all this time for a single reason. To retrieve their soul.

Now that they had it back, would all that we had gone through together simply faded away to nothing?

I looked at Tel and asked where we should go. I half hoped they would say some foreign destination for us to spend a day or two relaxing, or back to Mournhold just to have a last night together.

Instead, Tel very excitedly said they wanted to get straight back to Vivec, the city, and presumably, the god as well. I smiled, forcing that twisting feeling of abandonment as deep down as I could. I said I guessed they had to get back to their post and stop playing around.

Tel spoke happily about how they had had to take leave the whole time and certainly would need to get back and get filled in on all that had happened since they were gone. They mentioned my duties to my House as well. I supposed they sensed my sadness, for they said empathically that we would keep in touch by letters and that if I wanted I could come and meet Vivec with them.

I said I would not mind going to the city to make sure they got settled back in and to share a last real meal, but that it might be a bit awkward for me to be around Vivec. I hoped it would seem more from my Velothi beliefs than from the fact that I do not enjoy the feeling of Vehk’s looming, levitating form. The short time I had an audience with him in the past I did not enjoy it. How could someone once mortal ever live up to my Prince’s standard, to Her power or grace? Warrior poet? More the title of a mortal noble than one who attained godhood. And I cannot stand the condescending way Vehk stares at you, like you are a particularly interesting specimen, even though he was once no different than any other mortal.

Tel frowned, but I told Valos we would like to go to Vivec and he nodded, changing the portal over for us. Tel took me by the arm before I even had the chance to thank Valos for everything and we were pulled through.

As I stood there, trying to clear my head from the dizzying remnants of the abrupt teleportation, I heard a discussion of two of the mages in the guild talking about how Meridia had helped with stopping the Planemeld and now it Meridia’s Summoning Day and how they suspected a link between both things. One of the mages said it would be a perfect opportunity to give offereings to Meridia.

I realized that when we had left for the final battle it had been Meridia’s Summoning Day. I wondered idly if Varen had planned that, knowing of her power and what she might offer to the fight.

I then realized that, although it had felt like two days since we left, it had, in fact, only been a few hours.

The passage of time in Oblivion is so frustratingly disorientating.

Now we are waiting for the clearance to go from the hub here in Mournhold onto Vvardenfell. I know I should not go with Tel. And yet, it feels as though there is so much unresolved between us, though I could not name anything that is. I... I just need to not be alone right now.

[prettyboy-parker]

come with me and escape

words: 4k

warnings: cheating, underage drinking, fem!peter, daddy kink (always), semi degradation, unprotected sex

author’s note: happy summer! I’m feeling really summer-y right now, so this was the perfect way to get those vibes out! as with most dark/taboo themes that I write about, I do not condone cheating in real life. It is used as a plot device/conflict in the story. Happy reading!

listen to while reading:

Escape (The Piña Colada Song)- Rupert Holmes

Does Your Mother Know- ABBA

Santeria- Sublime

Doin’ Time (Cover)- Lana Del Rey

Tony has a hard time relaxing.

Pepper tells him this constantly. They’ll be sitting outside, sipping on some cucumber water, watching Morgan put on her own one-woman play, and Pepper will point out how hard he’s holding his glass. His dentist tells him that he grinds and clenches his teeth in his sleep, he’s getting sick more easily, and he’s lashing out at Pepper.

He assumes the stress is from work, since the launch of the new Stark Phone X is coming up. Or, it could be how his marriage is falling apart. He’s definitely fallen out of love with Pepper. She’s still his best friend, of course, but they don’t romantically love each other anymore. Tony would file for divorce, but his company would take a huge hit.

And he doesn’t want to do that to Morgan.

So, when Pepper announces that they’re taking a family trip to an all-inclusive resort somewhere in Bali, Tony knows he’s not going to be able to relax. He’ll most likely be worrying about his own work while worrying about Pepper’s work the entire time. Also, a 5 year old and a day long plane ride sound like a recipe for disaster.

Tony fully expects his stress levels to multiply by 10.

Tony was wrong.

When he stepped off that god-damned plane, it was like all his worries were brushed off of his shoulders. Pepper definitely looked happy, the salty Bali air raising her mood. Morgan was just ecstatic to be off the plane.

Pepper is in such a good mood that she actually is letting him drink.

“I’ll get a strawberry daiquiri,” Tony tells the bartender, a young woman with dark skin who looks a little too enthusiastic for her job. She hustles off to make the drink, when,

“Everything sucks. I can’t tan. I only burn.”

There’s a gorgeous young man leaning over the bar, plump, pink lips formed in a pout. His damp, chestnut brown hair is pushed back by the Ray Bans perched on his head. His long eyelashes flutter as he looks at Tony, big, brown, doe eyes peering at him as he cocks his head to the side. His pert ass is sticking out, contained in the shortest red bathing suit bottoms Tony has ever seen. A sheer red coverup is draped over his long, milky arms, leaving little to the imagination.

“Why don’t you just get a spray tan?” Tony manages to stutter out, pushing his own sunglasses on top of his head. He wishes he lived in a world where his biggest problem was that he couldn’t tan.

The boy bites his lip and lets out a little giggle.

Tony wishes hecould bite those lips.

“As if!” He exclaims, “I don’t want to look like an orange.” The boy hoists himself up onto one of the bar stools.

The bartender puts Tony’s drink down in front of him and he gives her his resort card.

“That’s fair. Don’t lay in the sun all day, though, if you know you burn.” Tony tell him, taking a sip of his drink.

“That’s very thoughtful,” The boy says, then turns to the bartender.

“Could I get a Shirley Temple, please?” He asks, tapping his fucking French manicurednails on the countertop.

“Not old enough to drink?” Tony asks teasingly.

He rolls his eyes.

“Not legally,” He winks, “Will be in a year.”

Tony smirks at the boy.

“You’re 20?”

“On the nose. It kind of sucks, because I’m not really into guys my age.”

Tony only gets a moment to process what the boy said because Morgan comes bounding up to the two.

“Daddy! Mommy said you’d come watch me on the slide.” She squeals, pulling on the bottom of his swim shorts.

His chances with the boy are totally gone.

On the slim chance the boy didn’t know who Tony was, he definitely doesn’t want to get with someone who’s married and has a kid.

“Did she? She’s crazy.” Tony jokes, leaning down to put Morgan on his lap. He brushes a wet strand of hair out of her face, trying to avoid poking her eye.

“Hi!” Morgan exclaims, waving her pudgy hand wildly at the boy. Tony should be a good dad and tell her not to talk to strangers, but he wants any excuse to keep talking to the boy.

“Hi!” The boy says, waving back at her.

“What’s your name?” Morgan giggles, swinging her little legs donned with pink crocs.

“Peter.” Peter responds, taking a sip of his drink.

Being the child she is, Morgan doesn’t respond.

“Daddy, can you come watch me on the slide now?” She asks, reaching up to tug on Tony’s ear.

“Ouch! And yes, I’ll come watch you.” Tony tells her, putting her on the ground gently. Tony stands up and takes her tiny hand in his, which is already outstretched.

“Bye Peter!”

Peter waves goodbye and winks at Tony.

Yeah, he has to see the kid again.

***

The next time he, or should he say they, see Peter again is at dinner.

Pepper is exhausted because Morgan is complaining about the smell of the seafood and how yucky shrimp is. Tony just wants to go to the bar alone.

While Tony and Pepper try to eat their food, Morgan’s head snaps up from where she’s sulking.

“Peter!” She shrieks, Pepper promptly shushing her. Tony turns around and there’s his boy, swiftly approaching. He’s dressed in tiny, high waisted black shorts and a red Hawaiian shirt that has the top 4 buttons undone. Peter’s face is practically glowing and as he gets closer Tony can see that his shirt has dogs riding fucking surfboards on it.

“Hey Morgan!” He says as he stops at the edge of their table, curls bouncing from his stride over.

Pepper gives Tony a look that says who the fuck is this kid and why does he know my daughter?

“Pepper, this is Peter. We talked for a bit at the bar earlier. Morgan introduced herself.” Tony tells her with a forced smile, wanting to look at the boy instead.

“Oh, you made a friend, Morgan?” Pepper turns to their daughter, who nods furiously, whipping her unruly brown hair around.

“You have a very polite daughter, Mrs. Stark.” Peter says, practically beaming.

What a charmer.

Pepper takes a breath, surprised.

“Why thank you. We try to raise her well.”

Peter giggles and bites his lip.

“You’re definitely doing something right! I have to go eat now, I’ll see you all later!” Peter waves goodbye and trots off to the other side of the restaurant, hips swaying.

“Sweet boy.” Pepper mutters through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah. Sweet boy.”

***

If there is a god out there, he must like Tony.

Because Pepper ends up with food poisoning.

She starts throwing up around 2 in the morning. Google tells Tony that she’s going to be bedridden for a couple of days.

Perfect.

After breakfast, Tony promises Morgan that they’ll spend all day at the pool. She’s ecstatic, jumping up and down. Tony shushes her and helps her get ready for the day.

Peter finds him relaxing on one of the pool chairs, watching Morgan play with her mermaid Barbie doll.

“Tony,” Peter purrs, the older man almost dropping his drink in surprise.

“Peter, hey,” Tony responds, adjusting himself in his chair.

Peter perches himself at the edge of the lounge chair, extending his long legs and crossing his ankles. He’s chosen black swim shorts today, paired with a sheer black coverup embroidered with roses.

“You’ve got your sunscreen on?” Peter asks, hand resting very close to Tony’s leg.

Tony chuckles at the thoughtfulness.

“No, I’ve got this umbrella.” He says, gesturing to the big tan umbrella over them.

Peter gasps, reaching for the spray can of sunscreen next to the chair.

“You still need sunscreen, silly goose.” Peter scolds, spraying Tony’s legs. He can only swallow thickly as Peter takes his dainty hands and rubs the sunscreen in. Tony tries to tear his eyes away as the boy’s hands rub up his thighs. Peter sprays more on his chest and arms, hands massaging the liquid into his skin. He quickly pushes Tony’s sunglasses onto the top of his head, spraying the sunscreen directly into his hands. Tony almost loses it when he starts putting sunscreen on his face, ridiculously soft hands cupping his rough cheek.

“There.” Peter says, wiping his hands on his on thighs.

“Thanks.” Tony manages to choke out, adjusting his swim trunks.

“Anytime,” Peter giggles, standing up.

“Hey, why don’t you sit down? Hang out for a little bit?” Tony offers, gesturing to the empty lounge chair next to him.

Peter rolls his eyes and smiles, climbing onto the chair. He sighs as he leans back,  closing his eyes.

“This is my favorite spot.” He tells Tony, keeping his eyes closed.

“What, you come here often?” Tony laughs, shaking his head.

Peter opens his eyes and turns his head, grinning.

“My dad owns the place.”

“Shit, really?” Tony says, surprised.

Peter lets out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah. I’m down here quite a bit in the summer.” He says nonchalantly, picking at the bed of his nail.

“Where are you usually?” Tony asks, taking a sip of his water.

“Massachusetts. I go to MIT.”

Tony smiles.

“No way! That’s where I went.”

Peter cocks his head to the side.

“I know.” He says. He bites his lip and brushes stray curl out of his face. His cheeks are dusted with red, most likely due to the sun, and his sunglasses block his honey brown eyes.

“Do you want to have a drink with me tonight?” Tony blurts out without thinking, too caught up in the boy’s beauty.

His heart sinks when Peter stays silent, eyebrows rising.

“The misses has food poisoning, so,” Tony trails off, face heating up in embarrassment.

“I’d love to.” Peter says softly, pink lips stretched in a genuine smile.

“Really?” Tony asks in disbelief, like a teenager.

“Of course. But I’m going to need your number.”

***

Tony can’t remember being this nervous about a date in a very long time.

He doesn’t even know if it is a date, but he like to think it is. He feels like he has butterflies in his stomach as he waits at one of the bars near the end of the resort. There’s not too many people around, which is nice.

“Hey, Tony.”

The older man turns around, coming face to face with a literal angel.

Peter stands before him, smiling softly. He’s wearing a very skimpy outfit (not that Tony’s complaining) for drinks at 8 at night. He’s wearing tiny white shorts over what looks like a very light pink chiffon teddy. Dusty rose colored silk drapes over his shoulders, wound tightly around his forearms. The cutest pink ballet flats encase his feet, silk ribbon tied into a bow around his ankles. There’s blush dusting his cheeks and clear lip gloss slathered on those plump lips.

“Oh, Pete, Hey,” Tony manages to say, clearing his throat. Peter giggles and bounds up to Tony, stands on his tippy toes, and presses a kiss to the man’s cheek. Tony’s at a lost for words as Peter sits down, leaving lipgloss on his stubble ridden cheek. He’s glad Pepper made sure to find a very private resort, because if there were crowds of people he’d be screwed.

“You look nice.” Peter compliments, thin fingers grazing over the rolled-up sleeve of his gray dress shirt. Tony swallows as he tries to get his shit together.

“Thanks, you do too. Gorgeous, actually.” He blubbers, losing years worth of smooth talking experience

Peter giggles and looks at one of the purple coasters on the countertop.

“Thanks,” He says softly. He brushes a stray curl out of his face, tucking it behind his ear.

“You want a drink?” Tony asks, fiddling with his Rolex.

Peter blinks a couple of times.

“I’m not old enough to drink. You know that,” He teases, swatting at Tony’s arm.

Tony leans in close, lips brushing against the top of Peter’s ear. He hears the boy’s breath hitch. His fluffy brown locks tickle the older man’s nose.

“We can indulge for one night. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” He mumbles, nipping on his ear before pulling away.

Peter’s blush has darkened and his mouth is parted slightly.

He nods wordlessly.

Life Lesson #254: Never give kids alcohol.

Peter’s not really a kid, but he is really fucking light weight.

He’s tipsy after his first drink and Tony would like to avoid a complete blackout, so he denies either of them more drinks around 10.

“Let’s do something fun,” Peter insists as the leave the bar.

“Yeah? Like what?” Tony asks as they enter the near empty hallway, the smell of disinfectant in the air.

“Mini golf,” Peter whispers, bouncing on his feet slightly in excitement.

Tony can’t help but laugh at the boy, wrapping his arm around Peter’s dainty waist.

“Show me the way, princess.” Tony says, not registering the pet name that slipped out. Luckily, Peter just grins wider.

The make their way through the resort, through hallways that all look the same. They eventually reach the outside, the humid air hitting their bodies.

“Here we are!” Peter exclaims, dragging him to a nice looking shed.

“Shit baby, it’s closed.” Tony says, noting the “We Open at 8 A.M” sign perched on the front counter.

“I told you, I know my way around.” Peter giggles as he punches in a code on the keypad that’s connected to the door. It opens and Peter slips inside.

“Hello, sir. Mini Golf is 7 dollars per game, but I think I’ll give you the handsome customer discount,” Peter jokes, wiggling his perfectly groomed eyebrows.

“Oh hush, you.” Tony scolds jokingly, leaning on the top of the counter.

Peter just winks and disappears under the counter.

“What color do you want?” He asks, voice muffled. “You can have anything but pink. I always get pink.”

Tony rolls his eyes and smiles.

“You have red down there?”

Peter pops back up, a red club and a pink club in hand.

“Sure do.” He says, waving the clubs around. He places the clubs on the counter, disappears again, then reappears with two golf balls in his hands, each their respective colors.

“You ready?” He asks, swinging over the counter.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Tony responds, taking both his golf club and ball in one hand.

Peter takes his free hand and they walk to hole number one.

“I’m absolutely atrocious at mini-golf, by the way. I miss every single time.” Peter huffs, bending over to place his ball on the ground.

Tony tries to tear his eyes away from that ass, but he’s unsuccessful.

“I guess I’ll have to give you a private lesson, then.” Tony smirks, poking Peter in the stomach.

“You’re funny. But I wouldn’t mind,” The boy purrs, looking up at Tony and fluttering his mascara coated lashes.

“Let’s get started, then.” Tony grins and places his hands on Peter’s tiny waist, his own club forgotten on the ground.

“Spread your legs a little more. You need a proper stance.” He says huskily, turning Peter so he’s standing to the side. The boy obeys, then sticks his ass out a little more.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, like that.” Tony growls, his arousal almost clouding his brain.

“Now you need a good grip on your club. Right hand under the left.” He instructs, placing his own hands over Peter’s.

“There you go. Good boy.” He praises.

Peter shudders against Tony, heavy breaths falling from those perfect lips.

“Then you just swing back,” Tony swings the boy’s arms back, “And hit it.” The club hits the ball, narrowly missing the hole.

“Damn. Nearly got it in the hole.” He mutters in the boy’s ear. He slowly moves his lips right down under Peter’s ear, right under his jaw. He sucks the skin into his mouth, biting hard enough to leave a mark. A high pitched whine leaves Peter’s throat as he drops the club onto the ground.

“Kiss me already, god dammit.”

At that, Tony grabs the boy by his shoulders and pulls him in, pressing his chapped lips to the glossy ones. Peter moans immediately, hands flying up to grip Tony’s salt and pepper hair. Tony cups his lower back, dipping Peter down slightly. His tongue eventually slips into Peter’s mouth, the younger much less experienced than Tony.

“Fuck, Tony, we need to get to my room now.” Peter whines once they pull apart, gripping at Tony’s broad shoulders.

“Roger that.” Tony quips, guiding Peter off the mini golf course, clubs and balls long forgotten. Peter leads them to one of the lesser known elevators, kneading Tony’s growing bulge the ride up to his room.

“Damn, baby. So spoiled, a suite all for yourself?” Tony teases as Peter tries to swipe his room key. The boy moans at the older man’s words, pushing open the door weakly.

“Daddy-“ Peter moans, but immediately cuts himself off in embarrassment. Tony can only let out a deep moan, throwing his head back.

“Fuck, such a needy princess.”

Peter falls to his knees, massaging Tony’s cock through his slacks.

“Only for you, daddy.” Peter responds, mouthing over the fabric of the pants.

Tony groans and starts to unbutton his slacks, but his thick fingers are pushed out of the way by Peter’s dainty ones. The younger pushes down the black slacks, then gives Tony’s very visible bulge a squeeze through the fabric. Tony’s hand flies up to grasp Peter’s pretty brown locks tightly. Peter’s long nails scrape against his thighs as he pulls Tony’s boxers down. He moans when Tony’s thick cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. Peter wastes no time, one hand cupping Tony’s heavy balls as the other starts stroking his cock slowly. Tony groans and tightens his grip on Peter’s hair when he sees that the kid is drooling. Peter leans down to wrap his lips around the head of his cock.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Tony moans, Peter lips slipping further down his length. He hollows out his cheeks and sucks.

“Peter, honey, we need to move this to the bed now if you want daddy to last.” He managed to grunt out. Peter pulls off his dick with a satisfying pop, saliva covered lips formed in a pout.

“Poor baby. Daddy will give you what you need.” Tony coos, thumb running over Peter’s bottom lip.

“Take everything off except for your underwear.” Tony orders, kicking off his pants and moving to unbutton his shirt.

Peter nods vicariously and drops his shawl on the ground. He bends over to untie the bows on his shoes, placing them neatly next to the bed. Dexterous fingers unbutton his shorts. His shorts slide down his milky legs and he’s left standing in the chiffon teddy, small cock hard and leaking, covered by the fabric.

“Fuck, you naughty boy.” Tony growls, giving his dick a few strokes.

Peter giggles and hops up onto the king bed, immediately going on his hands and knees.

“Good boy,” Tony praises, making his way to the edge of the bed. He gives Peter’s ass a little slap, pushing the fabric covering his skin away. He climbs onto the bed, kneeling behind Peter.

“Lube?” Tony asks, gently running his hand over Peter’s red cheek.

“Drawer,” He croaks out, pressing his ass against Tony’s cock. The older man leans to the side, sifting through the drawer until his hands hit a familiar bottle. Tony uncaps the lube, squirting some on his fingers.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He coos, brushing his slick fingers over Peter’s tight whole. The boy shudders, back arching at the contact.

“Be good.” Tony orders as he slips his index finger into him. Peter moans, hips desperately rutting into the bedsheets.

“Daddy,” Peter whines as Tony pushes in a second finger, than a third. The older man chuckles as he purposely avoids his prostate.

“Just fuck me already!” Peter cries, trying to fuck himself on Tony’s fingers.

“Needy slut.” Tony grunts, pulling out his fingers and slapping Peter’s ass again. He snatches up the lube, squirting more into his hands and stroking his cock.

“Ready Baby?” Tony asks Peter, gently pushing him over so he’s on his back.

“Yes, daddy.” Peter responds, eyes glistening with tears.

Tony groans and grips the base of his cock, positioning it on Peter’s hole. The boys hips jerk upwards, pretty pink cock slapping against the silk of his lingerie. Tony can’t take it, so he pushes in. Both of them moan, Peter’s high and breathy, Tony’s deep and full.

“So fucking tight,” Tony grunts through gritted teeth once he’s all the way in.

Peter doesn’t respond, just breaths harder.

“So full,” He mumbles, manicured nails scraping at Tony’s biceps. Peter is a vision, brown curls all tousled and cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

“M’ gonna move, that okay, princess?” Tony asks, tightening his grip on the boy’s unblemished hips.

Peter nods and Tony gets to work. He starts his thrust slowly, burying himself in Peter’s tight, wet heat. But when Peter cries out for him to move, how could he deny it?

“Fuck, daddy, harder!” Peter wails, body moving back and forth from the force of Tony’s thrusts.

“Yeah baby,” Tony grunts, hips snapping at a ridiculously delicious pace.

“Gonna come,” Peter moans, squeezing his eyes shut, a tear rolling down his cheek. His lips shine with his own saliva, parted enough to let out another moan.

“Do it baby, come on daddy’s cock,” Tony coaxes. Peter’s body tenses and he’s coming, eyes screwed shut as he paints his chest white. His walls tighten around Tony’s member and with a shout he spills his release inside of Peter.

The older man collapses on top of the younger. Peter lets out a giggle as Tony slips out of him.

“You did such a good job. You were gorgeous. Perfect. Beautiful.”

Tony peppers kisses down Peter’s torso, the boy’s eyes screwed shut, smiling softly at the praise. Tony adjusts the two so their heads are on the pillows and wrapping his arms around Peter’s thin body. He nuzzles into the crook of Peter’s neck, inhaling his scent of sweat, sex, and perfume.

“Stay?” Peter squeaks, pulling Tony’s arms closer to him.

“Of course.”

***

“I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

Tony sighs heavily, running a hand through his messy sex hair.

“You know I don’t want to.” He tells the boy, looking at where he’s seated.

All he’s wearing is Tony’s dress shirt from last night. He’s sitting criss-cross on a wicker chair, staring off over the balcony railing. There’s hickeys down his neck and chest, proof of their slower morning session.

“I always get caught up in this.” Peter says, not looking at Tony. “Fall head over heels for some rich guy that vacations here with his wife, then become forgotten after his trip.”

Tony swallows thickly.

“You know I won’t forget you.” He says, staring at the glass in his hands.

“I don’t think you can promise me that.” Peter says sadly, picking at his ring finger nail.

“I sure can. You’re an angel, Peter.” Tony says truthfully.

Peter smiles sadly.

“I’ll come visit you. At MIT.”

Peter laughs bitterly and shakes his head.

“I will. I don’t particularly want to have dorm sex again, but I can make an exception.”

Peter lets out a genuine laugh this time. He rubs his face with one hand.

“How are you going to explain that to your wife?”

Ah, there’s the dreaded question.

“We don’t talk much anymore. I don’t think she’ll even ask.” Tony says sadly, eyes drifting to the crisp blue ocean in the distance. Long arms wrap around his bare torso. Peter rests his head on Tony’s shoulder, breathing in deeply.

“You know, in an alternate universe, we’re probably together.” He mumbles, squeezing Tony tighter.

“Alternate universes. Funny.” Tony says dryly.

“There’s a reason why we found each other.”

Tony smiles.

“Yeah. There’s a reason.”

[originalpistol]

𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐦𝐲 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠. — Part One

Lace flowed down to plank wood flooring, and spilt on down for a foot or two of train. The brims of my lips were full with various little hemming pins, all so I could make the appropriate alterations. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stood so firmly in one spot, despite my feet begging to be free of the heels. Nope. There would be no rest in sight. At least, not for the near future. My mind was busy rambling over and over last week’s events and just how everything had played out. Part of my soul still remained cautious and in disbelief of it all, but yet here I stood. Tacking in pin after pin to hold the dress in the perfect placement for when I was ready to lead it away, and into the sewing cabinet. Baby blue eyes scanned across the mirrored board I had many measurements spread across, nodding to myself once more as I slipped another pin from between my lips, into my fingers, and right by my thumb right through the soft — damn near silken, fabric. Weaving the pin into place, and securing it with a final thread of fabric against the shoulder. Draping it down to sit perfect against the shoulder of the mannequin at hand. They would slouch slightly, but never enough to reveal too much skin. Classy. Effortlessly classy. For a moment I pulled away from my project to look over it, eyes narrowing in suspicion and critique of my own work. Everything would be perfect, and without flaw by the time I was done. Oh, but time was ticking. Even as I worked away day after day, hour after hour. Refining each and every aspect of this dress. Adding subtle changes, and even some dramatic ones. I’d went from loving the way it looked soft and delicate to craving something more extravagant. More length. More crystal organza, more finely made textures. Something for every bride. How in the 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍 hell had I managed to get into this? Surely to God people were going to be floored when they saw a 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 line come from one of the biggest names in lingerie. The question rose in my mind quicker than I’d been able to stop it, and I hadn’t given much time to the whole idea. Hell, I didn’t pay it enough mind to even stop the sweeping motion of my needle and thread. Closely, and precisely, guiding the needle in against the smallest stitch. Over and over until I’d mastered the perfect design. I was laying a pattern for Swarovski to follow with their intricate beading of crystals. Each dress would dawn a new take on an old classic. News of my collaboration with Elie Saab and Oscar de la Renta caught on like wildfire amongst a desert dry forest in the heat of July. Each dress was created with a particular vision, and each dress would hold its own place amongst the lineup of weddings. Some were season-specific, while others were indicative of an era in time. One doesn’t downplay a classic. No. We are here to pay homage to the times that have passed, and to restore them to a more refined glory. These dresses were all inspired. Each piece was something new, and each one held a certain key to my heart. I’d dedicated months upon months to the core design before I would even remotely allow the other designers to spill their own creativity into the designs. Not even a sketch was released. All anyone knew was the letter I’d sent over. Handwritten, and forwarded by person to be hand-delivered. Everything was reminiscent of a step-back in time. I wanted these dresses and this collaboration to drip in the essence of the beauty in simplicity. ✦✧✦ ✧✦✧ ✦✧✦ My dearest Oscar, I write to you in hopes to achieve something wonderful. Something no one expects. I hope to restore the light of a time passed to the overly sensitized world at hand. To bring something back that was once a simple dream. You’ve touched some of the most delicate fabrics in efforts to create the best designs in wedding couture. You’ve mastered the art, and I hope to do the same. This fall, I plan to release a line of wedding dresses unlike any prior. With the skillful design I’ve created, and the whimsical guide of Elie’s details, and your fabrics; this will be the crowning moment. You’re probably wondering why I, of all people, have decided to do this. And maybe you think you know. I doubt if you do. The reason is simple: Every bride deserves to have something that speaks to her soul. Most women settle on their dress for something similar to what they desire the most. Why? Well, because while this dress might have the sparkle she craves, that one mirrors the perfect amount of tulle to train ratio. After all, isn’t the fabric more important than the embellishments? For her — the truth is no. But she will settle for yes. It is close enough. I refuse. In February you and Elie will receive instructions on how you’ll not only travel to my studio, but everything else of importance to your stay. Plan for a few months, at the least. I won’t accept no as an answer. When this letter is delivered, I will assume it as a yes. Much love and regards, Alice. ✦✧✦ ✧✦✧ ✦✧✦ Both he and Elie were given the exact letter, with a few minor changes. They both knew me far too well to challenge my stance on this collaboration. Once I set my mind and focus to something? It will be mine. They would see the signature of my first name as a comfort, and as a symbol of our close relations. It was rare that I let anyone call me by my first name, and especially as I grew to a higher stature within the realm of business and high fashion. There was no need for semantics or intermingling of feeling, not as far as I was concerned. This was much of why I was regarded to as cold or standoffish. I simply wasn’t one that cared too much for feelings or anything that would stand in my way of getting what I wanted, or where I wanted to be. Nimble, agile, fingers tempted the tip of the needle to edge between the layers of a well-defined ruffle of silk and lace. I’d slipped to my knees in efforts to truly capture the design I planned to embody with this dress. Different from the last, in every way possible. Down to the stitching. None of these pieces would hold the same fabrics, or even the same similarities. This is why I’d found eight young ladies who were planning to make their walk down the infamous aisle sometime in their near future. I brought these women in, interviewed each one for hours on end, and eventually came out with a sketch in mind of what I would do. Though none of them knew to expect their perfect dress to show up in their closets, let alone to be snatched from the real world, and thrown onto a runway in front of millions of designers, and couture-hounds alike. See, the whole catch to my plan was that in order for these women to receive their dream gown would be their cooperation in walking the runway. Some would succeed, and others? They would fall through the cracks of their fragile minds as nerves came out to play. Those ladies are nothing more than a weak representation of a woman. I’d simply roll my ocean inspired eyes, and scrap their sketch from the book that lay in my leather clad lap. Let my gaze fall on the crumpled paper rather than the girl. She wouldn’t be worth the time to give another look. Instead, my dismay and lack of interest was more than enough to settle any questions she might have. 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕. Black fingernails slowly tapped down against the course cartridge paper at hand, giving way to the thinning of my patience. Not only in the ladies, but in the process as a whole. Only one dress was finished. It was now mid-June. I had eight ladies locked in. None of which would know that it was their dress that was looming in the balance if they chose to back away from the runway when their time came. Hell, the only way any of the others knew that was the plan was by the way I scraped the dress’s sketch in entirety. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d heard the audible crumble of a dream from the gasp that spilt by the hopeful lips of a bride. Did I get joy from the shattered hope? Hell yes. But did I care enough to even deliver the pathetic tribe of bride’s their sketches, anyways? I could. Maybe that would be the least I could do considering the sheer amount of man-hours I’d taken from their lives to create a design all their own. All to leave their precious dresses a compromised mess on the guest-office floor. I wouldn’t dare let them set foot in my office. Jesus, no. Either way? These ladies had their chance at a once-in-a-lifetime gown. It was on them that they couldn’t check themselves when it came to their own mental measurements. “Sucks to suck, I suppose,” Southern reflects built into the sentence at hand, and a smirk rode along my lush lips. There wasn’t even a small hint of sarcasm resonating behind each of these words. Nope. in all seriousness I’d stood to my feet, and nodded one of my employees to gather the remaining sketch from the floor before it landed in the hands of a vengeful bride. We all knew how emotional women tended to be when a wedding was in the mix — how fucking classic. For the life of me, I couldn’t wrap my head around being a bitch at the cause of a wedding .𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐𝘩. Rip the band-aid off, and get it over with, princess. The impulsive reaction to roll my eyes was something I couldn’t and wouldn’t refrain from. So, naturally, I let my head doddle back against slender shoulders, let out a disgruntled sigh, and rolled my eyes. Nothing new here. Perfectly manicured fingers began to tap down against the marble table top, mind dwindling on what I was going for next. Crush another soul? Nah. A few a day was more than enough. Slowly, I thumbed through the sketchbook at my fingers. Each page was filled with a few small ideas of swatches, or drawings pertaining to the one dress at hand. There was a different book per bride; Per dress. Nothing about these pieces was easy. There were challenges hidden within each and every design. Sure, some were complex while others remained simple to the touch, yet they were all a challenge. Though I did love a genuinely good boggle of the mind. They always brought out the best pieces. A small smile curved into place against my lips the moment I thought about having each and every piece of my collection complete. Without a second thought, I sprung to action. Slipping the shading pencil from behind my ear, and between my fingers as I found the correct page. This would be where I worked on the bodice of Alicia’s dress. Alicia. Boy, there really was nothing too special about her. She was rather plain. Dirty blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and with a personality about as exuberant as a rock’s. It was sad, really. However, I could see where her ideas blossomed. They weren’t cohesive to say the least, but they allowed me enough wiggle room to be able to create a true masterpiece. This particular dress was beginning to grow into a personal favorite. A skirt created purely out of a glimmer encrusted lace, and followed through with a sateen tie securing the bottom of the waistline, and cinching her inward. Something to allow her to look smaller in stature. At her request. Brisk strokes of the lead against the thick paper resulted in a slender design. Something with bones in it, but undetectable to the naked eye. No one would openly know of this bride’s struggle with her own self-reflection. As far as I was concerned? The only one who would know of this would be the fingers whom built the dress, and the one who wore it down the damn aisle. On to the neckline. I tinkered around on several ideas for this particular design. Would I leave the shoulders bare and exposed, or would I place small sleeves to cusp the tanned skin? Neither. I decided to wrap the same sateen around her neck as if it were a gentle fist slipping around the slender exterior. Something sensual to the eyes, and yet leaving a mystery beneath. Giving her freedom for any surprise she hoped to give beneath. Sleeveless dresses made that hard. Once the draft of my design for Alicia was done, I made a conscious effort to pen in the number 8. Eight dresses down. Eight that have been completed from my side of the sketchbook, and from my hands? This book would travel to both Elie and Oscar for their creative input. By the end of this, we would easily have every page bruised with scritches and scratches of the design. Perhaps to the naked, untrained eye, you wouldn’t see anything more than a mess strewn across the pages. Probably. But between the three of us? This show should debut as one of the best. A show that was truly bound to top any prior to, and probably would outweigh others to come. Nothing new there, when it came to things I created. A deep sigh parted my soft, lush lips, and I found myself flipping the pages of the leather-bound book closed, and slipping it inside my bag. Now, to hand this off to the boys. Light echoes of my heels touching base with the wooden floors filled the empty office around me; I loved that noise. I always had. I could remember being a little girl and demanding to wear heels, or the closest thing to it. The house was always filled with some clacking noise or another. Somehow, someway, I was going to feel like I was somebody. Crazy how wearing heels could bring on that semblance. Heels made me feel like I could take over the world. — Maybe, just maybe that was why I owned so damn many. Locks of caramel brown hair flowed heavenly against my slender shoulders when I pushed my way through the arched glass doors. A single handprint coming into view when I did, and I didn’t bother to knock when I stepped into the threshold of their corridor. Both of them were to their own vices, one studying over what seemed to be a different set of sketches, and the other was focused right to an easel and a wooden palette. There had to be eighteen color mixtures spilt against the grain, and something about that caused a small smile to spill out against porcelain features. The way all of our minds work so differently, but yet we could all come to a harmony? Beautiful. The respect both of these men had earned from me was to a level very few were ever able to acquire, and a piece of me hoped I had managed to gain this from their perspectives as well. It wasn’t until Elie reached a single hand out that I was brought right back to the moment at hand, and a sly little smirk prompted itself in among my pink shaded lips. “Damn, you really think I’m just going to hand the sketches over that easily? Good try. No. You 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 are going to hear what I have to say, and then you can have the sketches to do with as you will.” Every reflect of my tone was laced with a strict implication. This show was my baby. My process. My idea. “Hmm,” Oscar hummed out of chapped lips that were shrouded in a line of stubble that faded against his neck. “You’re just as difficult as Christian regarded, my dear. But exhilarating, nonetheless, hmm?” Those words seemed to be coated with a fatherly affection, and something in that seemed to ease me. One swift nod was given in his respect, Elie nodded his own approval of my conditions to which I would show them. Without the smallest hesitation I made myself at home on the ottoman that sat only a foot or two shy of both men, letting my gaze wander over them for a moment or two longer. “In this book there are 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 dresses. Each and every dress is to be worn by the bride that will walk in it, and every dress will be exactly as she envisioned it. There will be no flaws. There will be no settling for one thing over the other. You two will take every little note I’ve given, and you will transform. I have designed each skirt and bodice. Fine details and embellishments; that is your specialties. Right hand moves in accordance with the left, boys. I want no changes made to the base of the dress.” “Seven? There are supposed to be 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭..?” Elie questioned, raising a single bushy brow in my direction. “There 𝐚𝐫𝐞 eight. You have seven.” Every word that spilt past my lips was certain and calculated. “Alice. Why are we only to have seven if there are eight to be completed? You cannot hand us a partial portfolio of sketches.” Oscar seemingly argued towards my words, and I hadn’t been able to help the eyeroll. “In due time. You both will see the eighth dress. Independently. Of my own volition. As for now? Complete the first seven, when that is done I should have my segment of the eighth dress completed.” No, I hadn’t withheld the last dress as a way of buying myself any time. Not in the slightest. It was actually a quite different reason, if I was being completely honest with myself, but it was a reason I was inaudibly terrified to admit both to myself and to anyone else on the face of the earth. Fᴇᴀʀ — This was something I was foreign to both in mind and emotion. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d allowed myself to feel any sense of fear, and there was something in that fact alone that sent my mind into a mild panic. Though I sat still right in front of both of these men, and kept every hint of emotion beneath the perfect premise of a woman; saving my face for my own mirror. A confident smile spelled its way across my lips as I handed over both the bag and the sketchbook full of my designs. Oscar went in for his usual hug, but instead was met with a firm handshake and a warm gaze. The same was given to Elie as I knew far too well what would follow the endearing touch of a hug. You could tell by the way I remained rather detached from the exit that there was a story looming in the depths of my mind, and perhaps haunting the trenches of my heart. Before I knew it, I was standing outside the glass doors, fingers shaking in the memory that deemed itself important enough to shroud my accomplishment. Every goddamn dress was completed from my side of the sketchbook. Every pin was perfectly placed, and everything was exactly how I wanted it, but yet here I stood with the weight of what felt like the entire ocean on my small form. I was drowning. Was this going to be a continual hindrance in my life? Would I always be plagued with the hurt and fear that riddled its way through each and every bone in my body? Looks like it’s time to shut yourself off from both mind and heart, Alice. Time to go void. Fuck emotions, right? E x a c t l y. Broken glass crashed to the ground only seconds before, and now? — 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔, 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆.

[randomfandomfamily]

How about where Little Cato and Gary get into a fight and now Little Cato feels bad and thinks he’s a terrible son to him?

---

hoo boy I’ve already thought about this one a LOT, I’m stoked to write this.

Little Cato tapped his foot anxiously, waiting for Gary to return. “HUE, how long has it been?”

‘It’s only been nine minutes,’ HUE replied, ‘You still have six minutes before you are allowed to go in after Gary and Nightfall.’

Groaning, Little Cato leaned back in his chair. “This is taking too long! What if something happened to them?”

“I’m sure nothing bad happened,” Fox said, “Gary and Nightfall just went in to investigate a lead. They’ll be back in fifteen minutes, just like they said.”

Ash nodded in agreement. “And even if something does go wrong, I bet they could handle it.”

“Yeah, but what if they can’t?” Little Cato asked. “What if something happened to them? What if there’s more bounty hunters after Gary? What if-” The familiar sound of gunfire made Little Cato’s jump out of the chair. “I knew it!”

He darted past Fox and Ash to his room. He grabbed his blaster and turned to leave, but Fox blocked the door. “Gary said fifteen minutes. We still five more.”

“Get out of my way,” Little Cato warned.

Fox shook his head. “No way, Ventrexian.”

Little Cato growled and leapt at Fox, effectively catching the Trvuulian by surprise. He probably didn’t expect Little Cato to actually try to get past him. He slipped out of the room while Fox was off balance only to find Ash waiting for him.

She didn’t look like she was actively trying to block his path, but she was trying to talk him down. “I don’t think you should go down there, Little Cato. Gary said-”

“I’m not losing him again,” Little Cato growled. “I’m not losing anyone else.” He shouldered his way past Ash and slammed the button to open the door.”

HUE tottered after him. ‘Gary explicitly told you-’

“I don’t care!” Little Cato shouted as he ran down the ramp. “I’m going!”

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he was full on sprinting. The building looked like it was being lit up from the inside from the sheer amount of blaster fire.

He kicked open the door and looked around frantically. “Gary! Nightfall!” A couple of thugs looked his way and started firing. Little Cato evaded them easily enough, but he still couldn’t see the people he was looking for.

“Gary, where are you?! Nightfall?! Can either of you hear me?!” He dove behind a pillar and fired at the nearest targets. He let himself slip into autopilot, ducking and weaving through the fight, shooting everything that looked even remotely like a threat.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he felt relief wash over him. “Gary!” The man didn’t respond, he simply grabbed Little Cato by the hand and pulled him toward the exit. Little Cato grinned and fired at anything that stood in their path on their way out.

Even though they were still surrounded by bad guys and gunfire, Little Cato felt a rush running alongside Gary. This is what he was meant to do, fighting against all odds is what he was made for. He only wished Avocato could have been there to see them.

HUE was standing right where Little Cato had left him, the door still standing open for Gary, Nightfall, and Little Cato to jump through. “Let’s go!” Nightfall shouted as the door closed behind them.

Everyone held their breath until they cleared the atmosphere and were sure they weren’t being followed off planet.

Little Cato pumped his fists in the air victoriously once they were in the clear. “Whoo! Gary that was awesome!” He waved his arms around excitedly, gun still in his hand. “We totally kicked butt back there, did you see-”

His blaster was suddenly torn from his hand. “What the hell did you think you were doing?!”

Gary and angry didn’t really compute. So it took Little Cato a moment to process the question before he finally managed, “What do you mean? I was helping.”

“I told you to stay on the ship,”  Gary said. “And I told you that if Nightfall and I weren’t back in fifteen minutes, then you could come after us.”

Little Cato felt heat rising to his face. He felt embarrassed. No, worse, he felt ashamed. But he had no idea why. What did he do wrong? “There was gunfire! What did you want me to do? Just sit there?”

“Yes!” Gary exclaimed. “That’s exactly what I wanted you to do!”

“But that’s stupid!” Little Cato protested. “What if you had gotten hurt? Or worse?!” He felt sick. He had never yelled at Gary before. Gary had never yelled at him before. Were they fighting? Was this a fight?

He couldn’t seriously be fighting Gary… could he?

“Doing what you’re told is not stupid,” Gary said, “And you better watch it with that tone.”

Little Cato blinked in confusion. “You… are you serious?” Do what he was told? Even if that meant Gary got hurt? There was no way in hell. “What if you had gotten shot again?!”

“That’s not the point.”

“But that is the point,” Little Cato insisted, “It’s my point! I know you think I should’ve listened, but-”

“Nightfall and I had the situation under control,” Gary interrupted, “We were on our way out, but then you burst in, so we had to get you first. If you had just waited, we could have been long gone by now” Little Cato couldn’t look Gary in the eyes. He looked so angry. It made him feel agitated and scared at the same time. “I’m your guardian now. And if I say you stay on the ship then you stay on the ship.”

Little Cato felt an unreasonable anger of his own start rising in his chest. “I’ll do what I think is right,” he snapped in response, “Whether you think it’s the right decision or not.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” Gary said. “And as of this moment. You are not allowed to set foot off this ship.”

His gaze finally snapping up to Gary, Little Cato exclaimed, “What?! You can’t do that!”

“Gary,” Nightfall interjected.

“AVA.” Gary held Little Cato’s gaze almost challengingly, as if daring the teen to speak out again. “Little Cato isn’t allowed off the ship until I say so. Don’t open any doors that lead outside for him.”

‘Understood.’

Little Cato’s anger finally reached a breaking point. He was too angry to even argue anymore, he just turned and ran. It probably wasn’t the best decision, but he didn’t dare stop.

How could Gary do that? All he had done was try to help! Was that really so wrong?

The nearest accessible vent was just a couple hallways down and he ran all the way there. He nearly bent the frame prying it off the wall, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He slammed the vent back in place and retreated to the nook he had made for himself in the walls and tried to catch his breath. It wasn’t as good as the one he had back on the Galaxy One, but it served its purpose: letting Little Cato be alone.

“So trying to save my father is wrong now? Is that it?” Little Cato paced angrily. “What did I do?! I thought we were supposed to be looking after each other. I told Gary not to follow me when I ran away, and he did anyway! Why is this so different?”

Little Cato sat on the floor and hugged his knees to his chest, the anger starting to ebb away. “I don’t get it. Why don’t I get it?”

The longer he thought about it, the more he thought that maybe the problem really was about him and not Gary. He and Gary and never fought before, and the only thing that changed was that he had been adopted.

Really the only thing that changed was… “I’m his son,” Little Cato realized. “And I… I mean, I don’t get why he’s so mad. I don’t get what I did wrong so maybe…” He felt his stomach drop through the floor of the ship. “Maybe I’m just… am I a bad son?”

The empty vents didn’t have an answer for him, but the question still rang in the silence like the world’s most vicious echo.

Little Cato rested his forehead against his pulled up legs. “No, no, no, no… Gary is trying so hard to make this work, and I just…” He fought back tears and hugged his knees tighter to his chest. “I am such an idiot…”

A similar statement was being shouted in a different part of the ship. As soon as Little Cato had left, Gary had deflated, absolutely exhausted from his fight with Little Cato. “Okay, I knew I wasn’t going to be emotionally prepared to ground the kid,” he admitted, “But I didn’t expect it to be that bad.”

Nightfall smacked him in the back of the head, catching him by surprise. “You’re an idiot!”

Gary rubbed the spot she had hit. “What? What are you-”

“Shut up for a second and listen.” Nightfall gestured to the door Little Cato had ran out of. “Do you have any idea what this must have looked like to him? Did you even try to see this from his point of view?”

“Uh, no?” Gary said in confusion. “I told him to stay on the ship and he didn’t listen. That was kind of the whole point.”

“No, that was kind of your whole point,” Nightfall corrected. “But his whole point was that he was out of his mind with worry, probably driving himself up the wall waiting for you, and then suddenly there was gunfire.”

Gary felt like he was missing something. “But we had it under control.”

Nightfall crossed her arms. “Did Little Cato know that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Look, I’m not saying he was right to disobey you,” Nightfall said, “I’m just saying look at this from his perspective for just a second.”

Gary gave up. “Fine, Nightfall, what’s Little Cato’s perspective on this?” He asked, getting tired of beating around the bush. “What’s the big point that I’m missing here?”

“He doesn’t want to lose his father again, Gary!” Nightfall shouted. “And you of all people should get that!”

The words rang in the room, leaving Gary speechless. He had kind of assumed the kid jumped off the ship just to join in the fight, but he hadn’t really considered the kid had joined the fight for him.

“Oh my crap…” Gary said in disbelief. “You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

Nightfall rolled her eyes. “Great job.” She brushed past him on the way out the door. “I’m done helping you parent for the day. Go find your kid.”

Gary already knew where to find him. It was the same place he always went when he wanted to be alone. He walked out of the room and tried to do a mental recap of the ships layout. Where were the vents on this thing? And which one was closest?

He was thinking so hard that he didn’t notice the orange blur until it plowed into him. “Whoa!”

“I’m sorry,” a muffled voice cried, “I don’t know what I did wrong, and I don’t know what I have to do to fix it, but I want to be a better son and I promise I’m trying and-”

Gary put his hands on Little Cato’s shoulders and gently pushed him back. “Slow down, kid. What’s this about being a bad son?”

Little Cato gazed up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I just… you’re trying so hard to be a good dad--and you are a great dad, and you’re doing everything right.” He scrubbed at his eyes. “But I think I just did everything wrong and I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“Hey, I so did not do everything right,” Gary said firmly. “Nightfall chewed me out for the way I just acted.” Little Cato glanced up at him, looking surprised and confused. “She told me I wasn’t listening to you. And she was right. I didn’t listen to what you had to say, and that wasn’t real fair of me.

“You’re a good kid, Spider-Cat, and a great son.” Gary ruffled his hair. “I get that you only came after me because you were worried. And you have a completely justified reason for being worried, but that doesn’t mean you get to act on every single impulse you have. That’s a surefire way to get yourself into a lot of trouble. Trust me.”

Little Cato nodded, wiping away the last of his tears. “Right. I think I get it.” He twisted the hem of his yellow sweater nervously. “And you’re really sure I’m not a bad son?”

Gary smiled. “Look, we’re both new to this. It’s gonna take a hot second for me to get used to parenting, just like it’s going to take you a little while to relearn living with a parent.

“But we’ll figure it out,” Gary reassured him. “One way or another.”

Little Cato returned the smile tentatively. “Okay. I think I can handle that.”

“Good.” Gary pulled the kid in for a hug.

This was better. This was so much better than how they had left things a few minutes ago. Listening, not fighting. Gary was going to have to thank Nightfall for that later. But as for right now…

“By the way, you are still grounded.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

[samwrights]

Plastic Flowers [ 4 ]

Chapter 4: Desperate to Tame the Beast

Warnings: language, existential crisis.

"Dude, you guys were back there for a long time." The shit eating grin on Kirishima's face was wide with pride as Katsuki finally emerged from the back room of the Upside Down—finally! His stupid, stubborn friend made his move at last! And while Bakugo's face was as disgruntled as ever, the looming anxiety that had been ever present with him previously was no longer around him. "You all good now man?"

"Tch," Katsuki grumbled before reclaiming his seat and downed the lukewarm beer left in his pilsner. "For now." Was all he said, looking away from the red head. From the nature of their relationship, the blonde knew that Red Riot had expected him to seal the deal and form his permanent bond. That was just the kind of faith and confidence Kiri had in Bakugo. But it was apparent that Kirishima only knew of Kohta’s surface personality—not knowing how deep her stubbornness or even her innocence ran.

"What do you mean 'for now'?!"

"We didn't bond. Just taking our time." Katsuki grumbled in a mix of shame. It wasn’t that the blonde was upset that the two still had yet to bond; far from it, in fact. If anything, the blonde wasn't necessarily proud of his track record after learning of how damn near pure his soulmate was. The red head in front of him, being ever the supporter of Bakugo being able to snag women left and right for emotionless relationships, was unable to discern this gloss of disgust on the blonde's face. Kirishima stayed quiet out of sheer disbelief before his mouth began to spill word vomit.

"Wait, you. Y-you didn't..."

"Of course we didn't!" Bakugo snapped, clutching his beer glass with a knuckle white grip. Eijiro was quiet once again, slowly realizing this situation was going to be much more complicated. "S-she doesn't know how the bond is formed. She doesn't know that we need t-to..." Bakugo dropped his head onto the table, burying his face in his arms to prevent his myriad of emotions from showing on his face. No matter how many different ways words were minced, there was no pretty way to explain to someone that the bonding hormone was transferred through intercourse. Whomever discovered this connection had to be some perverted freak, Bakugo thought. His logical mind figured the protein was probably discovered through trial and error, scientific research even, conducted on people in a similar predicament as him. Considering the solution to Bakugo's problem was only temporary, Kirishima grew concerned for what was to follow. Had this been a one night stand type of arrangement, there would have been nothing to worry about and the two of them were in confident in that. It was the simple fact that Bakugo had to confront his own feelings. Which, in some cases, not every soulmate pairing ended up having genuine feelings for each other. There are rather morbid tales of some heinous acts committed amongst pairs—some would rape and abuse their partners, saying it was out of love. Some still neglected and committed adultery; some even murdered their mates. And though Kirishima knew Bakugo would never do any of the aforementioned acts, he was very aware that the blonde was never good at genuine relationships—romantic or otherwise.

In a strange way, Bakugo was a romantic himself, in the sense that he fantasized the way his life, his reality should play out and unfold. In his mind, he called it having a plan. Since he was a young child, he idolized All Might and, after the discovery of his quirk, he knew he was going to be the top hero—better than All Might himself. Katsuki figured if he worked hard, he would eventually get there, according to his plan. The blonde never took into account reality and destiny and fate, and the same scenario reared its head the moment he was branded with his soulmate mark. The day script tattoo appeared on his body, he had no idea what to make of it. With the words "I never want to see you in here again", it was challenging for Katsuki's romantic mind to idealize what situation him and his soulmate would be in, let alone imagine what she would look like. In his mid teens, probably about ten tears ago, he finally settled with the fantasy that his soulmate was an ER nurse that wanted him to stop getting hurt—he thought his marking was supposed to be something along the lines of playful.

Now at twenty five years old, Katsuki Bakugo stood in front of his soulmate that he'd just made out with moments ago, a counter separating the two of them as he grabbed another round of beers and two shots of whiskey as a bonus. Their first meeting shattered the romanticism and idealistic image he once had of his emergency room nurse. Instead, his mate was the owner of a local downtown dive bar; quirkless, lonely, and independent—completely opposite of the doting woman he had pictured. Facing reality was the romantic's worst enemy, and was going to be the biggest obstacle for Bakugo if he truly wanted to make this bond work. "Thanks." The blonde mutters under his breath as he tries to carry both of the shot glasses and pilsners back to his table, making sure to avoid his soul mate's violet gaze. After his brief conversation with Kirishima, Bakugo felt conflicted and knew that making direct eye contact with Kohta would only distress himself further. Each time he looked at her was another taste of the reality the two of them were in. This thin, brunette woman named Hitoko Ohta was his real life soulmate.

Kohta was a flurry of emotions herself. After running away from the orphanage, her sense of self-preservation was at an all time high. The first time Kohta even let down her walls was when Dabi and Toga meandered their way into her little dive nearly two years ago. At first, it started off with simple exchanges of hellos, then small talk. It eventually turned into Kohta sharing her frustrations from day to day business that lead to Toga dubbing the brunette with her nickname. 'Its your first and last name put together! I think it's cute!' The blonde woman had told her, and ever since it stuck.

Now Hitoko Ohta was confronted with her soulmate—a whole other beast of emotional confusion—Katsuki Bakugo. Seeing that she didn't truly gain her first actual friends in life until two years ago at the age of twenty three, the idea of being eternally bonded to someone frightened her. From what she knew of him so far, he was brash and aggressive and while Kohta herself had a bit of an edge, he was light years beyond her. But she knew too well where his angry nature had been birthed from; fear was an emotion she knew all too well. Bakugo had his own walls, walls of resentment and anger that formed a pyramid at which he sat at the very point to prove to himself and everyone else that he was the best. In a strange way, Kohta envied him. How amazing it must have been to be so utterly confident to strive and continue to be the best. To not have to hide from the world due to poor choices.

It was one of the many reasons that Hitoko felt she wasn't even good enough to be Bakugo's soulmate. It was one of the many reasons she wished to keep her distance. But Kohta would be lying to herself if she denied her desire to also be closer to Bakugo. In the midst of their kiss, her mind was clouded with uncertainty; but her body seemed to decide every movement was right. Kohta wanted to continue to chase the first right feeling in her life. Even if he intimidated her, Katsuki Bakugo was still her soulmate. And her soulmate apparently couldn't carry two highball and two shot glasses at the same time, she noted as she watched him fumble with her drink ware. "Katsuki." She called out, catching his attention as he tried to rework his grip. With a shake of her head, she placed the taller glasses side by side in her left palm, with a shot glass sitting near her locked wrist as it rested behind the highballs. The last glass was held by three dainty fingers in her right hand.

Kohta maneuvered around the bar with ease despite the glassware in her hands as she made her way past Katsuki and dropped the drinks off at the table where Kirishima sat. The red haired man gave thanks as the blonde sat back down, only earning a nod from the owner before she made her way back behind the bar to continue tending to her patrons. As she walked away from their table once again, Bakugo's crimson eyes could only follow after her form, a motion not missed by his company. A small smile formed on Eijiro's lips knowingly—it was so nice to see the man he considered one of his closest friends actually show a minuscule amount of a positive emotion for once. Still seeing Bakugo stare and Kirishima being ever the wing-man decided to prod the blonde a little further. "So when are you gonna see her again?"

"Huh?" The question caught Bakugo off guard, as if he hadn't given it much of any thought. To be fair, he hadn't really. He just assumed he would see Kohta again whenever him and Kirishima, or even him alone, decided to return to the Upside Down. But even he knew that only being with her when she was working would leave them in the same predicament of being an unbonded pair. "Tch, fuck I don't know." Katsuki grumbles under his breath.

"Well, I don't think you need me to tell you what to do." The bomber rolled his eyes, silently telling Kirishima that he didn't need the guidance. If anything, he needed the courage, the balls to even ask Kohta when she would be available. While getting women was no difficult task for Katsuki, this situation was entirely new. This was long term, whether he wanted it to be or not, and was something of them neither really had a say in. As a nervous tick, Bakugo checked the gold watch on his left wrist, seeing it was nearing four in the morning. Taking a glance around, he had noticed most of the bar had emptied out. How had time flown so quickly, he wondered. Him and Kirishima only had a few drinks—certainly not enough to grant him the liquid courage he so desperately needed. All he had was an excuse; he needed to close out their bar tab after all.

Kohta was cleaning her draft taps when Katsuki approached the counter, closing down the bar and readying her business for the morning rush of the café. A small cough left his throat, making the brunette woman turn around. "Closing out?" Her tone was quiet, polite even. Much different than what Katsuki had seen from her usually snark. Instead of a verbal response, the blonde just gave a brusque nod, handing her his credit card. The bright glare of the screen in front of her reflected off of her large glasses as she pulled up the check, swiped his card all in silence.

"When is your next day off?" Bakugo asked as casually he could muster as he signed the credit slip, leaving a hefty tip, and handing it back.

"Sunday. The Upside Down is closed every Sunday and Monday." Kohta replies evenly, not once making eye contact with him—a lack of gesture he definitely noticed. She was treating him as if he were just any other bar patron; certainly not like he was the last guest for the evening and even more so not like the man in front of him was his soulmate. Before Kohta could turn away, Bakugo grabbed her frail wrist, turning her around to face him.

"Hitoko, look at me." Despite his patience wearing thin, his voice didn't tremble with anger once and while he used enough force to spin her around, his grip was earnest.  "Sunday, you and I are going for lunch."

"What makes you think I'm going anywhere with you?" She bit. There she was, the woman Katsuki barely knew. The blonde let her wrist fall from his grasp, a smirk plastered on his lips; from what he had seen so far, he much rather preferred the sassy side of Kohta.

"You know our business is far from finished." The brunette woman stayed quiet, her previous qualms with their situation coming back and rearing its ugly head. In truth, Hitoko had no idea what she wanted out of this so-called partnership. While their little rendezvous had stirred strange feelings within her, it didn't change her perspective or stance on having a soulmate. She didn't want companionship, or so she thought; she doesn't know how to share her world with another person. Even her friends were kept at bay with a ten foot stick. So when Kohta finally uttered a simple word of compliance, it came from a place of selfishness.

"Okay." She says quietly, only agreeing to satisfying her own curiosity. What was the big deal about soulmates, she wondered. "I'll see you Sunday."

"I'll see you Sunday."

Hitoko "Kohta" Ohta has not seen Katsuki Bakugo since the late night, or rather early morning, that he decided to take her to lunch. The blonde had hoped his absence would instill a sense of desire within the brunette. While it didn't quite work the way he wished, as she didn't intentionally seek him out, her head would perk up any time the front door to the Upside Down jingled open or close just hoping to see the semi-familiar blonde bush of hair. It was currently Saturday night, nearing closing time for the Upside Down. The minute the clock struck half past two in the morning, Kohta gleefully boomed last call for alcohol. Not that many people were present, despite being one of the few bars open later in the downtown area, her crowd consisted mostly of regulars and a couple unfamiliar faces. Most of the patrons has already closed for the night, and were just finishing up their drinks before heading home for the evening.

Katsuki Bakugo had fought himself with every bone in his body to not see Kohta at this time. The receding blood red words of his soulmate mark slowed its transformation to a snails pace, and it was driving him mad. Though he had regained a bit more control of his quirk, his full strength had yet to return. That was his reasoning for wanting to see Hitoko sooner rather than later, but the ache of emptiness that gnawed the bottom of his gut wished to say otherwise.  Though he acknowledged the feeling, its presence confused Bakugo greatly. He had never felt such a looming loneliness before, and wondered why the only person he wanted to seek out was a woman he seldom knew. In the end, he rationalized that the whole ordeal was stupid, and he would see Kohta for lunch soon. As if that thought offered him any comfort.

Three in the morning finally strikes on the clock. With not another soul in sight, Kohta locks the front door to the Upside Down for her weekend before nearly bolting for the back room and heading up the flight of stairs to the right to enter her small, one bedroom apartment. Being the owner of tiny, not so busy dive bar and coffee, many people assumed all of Kohta's earning went into making the bar look semi modern while keeping a humble home. It was a fair assumption, considering all tables were rich, undamaged mahogany, granite counter tops, and a ritzy espresso machine to boot.

But the bars design was made to match Kohta's personal tastes, and her home was no different. All the floors in here home were a deep brown hardwood, luxurious white fluffy rugs accompanying the appropriate spaces such as the living room and a matching runner for the entry way. To the right of the entrance was a large, two door mirrored closet for coats and her shoes with a sleek black shoe rack standing proudly at the bottom. To the left was a half wall that displayed her small, simple dining room. A rectangular, black wood table with a black glass center, as well as matching black chairs with white leather, and a large crystal chandelier took up the entirety of the tiny, often unused space. Kohta took a seat on one of her white leather couches that sat directly in front of her foyer and dining room. One couch had her back towards the door, the other resting on the gray blue wall to the right of her. In the corner was a white, knee height entertainment center with three drawers evenly spaced along the bottom. Perfectly center along the top was an over-sized flat screen TV, one much too large for a singular person. Flicking on the television and turning on some cartoons, Kohta set the remote on top of the round white and gold marble coffee table before getting up and heading to the kitchen directly next to the dining room table, a stone counter separating the rooms.

Kohta knew she should be heading to sleep to wake up at a decent hour, but her mind was reeling with anticipation as she thought of why she needed to be up. With only the dull hum of the television as her company, Hitoko was left with her nagging burdens. While she wasn't necessarily fearful of receiving the answers of what she didn't know about bonding with her soulmate, the idea of sitting with Katsuki for more than twenty minutes terrified her. Not because of him or who he was, but because of who she was.

Or rather, who she wasn't.

Kohta knew she was, for lack of better term, boring. Her hobbies were limited as her only talents were coffee craft and billiards; two things people often found boring or uninteresting. She kept up with news and current events, mostly to ensure that she had yet to be discovered as a master thief. Kohta was as plain as they came, and she knew that—she was okay with that. But she couldn't ignore the heavy weight of her heart at the thought of her soulmate not being okay with her. No, she didn't plan on changing anything about herself—mild villainy and all—but the mere thought that the one person who, in theory, should accept everything about her, didn't? Doesn't? That was a scary thought for her.

Kohta had worked so hard to put up the walls she had around her heart, and she would be damned if she let them down only to face more rejection in her life. Rejection often reminded her too much of her time in the Exemplary Home for Girls. As a young child, before her quirk, before her soulmate mark, Kohta was once full of curiosity. All of her insistent, baseless questions always drove Lady Shougi mad. At first, the headmistress would entertain and humor the young girl. Eventually, growing tired of answering silly questions as to why the sky was blue or if it was raining despite the sunny sky, Lady Shougi just began to say, "No" with nothing else accompanying it. Hearing that single, solid two letter word, hurt Kohta. When she still had her parents, they had raised her to be curious, to question everything. The EHG had broken her. Maybe she partially blamed the Exemplary Home for laying down the brick and mortar of the walls around her.

While her walls usually severed her curiosity, often preventing Kohta from seeking out answers, she could not run from this—Katsuki wouldn't let her. Hitoko could not run; she had to face the truth, she had to prepare for the impending rejection.

Plastic Flowers Masterlist

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Thank you guys for checking out this story! I’ll be updating the chapters every Saturday! Chapter title taken from The Front Bottom’s song “Ginger” off their album “Back On Top”. 

Kirishima is implying/asking if Hitoko and Bakugo boned. No, no they did not Kiri.

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@wwwwyamd @bubbzibubbles (I’m sorry bb, your handle wasn’t working)