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hotchley · 4 years ago

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lauren: aaron and emily

Yeah so for something that is meant to be a conversation, there’s a surprising lack of her speaking but honestly, this was so much fun to write. I forgot how angsty Hotchniss could be like DAMN

This is my take on what happened at her bedside before they moved her, and is dedicated to everyone who said they would read it because without you guys, I probably wouldn’t have actually written it so thank you so much!

Trigger Warnings: serious medical injuries, references to abortion, implied/referenced child abuse, religious themes

read on ao3!

“You could’ve told me,” he tells her, even though she can’t hear him. Her eyes are closed. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of her chest- so faint it almost isn’t there- he would believe she was dead.

And in some ways, she is.

To the team, Emily Prentiss is gone. Just another victim of a dangerous serial killer with a vendetta. To the children that love her- Jack, Henry, even Carrie, who she still spoke to once a week- she will be in heaven. With Haley. To Aaron and Jennifer, she will be hiding. Alone and weak but safe.

Safe. He wants to laugh at that. How can she be safe when everyone she loved is being torn from her? When Ian Doyle is still alive?

He doesn't want to be the one to tell her she was dead. He doesn't want to be the one to tell her that she had to go to Paris- the one place that had never been touched by the bloody hands of murder and pain- until they found Doyle. If they ever do find him. He doesn't want to let her go.

He wants to bury his head in her hair, inhaling the familiar smell of her shampoo that had always felt like the safety he craved but could never hold onto and pretend the sea wasn't pulling him under, cutting off his breathing as he struggled to stay afloat. He wants to hold her, hearing the steady and strong beat of her heart that reminds him of the reason for doing all of this. He wants to feel her hands- so warm and soft- against his stomach as she draws on his ribs so he can look in the mirror and see her, not George Foyet.

He wants so much. But there is a reason he is the Unit Chief. There is a reason he is in the room with her whilst JJ comforts a crying Reid. There is a reason that when the team thinks of Mom, they think of him. Not Rossi. Certainly not Gideon.

He does the difficult jobs. He does the things that need to be done but nobody else wants to. He cleans the blood off walls and stands guard at hospital beds. He pulls them away from dead bodies and witnesses their anger and sadness. He takes their insults and cradles them when they cry. He pretends he isn't human so they can believe they didn't hurt him.

He does the difficult jobs because he brought all of them into a life of loss and pain, and in his opinion, it is a small price to pay. It is less than what he deserves to do. It isn't enough to make up for everything he has caused them to see but it is a start.

When Emily leaves- and JJ will go to Paris with her, no matter how much she may say he should go instead- he will carry out their grief assessments. He will let them look at him with pain and hurt and anger and sadness and ask him what the point is. As they ask him why they are alive.

And then he will run. Because they will find Ian Doyle, and when they do, Emily Prentiss will return. They will hate him, and he will be a coward. He will take a job elsewhere and let them repair their lives, rebuild their home, without him.

But until that day comes, he will sit by Emily's bed, holding her hand, limp and cold, and pray for her to wake up. He hasn't prayed since he was a child. And even then, he didn't really believe in God. But desperate people will do anything. And although he was calm and collected before the committee that decided Emily's fate, he is desperate for her to just wake up.

So he will atone for his sins and take whatever punishment is deemed appropriate. He will let her go and never inhale her perfume again, if only so she is able to open her eyes.

"You could've told me," he repeats, thinking about the last woman he said those words too. But that had been different. JJ wasn't Emily. "I could've helped you. You could've trusted me with this. And I know it isn't about me. It's about you. But I'm selfish, Emily Prentiss. I'm selfish and I don't want to let you go but I have to."

He doesn't know how to. He doesn't know what he's meant to say when she wakes up and only sees him. JJ had looked at him when she said Emily never made it off the table. It was a single glance, but he'd understood. He had walked away from the team. Refused to let his tears fall.

And then he had looked the committee in the eye and told them he had no emotional attachment to her case. He had lied. And Emily had, in their words, been saved. He didn't believe it was saving her. He believed it was keeping her alive so one day, she could come home and live a better life.

The woman on that bed is not his Emily. It is not the Emily he loves, or the Emily that told him he wasn't alone. It's not the Emily that dances around the kitchen with Jack, or the Emily that refuses to flinch when he has nightmares. The Emily that never walked away from him until that one fateful day.

He should have known something was wrong then. And if not then, when she was late twice in the same week. But he had been so blinded by his own hurt and anger and betrayal that he refused to comment. Secretly, vindictively, he had hoped that her lateness was being caused by her own pain. That she was trying to avoid him.

Now he realises that he was right. She was trying to avoid him. Because he knew her. And if she saw him properly, she would crack. And in the same way he had been determined to find Foyet alone, without anyone else going down with him, she had been determined to find Doyle alone.

But Foyet had still killed Haley. And Doyle had technically killed her. In some ways, he had killed the team too. He didn't know how to bring up Spencer's migraines with him, but Emily had been his confidant. What was going to happen now? How is Derek supposed to move past being told to let her go?

The doctors had told him to get some rest and to go home, but he can't. Jack is still with Jessica, and his apartment is still littered with scraps of her. He hadn't moved anything after that night. He had thought it was strange when she didn't ask for any of it. Now he knows why. She had bigger things going on.

He told Clyde Easter that it would be his fault if something happened to her. Because he needed someone else to blame. He needed to believe that he was a good man that had done what he could. But he hadn't. Rational thought told him that just like with everyone else, he couldn't force her to tell him the truth or accept his help.

The part of him that was still helplessly in love with her told him that he could have. Should have. But he hadn't. So now he was sitting there, watching the heart monitor, convincing himself she was alive. Bracing himself for the moment she woke up.

He still doesn't know what he's meant to say.

"I was so angry at you then. After everything we had gone through, I didn't understand why you were just so willing to throw it all away. You had told me you would never leave, and you just left me there, in the home we had finally started to build. But I get it now. And I am sorry. I am so, so sorry that I wasn't enough and that I didn't do more and-"

"Aaron," she whispered. Her eyes had fluttered open moments after he'd started speaking, but she hadn't been ready to confront the world. He needed to get the words out. He needed a moment to be Aaron before he morphed back into Hotch.

She has no right to his name. Not now. Not after everything she has put him through. Not after she left him on his knees, a ring so different from the one Ian had tried to give her that still symbolised the exact same thing, with tears in his eyes as she pretended he was nothing in order to protect him.

But she needed him. She was cold, and her stomach hurt, and she didn't know where she was. She didn't understand why it was so dark, or why only he was there, apologising. The team should have been waiting. He should have been smiling, looking slightly disapproving. Not crying. He wouldn't risk any of the team seeing him like that.

He looks up. "Emily," he whispers, pouring every inch of his heart into that single word. But as he says it, he is looking at her hairline. Not her eyes. He knows that if he looks at her eyes, he will crumble. And now she is awake, he cannot let himself do that.

He forgets that Emily knows everything about him. She knows the optimum temperature for his baths. She knows the way he takes his coffee, the fact that he hates two-in-one shampoo and conditioner but keeps it in his go bag for ease. She knows which nightmares lead to a cold shower that chills him to the bone and reminds him of his own fragility.

She knows that his own humanity terrifies him. She knows how he shuts down and avoids everything when it gets too overwhelming, which is how she knows whatever has happened is bad. Worse than bad.

"Where is everyone?" she asks, shocked by the weakness of her voice.

He doesn't reply. He knows that he needs to. That with every moment that passes, she comes up with another scenario. But he didn't need to tell the team that she never made it off the table. Until now, he has been able to pretend that none of this is even happening. That when she opened her eyes, he would guide the others down to her room.

That when they discharged her from the hospital, he would take her to his apartment, Jack's toys strewn across the living room and the carpet, which if you looked at it from just the right angle would see had been changed in one area.

"Hotch," she whispers.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them, there is no warmth behind his stare. He still won't meet her eyes, and she feels herself begin to panic. His biggest tell is when he refuses to look at someone.

"They believe you're dead," he says, voice completely monotone as he fights a wave of emotion.

"Then why haven't you gone and told them that I'm not?" she asks, already terrified of the answer.

He looks down. "Emily, I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry. You don't need to forgive me, but I need you to know that there was no other way to keep you safe. I tried. I tried so hard, but there was no other way-" he inhaled, snatching his hand back the moment she tried to hold it.

It hurt, more than anything that had happened over the past weeks, to see how he did not trust her. Not anymore.

"I always said that the only person that wouldn't forgive you is yourself. And I stand by that. So tell me the truth. Please Aaron. Just tell me what happened because I can't remember and it is terrifying, and you know what it is like. Please," she whispered. She tried, once more, to take his hand, but she was too weak.

He did not know what it was like to not remember what had happened. He remembered everything Foyet had done to him, from the first time the knife had touched his skin to the moment he had lost consciousness. He had never told her that. He probably never would.

"It's to keep you safe," he said, trying to find the words to explain what had happened. But like the ability to save the people he loved, they evaded him.

"Safe," she repeated. Like she didn't know what the word meant anymore. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she never had. There had been a time where his arms were the safest place she could find herself, but the man sitting in front of her was not the one that had held her at night.

The man sitting in front of her was a coward.

He flinches at her tone. It's been so long since she's spoken to him like that- snapping her words and rolling her eyes- that he's forgotten what it felt like. He wonders how. Her words always managed to meet their mark.

"Yes Em." The Em slips out without meaning to. He doesn't get to call her Em anymore. "Safe."

"Ian Doyle has murdered every single person on that team apart from Clyde Easter. Explain to me how I'm going to be safe."

"He's going to believe you're dead," he says, too quietly for her to hear. He says it to himself because he too needs to believe she's dead. In some ways, she is because she'll never be the woman she was before, and it's all his fault.

She frowns, the words not quite processing as her head still hurts from the painkillers. All she can say to him is: "What?"

She deserves more than what he can give. So he ignores his own shattered heart, and finally, finally meets her eyes. His own pain and anguish is reflected in hers. She almost looks away because she cannot handle his humanity. Almost. Her desire to prove she is better than he believes wins out, so she carries on staring.

"Ian Doyle hurt you. Badly. So-" he pauses again. Desperately tries to find that neutrality he had always stressed the importance of. He fails, because just like with Foyet, this isn't just a victim of a heinous crime. It's the woman that holds whatever pieces of his heart that still exist this time. Even as she had walked away, leaving him on his knees, he knew he would never stop loving her.

"So what, Aaron?" she presses, sounding angry.

It scares him, her anger. Everyone's anger scares him. He hates it, hates that his father still holds that kind of grip on him and his mind, but the moment someone seems angry he feels himself shutting down and becoming smaller. Drifting away to a fictional world where nobody cries and he's safe.

He doesn't deserve to shut down now.

"Everyone thinks you're dead because that's what we've told them. And they will think you're dead until we find Ian Doyle and-" he doesn't finish his sentence. Ian Doyle needs to die before Emily can come home to him and the team. But if he tells her that, she will realise he is not the good man she believes him to be. He is just one misstep away from becoming an unsub they cannot find.

"They think I'm dead," she says, tears in her eyes as all the pain she has been repressing since the first sign of Ian's return suddenly makes itself known. She doesn't feel anything physically- the sedatives are working- but it feels like her heart is being ripped from her chest.

For a moment, she wonders if Aaron felt like this when Haley died.

"I'm sorry," he says, again. It's what his vocabulary has been reduced to. He doesn't know how to put everything he wants to say into words. He doesn't know what the point in doing that is, because it won't change anything.

JJ is taking her to Paris. She deserves that. She needs that. She needs to see something good. He doesn't deserve to see Emily smiling and healing enough to travel. He deserves the anger and hatred of the team. He already knows that when it's time for them to know, he will tell them how it was him.

"You're sorry."

"Emily, please, I am trying to keep you safe, so just let me tell you what's going to happen. When the doctor gets here, they're moving you somewhere out of state, and as soon as you're strong enough, JJ will go with you. Paris, I think. She'll be your point of contact." It comes out in all one breath because if he stops he won't be able to start again.

"Are you?"

"Am I?"

"Are you really trying to keep me safe, or is this about you? Because I told Derek to let me go. I told him to let me go because Ian won't stop coming after people until I am dead. He broke out of a prison that should've held ten of him. He murdered every single person from that operation apart from Clyde Easter."

She's hurting. She's angry and hurt numb and upset and still so in love with him, but she can't hold back. Not now. She has to let go of everything and everyone she has ever cared about, and although rationally she knows it isn't his fault- it's Doyle's- she can't shout at Doyle. She can shout at Aaron though.

"Emily," he pleads, closing his eyes.

"You should've let me die," she spits. "You should have let me die because then this whole thing would be over. Ian would've got what he wanted and nobody else would be getting hurt. He'll work out I'm not dead. He will. And then the next person he kills, their blood will be on your hands."

He knows she doesn’t mean it. He knows that. It doesn’t stop him from looking at her face, at the mouth that had always felt like a firework against his own and wondering how she manages to do this to him.

“Stop,” he begs. He can’t take much more.

“Just like Haley’s,” she says before she can stop herself.

Those three words make his heart shatter all over again.

Time seems to slow down. Her own words register in her mind and her jaw drops. She presses one trembling fist to her mouth, forcing the apology down. She can't give it to him right now. He won't accept it. The other traitorously reaches out for his hand, still resting on the blanket.

He had turned away the moment she said Haley's name. When he looks at her again, eyes read and cheeks damp, his mouth is forming the word why, but no sound is coming out. He's frozen, hands trembling and there is nothing she can do to cure his pain.

There are no words she can whisper. No medication she can count out for him. No stories of her childhood that she can distract him. There is nothing she can do because this time, it was not a serial killer scarring his stomach so every time he looked in the mirror he would see them. It was not a man that should never have had children causing him to look at her and ask what he had been thinking.

It had been her. That was the problem with profilers. They always knew where to strike. The difference was, he was too afraid to do it. She was too angry to not.

The worst part is, he doesn't reply. He doesn't say a single word, because in his head, it is what he deserves. It is what everyone has been thinking since the day of the funeral. The difference with her is that she does not hesitate to say what she thinks.

It used to make him smile. In this moment, it breaks him.

He moves from the chair. He's done his duty. And if he looks at her, he think will say something he doesn't mean. Something cruel. Something about her own issues- about how she doesn't trust him, how she is so afraid of commitment she would let the only good thing she's ever let herself have go.

She knows that he won't. He's too good. Too afraid. It's why, before she can overthink it, she whispers one word: "Stay."

He's still close enough to hear her. She watches as slight relief, then pained love, and finally a forced and cold neutrality that she has always hated because it means people don't get to see how beautiful and painful his humanity is.

Nothing he does will ever be enough for this. He will never deserve her forgiveness. The final decision was out of his hands, but if he had just fought a little bit harder, then he could have told the team and they would be able to share the burden. He will never be good enough for her. The darkness she has carried with her since that day in Italy, even though she understands now that she too was just a child faced with an impossible decision, will never compare to his.

Her darkness was part of her beauty. His got people killed. Her, laying on that bed, is just another piece of proof. He cannot give her what she deserves, but he can give her what she wants.

And so, he stays.

Nothing she says will ever make up for those words that now feel like copper in her mouth. She will never deserve the feel of his calloused hands- some from the horrors of his childhood, others from the guitar he loved to play so much- in her own. If she had just been quicker, less of a survivor then he would be able to mourn her death instead of hiding the truth. She will never be good enough for him. The darkness he has carried with him since he was a child, a darkness that should have never been created, will never compare to hers.

His darkness is part of his humanity. Hers got people hurt. Him, heart once more in tattered shreds because of her, is just another piece of proof. She cannot give him what he deserves, but she can give him what he needs.

And so, she reaches out for him.

She takes his hands that are not coated with Haley's blood, no matter what he believes and holds them tightly. He lets her, even though every part of him screams to let go. Haley's body was cold the last time he held her. He does not want to remember Emily as this cold and fragile girl.

But he will not take her to Paris. JJ had to stand there as they fought to keep her alive because he was frantically trying to convince people that cared more about politics than they did about real lives. She needs it.

He won't survive without it, but maybe that is for the best.

They sit like that, hands clasped in some pathetic recreation of the long nights and days they had spent together.

When the doctors came to take her away, somewhere where he could not follow, the full extent of what was about to happen hit her.

"Aaron, I-"

don't blame you, need you to come with me, want you to forgive yourself, regret saying no, trust you with everything I am, think you are the best man I know, didn't mean what I said-

"I love you."

"Emily, you-"

don't need to lie, are so much more than you give yourself credit for, are one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, cannot regret saying no, were right about Haley, were right about everything-

"You shouldn't have said that."

She knows that. But she needed to say it in place of all the things she could never find the words for.

"Be happy for me," she says, right before the doors close.

"I'll try," he whispers, to an empty and cold room.

He doesn't. He runs instead, like the coward she accused him of being.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #sad aaron hotchner #sad emily prentiss #hurt emily prentiss #hurt aaron hotchner #tw implied child abuse #tw religious themes #tw abortion mention #sumayyah writes cm

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trulymadlysydney · 4 years ago

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Somewhere In Time: Eight

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”

-Henry David Thoreau

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

1:38pm, January 6th, 1925

Roni finds herself much more confident as she wanders the streets today. She’s got the wad of Harry’s cash in her pocket that he’d left on the dining room table for her-- along with a note that told her to spend it on something delicious for dinner. She isn’t exactly sure where the supermarket is, but somehow she doesn’t have any sort of problem asking for directions now.

The tension between her and Harry had subsided by the morning. Something about the rest of the night following their confessions of how they felt for one another felt too intimate-- too fragile to be spoiled with any other words. And that had been fine by Roni; she had already been feeling vulnerable and was worried that even the smallest thing would send her rocketing into the moon with embarrassment. Harry had seemed to be on the same page as her, and the only communication between the two for the next few minutes had been soft kisses-- expressing everything they’d wanted to say without words.

They’d fallen asleep holding one another, and Harry had woken Roni with a soft kiss this morning before slipping off to work. The dynamic between them feels different now in the best kind of way, but somehow Roni can’t seem to shake the vulnerability she feels.

The afternoon air feels colder than usual, and looking back Roni realizes she should have snagged one of Harry’s coats from his bedroom closet before she’d left. She settles instead for wrapping her soft coverup a bit tighter around her shoulders and shoving her icy hands into the pockets, putting a bit more pep into her step as she walks against the wind.

The supermarket isn’t very difficult to find, and Roni is delighted in herself after only having to ask one woman for directions. The building is much bigger than she’d anticipated and she feels only slightly overwhelmed upon entering. She picks up a small basket and scans the aisles for a place to start.

Harry had only requested “something delicious” for dinner, but he hadn’t specified what he enjoyed-- which, up until now, Roni hadn’t seen as a problem. Admittedly, she hadn’t given much thought to the situation, and now that she’s faced with seemingly endless aisles, she’s hit with the realization that she can’t just microwave something and call it a day.

She doesn’t have too much trouble getting a few things into her basket, and she begins to form a general idea of something delicious she can make for the two of them to share. She wants to make sure the evening is romantic, so she splurges a bit and buys a few new candles to light and place in the middle of their table.

It’s when Roni finds herself debating between two different brands of milk that she suddenly gets the unshakeable feeling of being watched.

She grows instantly nervous, praying to God that it isn’t Howard again (or someone else who’s decided to be equally creepy). She halts her movements, hoping that the feeling will pass. When it doesn’t, however, she turns slowly on her heel to find where the feeling is coming from.

Roni is instantly relieved when she’s greeted by a small girl-- seemingly no older than about six. The little girl looks nervously up at Roni, as if she wants to say something but is too afraid, and Roni smiles warmly at her.

“Hi there,” she greets in the voice reserved mostly for children.

The little girl takes her bottom lip between her teeth as if contemplating if she fully wants to commit to talking to this stranger. Roni offers her a gentle smile, trying to express to her that she isn’t going to hurt her, and the little girl softens a bit. She points shyly at Roni’s hand.

“I like your ring, ma’am,” she says quietly.

“My ring?” Roni glances down at her mood ring, and tries to hide the sudden jolt of panic down her spine when she realizes that mood rings haven’t yet been invented. She smiles sweetly back at the child and decides that the best course of action would be to explain it to her. “Thank you!! It’s called a mood ring.”

“A mood ring?” The child speaks at a more normal volume now, and she takes a hesitant but curious step in Roni’s direction. “What’s that?”

“Well,” Roni says slowly. “You put it on, and it changes colors according to what you’re feeling.”

The little girl’s eyes stayed glued to the jewel on Roni’s finger, and she lets out a soft but astonished little gasp. “Really?”

“M-hm! Would you like to try it?”

Now the child’s eyes shoot up to meet Roni’s, and her smile deepens. “May I, please?”

“Of course!” Roni twists the ring off of her finger and hands it to the child, placing it in the center of her palm. “It might be a little bit big for you, love. Close your hand around it,” she closes her own hand and the child follows, “and now hold it to your chest. Like this.” Roni demonstrates her words and the little girl mirrors her eagerly. “There you go!” Roni beams. “Now we just wait for a couple of seconds.”

“How do you know what the colors mean?”

“I used to have a guide,” Roni explains. “But then I memorized it and I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Wow,” the little girl breathes, looking down at her tiny first as if it contains all the secrets of the universe. “Is this magic?”

Roni chuckles softly under her breath. Because sure, it’s just a cheap stone that changes colors due to some type of reaction to temperatures or something of the sort. (She’s never actually looked into it really.) But she remembers being this little girl’s age. She remembers the magic she thought was inside of the mood ring every time her mother wore it; the magic she believed her mother possessed. She remembers how absolutely mind blowing this concept was to her, and thinks how incredible it must be to a child in 1925.

So she nods. “It is,” she says quietly. “But it only works if you believe in it with all of your heart.”

The little girl wastes no time in squeezing her eyes shut tight and Roni works to suppress the giggle threatening to bubble out as she watches her. She takes this time to really look at the child, trying to identify the strange but familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. There’s something about this little girl, maybe she’s famous or she’s a child in one of the yellowing photographs on the book shop wall. She’s got dirty blonde hair and a tiny nose, and Roni is almost certain she’s seen this child before, but she cannot put her finger on where.

Roni is completely lost in her thoughts when the little girl peeks one brown eye open and looks back at her. “Is it done yet?”

Roni laughs, taking the child’s fist in her hand and tapping her fingers to signal her to open them up. “I think you should be all set, let’s see what you got!”

Both the child and Roni peek at the stone in the little girl’s hand, trying to decipher if the color they see is purple or pink. “I think it’s pink!” The little girl says excitedly. “What does that mean?”

“Pink means you’re happy!” Roni beams. “Are you happy?”

When the child nods, her blond curls bounce. “M-hm! I want one of those rings for myself so I can show Linda at school! Wouldn’t she be surprised?”

For a split second Roni considers offering the ring to the child. As quickly as the thought comes, however, it is replaced with a mental slap to the face. On what planet would she feel comfortable enough to give her mother’s ring to a stranger? And anyway, if she were to give it to her, what would happen to her timeline? Mood rings aren’t invented yet and won't be invented for another fifty years or so. So Roni laughs, albeit a bit uncomfortably, and nods. “Oh I’m sure she would be, love! But you might have to wait until you’re a bit older.”

The little girl frowns. “Why?”

And truthfully, Roni doesn’t have an answer. Not any answer that would make any type of logical sense, anway.

“Well, it’s--”

“There you are!” The sound of heels quickly approaching saves Roni from her current predicament, and Roni rises to her feet when she hears them.

A well dressed woman comes scurrying down the long aisle, dressed in a coat and heels and also looking strangely familiar. She doesn’t even seem to notice Roni at all, her eyes are glued to the little girl and she seems both relieved and annoyed.

“How many times have I told you not to wander away from me?” she says as she approaches. She takes the little girl’s hand in her own. “You scared me half to death!”

The child nods up at Roni. “But this nice lady was--”

The woman sighs, obviously frustrated, and cuts her off. “You can’t go around talking to strangers like that. I’m sure this nice lady is very busy, so you apologize for bothering her right now.”

“Oh it’s no problem!” Roni speaks up. “Honestly. We had a lovely conversation.”

The little girl beams. “M-hm! And she showed me her magic ring!” She holds the ring up to her mother and Roni holds her breath, praying that this woman thinks nothing of the ring that has yet to be invented.

Luckily, the woman seems quite disinterested. “Judy, darling, you give this nice lady her ring back at once.”

Roni’s blood instantly runs cold at the woman’s words.

Surely it can’t be…

The little girl, Judy, sighs defeatedly. She doesn’t look up at Roni again, but she holds the ring out for Roni to take. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Roni moves as if in slow motion, taking her ring back and placing it numbly back on her finger. She swallows thickly, looking from the little girl to her mother. The girl’s mother makes eye contact with Roni for the first time in this entire interaction, and suddenly a strange look crosses her face as well.

Roni recalls a story that her grandmother had told her when she’d first started showing interest in time travel.

“To answer your first question,” she says, “I don’t know what I believe.” She gives Roni’s hand a squeeze before adding pointedly, “But, I know I met someone when I was a little girl. She was… this beautiful woman with the kindest heart. And she had a mood ring, similar to the one your mother wore. Those hadn’t been invented yet, which hadn’t occurred to me until I was several years older. And she seemed…” Judy trails off again, smiling to herself. “Otherworldly. I don’t know how to explain what I saw in her. I don’t think I ever will.”

“Was it mom?” Roni’s voice is hardly above a whisper, and Judy shakes her head.

“It definitely wasn’t your mother. I don’t know who she was. Just a stranger, I think. But I could just tell that she knew something I didn’t. I’ve always wondered what happened to her. Where she came from. Where she went.”

The way Judy’s mother looks at Roni is all the confirmation Roni needs.

She’s meeting her grandmother and her great grandmother, and they have no idea.

“I’m--” the mother stammers, “I’m so sorry, darling, what is your name? You look awfully familiar.”

Roni clears her throat, trying to cover how nervous she is. “Veronica,” she says. “Veronica…. Styles.”

It’s the first name she can think of, and she fears (most likely irrationally) that if she reveals her true last name, something in her timeline will shift. So she sticks to her guns, hoping that she doesn’t seem suspicious.

The older woman blinks a few times, obviously trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. There’s a long pause that feels like hours, and Roni’s face grows uncomfortably hot. She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath until the woman speaks.

“Forgive me for staring,” she says, “it’s just that…” She trails off, shaking her head.

Roni blinks, forcing a stiff smile. She wants to say something-- literally anything at all, but nothing is coming out. The woman laughs in spite of herself.

“It can’t be,” she says, as if to herself.

Roni can’t help herself. “What can’t be?”

“Oh, I apologize. It’s just that… well, you look an awful lot like my sister Hazel.”

In spite of the tension, Roni can’t help but to laugh softly in disbelief. Her entire life, her grandma Judy had told her that she looked like “Aunt Hazel.” Hazel had died a few years before Roni was born, but even from the pictures Roni was shown, she knew the resemblance was uncanny. Which is why this is all the proof she needs.

“Oh really?” Roni smiles, trying to keep the conversation light and casual. “Oh how very interesting. Did you know that it was proven that there are roughly seven people in the entire world who look exactly like you?”

The woman blinks back at Roni, then laughs hesitantly. “No, I’m afraid I hadn’t heard that.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause, and then Roni laughs awkwardly. “Well in any case, maybe I’m miss Hazel’s doppelganger!”

“Yes,” the woman says, still eyeing Roni with a nervous smile, as if completely unsure about her still. “Well in any case, I’m so sorry that my Judy bothered you.”

“It was no trouble,” Roni says. She turns down to Judy. “It was very lovely chatting with you Judy!”

Judy smiles shyly up at Roni, and her mother nudges her. “What do you say, dear?”

“It was nice to meet you, ma’am,” Judy mumbles.

The older woman finishes up the conversation and guides Judy away from Roni, not without glancing back over her shoulder a few times back at this bizarre girl with the bizarre ring who looks bizarrely like her sister.

Roni has to resist the urge to glance back as well, trying desperately not to make the situation any weirder than it is. She can feel herself growing dizzy, and the moment that Judy and her mother are out of her sight, Roni grasps onto the shelf to balance herself.

This situation may just take the cake as far as surreal experiences over the past few days goes. Roni had pictured this very story in her head many times, wondering what the “beautiful woman” her grandmother had described looked like. The thought, however, was never actively at the front of her brain-- rather, it was tucked away in the corners of her mind. And now to find out that it was, in fact, her this entire time, she feels faint. She laughs in disbelief, shaking her head as she tries to process what just occurred.

Roni is brought from her thoughts when she hears somebody clear their throat. She looks up to see a stern looking woman glancing expectantly at her, and realizes at the same time that she is blocking the canned soup.

Roni straightens up immediately, straightening out her dress. “My apologies,�� she mutters, scooping up her basket and making her way hurriedly out of the aisle.

----

It takes Roni about twenty more minutes to finish up her shopping, and as she heads out into the cold day she dreads the walk home; even though it isn’t far at all, she has tons of bags that are already leaving marks on her arm. She takes a deep breath and blows it out in a puff of air that is visible in front of her before beginning her journey.

“Roni!”

Roni freezes in her tracks just as quickly as she began when she hears her name being called from behind her, and she prays that it isn’t another member of her family. She turns slowly as she hears footsteps approaching her, and is relieved to find Daisy Hartford scurrying towards her.

Daisy seems out of breath when she reaches Roni “Hello, dear! So nice to see you!”

She envelops Roni in a hug, and kisses her cheek, taking Roni by surprise. Roni smiles warmly, strangely comforted by Daisy’s presence. “Daisy! How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just fine!” Daisy speaks quickly and excitedly. “Larry has taken over the shop today, so I was finally able to get out and complete some errands. You know your Harry is such a quick learner, we basically cut his training short! And he’s in good hands with my Larry. I stopped in for a bit this morning and the two were chatting like old pals! Isn’t that funny? Harry and Larry?”

Roni giggles, her head practically whirling from how quickly Daisy is speaking and her heart full because of course Daisy and her husband have fallen under Harry’s spell. She nods. “Harry is quite the hard worker,” she agrees. “I’m awfully proud of him.”

“As you should be, honey! And Larry and I just adore him. We’ve been talking about having you both over for dinner sometime soon, in fact!”

Daisy’s words are a bitter reminder of how short Roni’s time here remains, and she has to swallow down the lump that begins to rise in her throat. She laughs, brushing it off. “Yes,” she says, “That would be lovely.” Immediately an idea pops into her head that helps her both change the subject and calm some of her anxieties.

“Hey, speaking of dinner…”

“Yes, dear?”

Roni doesn’t know why this makes her so nervous to ask, but she knows she’ll be glad she did. “Well, I’m fixing a chicken for dinner this evening, and--”

“Ooh!” Daisy squeals, clapping her hands together. “I love a good chicken dinner!”

Roni smiles. “So do I! But the trouble is, I’m not a very good cook.” It isn’t exactly the truth, but for the life of her Roni cannot seem to figure out a better way to explain to Daisy that she doesn’t know how on earth to work many of the gadgets in these old fashioned kitchens. She continues her speech. “I’m not terrible, it’s just that… well, cooking these rather large meals for two has proved more difficult than I’d imagined.”

Daisy giggles. “I know what you mean. Before I married Larry, I had no earthly idea how to cook. I had to buy dozens of cookbooks, and even then I would still ruin the meals sometimes! It just takes a bit of practice, my love. I’ll let you borrow some books if you’d like!”

Roni shakes her head. “No, no. You keep your books. I was just wondering if maybe you’d have any advice for me? I never really get to do this sort of thing for Harry, so I’m trying to surprise him and make it special, you know?”

Daisy squeals again. “Well darling, why didn’t you say so? I just love surprises. Of course I’d be willing to help you!

Roni lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Daisy. You’re an angel.”

“Oh it’s nothing, honey! Why don’t you come with me to my place? I’ll write down one of my favorite recipes.”

“That would be lovely! I want to impress him, you know?”

Daisy nods enthusiastically. “I know!” she giggles. “What are you going to wear?”

Blood rushes to Roni’s cheeks at Daisy’s words. She only has two dresses, both of which Harry not only has seen her in but bought for her, and she suddenly feels self conscious. “I… I was just thinking of wearing this.”

Daisy gasps dramatically, as if Roni has just told her something completely awful. “Oh, honey, no! I mean, not that you don’t look beautiful of course, but this sounds like a special occasion. Haven’t you got anything more… I don’t know, vibrant?”

Roni knows that Daisy means no harm, but she can’t help but feel a little bit hurt. Still, she giggles. “I’m afraid not,” she says. “When I moved in with Harry I…” she trails off, trying to come up with the perfect way to describe this. “I had to leave a lot of my clothes at home. So, this is really all I’ve got.”

“Oh you poor dear.” Daisy frowns, but it is quickly replaced by her bright smile before Roni can even take offense. “Say, I’ve got an idea! We seem to be about the same size, and have I got the perfect dress for you! The color will go so beautifully with your complexion. I bought it for one of my first dates with Larry but I haven’t worn it since. Oh honey, you’ll look like an angel in it! It was made for you, I’m sure. Say yes?”

Roni smiles at Daisy’s generosity, but she does feel bad. “Oh, I don’t want to put you out--”

“It’s no trouble!” Daisy reaches for Roni’s hand, tugging a bit. “Oh, you’ll look divine. Like a dream! And I can do your hair for you if you’d like! Harry will die when he sees you. Simply die!”

Roni giggles to herself. Truth be told, she does want to get all dressed up for Harry. She knows he would be so surprised and pleased to see her dressed head to toe in an authentic dress that isn’t one that he bought for her. Plus, her inner child is begging her to play dress up, just to see what she’s going to look like in the end. It sounds fun, and Daisy seems far too enthusiastic for Roni to turn her down.

So she nods. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t, doll! But we’d better hurry, Harry gets off at 7!”

----

It doesn’t take long to get to Daisy’s house, and the interior of the small bungalow looks exactly how Roni would picture Daisy’s home to look. It’s well decorated, with everything in its place-- and it smells floral. The window sills are littered with plants, and the shelves with books. One book lays open in the middle of the coffee table, which Daisy apologizes for. “I always tell Larry to clean up after himself but… well, you know men.”

Daisy tells Roni to make herself at home while she puts her groceries away, and Roni marvels at the tiny kitchen. She observes all the plates and dishes that would be considered antique in her day, and the cookbooks with recipes that she can hardly even read. She stops when she notices the camera from the book shop sitting on a ledge, with a few black and white photographs scattered around it. Beside the mess, a large black pen sits— which Roni figures Daisy was using to date the photos.

Some of the photographs are of Daisy and Larry, smiling together and doing various things around the house. Some are pictures of patrons at the book shop. And then, a picture that makes Roni’s heart instantly skip a beat.

There’s the picture of Harry, standing in his little cap beside the pile of books, taken yesterday at the shop. The picture that Roni had looked at countless times in the future. Now her favorite picture to ever exist.

She squints to see the date that Daisy had written on the bottom, and it makes her giggle.

“You got it wrong,” Roni says.

“Hm?” Daisy turns, only halfway listening as she busies herself with the groceries.

“The date. On this picture of Harry. You wrote 1924. It’s 1925.”

“Oh!” Daisy smacks her forehead, wincing at herself. “Silly me. I keep doing that! Can’t seem to remember that it’s the new year!” She drops the loaf of bread she’s currently holding onto the counter and makes her way over to Roni. “I’ll scratch it out and correct it now.”

“Wait!” Roni doesn’t mean to speak with such a sense of urgency, but when she does it takes both her and Daisy by surprise. Roni scrambles to think of an explanation— a way to put into words the fact that she’s always seen this photograph dated 1924, even in 1999. If something as simple as that changes now, she’s afraid of the domino effect that could potentially change other things as well.

So Roni laughs, almost uncomfortably, trying to brush off her sense of urgency. “I just… feel like that would ruin the whole… aesthetic?... of the picture. You know?”

Daisy’s face scrunches up. “The what?”

Roni tries again. ‘Well I mean, it’s just such a cute picture. I think if you were to scratch out the date and rewrite it, it’ll make it look… well, sloppy. Do you know what I mean? I say just leave it. No ones going to really notice. If anything it just makes it look like Harry’s worked for you longer, you know? Which isn’t a bad thing. I feel like that’s actually a great thing. For you and the company.”

She’s rambling. She knows she’s rambling, but god she’s so nervous the more she thinks about this. As little of a deal as it may seem, she really doesn’t feel like messing with the fabric of her future like this. If the photograph is dated 1924 in 1999, then that must mean it was never corrected. And that means--

Daisy giggles, taking Roni from her thoughts. “My goodness,” she says. “You’ve got it so bad for this boy, haven’t you?”

This takes Roni by surprise, but it’s a welcome change of subject. “Is it that obvious?” She shrugs.

“Oh, darling. I see the way you look at him. And look at you now! You see one picture of him and you’ve gone all silly!”

Roni isn’t sure if she should take offense or not, and Daisy laughs again. “It’s a good thing! Means you’re with the right man. I get the same way around my honey.”

The heat radiating off of Roni’s cheeks is almost uncomfortable, and she giggles awkwardly. Because Daisy does have a point. Daisy beams. “See? Look at you, just the mention of his name and you get as giggly as a school girl. It’s adorable.”

“Yeah,” Roni says. “I guess so.”

“But you are right, I suppose.” Daisy nods her head. “It would look sort of sloppy wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Roni says, and Daisy nods again.

“Right. Well, then, I suppose I’ll just have to leave it then, won’t I? Sort of like a fun little secret for just us! Although it isn’t a very funny secret.”

“No,” Roni agrees, “it’s not. But it’s like a hidden easter egg that only we know about!”

Daisy claps her hands together. “Oh, Roni, I just love the way you think!”

Roni laughs, taking Daisy’s hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. As Daisy lets her residual giggles die down, she speaks. “Now, don’t you think we ought to get started? Not that we have a lot of work to do, what with your natural beauty and all. But there is so much to teach you, in such little time!”

“Yes, I reckon we’d better get on with it.”

Daisy needs no other encouragement, she’s already squealing and dragging Roni back into the kitchen, rambling on and on a mile a minute about everything they’re going to be doing. “First we’ll get the recipe squared away. Then I can do your hair, while you copy down the recipe with a pen. Then we’ll dress you. Oh I just can’t wait to see what you’ll look like! And then--”

Half of Roni wonders what exactly she’s gotten herself into with this plan. But Daisy seems so excited, and she knows that Harry will be, too. So she allows herself to relax into the moment, still relieved that the fate of the universe (and the inaccurate date on the photograph) is safe for one more day.

---

It’s about 7:30pm when Roni finally hears Harry’s keys in the door, and the nervous feeling in the pit of Roni’s belly only intensifies. After leaving Daisy’s, she’d spent the better half of her day cooking, setting up the apartment, and overthinking everything. Daisy had given her all the tools she needed for success tonight, but something in her is causing her anxiety to completely spike. The long candles on the table flicker vigorously, and the soft music of the victrola in the corner of the room echoes softly. In the five seconds that it takes Harry to get his door unlocked, Roni’s thoughts run a mile a minute.

What if Harry thinks her outfit looks silly? What if the meal tastes like garbage? What if the house doesn’t smell good enough? What if--

Roni doesn’t have time to continue worrying when she sees the door open, and when Harry walks in, her heart rate increases.

He looks cold, his nose red and shiny and his curls extra curly under his little cap. He doesn’t seem to notice anything different at first, and he seems a bit winded as he locks the door behind him. He begins removing his coat, turning on his heels and then stopping dead in his tracks when he sees Roni.

Roni smiles nervously back at him, looking like an absolute vision. She’s in a pink silk dress that fits her perfectly, hugging her every curve in the exact right places. The fabric shimmers in the dim light of the apartment, and the soft frills along the trim of the skirt make Harry’s heart skip a beat. While Roni had hand copied Daisy’s favorite chicken recipe, Daisy had insisted on styling Roni’s hair (which Roni had happily agreed to), and now it looks so perfectly gelled and in place. In perfect 1920s fashion, it’s wavy at the top and curled at the bottom-- just ghosting against the top of her bare shoulders (both of which are just begging to be kissed). Harry can tell she’s nervous and feels a bit out of place, but that makes her look all the more adorably beautiful, and he practically runs to her the moment he gets his coat off.

Harry goes to hurriedly drape his coat on the coat rack, but he misses and it falls to the floor with a thud. Roni giggles, and in a blink Harry has closed the space between them, kissing her smile and pulling her in by her hips.

Roni’s bubbly giggles die down as she kisses him back, but neither of them can contain their smiles. Harry pulls away but doesn’t once remove his hands from her waist. “Veronica,” he breathes. “Bunny, what is this?”

“Do you like it?” Roni steps back, taking the skirt of her dress in her hands and giving it a little swish. “Do I look alright?”

“Baby,” Harry breathes, eyeing her up and down and taking his time with it. “You’re a vision.”

Roni’s cheeks grow hot, and she giggles nervously. “Never had my hair done this way before,” she admits. “I thought it might look silly, but I actually kind of like it.”

“It suits you,” Harry says, nodding. He’s beaming at her like she hung the moon, and it makes her giggle.

After a long beat of silence, Roni squirms under Harry’s gaze. “Why are you staring at me?” she pouts.

“Is that not what you want?” he replies, matter-of-factly. His dimple pops, looking extra kissable, and Roni wants nothing more than to reach up and poke at it.

“Well--”

Harry steps forward, raising his hand to lightly trail his fingertips along the skin of her exposed arm. He scratches lightly at the strap of the dress against her shoulder, smiling when he notices the goosebumps prickling her skin. “Can’t believe you did all this for me.” He leans forward, ghosting his lips along her neck. “Why?”

“I just… wanted to do something special,” Roni says quietly, fidgeting softly with her ring and barely glancing up at Harry beneath her lashes. “I don’t want to focus on like, the bad stuff. I want to be happy right now while I’ve still got you. Is that okay?”

Harry doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry so he settles on gripping Roni’s hips and pulling her impossibly closer for a long kiss. She’s so lovely, and she looks and smells like an absolute dream. When he pulls away, Harry buries his nose in the crook of her neck just to get a whiff of what smells so deliciously like Roni and some expensive perfume he’s never learned the name of.

“That sounds lovely, honey.”

She smiles at nothing in particular. “Yeah?”

When he pulls away, he’s got a soft-eyed expression mixed with an overwhelmed smile on his face. “Yeah.”

Roni frowns. “Now don’t go all misty on me. I’m serious. The whole point of this was to not do that! To just pretend for like, one night that everything is okay.”

Harry chuckles, slipping a hand around Roni’s waist and pulling her closer again. He presses a velvety kiss to the wrinkles on her forehead, and smiles when he feels them soften. “I haven’t gone misty,” he says. “Just… just lucky. That’s all.”

Roni sighs, enjoying the feeling of his lips against her skin. Something about all of this feels so strangely right; the clothes that she never thought would look good on her, the way her hair is done up with multiple pins practically stabbing her scalp, the gentle music from this era playing softly through the apartment. She refuses to think about what’s coming in the next few days, and fully immerses herself in the daydream that she is, in fact, Harry’s wife.

She clears her throat, busying herself instead with the food in the kitchen. “I made us some chicken for tonight with some roasted vegetables! Although now that I think about it, I suppose I should’ve asked if you even liked chicken. Which, if you don’t, that’s completely fine. We can have something else. But the veggies should be good!”

Harry laughs. “Slow down, my sweet girl. Why are you so nervous?” He takes a step towards her. “It’s just me.”

“I know,” she says softly. “I just… want this to be perfect, you know?”

“Well,” he says, “if it’s even half as good as it smells, then I’d say it’s more than perfect.” He grins. “Even if it’s not. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Roni smiles, obviously proud of herself. “And!” she says, turning to flip the stove off. “Daisy taught me how to work the victrola. It’s not as hard as it looks, but it did take me a minute to figure out. It’s kind of intimidating.”

Harry doesn’t respond, he just watches her with the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face as she continues to ramble about her day. He really doesn’t know why she seems so anxious about all of this, and he’s hardly listening to her as he admires how beautiful she looks. The mere sight of her-- dressed like this, cooking for him, going out of her way to ensure that this is the perfect evening-- is enough to call tears to his eyes, and he has to refrain from thinking too hard about the situation lest they spill down his cheeks.

With oven mitts that are far too big for her hands, Roni removes the chicken from Harry’s humble stove, and Harry’s mouth waters at the sight of it. “How did you--”

“Daisy,” she answers. “She gave me the recipe.” Roni looks at him with eyes the size of saucers. “I hope it’s good.”

“Please,” Harry says, closing the space between them. “Stop worrying.” He leans in, kissing her nose softly before speaking again, just above a whisper. “I love you.”

His words make Roni’s heart skip a beat. She’d nearly forgotten their love confessions from the previous night, and now hearing Harry say these words to her again makes her just as giddy as before.

“I love you, too,” she says, and Harry hums-- leaning in to kiss at her neck.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, too.” Roni giggles.

“One more time? Didn’t quite catch that.” He presses a kiss to the shell of her ear and she laughs loudly.

“I love you, you lunatic!” She squeals when Harry squeezes at her hips, pinning her to his body. “No!”

Harry laughs, freeing her finally but only enough to take her hand in his. He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes in the light. “God,” he says, “this dress makes you look like a princess.”

“You mean I didn’t before?” She teases.

“No, no, you did, but this-- wow.”

It’s all so amusing to Roni. He hadn’t thought much of the skimpy, futuristic dress she’d arrived in. But this dress, one that exposes only her bare shoulders and nothing more, has him utterly gobsmacked, and she’s so endeared by it.

“I made sure to get one that showed a bit of skin.” She pokes at his tummy. “Know you’re into that sort of thing.”

Harry snorts. “Please. You could wear a burlap sack and I’d be into it.”

“Oh yeah?” Roni wiggles her eyebrows. “Kinky thing, aren’t you?”

This time, Harry’s face does twist up in confusion. “Kinky?”

“You’ve never heard that word before?”

“No I have, I just… feel like I haven’t heard it… in the context that you just said it? What does it mean?”

Roni grows a little bit self conscious, but she laughs in spite of herself. “It means like… you’re into some crazy stuff in bed. Like, you’re turned on by something other than just… vanilla stuff? I guess?” Harry stares blankly back at her, and her cheeks grow hot. “You knnoooow,” she tries again. “Kinky!”

“Are you kinky?” Harry asks, lips curling up into his signature dimpled smirk.

And shit, this is not the conversation she’d been expecting to have with Harry tonight.

Not that she’s complaining, of course.

“I mean…” She involuntarily swallows the lump in her throat, and it makes an almost choking noise. Harry beams. “Yeah. Kinda. Yeah.”

“Really?” Harry leans casually against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “What sort of things do you enjoy?”

Roni averts her gaze, focusing on the cooling chicken on top of the stove. She has an answer for him, of course, but she’s realizing that it’s much harder to put into words than she’d been anticipating. At home with Oliver, they’d been together for so long that they sort of grew into their kinks together. They learned what the other liked without ever having to really articulate it much. But now, having to explain it, to have to put it into words for Harry while he’s grinning at her-- and looking like that-- makes Roni’s skin itch.

“Veronica.” Harry softens a bit, but his dimple never leaves his cheek. “You don’t have to tell me, bunny.”

And now she frowns. “No, no! I want to. I just… I don’t know, it’s weird. I’ve never had to like, communicate it before.”

“I see.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else, but he watches her with a look that is both simultaneously daunting and comforting. Roni licks her lips and takes a deep breath.

“I’m into like… fairly normal kinky stuff, I guess. Like nothing too wild. But I like being--” her voice goes significantly quieter, “-teased… and… sometimes choked….”

Harry visibly tenses, but he remains as cool as possible-- his smirk only deepening. “Choked, huh? Never thought anyone could enjoy that.”

“It’s pretty common,” Roni explains quickly. “Like, I swear people like it. I’m not weird.”

“Never said you were weird.” Harry’s eyes twinkle, and Roni becomes painfully aware of the heat that is radiating off of her cheeks.

“Um…” she continues again, still hesitant. “So yeah. I like that. And sometimes I like being… uh….” She practically whispers the last word. “Spanked.”

Now, Harry does physically react. He raises his eyebrows, and his bottom lip juts out as if impressed. “Y’like being spanked huh? Never knew anyone who enjoyed that either.”

“I mean, if you think it’s weird--”

“It’s not weird,” Harry insists, shaking his head. “Believe me. It’s probably the least weird thing I could imagine. Will you relax?” He closes the space between them once again, taking her hand in his and bringing her knuckles up to his lipps. “It’s probably one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard in my life, if I’m honest. And I don’t even understand why.”

Roni chuckles. “That’s kind of the point, I think. No one really gets why. But it’s like, taboo, you know? And that’s the fun of it.”

“Mm.” Harry grins. “Anything else I should know about?”

Roni’s stomach twists at his words. “Um…” She gulps. “I mean…” Her voice is so quiet that Harry has to lean in closer to hear her. “I like being tied up.”

“Tied up? Like… restrained while you’re being fucked?”

Roni turns her head to hide her embarrassment. “I mean when you say it out loud it sounds kinda funky but--”

“No no!” Harry assures her. “My god, bunny, no. Are you joking? M’getting hard just thinking about seeing you all tied up for me.”

“A boner before dinner?” Roni teases, trying to lighten the situation to cover up her obvious nerves. “After I worked so hard?”

“That might be part of it actually,” Harry chuckles. “A delicious meal made by a delicious girl who likes to be… what was the word? Kinky?”

Roni giggles. “Kinky. Yeah.”

Harry grins. “Yeah. Fucking love it.”

There’s a charged silence that lingers between the two of them, and Roni grows increasingly anxious (in the best sort of way). She clears her throat. “Anyway! Dinner is going to get cold, so we should probably--”

Harry cuts her off with a heated kiss directly to her still open mouth. He’s smiling, and it makes Roni giggle, especially when he reaches up to cup her cheek. When he pulls away, it's with a strained effort, and it makes him smile even more to realize Roni doesn’t want the kiss to end either.

“It smells delicious, bunny.”

“I hope it is.”

“It will be.” Harry grins. “Shall I set the table?”

Roni beams. “I already did, my love. All you have to do is get comfortable and come join me.”

“Get comfortable?” Harry smirks. “Y’mean I can come back naked?”

Roni squirms as she lets out a scoff to cover her embarrassment. “What-EVER. No! That’s not what I meant. Go put on some comfy clothes.”

“Well, you don’t look very comfy.”

“I am!”

“Are you? Sure you wouldn’t be comfier naked?”

“Harry.”

Harry giggles like a little boy and dodges the towel that Roni snaps at his behind. “Alright alright. I’ll be right back.”

“You better be, little shit.”

Harry scurries out of the room while Roni rolls her eyes and turns to the chicken on the stove. She works her hardest to prepare it, trying not to allow her thoughts to linger on the way he looked in his work clothes-- his cute little cap hanging sideways on his head, parallel with the smirk on his cheeks.

Roni serves up their plates, lighting a few more candles around the room and setting everything on the table perfectly. She tries to contain her joy when Harry re-enters the room. He licks his lips the moment he sees his plate on the table, and he beams at her. “Looks delicious, Veronica. You and the meal.”

Roni smiles as she sets her drink down beside her own plate. “Yeah?”

Harry grins, pulling her seat out. “Yeah.”

Roni giggles, wasting no time in settling herself into the seat. “You’re so cute, Harry. Fuck.”

This makes Harry snort as he helps Roni push her seat into the table. “That’s all you, princess.”

Roni grows visibly embarrassed, which only causes Harry’s smirk to deepen and his dimple to pop even harder. “Like that, don’t you? ‘Princess.’”

“It’s just cute, is all. Never been called that before.”

“Well,” Harry says, taking his own seat, “It suits you.”

Roni squirms in her seat, and Harry jokingly fluffs out his napkin. He juts out his bottom lip in a smug grin, tucking the napkin into his shirt collar and causing Roni to laugh.

“So formal,” she comments.

“Seems fitting. Would you like me to tuck yours in for you as well?”

The connotations behind his words do not go unnoticed by Roni, and he beams, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Anyway,” she says, embarrassment prickling her ears, “Bon appetit.”

Harry moans the moment he shovels the first fork-full of chicken into his mouth, despite Roni’s warnings that it’s going to be hot and he needs to blow on it. He’s making obscene noises as he chews, and whether it’s for dramatic affect or not, Roni isn’t sure. In any case, though, it does wonders for her ego the way he’s rolling his eyes and licking his lips.

“Veronica.” Harry speaks before swallowing. “Baby. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Roni grins, realizing that she still hasn’t even taken a bite because she’s been too busy blowing on the chicken and eyeing Harry anxiously. “Yeah?”

Harry swallows. “My god,” he says, not a trace of over exaggeration on his pretty face. “I couldn’t tell you the last time I had a meal this delicious.”

“I’m so glad!” It touches Roni’s heart and also kind of makes her sad. This meal really isn’t anything out of the ordinary, and she realizes that he’s so happy because she made it. He’s lived alone for years, and she knows he’s hardly (if at all) been loved like this. He’s only had to take care of himself, and she wonders if he’s ever had someone in his life to care for him like this.

“I mean it,” Harry says. “I could cry. Never tasted anything this good in my life.’

Now Roni giggles. “It’s just chicken, my love.”

“No, you must’ve put something special in it. Extra love or something, I don’t know. I don’t know what you did, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Roni’s curiosity gets the best of her. “Harry?”

“Mm?” He hums around another mouthful.

“Have you never had… a woman in your life?”

Harry snorts at her question, but he slows his chewing for a brief moment, considering her words. He doesn’t seem to take offense, which is a relief. He thinks about his answer as he chews, waiting to speak once he’s swallowed. “I have. Sort of.”

“Yeah?”

“Had a girlfriend a few years back. She was older. We didn’t date for very long. She would’ve never done anything like what you’ve done for me tonight.”

Roni grins. “What, make you dinner?”

“Well, that, but also…” Harry gestures vaguely towards Roni. “This. What you’ve done with your hair. And the dress. You’re so thoughtful. She never was.”

Roni reaches forward, placing her hand lightly on Harry’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright!” Any trace of sadness on Harry’s face is immediately wiped clean and replaced with a smile. “Worked out anyway. She cheated on me. Twice. So. Obviously she wasn’t very happy either.” He chuckles, preparing his next bite already.

Roni only frowns. “That’s awful, Harry.”

“Was pretty awful, yeah. But I’m glad now. Taught me a lot, you know?” He smiles at her. “Just glad I have you now.”

“Yeah,” Roni says quietly. “Me too.”

The rest of the dinner is just as lovely as the start, and Roni does have to admit that she did a pretty damn good job with the food. Harry talks about his day at work while continuously complimenting Roni’s cooking, and he also listens-- completely intrigued-- when she mentions the little girl at the grocery store.

“No kidding,” Harry says. “You really think it was your grandma?”

Roni nods. “I do. I know it was her, because I grew up hearing the story of the lady in the grocery store.”

Harry grins. “Sick!”

His words make Roni giggle. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

Harry’s cheeks go the lightest shade of crimson at her words, but he takes it in stride. “Can’t help it,” he admits. Your futuristic verbiage inspires me.”

After dinner, Harry refuses to allow Roni to touch a single dish. He washes them in the kitchen sink, jokingly shoving Roni out of the way every time she tries to help.

“You worked so hard on dinner,” he insists. “If you so much as look at these dishes one more time, I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Roni challenges, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “You won’t do anything. You looooove me too much.”

Her teases are childish but they make both of them giggle. Harry doesn’t say anything, instead just dipping his hand into the soapy water and flicking some suds onto her. Roni shrieks, and Harry grins. “I do love you,” he says, before she can get a word in. “Too much.”

Roni busies herself with picking another record to play while Harry finishes up the dishes, and she tries to keep her questions to a minimum. She’d had no issues with this earlier, why is she struggling with it now?

Although, to be fair, it had been fresh in her mind earlier. Now all of her thoughts are clouded with Harry and how absolutely delicious he looks right now.

Harry, of course, sees her struggling. But he knows how stubborn she is, and he knows that if she wanted help she would ask for it. So he just chuckles quietly to himself as she tries to figure it out, and he grins when he hears her let out a triumphant “A-HA!”

After a few more seconds, the song whirs to life. Harry recognizes it almost instantly, and he lets out a cackle. “Veronica--”

Roni is swaying her hips, bopping around the living room while I’m Just Wild About Harry fills the silence. Harry watches her dance with an amused expression, and she laughs, singing along to a few of the words. “It’s a good song, huh?” she asks. “Never heard it until today. Daisy showed me. She actually lent it to me so I could do this. Neat, huh? How like, accurate to our situation it is and stuff.”

Harry shuts off the water in the sink, drying his hands before making his way slowly into the living room. He takes Roni’s wiggling hips in his hands, and laughs when she doesn’t stop dancing. “This is my song to you,” she states. “I’m just wild about you, lover boy.”

Harry giggles, swaying a bit with her as well. “Well,” he says, “The feeling is mutual.”

Roni continues to bop around the living room, with Harry only half heartedly dancing with her. He watches her intently the entire time, and his stare makes her almost nervous. She tries to stay as playful as possible, but the way he’s smirking at her makes her giggly and excited. Finally, she groans. “Whaaaaaat?”

Harry throws back his head and laughs, taking her hips in his hands once again. “Just love you,” he admits, kissing her forehead. “Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“You’re staring at me like a weirdo,” Roni points out, and the smile on her face lets him know that she isn’t upset about it in the least.

“Can’t help it,” he says. “Have you seen yourself?”

“You’re one to talk!” Roni hip checks him and he snorts. “Anyway, you’re being very rude not participating in this dance with me.”

“I’m dancing!” Harry insists.

“Yeah, but not enough! You know, if there was a song that was like I’m Just Wild About Roni or something, I’d be shaking my little ass all over this house.”

Harry chokes on a laugh, and Roni immediately kisses against his open mouth. “Come onnnn,” she giggles, “You’ve gotta get into it!”

Harry watches her, an amused smirk on his face, and she turns it into a game. She wiggles her hips tauntingly, moving closer to him and then backing away when he reaches for her. It makes him chuckle, but he holds on to his facade as long as possible. “If you keep moving like that, I’ll cum untouched,” he teases.

“What, like this?” Roni wiggles ungracefully, and Harry laughs. He can’t stop himself from launching forward now. He takes her hips in his hands, squeezing and yanking her towards him-- causing her to squeal.

“Harry!” she giggles, stumbling into his arms. “Fuck!”

He laughs heartily as he steadies her, wrapping his arms around her and successfully trapping her against his body. She squirms in a half-hearted attempt to escape, but he holds her steadfast, kissing her temple a few times until both of their giggles settle down.

When the aftershocks of Roni’s giggles have subsided into soft hums of contentment, she lifts her head to smile at Harry. The way he’s looking down at her causes him to get the most adorable double chin, and she noses at it softly. He squeezes her tighter, pulling her in to button their lips together.

The kiss grows more intense with each second that passes, and Harry’s thoughts begin to run wild. With a gentle touch, he trails his fingertips slowly up Roni’s back, testing the waters by gripping the back of her neck firmly. He feels her stiffen only slightly, her breath hitching softly in her throat before she relaxes into his grasp. She lets out a barely-there groan when he squeezes, and he knows he’s got her.

“Can I tell you something?” Harry breathes, using his other hand to squeeze teasingly at her ass.

“Hm?”

“I couldn’t want you any more than I do tonight.”

He can feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks, but he doesn’t even give her a chance to respond before he’s gripping her neck tighter, gently guiding her backwards a bit. They stumble awkwardly through the living room together, never once breaking the kiss.

Roni giggles, and even Harry can’t help but to smile, when their teeth knock together-- making a noise that echoes somewhat uncomfortably. It’s then that Harry notices the song has come to an end, and he gets an idea.

He pulls away slowly, heart melting when he sees Roni lean in for another kiss before realizing he’s stopped. She looks up at him with doe eyes, and he almost forgets what he was even going to say.

“Got an idea,” he says. “Going to set the mood.”

“The mood is already set, baby,” Roni insists, but Harry is already moving. He’s hurrying over to his records, thumbing through them haphazardly until he lets out a quiet-- but triumphant-- “Ah! There it is.”

Roni, growing impatient and almost uncomfortably wet, tries to catch a glimpse of the music he holds in his hands, but it’s no use. So she lets out an indignant huff that causes Harry to smirk.

“Patience, pretty baby,” he coos. “You’ll get yours soon enough.”

Something about the tone with which he presents these words to her causes Roni to shiver, and she doesn’t even mean to moan the way she does-- light and airy and almost pornographic sounding (but in a sweet way). The moan doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, because of course it doesn’t, and he chuckles to himself just out of her earshot.

“Can’t make love to my girl without a good song playing.”

“Can’t you, though?” Roni teases, and Harry shoots her a cheeky glance over his shoulder before busying to work switching out the records.

“Well, I mean, I could,” he says, “but what’s the fun in that? Besides…” He drops the needle in place, turning around with a smirk as the slow, sexy song begins. “...Gonna need something to drown out her screams from how good m’making her feel.”

Roni giggles nervously— not because what he said was funny, but because she knows he’s right, and the anticipation mixed with the thick tension charging the air is making her tummy twist.

Harry turns slowly on his heel, a mischievous grin on his face as if he’s about to pounce on her. Roni takes a cautious step backwards and Harry confirms her suspicions, bounding for her and immediately devouring her in kisses.

It starts out playful, but the kisses soon grow hungrier and hungrier— and then suddenly they’re groping at one another like two horny teenagers left unsupervised for the first time. Roni haphazardly tugs at the buttons of Harry’s shirt while he uses his hands to guide them both awkwardly towards the sofa without opening his eyes or removing his lips from hers.

There is a gentle bump when the back of Roni’s legs hit the sofa, and Harry gently turns them both around. He plops ungracefully onto the couch, large ringed fingers on either side of Roni’s hips as he tugs her onto his lap. She complies with little persuasion needed, straddling his waist and cupping the back of his neck with her hands. Her thumbs brush against the untamable curls at the base, and he shivers ever so softly when she purposely scratches. All the while their lips never separate, and as Harry licks his way into her mouth, Roni leans impossibly closer to him.

His fingers squeeze the fleshier part of her hips before ducking lower to the curve of her ass, cupping it gently beneath his palms. He pulls away only slightly when he speaks. “Jesus, Veronica.”

“Is this okay?” Roni bumps her nose playfully against Harry’s and he chuckles.

“‘Course it is. Just never seen anyone so perfect. Think you were made for me.”

“Think so, too,” Roni mumbles against the base of his throat, dragging her lips up the sensitive skin and nibbling gently at his ear.

Harry hums low in his throat, squeezing Roni’s ass through the thick fabric of her skirt. “This fucking dress,” he mumbles, and Roni can hear feel the vibration of his voice as she kisses against his neck.

It makes Roni smile to herself at how easy it is to turn him on-- especially wearing something as simple as this. This dress, of course, is incredibly beautiful but in her time it would be considered far too modest and less than sexy. Harry, however, is transfixed on the sight before him, and he seems completely head over heels in love with Roni as he trails his fingertips along the frills on the skirt.

Roni allows Harry a few moments of wonder before she gets right back to work, leaning in and sucking the spot below his ear. “You��re one to talk,” she mumbles, trailing her lips up to the shell of his ear. She takes his earlobe between her teeth and nibbles gently, and Harry involuntarily squeezes at her hips, causing her to roll them against him.

Harry tilts his head, taking Roni’s bottom lip between his own and sucking. Just as his tongue begins to gently trace its way into her mouth, his big hands slide up her back tenderly-- causing her to shiver. She gulps, opening her mouth further and allowing him to lick his way in, greeting his tongue with a graceful swirl of her own. He hums again, and she can feel a faint whisper of a grin tugging on his mouth.

As Roni rolls her center along his ever growing bulge, he chuckles almost darkly against her lips. “Christ,” he mutters, “What are you doing to me?”

“Feel good?” she asks, lips ghosting his.

“Going to make me finish before I’m ready,” he admits. “You’re a devil.”

Roni hums. “Kiss me again.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, and he leans in to button their lips together once more. He allows his hands to gather up all the ruffles along the trim of her skirt, bunching them up in one hand so he can lift it effortlessly. Roni’s’ backside feels instantly colder, and she glances down to the spot where her core meets his. He gulps, realizing that she’s wearing stockings and no underwear, and Roni instantly grows embarrassed.

“Gonna make a mess on your pants if we keep going like this,” she admits breathlessly.

“S’okay,” Harry says, eyes glued to her pussy. “It’s fuckin’ sexy.”

With his words, Roni gives another harsh roll of her hips, and Harry’s head falls back onto the couch. He closes his eyes for a split second, trying to make a mental image of the sight of her juices slick against his trousers, and then licks his lips before speaking.

“Wanna--” he gulps, “--wanna try something. Can we?”

“Anything,” Roni whispers.

Harry doesn’t speak again, launching right into whatever it is he wants to try. He takes Roni’s hips in his hands again and shifts her, ever so slightly, until she’s straddling only one of his knees. She takes care not to accidentally knee him in the balls, which proves hard with his ever growing bulge getting bigger and bigger. She already feels soaked, and she grows embarrassed at the slightly sticky stain already forming on his trousers.

“Harry, what--”

“I want to watch you,” he breathes, looking up at her from under his lashes. “Want to watch you try and get yourself off on my thigh.”

Roni lets out a breath. “I don’t want to make a mess.”

“But I want you to.” His stare is so intense, she has to avert her eyes, and he leans forward to gently bump her nose with his own. “Please,” he says. “Just try for me.”

Roni eyes him hesitantly, before positioning herself better and beginning the rocking of her hips. Her breath comes out shaky, and it’s Harry who lets out a low groan. His eyes flicker continuously between her face and her pussy, and the mere sight of him makes her all the more wet.

“Feel good, princess?”

Roni shivers at her new nickname. On any other occasion, she feels she would’ve found it cringey, but now, coming from his lips, it makes her fucking melt. Roni nods, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and focusing as much as she can on getting the friction she’s craving. It does feel good, but truth be told it’s nowhere near enough, and she doesn’t think she’s actually going to be able to get herself off by this alone.

“I--” she breathes, already feeling winded, “I need more.”

Harry raises his knee slightly, and Roni rolls her hips a bit harsher, inhaling sharply at the slight increase of friction.

“Like that?” Harry asks quietly.

Roni nods. “M-hm. Just like that.”

“You’re a vision, Veronica,” Harry breathes. “Look at you.”

She gives an extra hard rock of her hips. It still feels good, but all she wants right now is him. She reaches forward to take one of his hands from her hip and gently guides it down to her clit.

Harry grins. “Needy,” he tuts.

“Please,” she whimpers. “Feels good but… it’s not enough.”

There is something different in Harry’s eyes tonight, and it excites Roni more than she’s willing to admit. He gently rolls his fingers along her clit, and she arches her back. She gulps.

“Why don’t we see how far we can take this,” Harry says slowly, “Until you can’t possibly take it anymore.”

Roni whines when Harry pulls his fingers away, laying her head down to bury her face in his neck. “You tease.”

She can hear him chuckle softly, reaching to grip her hips and guide her along his thigh. “And you thought I was bad the other night.”

“Gonna ruin your pants.”

“Don’t care about my trousers,” Harry states. “Already said that. Want you all over them.”

Roni wiggles a bit uncomfortably, searching for that friction against her clit again. She bites lightly at the spot on Harry’s neck that she knows makes him whimper, and she tries to refrain from leaving a mark.

“Can’t believe how wet you are,” Harry breathes. “Can feel you through the fabric.”

“Harry--”

“Keep going,” he says. “Please, honey.”

It almost seems that Harry is getting more pleasure from this than Roni herself is, and she bites at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. She knows this is driving him crazy, and she realizes that, despite all the sex they’ve been having the past few days, this might just be the kinkiest he’s ever gotten with her, which somehow turns her on even more.

Roni throws her head back, giving a particularly hard roll of her hips and letting a long moan drip from her lips when she hits her clit from a good angle. “God, baby,” she whines.

Harry licks his lips and squeezes her that much tighter. “Tell me, princess.”

“Please…” She’s wiggling ungracefully now, trying so hard to get some friction. She reaches once again for his hand, completely unashamed of how desperate she must be coming across. But Harry gives the back of her hand a little slap before pulling it away.

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh,” he says. “What did I just say?”

It makes Roni shiver, the tone he’s using and the darkness in his eyes. Obviously he’d been paying attention to what she said she liked earlier because he’s brought out the big guns now. It fuels Roni even harder-- lights a fire under her ass that makes her want to disobey him more just so he can put her in her place.

“Please,” she whines. “It’s not enough.”

She goes to reach for his hand a third time, and this time he’s quicker than her. He takes her wrist in his hand-- wrapping his fingers fully around the width of it, and bends her arm at the elbow so that he’s got it pinned behind her back. He does the same with her opposite hand before she even has time to process it, and effortlessly holds them both in one of his large fists.

Harry tuts at her, shaking his head. “Why is my girl suddenly being so bad?” he asks. “Hm? Not doing what she’s told. Surely she’s not asking for a spanking… is she?”

Roni groans, her hips growing tired from the constant movement, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder. “Harry… please baby--”

He gives her wrists a tug, securing her even tighter. He bumps her nose with his own, teasing her. Roni chases his lips with her own, begging for a kiss, but he keeps his face just out of reach. He chuckles darkly, sending a shiver down Roni’s spine, but then he speaks so tenderly it melts her heart.

“Is this still okay, honey?”

“Of course it is,” Roni whispers. “Wish I could touch you, but--”

“But you like being restrained, don’t you princess?”

He speaks so formally, which somehow adds to the eroticism of the moment. Roni has never experienced anything like this. She moans, uninhibited. “I do, Harry. I really do.”

“Of course you do,” he chuckles darkly. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

He is looking at her intensely but there’s a hint of curiosity behind his eyes that makes this all the better. He’s testing the waters, and it’s working for Roni in a way that nothing has ever worked before. “I’m your good girl,” she pants. “Please touch me.”

“Ohh,” Harry tuts. “Now, bunny, you can take a little more teasing can’t you?”

“I can’t,” Roni whines.

“You can,” Harry says, bumping her nose with his own. “Know you can.”

Roni lets out a cry that makes even her feel pitiful. She’s never like this-- truly-- but Harry makes her feel something unlike anything she’s ever experienced. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she whimpers in frustration, her hips growing tired from their movement. She struggles against Harry’s fists, but he’s got a firm hold on her, and he grins sadistically.

“Getting tired?”

“I’m close,” she pants, “But it isn’t enough. Harry-- please--”

“Hm.” Harry narrows his eyes, blinking slowly at her as he watches her struggle. “You have been good, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Roni cries.

“Wasn’t actually asking you, sweetheart.” Without warning, Harry uses his free hand to smack lightly at the side of Roni’s bum, causing her to gasp. There isn’t enough force to actually hurt her, and the layers of her skirt sort of soften the blow, but it leaves behind a little sting that causes an involuntary moan to escape Roni’s lips.

Harry looks up at her from under his lashes, a devilish smirk on his face but a hint of innocence in his eyes. “Was that okay?”

Roni nods, gulping harder than she intends. “Yes,” she moans, “it was perfect. Do it again.”

Harry smiles, his dominant side vanishing for just a moment as he leans in to press a kiss to Roni’s lips. “I like this kinky side of you.” He denies her request, kissing the corner of her lips as she squirms against his lap. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Roni can’t help the moan that bubbles up from her throat when he reaches down to rub at the spot he’s just slapped. How could someone be so sexy, yet so incredibly sweet at the same time? Her clit is practically throbbing, and the spot on Harry’s trousers that is consistently being rubbed by her core grows hotter and wetter by the second. She’s relieved when Harry lets go of her wrists-- using one hand to take her hip and the other to rub against her clit.

The whimper that leaves her lips is filthy and pathetic, and Harry uses the hand that rests on her hip to guide her movements while he rubs against her clit. He watches her face intently, with his lips parted ever so slightly. His cock is plumping up nicely in his trousers, and Roni squirms a bit more in an attempt to place some friction on it for him. She fights to keep her eyes open as Harry rubs circles on her clit, and her eyes roll back in her head when he gives a particularly fast rub.

His own breathing picks up intensity, and he subconsciously licks his lips as he watches her. Roni starts babbling, voice on the verge of tears as she grinds against Harry’s fingers, and he silences her with another harsh slap to her bottom. She yelps, and he moans low in his throat.

“Go on, princess,” he says, voice thick and dark. “Use my thigh. Use my fingers. Cum all over me, baby, know you can.”

It’s only a few more seconds before Roni’s thighs are quivering, and she has to hold onto Harry’s shoulders to keep her balance while her orgasm washes over her. Her head lulls dully to the side, and her vision goes white hot. She doesn’t even try to quiet her moans, she lets them pour out long and full while she grinds her pussy against Harry, riding out a most delicious orgasm.

And not once does Harry remove his eyes from her face.

When the orgasm has finished, she collapses, spent, onto Harry’s shoulders. He removes his fingers from her clit (not ignoring the way she twitches as he moves) and notices his hand is sort of cramping. Using his free hand, he scratches tenderly at her back, giving her a few moments to catch her breath. He trails his hand down gently to the spot on her ass that he’s smacked, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, soothing over the stinging as best he can.

They both seem to realize that the song has long since ended, but neither seems to care. After a few more moments, Roni hardly makes any effort to move. But Harry can tell she’s still needy for him by the way she begins suckling at his neck. He allows her to trail a few wet kisses along his skin there, before leaning back gently. “Veronica? Hey, baby, can you sit up for me please?”

Roni lifts her head slowly, and the dazed out, blissful look in her eyes is almost too much for Harry to handle. He smiles, kissing at her eyelids and loving the way her lashes flutter closed. When he pulls back, he scans her face again. “All this from one orgasm?”

Roni nods sleepily. “Want more,” she says. “Please.”

“Ohhh,” Harry says with a grin. “My needy girl. Look so pretty right now, you know that?”

“Felt good,” Roni mumbles, already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. She stops when she looks down at his trousers, frowning when she sees just how soaked she’s gotten them.

“What?” As soon as Harry’s asked, his eyes are looking at the same thing hers are, only he’s grinning and she’s not.

“Messy,” Roni observes quietly.

“Mm.” Harry hums low in his throat. “But I asked you to, didn’t I? Told you I wanted it.”

“Yeah but--”

“And it felt good, didn’t it, baby?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Roni says, a shiver running down her spine as if the mere thought of it is causing aftershocks. “I don’t understand.”

Harry reaches up, trailing his fingertips delicately along her shoulders, tickling at her back lightly, and scratching tenderly at the back of her neck. “What? What don’t you understand?”

“How every time is just… so fucking good. I don’t know how you do that. It’s never been so intense, or.. Or…” She runs out of words, lost in thought and melting at the way he’s touching her skin.

Harry smiles patiently. “Or what, baby? Say it.”

“Just…” Roni shakes her head, still at a loss for words, and she giggles at herself. “I don’t know, Harry. You’re just so good. I love it. I love you. That was incredible. I mean, seriously, that was so intense yet so simple. It literally was--”

“Foreplay,” Harry says, cutting her off. His fingers wrap gently around her throat, giving it a slight squeeze that makes her jaw drop. “That was just foreplay, baby.”

In an instant he’s moving, never once removing his hand from her throat. He’s squirming to get his pants undone with one hand, but given the somewhat awkward position he’s in, he can’t. Roni wastes no time, reaching down to do the job herself, and Harry beams. “That’s right,” Harry says, his voice low in the back of his throat. “Get me undone, will you?.”

Roni fumbles with the zipper and the button, but she seems in a daze with the way Harry’s hand feels around her neck. He’s almost worried that he’s doing too much, maybe squeezing a bit too hard or whatever, when he hears it.

“Harder,” she whispers. “Harry… Can you choke me harder? Please?”

Harry can’t even attempt to hide his surprise. “H-harder?” he stutters.

“Please,” she whines. They seem to remember at the same time that her hands are on the buttons of his pants, and she hurries to finish the job she started.

As soon as his pants are unfastened he removes his hand from her neck and scrambles, somewhat awkwardly, to get them off. Roni has to shuffle off of him briefly as he kicks the pants off, and before she can even do anything, Harry is yanking her by her hips back on top of him. She shrieks as she falls onto him, minding his now bare cock tickling between her legs, and she reaches behind her to undo the buttons of her dress.

“Now me,” she breathes. “Let’s get this off so I can—“

Harry reaches up, taking her hand in his. “No,” he says quietly. “Leave it. Wanna fuck you in it.”

Roni shivers, licking at her lips before gulping and smiling faintly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Harry nods, lowering her hands. “May I?”

The fact that he’s even asking melts Roni’s heart, and all she can manage is a soft nod. Then Harry’s off, gripping her hips and shuffling both of them so that she’s hovering over him.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, brushing their noses together before Roni shifts slightly, sinking down onto him.

He instantly lets out a moan as she sinks lower, and her breath hitches as she tries to adjust to the size of him. She grips his shoulders, and Harry doesn’t dare move-- giving her a moment to get used to the feeling. She licks her lips, and Harry bumps her nose with his own, coaxing her as gently as he can.

“Doin’ so good,” he says softly. “Feel good?”

“Mhm.” Roni sighs, “Feels so good.”

“Can you move, bunny? Need a minute?”

“It’s good,” Roni breathes, kissing at his jaw. “I’m good. Fuck.”

She starts rocking her hips gently, which takes Harry by surprise. He inhales sharply through his teeth. “Fuck, baby,” he whines, practically choking on his own pleasure. “Keep going.”

Roni rolls her hips again, shuddering when she manages to sink just a fraction of a bit deeper on him. She glances down at where their bodies are connected-- although it’s mostly covered by the thick fabric of her skirt.

Harry seems to read her mind, because he removes a hand from her hip and presses it gently to her lower abdomen. “Feel me here?” he asks. “In your tummy?”

Roni nods, obviously overly-sensitive, as tears brim her eyes. “Feels so fucking good,” she whimpers.

Harry is almost shocked at how filthy they’re being. Sure they’ve talked dirty before, many times, but tonight feels different. Especially now that Harry knows what Roni is really into.

Which reminds him…

Harry reaches up under Roni’s thick skirt, gripping at the skin of her ass and digging his nails in, only slightly-- before giving her bare skin a nice smack.

Roni gasps, clearly taken aback, and Harry grins against her mouth. “Y’like that?”

He isn’t only asking because it’s part of talking dirty-- he’s also asking because he’s genuinely curious that he’s doing alright. Although, if the moans dripping from Roni’s pretty lips are any sort of indication as to how she’s feeling right now, Harry assumes he’s doing a pretty decent job.

Roni nods, head lulling back as she rides him. “Fuck—fuck!”

Harry rubs over the spot he’s just smacked before striking another blow. Roni hisses through her teeth, whimpering a soft, “oh god, Harry” through choking moans.

Harry gulps, clearly losing his composure but trying with all his might to keep up the dominance act. “Love the way you squeeze me when I do that,” he groans. “Could get used to that.”

Roni lets out a pitiful grunt, dropping her head to rest her forehead against Harry’s shoulder. “Please,” she cries. “Feels so good.”

Harry grips onto her hips so tightly it makes her yelp, and he’s certain there’s going to be bruises left behind tomorrow. He guides her hips gently as she rides him, and he trembles with each roll of her hips.

Roni tilts her head to sponge wet, lazy kisses along his neck and the underside of his ear, and the sound of her labored breathing turns Harry on more than he’s ever thought possible. She takes his earlobe lightly between her teeth, and he can’t help the little moan that escapes between his grunts as he relishes in the feeling of both pleasure and pain.

It’s what Roni says next that practically tips him over the edge.

“Harry?”

“Mm?” Harry closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her walls clenched tightly around him.

“Choke me.”

It takes Harry a moment to blink back the fog in his eyes and actually comprehend what she’s asking, but once he’s processed it it’s a request he is all too happy to comply with. He trails his hand up her arm before clasping his fingers on either side of her neck. The way her breath hitches in her throat at his actions is enough to make him want to scream.

“Of course, baby.”.

As smoothly as he can manage, he gently guides her off of him by her hips, lazily kissing against her mouth as he lays her down on her back. His prick immediately misses her warmth as they awkwardly get situated on the couch.

Harry reaches down to take her legs in his hands, draping them over his own shoulders and leaving her entirely exposed up to him. He licks his lips when he sees exactly how wet she is, and she squirms a bit— realizing what a vulnerable position she’s in. Harry smiles reassuringly down at her, muttering a quick “fuck, you’re beautiful,” and delighting when she visibly relaxes.

Roni wiggles a bit more, using her elbows to position herself correctly against the throw pillow on his couch, and Harry holds his throbbing cock in his hand, ready to reinsert it as soon as possible. As soon as he thinks she’s ready, he positions himself as best as he can, but Roni holds up a hand to stop him.

“Wait, careful!”

Harry raises a confused eyebrow at her, and she gestures down to the skirt of her dress that’s now pooling, unladylike, around her hips. “It was your idea to keep this on,” she points out. “But it’s not my dress. So don’t get it dirty.”

Harry chuckles. “I’ll try,” he says, feeling a bit of the intensity between them melt (in the softest way). “No promises though.” He moves to insert himself between her thighs again, but she stops him again.

“You break it, you buy it.”

Harry grins, amused, down at her. “What?”

Roni, realizing Harry has probably never heard that phrase before in his life, giggles and shakes her head. “Nevermind. Just fuck me. But like, you know, carefully.”

Harry’s grin turns into a deep smirk that makes Roni’s thighs twitch. “Like I said,” he says, teasing at her entrance with his tip, “no promises.”

He enters her quickly, causing them both to gasp at how sensitive they’re feeling— especially with this new position leaving her far more open to him than before. The sound of her gasp, however, reminds Harry that he’s got a job to do. So he reaches down, wrapping his large hand gently around Roni’s throat, and squeezing the sides.

It’s uncharted territory for him, of course, but the look in Roni’s eyes is enough to make him realize that maybe he has a thing for choking as well. Her hair is disheveled and her mascara is a bit smudged around her eyes, although that seems to be the least of her worries. She doesn’t look scared; if anything her face looks almost challenging. She blinks up at him and mutters a single word.

“Harder.”

A curl falls into Harry’s face and he stares dumbly back down at her, processing her request. “Harder, baby?”

Roni reaches up, grasping at his wrist and squeezing. “Harder.”

Harry gulps, tightening his grip around her throat. He is careful not to fully block her airway of course, focusing the pressure instead on the sides of her neck. She shivers letting out a garbled moan.

“Fuck,” she rasps. “That’s it. Fuck me, please.”

And who is Harry to deny her?

He keeps his grip on her neck tight, leaning forward into her so his torso is almost against hers, and she squirms from her spot beneath him. Harry can feel her heels kicking into his shoulder blades but the dull ache they leave behind feels good and only fuels him to move faster.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “fucking hell.”

He allows his weary head to drop, burying his face in her neck and suckling at the spot beneath her ear. His grip loosens, but he has to grab onto the throw pillow beneath her head with his other hand for support.

“Gonna cum,” he groans. “Veronica, I’m--”

“Cum for me,” Roni chokes out in a whining little cry. “C’mon baby.”

Harry lets out a grunt far louder than intended, and he knows he’s only got a few seconds left. He slows his thrusts, despite everything in him screaming at him to speed it up. “Where do you want me?” He pants out.

Roni opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out flatly and blinking innocently up at him. The sight beneath him is so fucking filthy that the act of pulling out of her is almost enough to finish him off.

She twitches at the feeling of his absence before he scrambles to get himself positioned just right— lowering her legs and straddling her awkwardly while she sits up, and positioning his hand at the base of his cock.

It only takes a few pumps before he’s coming, thick hot ropes right into her tongue. He tries to aim as best as he can, but a few drops inevitably land on her cheeks and in her hair. She waits patiently for him to finish, moaning filthily at the taste. Harry’s nearly blinded by his own pleasure when he feels Roni wiggle beneath him, and he remembers she has yet to have an orgasm of her own.

Harry removes his hand from her throat as his orgasm comes to a stop, pausing briefly to catch his breath before reaching down to rub at her clit. She jolts at the contact, then immediately lets her head drop back.

“You going to cum for me now, honey? Hm?”

Roni wiggles her hips against the vibrations of his fingers, paying no mind to the way she knocks the throw pillows off of the couch. “Feels good,” she gasps, “feels so good.”

Harry thinks maybe he should choke her again, and he moves to do so. However, no sooner is his hand raised than Roni is coming, hard and quick and loud. Her toes curl and her back arches, and she lets out a wet moan that has Harry’s own tummy clenching. Her thighs quiver deliciously, and Harry notes the beautiful little goosebumps that prickle at her skin.

Desperately, Roni reaches for his free hand, clumsily interlacing her fingers with his. Harry takes her hand willingly, giving it a strong squeeze to hold her steady. Her orgasm is powerful, washing over her like a violent storm, and Harry gives her hand another squeeze in order to ground her.

Harry knows she’s finished when she collapses against the cushions, and he allows his fingertips to linger against her clit a few moments longer-- if only for purely selfish reasons. He wants to make her moan like that again. He wants her to feel good.

Harry doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his chest starts aching, and he allows himself a few gulping breaths-- hardly daring to move until Roni has come back down to earth. He watches her intently, giving her as much time as she needs to recover (and delighting in the way her thighs quiver with aftershocks). After a few moments of heavy breathing, Roni opens her eyes and gives Harry the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen.

“Hi,” she rasps out.

Harry chuckles, giving her hand another steady squeeze. “Hi-ya, Princess.”

Roni swallows, cheeks growing hot, and Harry can tell that she’s a little embarrassed suddenly. He smiles, pulling the skirt of the dress down to cover her exposed bits and perhaps make her feel slightly less vulnerable.

“I do like that, you know,” she says softly. “‘Princess,’ I mean.”

Harry nods. “Yeah? Well I’ll have to keep that in mind then, won’t I?”

His words are a gentle blow to the stomach as Roni remembers once again that her time left here with him is short. Harry seems to remember this at the same time, because he lets out a soft, nasally sigh and allows his eyes to close for just a moment.

“Anyway,” he says, his cock flopping triumphantly against his thigh and making Roni giggle. “We should get cleaned up. Think the tub is callin’ our names, don’t you?”

Roni smiles, sitting up a bit. “A bath sounds heavenly,” she sighs. “Thank you.”

Harry nods, moving like he’s going to get off of her but stopping himself. He wants to savor this moment-- really take it all in. Remember the way she looks beneath him, fucked out and messy but as pretty as ever. Hair perfectly styled to fit the times but lovingly tousled by the intense lovemaking they’ve just shared. Roni squirms a bit under his gaze, then laughs softly.

“What?”

“Can I say something without you getting annoyed?”

Roni’s smile drops, and she narrows her eyes. “Uh… probably not,” she teases.

Harry laughs. “Just… gonna miss you. That’s all.”

Roni frowns, sitting up on her elbows. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that tonight.”

“We weren’t,” Harry says. “We aren’t. I just… you know, I had to say it.”

“Did you have to, though?” There's a hint of playfulness in Roni’s toni, and it makes Harry laugh again.

“Just wanted to make sure you knew,” he says. “That’s all.”

“Well for the record,” Roni sighs, “I’m really going to miss you too. But we’re not talking about that.”

“No, we’re not.”

There’s a moment of charged silence, in which the two lovers smile playfully at one another-- their eyes doing all of their communicating for them. Roni tucks her lip between her teeth mischievously, as if there’s something more she wants to say, and Harry simply cannot take it anymore. He’s so overwhelmed by how much he loves her, and so giddy at how easy it is to be comfortable and silly around her. (And the fact that he’s going to miss her so much only pushes him to want to do everything he can for her.)

In one swift movement, he’s up, picking her up by the hips and clumsily yanking her up off the sofa. She squeals, stumbling as she’s swept off her feet and into his arms. “Harry!”

It’s almost silly how awkwardly he stands, his prick hanging limp and proud while he holds her. She squirms in his arms when he begins walking, trying her best to get comfortable— which proves to be very hard with the heavy skirt weighing her down.

“What are you doing?!” She giggles.

“Carrying the princess to her royal bath, of course.”

Roni rolls her eyes. “Oh my god. You’re so embarrassing.”

In retaliation, Harry moves like he’s going to drop her, causing her to screech and hold on to him tighter. “Harry!”

“Careful,” Harry giggles, kicking the bathroom door open with his foot. “Or I’ll drop ya!”

Contrary to his words, Harry sets Roni gently down on the counter, pressing a soft kiss to her nose before moving to turn on the faucet.

“Now then,” he asks. “We haven’t got many options as far as soap goes. What would you like?”

“What are my options?” Roni swings her legs daintily.

“Lavender,” Harry says, matter-of-factly.

Roni waits for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, she snorts. “Hmm… not sure I like that. Got any vanilla?”

Harry grins right back at her, testing the water from the faucet with his fingertips. “Lavender it is.”

They spend the rest of their night like this, laughing together while sharing lazy, wet kisses and washing one another. Roni comments on a particularly nice bruise she’s left on Harry’s shoulder and Harry admires how red Roni’s behind is.

“Got you pretty good then, didn’t I?”

After the bath they take turns rubbing lotion into one another’s skin— which of course leads to another session of lovemaking, much gentler and softer than before. It doesn’t take Harry long to fall asleep on Roni’s chest, breathing in sync with her and relishing in the way that she scratches gently at his scalp.

Roni takes a long whiff in through her nose for what feels like the fiftieth time this evening— taking in the delicious scent of the beautiful sleeping boy on her chest and trying to ignore the thought that keeps lingering in her mind.

She loves him. And she is really, really going to miss him.

#Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #One Direction fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #One Direction AU #AU #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #One Direction fluff #fluff #Harry Styles smut #Harry smut #One Direction smut #smut

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pukanavis · 2 years ago

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Exciting Blue Sea・Exa Peta Summer Vacation Pt 2 - KNoCC’s Summer Vacation

Esora: —Hello, Alto? How are things going on the island?

Alto: “It's wonderful here! We're outside but since they’ve got a secure control on the temperature, I don’t even need to wear a cape.”

“We’ve already spoken with the manager and they said we’re free to spend the rest of our visit however we like.”

Esora: That’s great to hear. This is a special opportunity so be sure to have as much fun as you can.

Alto: “We will! —But, are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“There wasn’t a limit on the number of people that could go so you could’ve come with us…”

Esora: I have some work to do that I can’t get out of. It can’t be helped.

You guys just enjoy yourselves for me and find some inspiration for your live show. I hope you’ll tell me all about your trip once you get back.

Alto: “Of course! I won’t just tell you stories though, I’ll bring you back a gift too.”

Esora: I’ll be waiting. —Okay then, I’ll see you in three days.

A beach resort, huh…? It feels like I’m hearing about lost technology.[1]

Eliza: The majority of the waterways in the urban area are composed of sea water. I have my doubts that it’s really necessary to travel all that way…

Esora: This is different from that. For our generation, the ocean is everywhere.

Since it’s right by us, we don’t pay it any mind…we practically view it as just another roadway.

Swimming at a beach like people used to do in the past is an incredibly new experience for them.

Eliza: There’s no data indicating that the seawater there is any different so I can only assume that the difference is something that can’t be expressed in numerical form?

Esora: At the very least, I’m sure this will have a wonderful impact on their kokoro’s. I’m eager to see what flares up inside of them after this.

—Besides…it’s my turn to watch the house.

Eliza: Is there something you’re concerned about?

Esora: Quite the opposite, actually. I think it’s quite nice to be the one waiting for the others for a change.

♡　♡　♡

Cobalt: Ta-daaa! Look, look, Doctor! Does it suit me!?

Alto: Yeah! You look great, Cobalt.

Kei: It was recommended that I wear this but…does it actually serve any purpose?

Chrom: It’s made from a waterproof material that increases your resistance to water which I believe is purposeful enough. You aren’t able to go in wearing your regular clothes, after all.

Besides, dressing like you’re ready to swim and wearing your favourite designs can even have an uplifting effect on your mood.

Neon: …I chose this one. It’s cute.

Kei: …I see. There’s even one of those ‘uplifted’ guys right here.

Neon: Yeah…it’s nice. You look good in yours too, Doctor.

Alto: Thank you. I wonder how long it’s been since I last wore a swimsuit?

Cobalt: You’ve been ‘swimming’ before?

Alto: I have. Although, that being said, it was only in an indoor pool. This is my first time actually swimming in the ocean…

Y'know, I never thought I’d ever dress like this outside. It feels kind of strange.

Chrom: The barrier debilitates the heat and ultraviolet rays. Without it, humans wouldn’t be able to have their skin exposed.

Kei: In the past, humans wore swimsuits at the beach too? Honestly, it feels hard to believe.

Cobalt: Anyways, let’s hurry up and jump in the water! Wait, but there’s beach sports I wanna play too!? It looks like they even have rides over there!

Kei: Calm down. You’ll fall over again if you keep getting distracted.

Alto: We have plenty of time so let’s just enjoy all of the fun things one after the other!

Cobalt: Okay!!

Back | Next

Lost technology refers to prominent technologies from the past that may still remain today but are unable to be restored due to the techniques and materials used to create said technologies not being passed down through the generations. A few examples of this are garum, Russian calf and a variety of old Japanese swords.

#cobalt #neon #kei #chrom #eliza #esora

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curly-bangtan · 5 years ago

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Blizzard (M)

Pairing: roommate!Jungkook x reader

Summary: When a blizzard hits your town, you and your shy awkward roommate are forced to spend time together, not being able to leave the house due to the strong snowstorm. To make matters worse, the power gets cut in the middle of his shower. Which also means no heating.

Genre: roommate au, domestic au, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers

Warnings: bit of a slow burner, vanilla!Jungkook, virgin!reader, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), losing virginity, shy soft boy Koo with a crush and a noona kink, your heart could possibly burst from how cute he is

Word Count: 15.5k oops

A/N: (This fic is written in parallel to Heatwave, with an opposing concept in mind. You don’t have to read Heatwave to read this, but it would be interesting and funny to see the differences in the two scenarios that both lead to roommates hooking up.) Also, happy birthday, bunny boy! Sorry this was a day late, I was honestly swarmed. I love you, koo. Writing this very much gave me a bias crisis but it was all worth it. Enjoy! :”)

PS. Think April 2019 Jungkook

‘A severe snowstorm is set to hit us this weekend with temperatures dropping down to -16˚C. It is therefore ill-advised for anyone to leave their houses during this period until the blizzard subsides as the fifth snow-induced traffic accident has been reported this week in our town…’

You have always marvelled at how the weather lady announces such things with such a passionate captivating tone.

‘The calculated probability of a city-wide power cut is currently at 72%, so please be well-equipped to stay indoors for the next two days.’

Oh shit. A power cut?

This is not good at all. Not like you have any plans for this weekend anyway, and you wouldn’t necessarily mind being stuck inside since you are good at entertaining yourself. But to possibly have no warm water, no internet in the duration of these few days?

You are currently snugly rolled up in the warmth of your blanket burrito, a mug of chamomile tea fitted in your hands, the steam of which evaporates under your chin into a slick coat. Friday evenings have never been eventful for you as long as Jimin doesn’t drag you out to some bar with him. As introverted as one can get, you much prefer staying in and watching TV or endlessly browsing the web.

The distinct rattling of keys spins your attention to the front door. Hearing the plunge of the metal into the keyhole is strangely satisfying to your ears. In steps a pink-nosed, frost-dusted Jungkook, all wrapped up in winter apparel thick enough to make him waddle clumsily.

A gust of cold flares inside from the harsh outdoors, stray flakes of snow flying in after him and landing on the rich oak tiles of the foyer. From the couch, you see his silhouette breathe out a visible grey huff. The door behind him falls shut, once again entrapping the warm temperature into the confines of these walls.

You watch your roommate, humming to himself with his black earpods hooked in his ears, as he unties the scarf around his neck. He probably hasn’t noticed your presence yet; he’s always been a little clueless afterall.

Then he looks up and meets your lingering gaze.

You both jump a little, his humming ceases instantly, eyes scrambling, darting away to your surroundings: the quiet television, the arching lamp, the white powdered window panes. Anywhere but at each other.

Clearing your throat, you greet him softly . ‘Hi.’ Your thumb rubs at the lip-shaped tea stain on the rim of your mug.

‘Um, hi. Good evening, noona.’ He dips his head at you, hood drooping lower over his head. You are two years his senior, and despite your supposed familiarity, he insists on formalities.

The weather lady has now been replaced with the anchorman, who is droning on about the car accident this morning. Awkwardness hangs in the air between you, as it always does every time you speak. It’s now your turn to say something, you’re painfully aware. But what do you say?

‘Snow storm.’ It is a statement more than anything. As if he hasn’t noticed… Nice one. You immediately want to hide your face in the mint furry throw you’re wrapped in.

‘Yeah. Snow storm.’ The rubbery sound of the careless removal of his shoes against the floor is louder than his response. ‘Jimin didn’t make it.’

Your blood freezes. ‘Wait what?! Oh my god! What happened to him?’ It takes the blanket sliding off you for you to realise that you’ve stood up abruptly. Your body is immediately flushed with a breeze of cold, devoid of insulation.

The car accident… It can’t be…

Jungkook’s attention flickers to the glaring screen as he paces towards you and realises how he must’ve sounded. ‘Woah, sorry, I worded it badly. I mean, Jimin’s stuck at Taehyung’s because the snow is too thick for him to drive back. And the service on his phone is whack, so he can’t reach you. Taehyung told me. Sorry, I didn’t mean he didn’t make it.’ Nervous chuckle. Scratching the back of his head.

Never has he said this many words to you in one go, this must be a record. That, as well as your own silly misunderstanding of his words, makes you release a humoured breath. ‘Oh right… Haha… I’m stupid.’

‘No. my bad.’

Wow. If you two keep this up, this might just be your longest running conversation in the history of living together.

Because he’s looking at the floor rather than you, you feel the liberation to look directly at his face. His round nose is red from the freezing temperature, his teeth gnawing at his chapped lips. You follow his gaze travel across the dark wooden panels, reaching a halt at your feet.

‘You’ve got a hole in your sock, noona.’ He states.

Indeed you do. Under his wide-eyed glare, you can’t help but curl your toes inwards as if it would hide your pinkie jutting out of the fabric. The way he addresses you, how his lips form a pouted ring when he pronounces the “oo”, makes you particularly self conscious. ‘Oh… Yeah, I know, it’s fine. It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’ These socks have sheltered your feet for three winters only to betray you now, during a bloody blizzard. The icy floor licks at your exposed skin tauntingly.

Silence draws taut between you. Like you’re tied to opposite ends of a string and are both trying desperately to escape, to walk away from each other.

It’s his move now… Why isn’t he saying something? But at the same time, what can he possibly respond to ‘It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’?

‘Right… See you.’ Jungkook nods politely and heads for his room. And you know you probably won’t see him reemerge until tomorrow; it’s practically his batcave in there.

A shudder courses through your body. Though it’s not from the cold but rather the embarrassment of that encounter. Quickly switching off the TV, you hide back in the comforts of your blanket like a Halloween ghost and scurry into your own room to avoid seeing him again.

Jeon Jungkook.

Even the thought of his name makes you crease inward involuntarily like it’s some bad memory. Despite having lived under the same roof for more or less six months, neither of you have warmed to the other in the slightest. It’s not that you have anything against him; you’re sure he must be a lovely boy, but…

Well, when you put two shy individuals next to each other, you can’t really expect them to bond over their bashfulness. No, they both tend to retract into their shells.

How you came about living together is three simple syllables: Park Jimin. If it wasn’t for this one common thread you share, your worlds would never have collided.

Ever the caring friend, it goes without saying that Jimin would rent out his vacant room in his three-bedroom house to you without even a second of hesitation after Hoseok ditches the boys to move in with his girlfriend. You’ve met all his friends before. Jimin is a social butterfly afterall, how could he resist forcing all his best mates into a confined space and make them talk to each other, or more commonly known as a party?

Namjoon and you get along just fine, seeing as you both are whores for literature. Seokjin? As long as you compliment his cooking and force a giggle at his jokes, he’ll accept your friendship. Surprisingly, Yoongi took a liking to you; you guess is due to your mild mellow nature which must clear his headaches caused by this chaotic bunch. Unsurprisingly, Hoseok took a liking to you, well, because he’s Hoseok and incapable of negativity. Much to Jimin’s jealousy, you have a soft spot for Taehyung, his mysterious charm and boyish charisma; your friendship was almost instant.

But then Jungkook…

Your introduction was a blur of awkward hellos and unmet eyes. Every time you spoke to each other, it’s a nervous stutter from him or unwarranted silence from you. Worse, if the two of you happened to bump into each other in public, neither of you knew whether or not to say hi and commence a conversation like normal acquainted people, so it always ended up being an uncomfortably long pause before nodding out of courtesy then parting ways. It’s not like you belong to the same friendship group and see each other every week or anything.

Jungkook’s playful childisness shines brightly when surrounded by the boys, witch-cackle laugh and all. However, for some reason unbeknownst to anyone, this goofy side to him is immediately switched off in your presence, as if you’re the rain that extinguishes the flame of his candle. His body stiffens, eyes widen, voice stammers. Which only leads you to mirror his behaviour.

‘He’s just really uncomfortable around girls.’ Jimin has tried to offer the only plausible explanation. ‘Poor kid went to an all boys’ school his whole life, has only ever had one girlfriend who dumped him on their one year anniversary. Your femaleness scares him.’

That would be kind of cute, you guess, if you weren’t also a socially-uncomfortable hermit who requires soft gentle prodding in order to befriend. Because then you become two logs sitting beside each other, neither willing to inch towards the other.

Forgive Jimin’s mistake of thinking that sharing a roof would change this. Because how wrong was he… If anything, it only led to increased timidity around each other.

When you first moved in, Jungkook was eager to help you carry and unpack everything, seeing as he is the most physically apt person in the house. So you thought that it was his first step towards you, and that your dynamic was finally making progress into becoming one that’s more comfortable. He even lingered around your room the first few days with Jimin to help you open all your cardboard boxes.

However, he has since struggled to utter more than five words to you. Which has continued forth until this day. In the morning rush to class, you never encounter him due to your proneness to punctuality and his to tardiness. If you ever do, it’s only ever just a quick good morning, noona without looking up from his cereal. You both enjoy the safety of your own rooms, hence rarely peak your head out unless it’s for food. Jimin is always the one to drag you out by the foot, even if its just to his room or the sofa to watch a film with him. You say drag, but really you just enjoy seeing Jimin all pouty and whiny and sucking up to you in order to earn precious quality time with you; you actually enjoy being around Jimin. It’s worse for Jungkook though because he has his own ensuite bathroom, orders Deliveroo instead of coming out to eat with you two, and only ever joins social gatherings that you’re also involved in if a high enough bribe is offered.

Hence the time you and Jungkook are exposed to each other gradually diminished over time despite being roommates. At first you only suspected, but now you know for a fact, that he is purposely avoiding you like the plague.

It baffles you, if Jimin’s theory is true, how he could possibly be scared of you, regardless of his shyness towards the female specimen. Look at you, you’re this soft-mannered, quiet-spoken creature with a meek presence. You have more reason to be intimidated by his melon-sized biceps and aggressive shouts that echo from his room when he’s gaming at 2am.

So due to this mutually reciprocated mousiness, this awkward friendship-but-not-quite thing, has never been overcome in these months.

This is not a result of lack of trying, at least from your end. You do try to talk to him, exerting enough friendliness to burst your balloon of introversion. And you suppose he does make as much effort as he can as well. He once left you a note telling you to help yourself to the leftover pizza in the fridge. On your birthday, he gave you a card in which he drew cute little cartoon illustrations of you three housemates and wrote a short message.

Happy birthday, Y/N noona!

You are such a kind person, I hope we can speak more.

Jungkook :)

You thought the exclamation mark and smiley face were above and beyond for his standards. It made you smile for the rest of the day.

It’s 6:23pm and your growling stomach is exacerbated by the cold that has made itself at home in your bones. You’ve always been an early dinner person while Jimin and Jungkook are the opposite.

You’ve managed to get a hold of Jimin through Taehyung; your FaceTime call with him lasted a total of twelve minutes before the connection got too poor that it hung up on its own. Berating Jimin for leaving you alone with Jungkook, especially in this snow storm where everyone is basically on house arrest, all he did was laugh at your feign annoyance. You know it isn’t Jimin’s fault but you still like to blame him for all the awkward predicaments that are bound to happen.

After this chapter of the book you’re reading, you’ll go out to the kitchen and make some dinner, you decide.

Wait a second... Do you even have enough food in the pantry to last a whole weekend? Particularly since Jungkook can easily demolish three bowls of rice and a whole pound of meat, and still have room for dessert?

Looking out the window, you realise it’s snowing way too hard for you to feel confident to pop to the nearest grocery store without slipping and dying.

Shit! What are you going to eat these few days? Especially since the electricity can cut any minute?

Just then, you hear the echo of the front door shutting. Oh no… Jungkook did not just go out in this weather. He probably noticed the lack of food as well and decided to go for a shop. You know what he’s like, he’s a boy who’s really certain of his capabilities, over certain in fact. He probably does not see the hazard of leaving the house in such heavy snow, especially in the evening. Because nothing stands in the way between Jungkook and Food.

Do you go after him? Hell, if you do, you would probably get lost somewhere and slowly freeze to your inevitable death. You can barely navigate in perfect daylight.

Scrambling for your phone, you begin searching for his number. You’ve embarrassingly only called him once, and that was when you and Jimin got locked out of the house after a pub night.

No one is picking up.

In fact, when you check your screen, you don’t even have signal. The blizzard must be getting so bad that it’s refracting the radio waves. Which means it’s even worse for Jungkook to be out right now.

He’s such an idiot. Why did he think it’s okay to just take a walk to the supermarket right now in the middle of a snow storm? You’re such an idiot. Why were you too lazy to stock up on food during the day?

You pace around your room, phone clutched in your hand in case you miraculously get signal somehow. How on earth would you explain to Jimin that your roommate, his friend, whom he left in your care since you’re his senior, went out in a blizzard to buy food that you were supposed to have gotten this morning, and ended up dead from hypothermia?

Are you overreacting? Surely you’re overreacting. Everything is going to be fine! Deep breaths.

He’s going to come back any minute now and see you losing your mind over nothing. Right? Right.

Jungkook isn’t going to die. You’re being paranoid. Ridiculous. Overly anxious as usual.

But you can’t help yourself from pressing your face against your window to try to peek outside for a sign of him. The glass is ice cold against your skin, and it sends a blood-chilling shock through your veins. You can barely make out any shapes in the sea of greys and whites.

If you can’t even see out the window, how is he walking outside right now?

Screw it, you’re going to find him.

You’re a tornado getting dressed, whipping on your massive faux-fur lined puffer coat over two layers of fleece. A pair of gloves, double layer of socks, snow boots. Useless phone and hand warmers shoved in your pockets, you storm out of the house.

The cold that greets you burns up your nostrils and painfully invade your lungs. Snow is flying directly at your face, and you’re barely sheltered by your hood as you feel the icy flakes stab at your skin and melt away. Step by wary step, you steadily walk off your porch, careful not to slip. Your heart leaps out of your chest when your feet sink down at least 10 inches of snow, your squeal is muffled by the scarf you’re using as a ski mask.

It’s now been at least 10 minutes since he’s left. Jungkook is a fast walker, but in the snow, perhaps you could catch up with him.

The flickering lamp posts light up the night, but they may as well not be working because all you can see is white. Barely able to keep your eyes open, and batting away the heavy wind that’s threatening to blow you over, you trek in the direction of the local supermarket.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you realise that you don’t recognise the way anymore. Everything is a blur of snow. The cars, houses, street signs. All snow. Google maps is failing you; you’ve given up removing your gloves each time, your fingers instantly freezing at the exposure, to zoom in or rotate the navigation which keeps hopping from location to location.

You’re utterly and undeniably - lost.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you just plop down on your ass in defeat.

Where the hell are you? Where the hell is Jungkook?

Fear and frustration bubbles in your chest. It must have been half an hour now since you left the house. Surely he should be back, and surely he would’ve intercepted you on the way. That could either mean one of two possibilities: he got lost, slash, injured, slash, died on his way, or you have somehow strayed from the route to the store and he’s now frantically searching for you.

The lump in your throat festers into a ball of panic and despair. Looking around you, there’s absolutely no one. Just eerily-still buildings and snow-hidden cars. The only sound is the howl of the winter gust and your own uneven breathing.

You’re scared, and cold, and alone.

Why the hell did you think you could find him in this snow storm? You watch your warm visible exhale disperse in the icy air, the stinging of desperate tears piercing the back of your eyes. What are you supposed to do now?

And then it hits you. Perhaps you could trace your steps back since your feet have imprinted a trail in the snow. Looking behind you, you see that the downpour of snow has already began filling the footprints nearest to you. You’re praying that they haven’t already entirely covered your earlier steps closer to the house.

Gathering yourself together, you exert a lot of effort to stand up from the ground. Your butt is now wet, and a damp chill is seeping into your underwear. Determined, you follow your footsteps, which are growing fainter, back home.

You’re hoping you recognise the way now, that you’re not just convincing yourself that the street looks familiar.

Then an awful realisation hits you.

Both your hands are stuffed into your pockets, holding those hand-warming packets and your phone. But not your keys. You forgot your keys.

‘Fuck!’ Cursing is rare for you, but anyone would probably deem this situation as a very reasonable one to swear at.

Hot gushes of tears begin flooding down your face, painting streaks of cold that freeze over in a matter of seconds. How could you be this dumb? The snow is getting heavier right now. Checking the time on your phone, it’s 7 o’clock. The streetlights are dimming due to the weather, and the pitch dark night is starting to settle in around you.

You sink to a crouch.

This is it then, you guess. You’ve met your inexorable demise, rooted from your own stupidity. And Jungkook.

You can’t believe you’re going to die trying to find Jungkook in a goddamn snow storm.

The quiet sobs and sniffles that escape you are muted by the hood around your ears. A shiver overtakes your body as your muscles tremble as a last attempt to keep you alive. Your whole face is numb, teeth clattering, eyes clamped shut to stop the tears from freezing on your cheeks.

‘Noona?’

The voice is muffled but you recognise it instantly. Your eyes fly open to see a pair of shoes halted in front of you. You look up.

And there Jungkook is, eyes wide in shock, quivering lips parted in concern, carrying four plastic bags full of food and supplies. The streetlight situated directly behind him shines a halo around his head, painting a heavenly image of him. You’ve never been more glad to see anyone in your life.

Unable to contain yourself, you fling your ice-stiffened arms around his waist and bury your face in his coat-clad torso. Your knees give in and hit the ground. New tears spring from your eyes, but this time it’s tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of gratitude. A surge of his warmth washes over you, and all of a sudden, the cold cannot touch you.

‘W-What happened? Are you- Are you okay?’ Jungkook is rooted to the ground, he wants to wrap an arm around your small head or help you up but his hands are full with the groceries.

Gripping his sleeves, you tug yourself up to face him. You probably look like a mess, red eyes, nose and cheeks. But you don’t care. Jungkook is alive, you’re alive, and you’ve found each other. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, Jungkook. Everything is fine.’

‘You’re crying, noona.’ His ears are neatly tucked under his black knitted beanie.

‘Not anymore, I’m good now.’ Ferociously wiping the liquids profusely leaking out of your orifices, you give him the biggest grin your frozen cheek muscles would allow. ‘Let’s go home. Do you need help with the bags?’

‘No, don’t worry about them.’

Standing an inch apart, you walk side by side following his lead, assuming he knows the way. The material of your coats scrape at each other when either of you leans a bit too far towards the other.

‘What are you doing out here though?’ He asks quietly.

What are you doing out here? How do you give him an explanation that does not depict you as an idiot? Because once again, you’ve been stupid and dramatic and stressed over absolutely nothing. It’s twice in the same day now that you thought one of your roommates have died. When both of them turned out to be alive and well.

‘Um… Well, I thought it was dangerous for you to go outside alone in this weather, especially since it’s getting dark... I tried calling you but had no signal so, uh, I decided to... uh, come out to find you…’ Embarrassment begins to creep it’s way to your senses, it claws digging into your skin.

You peak at him in your peripheral vision to see him stiffen, eyes eerily focused on the snowy path in front. What is he thinking? Is he going to laugh at you? Think you’re dumb? Find you weird and obsessive?

‘Oh… Um.’ Clearing his throat, he glances at you and you quickly look away. Flustered. ‘You didn’t have to, I’m fine. I know this neighbourhood like the back of my hand, noona.’

‘Yeah, but you took so long. I got worried…’ You whisper the last bit.

An awkward pause is birthed. Your fists tighten around the hand warmers in your pockets.

‘I- I’m sorry for worrying you, noona.’ You hear his own fists tighten around the handle of bags as well, the plastic crinkling. ‘The supermarket around the corner was shut so I had to find another one that wasn’t. I made it just in time, though, right before this one closed as well. Then I also had to find a store that sells those so-’ He stops abruptly when he realises that he’s rambling.

‘Sells what?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Jungkook mumbles.

Another silence. The night has fallen, looking around, if it isn’t for the scarce light casted by the lamp posts, everything would be pitch dark. You’re so glad you’re not alone. Worse come to worse, you would’ve had to knock on these random houses and beg them to take you in for the night.

‘Wait,’ he says, ‘That doesn’t explain why you were crying.’

Well, crap. What are you supposed to say?

‘Uhh… Well, I got lost and my phone wasn’t working, so… I just kinda panicked.’ If your face wasn’t red from the cold and embarrassment from before, it definitely is now. You feel the blood pumping to your head, enough to make you sway a little.

‘Oh shit. I’m sorry, that was all my fault. I- I should’ve told you I was popping out in the first place. Ugh, noona, I’m sorry.’ You’ve never seen him display much emotion towards you, but currently, seeing him so alive with exasperation… It’s kind of endearing.

Screw earlier, this is the longest conversation the two of you have had, ever.

‘No, Jungkook, stop apologising. It wasn’t your fault at all!’

To be fair, you couldn’t have wandered that far if Jungkook found you on his way back from whatever shop he went to; you must’ve been close at least.

And so you two arrive safely to your house. Carefully wobbling up the porch slippery with slush, you stop in front of the door.

He looks at you expectantly. ‘Keys, noona?’ Of course, his hands are full.

Here you are, thinking you could’ve gotten away with not telling him you had moronically left your keys at home. ‘Um, I forgot to bring them with me.’ You utter, then add. ‘I was in a hurry.’

For a second, Jungkook looks like he’s about to tell you off for endangering yourself with such stupidity. But he just lets out a half-laugh half-sigh and bites down on his lip. ‘Mine are in my left, no, right back jean pocket.’

Right. He is asking you to get his keys from his back pocket.

His back pocket.

You freeze.

You’ve never so much as touched Jungkook, if you don’t count brushing shoulders. Hugging him back there was purely out of hysteria, which you retracted from the second you registered your action. Now, you’re going to grope his ass. This day just keeps getting you more familiar with him, doesn’t it?

Gulping, you suck up your cowardice and slide your hand into his back pocket, intentionally not looking at him while doing so. The firmness of his buttcheek fits snugly in your palm while your index finger hooks around his keyring. And what the hell, you strangely get the urge to squeeze it.

You yank your hand out of there before it can betray you and act on that impulse. Glimpsing up, you see that his cheeks are also crimson as he stares up at the ceiling a little too attentively.

After changing into some warm dry clothes and setting your snow-dampened ones on the radiator, you go out to the kitchen to see Jungkook cooking some ramen, which doesn’t come as a surprise as he practically lives off them. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a black hoodie; after cupping his ass through his back pocket, you can’t help but notice how round his rear is, especially in those bottoms.

God, what is wrong with you? You cannot seriously be checking Jungkook’s ass out.

This time his hood his down, and you appreciate how fluffy his hair is starting to grow. You can’t help but wonder what it sme-

Woah.

Why are you thinking so much about Jungkook?

Truth be told, that scare he gave you just now opened your eye as to how much you actually care about him. Despite never really saying much to each other, you guess you’ve grown a sort of fondness for him that you didn’t realise you have. It’s only natural; you have known each other for close to a year now, and half of which was spent under the same roof. Of course you would worry for his well being, you tell yourself.

The kitchen fan must be blocking his hearing because he doesn’t sense your approach, he’s singing softly to himself. He’s got a lovely voice, both your roommates do. But whereas Jimin sings loudly and proudly, Jungkook only does so in the shower or when he doesn’t think anybody is listening.

When he notices you finally, you’re peering over his shoulder. He jumps. You jump. The chopsticks he’s using to stir the noodles fly out of his hands, clattering on the counter.

‘Oh jeez, you scared me.’ He picks up the chopsticks.

‘Sorry.’ You squeak and take a step back when you realise your proximity.

‘Haha…’ He chuckles nervously, embarrassed. ‘Noona, you like jajangmyeon, right?’

Do you like jajangmyeon? You live and breathe jajangmyeon. You can’t go a week without jajangmyeon. You’ve had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner before all in one day. Those noodles in that sauce… Mmm…

‘Yeah, they’re my favourite.’ Is all you say though, you figure he probably doesn’t care for a whole speech about your love for them. Surely he knows at this point, there isn’t a single day in this house where the ramen cupboard is devoid of jajangmyeon.

‘Great, I’m making you some.’

Oh. Jungkook is cooking for you. A warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you’re not sure why.

‘You don’t have to, Jungkook. Just cook for yourself, I’ll make myself dinner after you.’ But then your stomach chooses now to bellow aloud like a bullfrog traitorously. You look at him, abashed.

A smile is playing at his lips, though he’s trying not to show it.

‘Go sit down, noona. It’ll be ready in a second.’ His eyes are fixed on the bubbling water, chopsticks hauling up the softening noodles to check their texture. Though you’ve never tasted his cooking, you don’t doubt ramen mastery, so you nod compliantly.

The bags of shopping are half unpacked on the dining table, so you decide to finish sorting them out. He’s bought gimbap, bread, cheese, some salad, mostly food that doesn’t require cooking; you can tell he has thought ahead for the potential blackout.

Then something else in the bag catches your eye.

‘Dinner’s ready.’ Jungkook carries two bowls of brown noodles, garnished with sausage and cucumber, just the way you like it.

He sets the bowls opposite each other on the end of the table that’s not packed with groceries. This feels extremely weird and domestic. Although you live together, you don’t remember the last time you’ve had a meal together on this table, just the two of you without Jimin. Yet now, you’re about to eat jajangmyeon that he cooked for you, right across each other. Extremely weird.

‘Thank you so much for cooking, Jungkook.’ You bow your head at him politely and take a seat opposite him.

‘You’re welcome, noona.’ He also mirrors your action. You can kind of understand why it must be so annoying to Jimin how you’re so formal to each other, it must sound so forced and awkward.

Which is what this meal is going to be. Forced and Awkward.

Jungkook waits for you to take the first bite before digging, which you have to do so without rolling your eyes back and moaning out loud in satisfaction. Jajangmyeon tastes so flipping good! Your one and only true love.

You’re too focused on slurping down the noodles that you don’t notice him smiling fondly at the rare sight of you so blatantly excited.

The meal goes by quietly, neither of you are talkers to begin with, much less while eating. Whether it’s because it’s your favourite dish, or because it’s a freezing cold winter day, or even maybe because it’s Jungkook’s own cooking, the food tastes especially scrumptious.

‘This is delicious.’ Your eyes are practically glowing at him; he shys away from the praise by sipping on his can of coke. Who drinks coke in this weather? A smile stretches your lips at the oddity of this boy’s taste.

Jungkook mumbles a thanks, avoiding your eye as usual. But the jajangmyeon has put you in a good mood, you’re feeling rather chatty actually. ‘Also, Jungkook, I saw you bought-’ You dig into one of the grocery bags and pull out what you spotted earlier.

‘Oh yeah.’ Jungkook stares at the two-pack of fluffy socks in your hand, wearing a slightly mortified expression. ‘Um… I thought... you could do with some new ones.’

Surprised, your whole body tenses. You had thought he bought them for himself after seeing you wear yours so comfortably. All thought flaps away from your mind like a flock of frightened birds, leaving an empty field. He- Why- What do you-

‘Oh.’ Clearing your throat, you murmur. ‘Wow, thank you so much.’ Unable to look at him for any longer, your eyes fall onto your noodles. Your hand holding the socks drop onto the table at the weight of his kindness. Then a realisation creeps up on you. ‘Wait… They don’t sell these socks in supermarkets…’

Glancing up, you find him fiddling with his fingers nervously. ‘Uh. I went to another shop that does.’

Knots upon knots begin to tie in your stomach. So that’s why he took so long out there, not only did he have to find another supermarket that was open, he also searched for a store that sells fuzzy socks. For you.

Why do you feel so warm everywhere?

When you fall into a silent trance of your own thinking, Jungkook gets worried. ‘Noona, do you not like them? Did I get the wrong ones?’

‘No, no, no!’ You frantically dispute, forcing yourself to look at him. ‘These are perfect! I’m just surprised… and touched. That’s all. Jungkook, you really didn’t have to.’ The fabric of the socks feel heavenly to touch, your thumb sinks into the clouds of its softness. Truly, this has taken you by surprise and you don’t know how to react.

‘It’s okay…’ Redness blooms across his cheeks like drops of watercolour.

First he cooks you your favourite meal, then he buys you fuzzy socks? Is this the same Jungkook you’ve been living with all these months?

‘No, here…’ You rip open the card of the packet and snap the plastic wire that holds the four socks together. ‘Take a pair, I only need one anyway.’

At you waving the socks in front of him, he leans back in refusal, shaking his head and muttering a string of no no no’s. You’re not at all a strong-willed person by any means, but you’re not backing down on this, not when he’s been so lovely to you all night. When he realises that you won’t take no for an answer, he sighs, scratching the back of his ears. ‘Okay, okay. You can have the mint ones.’

One pair is mint and the other is pink. You blink. He wants the pink ones?

When he realises what must be going through your head, he quickly says, ‘Mint is your favourite colour right?’

Mint is your favourite colour. Though how does he know? All your possessions are in a variety of pastels: baby blue, cotton candy pink, mint green and lilac purple. He couldn’t have possibly guessed…?

‘Yes, it is… But I seriously don’t mind if you want the mint ones, I’m not gonna make you take the pink ones.’

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.’ Jungkook snatches the pink fluffy socks from you before you can argue and stuff them onto his lap.

Your heart does a little thing that you can’t describe.

The two of you finish your dinner in silence, mirroring each other with one hand gripping the socks ever so tightly and the other hand picking up the noodles with your chopsticks. Awkwardly, Jungkook take a glimpse at you. A tiny smear of sauce stains the corner of your mouth.

Does he tell you? It would make it awkward though, wouldn’t it? But then again, it would be worse for you to find out yourself when you look in the mirror and think that he didn’t tell you you have sauce on your face.

‘Sauce.’ He accidentally says before he could finish formulating what he’s going to say to you. Shit. What’s wrong with him? Why did he say it like that? In response to your confused expression, he gestures dumbly at the corner of his own mouth.

Instantly a blush flames across the apples of your cheeks. You are about to wipe it away with your sleeve when you realise a second too late that you’re wearing a white sweater.

Your hand dangles a centimetre from your face, wrist caught in Jungkook’s fingers as he notices the mistake in your action before you. His whole body is leaned over the table in order to reach you. Wide eyes locked on each other, neither of you dare to move at his sudden outburst of motion towards you.

‘Um.’ He peeps. ‘Careful, I’ll do it, noona.’

Before you can register, he lets go of your arm allowing it to fall onto your lap. When his index knuckle brushes against the end of your mouth, a wave of shock zaps down your spine. Your heart lurches down an abyss at how soft his skin feels on your sensitive lips. Then his touch is gone, leaving a warmth tingling in his wake.

As he looks around for something to wipe his finger on, pupils round like a puppy, your eyes refuse to leave him. Thank you sits at the tip of your tongue but your throat is too clogged to utter a sound. The clockworks are trying to turn in your brain but all you can focus on is Jungkook.

How is he this nice, kind, gentle boy? And how have you completely missed this about him? In fact, why have you been so demure with him when he’s… an angel?

Watching his tongue poke at the inside of his cheek, a much scarier thought dawns on you.

Do you have a crush on Jungkook?

White screen glaring at you, the words of your unfinished essay frowns at your lack of attention in disapproval. You can’t write about Jane Austen’s exploration of feminism when Jungkook has overtaken your capacity to concentrate on anything other than him.

The radiator by your desk acts as your foot rest, blazing the pleasant heat up your legs. Ever few seconds, your eyes would wander to those mint green fuzzy socks you’re wearing, so brand new that its fluff caresses your toes like a flower bed. Just the thought that he went out of his way to replace your old hole-ridden pair…

Stop.

Jane Austen. Focus.

But the phantom touch of his finger sweeping across the plump of your bottom lip is etched on your skin, the picture of his doe eyes staring at your mouth refusing to leave your memory.

What has happened to you? How have you just swung from two extremes: from hardly able to speak a word to him without stuttering, to daydreaming about his kindness towards you?

The cold is making you delirious. It has to be this godforsaken cold, because why else would you all of a sudden be so flustered from the thought of Jungkook?

You take a long hard sip of your coffee, and mark it as a new leaf. From now on, no more thinking about anyone else other than Jane Austen. Pushing up your sleeves, you straighten your slouching back and face the monster of you assignment head on.

Not 5 minutes later, your desk lamp begins to flicker. You throw it a quick glance as your fingers type on your keyboard. Weird, you just changed the bulb a few weeks ago. Nevermind it.

Then all of a sudden, all the lights in your room go out. Frowning, you get up and try the switch several times to no avail. Peaking outside your room, all that greets you is a cold darkness. So you turn on the flashlight on your phone and try other light switches of the house. Nothing. Even the heat begins to seep away from the heaters as they dim to a cool. Oh no, right now?

Using your phone as a torch, you pad towards Jungkook’s room and open his door before you can remember to knock. Perhaps your anxiety has overridden your common sense and courtesy. Unfamiliar with the orientation of his room, you trail your side against the wall to guide you.

‘Jungkook? I think the power’s ou-’

Your phone shines onto a tall silhouette, illuminating a view that makes you shriek and stumble back.

There he is, standing with a white towel around his waist, beads of water splattered across his naked body and dripping rapidly out his wet slicked back hair. The swell of his biceps catch your attention first, lined with prominent veins running all the way down to his large hands placed on his hips. Which leads your gaze to the illustrious v of his hips that arch down to-

Without meaning to, your eyes travel down to this bulge. His hefty unmissable bulge. The towel protrudes out like a tiny hill, and you want to scream at it.

If you had a drink in your mouth right now, you would surely spit it out all over him and choke to your death. But you don’t, so all that comes out of you is a strangled cat noise. Looking away from that sinful area as quickly as you can, you arrive at his face - shocked, alarmed and confused. Your cheeks burning in the flames of hell, you spin away hastily to sprint out of his room in horror.

Except you run into the wall.

The impact hits your forehead and thankfully not your nose. Phone flung onto the ground with the light facing up, you fall onto you knees clutching at the eruption of pain. But nothing hurts more than your pride and image.

‘Noona!’ One hand securing the towel covering his manhood and preserving his dignity, he scrambles over to help you despite himself.

You flinch away at his hand on your shoulder because he is now right beside you. And it’s as if you’ve zoomed in too far on a picture because his nakedness is suddenly magnified 100x. You want to Ctrl Z yourself out of his room and back into your own desk. Because what. the. hell.

What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?

Transfixed on the ridges of this abdomen, you cannot focus on anything other than the way his muscles groove up and down so smoothly to form a six pack. Shadows casted by the flashlight sculpting more definition onto his marble chest. Goosebumps are raised on his blemishless skin, which you almost want to stroke away with your warmth.

‘I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.’ You chant cataleptically in a daze. It’s more for your own reassurance than his. His bare upper body needs to let you breathe.

‘Are you sure?’ His concern is apparent in his expression, eyes examining your entire face for your injury.

‘Yes, yes.’ Desperately wanting to shoo him away, you wince at the pulsing ache burgeoning in your forehead.

‘I’m sorry.’ You both say in unison, though neither of you understand why the other is apologising.

Though he seems abashed about being shirtless, his humiliation comes nowhere near your level. Why isn’t he scrambling to put a shirt on?

To be fair Jungkook does seem awfully self conscious, you’ve caught him looking down at himself for about the fifteenth time now as he helps you up to your feet.

‘I’ll let you get dressed, sorry.’ Is all you say after snatching your phone off the ground, not even bothering to check for a cracked screen, before making your timely escape. This time more successful than the last.

Clutching your throbbing head, you race to your room and catapult onto your bed. The picture of a wet, shirtless Jungkook with only a towel to shield you from his crotch is now ingrained in your mind. You think shutting your eyes will help but you still see his divine abs behind your lids.

Holy shit.

What perhaps scares you more is how attracted you are to him. Since when did you find your roommate hot? This is shy, quiet Jungkook who plays overwatch until 4am. How dare he have a Greek God’s body to confuse you like this?

You need to stop thinking about his naked body right now.

Instead you check outside your window to see that the streetlights are off as well; it must be a blackout across the whole town, if not city. Without heating, the cold air begins to harshly sting your exposed skin. Panic starts to fester in your chest. How long can you last with no electricity whatsoever? You don’t even have phone signal, or something to charge your phone with except the one portable charger that may or may not be dead right now.

Though your door is wide open, Jungkook knocks on it politely outside your room. Which is what you should’ve done with him, you mentally scold yourself. Though he is now dressed in an oversized hoodie, your image of him is forever changed after seeing him fresh out the shower, hair still dripping. You blink hard in attempt to rid that thought.

‘Hi…’ He whispers. He’s holding two burning candles against his chest, their flames lighting up the underside of his sharp jaw.

‘Hi, come in.’

You can sense his hesitancy, the unease in the air between you, when he enters your room gingerly, feet clad in those pink fuzzy socks.

‘Sorry-’ You both say at the same time again, then release a breath of laughter. Mirth twinkles in his eyes, though his shyness does not stray from him.

‘I’m sorry for barging into your room like that.’ It’s an effort not to glance down at his adorable socks. ‘That was completely my fault, so don’t apologise.’

He swallows. ‘It’s okay, noona.’

His eyes hold yours for a solid moment before dispersing. A familiar blush is starting to paint your cheeks, you feel the heat from your chest blare up to your entire face. Unable to help imagining those solid muscles underneath his clothes, you tug at the hem of your sweater.

‘So,’ Jungkook places one of the candles on your desk. ‘This is for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Instead of using the flashlight of your phone, use the candle or one of the torches I’ve put on the table outside to save your battery. I’ve checked the main fuse, it isn’t switching back on. Good thing is that we still have running water and plumbing, just no heating or any electricity.’ He glances at your own socks. ‘We need to use the water sparingly though or the reservoir will run out. From the shops, I’ve bought some food that we can eat without cooking like gimbap or sandwiches. There’s also a stash of hand warmers in the drawer of the TV stand if you’re cold.’

That’s a lot of words to come out of Jungkook’s mouth in one go, all spoken to you. What he’s saying is sinking in and relief washes over you, yet you can’t help but focus your attention on the way his lips move as he speaks. The dark red gleaming with lip balm, curving over each syllable so prettily.

‘That’s great, thank you.’ You finally snap out of it. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ That last sentence slips out of you before you could stop it.

Pupils widening a fraction, Jungkook’s lips part in reaction. Why did you tell him that? Maybe you should just lock yourself in your room after continuously embarrassing yourself tonight. But then he pulls into a smile that melts away the ice that’s numbing your limbs and burning your lungs. The front of his teeth slightly jutting out sweetly.

Again, a fondness tickles your chest.

‘Me too.’ The tingle spreads into a pulse that crushes your throat. Is that why they call it a crush?

You simply cannot suppress your own growing grin.

Jungkook begins to walk away, but then stops at your door and turns back. There’s a reluctance, an uncertainty to his slow movement as he faces you.

‘If… If you get too cold without the radiator… you can…’ His voice barely a husk. ‘You can come over to mine.’

Then he’s gone. The aura lit up by his candle gradually diminishes away from you as he walks down the hallway to his room.

Frozen in place, you’re not even sure if your heart is beating anymore. Those final words ring in your ear like wind chimes.

You can come over to mine.

Does he mean what you think he means? Is he offering to keep you warm during the night?

You watch the candle he’d placed on your desk, its flame mirroring the small fire kindling in your core for the boy who went out during a blizzard to buy you fuzzy socks so your feet don’t get cold.

On the other side of the wall, Jungkook is on the verge of combustion at his bold proposition to you, red burning the tips of his ears. Though the memory of the look of pure euphoria on your face when you took your first bite of jajangmyeon burns his heart hotter yet.

The cold is brutal and shows no mercy. Despite your tossing and turning and effort to warm yourself up, sleep does not grace you. Part of the blame goes to Jungkook, you have not been able to cease thinking about him and everything he has done tonight. It makes you reflect on all your past moments together, whether he has always been like this and you were only too closed off to pay heed.

Sitting up from your bed, you decide you won’t be able to fall asleep without extra warmth. You need hand warmers stuffed down your pyjamas.

So, muscles stiff from the cold, you clamber out the little warm burrow of your covers and head for the living room, forsaking any light since your vision has adapted to the dark. On your way there, you walk past Jungkook’s room. Without knowing why, your legs betray you and stop outside his door.

You can come over to mine.

The low rasp of his voice still echoes in your head, stirring your unwarranted feelings for him into a warm pot of honey.

Had he really meant it? Did he honestly invite you to his share his bed? Surely not - this is Jeon Jungkook you’re thinking of, he doesn’t even speak to you most days, can’t not cower away from your glare. And he also knows what you’re like, how it took you two whole months to even warm to all of Jimin’s friends, how you only recently stopped using honorifics with those older than you.

And surely he must be at least mildly aware of the lack of boys and romance in your life, living just down the hall from you. Jimin is the closest male friend you have, and even so, you aren’t completely comfortable with sleeping beside him.

But then… All that has transpired about Jungkook’s character tonight, how sweet and kind and thoughtful he is which completely falls outside your predictions of the boy…

You realise you want to know more, want to explore the depths and mysteries that is your strange roommate. This intangible force that has been building up in the mere hours you’ve spent together this cold winter’s night draws you to him.

So screw those hand warmers, they last way too short anyway. Who needs those fidgety packets when there’s a whole Jeon Jungkook next door?

Gathering all the courage you can muster, you knock on his door.

The wood sends tendrils of cold into your knuckles. There’s a pause at first which leaves you thinking that he’s asleep, and to be fair, this late at night he has every reason to be. You’re about to turn away and head forth down the hall when you hear sheets moving, followed by his muffled come in.

Timidly, you step into his room, mind still fresh with the memory of what had happened last time you entered here unannounced, mere hours ago. Let’s not think about that right now, shall we?

Jungkook is sat up in his bed, black hood engulfing half his head. A single scented candle lit on his bedside table beside him illuminates the whole room into a golden ochre hue, it smells of freshly washed sheets.

‘Hi…’ You peep out, stopping in front of his bed.

‘Everything ok, noona?’ His eyes are fixed on your face in wonder, but when you meet them, they dart to your socks.

‘Um, yes.’ How do you put this? How do you formulate those words? ‘I just… It’s absolutely freezing with the radiators not working. Maybe- D-’ You exhale shakily. He’s gaze slowly crawls back up to your face as he realises where you’re going with this. ‘You know how you suggested that we should… sleep tog- on the same bed… to keep each other warm…? Well...’

Jungkook blinks at you. For a heartbeat, all you want to do is curl up into a ball and roll out of here. You couldn’t even finish what you were saying because your jaw has simply refused to move, refused to let you carry on embarrass yourself.

Then, although he was already on one side of the bed, he scooches over to the left. He doesn’t look at you when he replies, ‘Of course.’

Your heart is pumping fast, almost making you choke on your constricting throat. Warily you clamber onto his bed, but stop when only your knee is on the mattress. The bed frame creaks. Jungkook is regarding you with an unreadable expression, nibbling on his bottom lip. ‘Wait, if this is weird, just tell me to go.’

‘N-No. It’s fine.’ Pulling the covers over his chest, he crosses his arms shyly. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, though you could be mistaken due to the odd lighting. ‘I was struggling to fall asleep from the cold as well.’ He adds when you don’t seem convinced.

Both of you are making this a bigger deal than it actually is, you are fully aware. It honestly pains you how awkward you two are with each other; if this were Jimin, he’d be dragging you onto his bed by the waist, letting you flounder about in his arms like a cat trying to escape before smothering you with his affection. But this is Jungkook. Quiet, shy, awkward Jungkook. Jungkook who hasn’t spoken more than ten words a day to you before the events of tonight even though you live together. Jungkook who you’re slowly learning more and more about during this blizzard.

Plus, he was the one who offered to share his bed earlier in the first place. This is fine, just fine. Act normal.

Overly conscious of how he’s watching your every movement carefully, you slowly burrow into the comfort of his bed. Immediately you’re enveloped in his residual body heat under the duvet. Now you realise that he moved over to the other side of the bed, the cold side, so you can relish in the warmth that he’s been collecting under these covers.

Why is Jungkook so… considerate?

Again, the same fuzzy feeling as before tugs at your heartstrings. Suddenly you want to reach out to him, but instead, you tug at your sleeves.

You’re both staring at the blank ceiling as if it is some fascinating art piece, with enough space between you to fit a Jimin. The candle has casted long grey shadows across the room, occasionally flickering haphazardly.

Everything that is currently whizzing through your head is driving you insane. This is actually happening. You are sharing a bed with Jungkook, the guy who you can’t even look in the eye when speaking to, your roommate who has only ever tried to avoid you. This day is a jack-in-the-box of Jungkook-themed surprises. What’s going to be next?

‘Feeling warmer, noona?’ He breaks the silence first, and you can’t help but glance over at him. His side profile is mostly masked by his hood, yet you can still see his jaw clenching. You can only imagine how uneasy he is currently feeling.

‘Yes.’ It’s barely a whisper you manage, so you clear your throat. ‘Much better Jungkook, thank you.’

Another silence. Though this is an improvement from before, you still feel a chill in your bones; the cold is a resilient pest that aches your muscles and numbs your face.

‘Should I blow out the candle then?’ You ask.

‘Oh right, yeah.’

You huff at the small flame but it refuses to go out, and you kind of don’t want it to as it provides a strong beacon of heat as its smoke licks at your face. You huff again. Still, it only wavers. You’re so cold that you don’t even have the strength to take out a candle. Peaking over at Jungkook, his eyes are locked on you patiently.

‘I’ll do it.’ He leans across the bed over you, you feel his warmth radiate into your proximity as his should hovers over your face. His scent, a clean soft musk, swims up your nose; you never noticed how pleasant he smells. The veins on his neck are protruding as he strains to reach over. When he extinguishes the candle with a single harsh blow, embarrassment rains on you.

Darkness enshrouds you two. As he returns to his position, you notice that he’s closer to you than before, now only less than a foot away. The sound of his breathing provides a steady rhythm that soothes your wild thoughts.

Though your social skills are subpar by nature, Jungkook has a way of magnifying your awkwardness. Should you say something? Good night? Thank him again?

Then you realise, he’s shivering. Of course, his hair must still be wet from his unfinished shower that was cut short by the blackout. God, he must be freezing.

‘You’re cold.’ You state, though you mean it more as a question.

‘I’m fine.’ Hums his response, yet his inhale is shaky.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you know what you’re going to do next is completely out of character and will require more guts than you actually possess. Your hand gropes at the space between you until you find his hand. It’s ice cold. Jungkook jumps at the contact and you hear him turn his head towards you. You hope his sight hasn’t adjusted to the dark yet so he can’t see how abashed you are.

‘You’re not fine.’ His fingers are stiff when you interlock yours between his. Everything is screaming inside you. What are you doing? What the heck? If Jimin were here to see this his jaw would drop all the way down to hell.

Unable to suppress the urge either, you also turn to look at him. In the dark, you can barely make out the outline of his face, the shape of his glossy eyes reflecting the moonlight seeping in through the window. Slowly, his fingers curl up around your hand. Your heart flips.

Blood roaring in your ears, you inch towards him like a frightened deer until your sides are pressed against each other. Your faces must be a hand’s width apart, but the darkness fuels you with a brazenness that allows you to not cringe away. His whole body tenses in response.

‘Better?’ Voice so soft he strains to hear you.

Jungkook nods, eyes never leaving yours. ‘Better.’ His response rumbles into your ear and percolate into your mind, and only now are you aware of how close he is.

An amalgamation of unidentifiable emotions stir inside you. You feel your own warmth trickle towards him as his does with you, and slowly his presence plucks away the cold you are plagued with.

‘Good night, Jungkook.’

‘Good night, Y/N noona.’

Though it’s only briefest of movements, you feel his thumb stroke over yours once, twice, as your eyelids fall shut.

The next morning, you wake up first with your head fitted cosily on his heavily breathing chest, his arm draped across your shoulder, shielding you from the chilly morning air.

The power still isn’t back on.

It’s now nearing 24 hours since the blackout first hit.

You’ve wasted the day wandering about the house, unsure of what to do with yourself. Though you tell yourself it’s the withdrawal symptoms from the internet, it’s mostly due to the fact that you slept next to Jungkook last night.

The earlier half of the day was spent subtly avoiding him because what the hell are you supposed to say to him? Do you just carry on your usual selves around each other or are you, like, friends now? You caught yourself watching him sleep this morning, serene breaths in and out through his nose. There’s a tiny mole under his lips that you’ve never noticed before. You had poked it with your pinky before you could stop yourself. And thankfully he’s a heavy sleeper, he didn’t even stir.

With more effort than you thought would require, you pried yourself out of his arms, a cold breeze instantly welcoming you in an embrace as you left his bed.

Those scenes keep replaying in your head: him finding you out in the blizzard, watching him cook you jajangmyeon, discovering that he when out of his way to buy you new sock, then walking in on him almost stark naked from the shower, and finally, falling asleep enveloped in his warm and scent.

You’re definitely crushing on him.

You’ve stopped denying it when you saw him meander wearily out his room at noon, bed head ruffled, eyes still droopy from sleep. Wordlessly, you had passed him the ham and cheese sandwich you prepared for yourself and you don’t even know why because you were absolutely starving.

The downpour of snow only stopped for a good 10 minutes this afternoon, a tiny window in which you poked your head out for some fresh air. Jungkook had tried to shovel away some snow to clear the porch, but quickly ran back inside when he saw your worried face plastered to the window watching him.

There isn’t much either of you can do with no electricity, no internet, no television, trapped indoors. So you occupy your day curled up on the couch, nose buried in a novel, completely immersed in that beautifully crafted fictional world.

Until Jungkook walks out in a white t-shirt and shorts.

Your eyebrow raises, peeking at him from behind the pages.

‘I’m gonna work out here, if you don’t mind. There isn’t enough space in my room.’ He scratches the back of his head.

‘Sure.’ You exhale, knowing your demise is looming over your head like a storm cloud. A lot of self control is exercised in order to not ogle at his calves.

Training your eyes at the novel in front of you with great determination, you turn the page. The first minute is easy enough, you just have to angle your book to block your view of him. But then his breathing grows heavier, panting every rep. At that, you can’t help but glimpse past the corner of your page.

Oh Lord. He’s doing push ups.

Though his biceps are mostly covered by his sleeves, the muscles of his forearms tensing at every contraction catch you eye. You marvel at the way his tendons flex out, and the way his serpentine of veins snake down his hands.

Jeez.

Then he lets out an unholy grunt, setting your whole skin on aflame. Scarlet stains your cheeks, you’re sure of it. But the sinful sounds do not stop. Sweat his now seeping through his shirt, rendering the material transparent down his back. And his ass…

You snap your focus back to your novel.

Just in time as well because he stops onto his knees, head falling back as he sits on his ankles, panting. His neck is shimmering with his perspiration, droplets trickling down like a brook.

Jungkook glances over at you to see you reading intently, jaw clenched from what he guesses is due to the excitement of the plot.

But then you stand up so abruptly that it startles him. You can’t sit here and spy on his workout any longer, you physically cannot take it. Not to mention, it makes you feel so awful, like you’re perving on the poor clueless boy who only wants to break a sweat.

The both of you just stare at each other, flustered for different reasons. His breathing slows.

‘I’m gonna-’ You don’t know where you’re going with the sentence. Gulp. ‘Uh, see you later.’

Scampering away into your room, you don’t wait for his response. Why are you panting heavier than he is when he’s the one exercising? Your book is pressed tightly against your pounding chest as you lean your back on your door. Your legs give way and you slowly slide down onto the cool floor.

There’s one thing you know for sure.

Jeon Jungkook is not good for your heart.

It’s almost midnight and Jungkook is standing outside your door. Fist clenched, inches away from rapping on the wood, but completely frozen in action.

Just do it, idiot. He scolds himself.

After an ice cold post-workout shower, this time early enough so he doesn’t have to sleep with wet hair, you both had gimbap for dinner. It was an excruciatingly silent meal which he blames himself for, though he can’t help the way his tongue gets tied every time he wishes to speak to you.

And now, bed time, he is at a dilemma of whether or not to ask to sleep with you again. It may come across as too forward coming from a guy, he doesn’t want to scare you. But he also knows that he will be missing the warmth of your body beside him if he goes to bed alone.

Jungkook sighs and lets his hanging hand fall to his side.

If you wanted to, you would have gone to his room anyway. Might as well save the awkward rejection and just take this as a no.

However, your door suddenly swings open. He’s confronted with a pyjama-wearing, baby-faced you, flinching back a step at the surprising sight of him.

‘Op- I was just....’ His sentence falls flat. He was just what?

‘I was just coming to find you.’ You mutter, eyes softening if he isn’t mistaken. A flood of relief rushes at him, so you were planning on coming to him tonight.

Wordlessly, you pad after him to his room. Everything is dark but you see his figure clearly in front of you. It gives you a false sense of confidence which leads you to trip over his charger wire you so clumsily missed.

You don’t know how he reacts so quickly to your yelp of distress, but he turns around in time to catch your outstretched arms by the elbows. ‘Watch out.’ Feet fumbling over each other, he stumbles back onto his bed as you fall onto him. The weight of your bodies sink down onto the mattress.

Hard muscle cushions your fall. Chests pressed against each other, you don’t realise your hands have instinctively circled around his shoulders for balance. Your nose is touching his fabric of his collar, his musk instantly overriding your senses. When you look up, his eyes are a crystal clear pool somehow reflecting the constellations of the night sky in this darkness. His breath caresses your forehead. Your gaze drops to his mouth, pink and parted.

You want to kiss him, you realise. So badly. Every fibre of your being is currently yearning to meet his lips, longing to know whether he tastes better than he smells.

But then your limbs are moving for you, propping yourself up and off him. Your own mouth forms and quiet ‘sorry’ as you shuffle under the sheets. It’s as if you’re watching your own actions through your eyes, controlled by your logic rather than desire. You couldn’t let yourself kiss him.

Jungkook silently squirms into his bed beside you, unwilling to look your direction as much as you’re averse to his.

So this is how it’s going to be again. Two sleeping logs next to each other.

There’s an ache of regret in your heart for being so timid. Annoyance at yourself drips down your throat, fist clenching at the sheets. You should’ve kissed him right then and there, consequences be damned. When will you get another chance? But perhaps it was fate. You have no idea how he would’ve reacted; the pessimist in you thinks he would’ve been disgusted. Yes, it was fate. It was right not to have kissed him.

Wait, no. A boldness suddenly pours down on you. Shyness and introversion has gotten you nowhere before, and it will not help your situation now.

‘Jungkook.’ Your voice comes out crisp and clear.

‘Hm, Noona?’

‘I’m still cold.’ Turning to face him, you see innocent confusion settle in his expression. The sound of your thumping pulse has reached your ears, your heart is a speeding motor flying off to find him. ‘Come closer.’

The shadow of his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His focus does not stray from you as he slides across the bed hesitantly.

‘Closer.’

He edges further towards you. You can now just about make out the shape of the scar that flecks his left cheek.

‘Closer.’

This time, his exhale tickles your neck. Warm bodies touching, confusion and perturbation cloud his glassy orbs as he scans your face for an answer to the plethora of questions swimming in his head.

‘Thank you.’ You breathe, though it feels like no air is entering you. You can’t believe what you’re doing. This close to him, you’re entire being bathes in his presence, his aura; a familiar tingling ails your soul as your eyes flicker to his lips.

Every single muscle in Jungkook is frozen in shock, unsure of what is going on and why the sudden change in your demeanour towards him. And when you turn onto your side away from him and inch by inch back your body onto his front, his heart

stops

beating.

Nose buried in your floral-scented hair, vacillating thoughts tell him to put his arm around your waist and hold you close to him. You sense his unsureness in the way his hand rests on your side and pauses for too long before pulling you into his chest.

His frame engulf yours, the curve of your back lining perfectly with his. You feel safe, protected. His furnace touch on your waist burns through the thick fabric of your jumper and seeps into your core. The effect he has on you is nothing you’ve ever experienced before, and neither have you ever been in this position with anyone. Although it isn’t much, merely just cuddling, this feels so remarkably intimate and intense, like you’ve finally stepped through a threshold built into the emotional wall that towers between you and him.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re breathing.

Despite being the one to instigate this, you’re awfully apprehensive, not daring to even twitch incase it rattles him and sets him scrambling away. The two of you are like a pair of squirrels, slowly approaching to sniff each other, curious yet easily frightened.

His hot breath rushes down your spine like smoke. You desperately want to know what he’s thinking. Is he as nervous as you? Do you feel comfortable to him as he does to you? Or is he already falling asleep?

You should close your eyes and try to. Though who are you kidding? You’d never manage to catch a wink when you’re an accidental turn of a face away from kissing him, at least not right away anyway, not until you calm yourself down with a mental meditation exercise or something.

The urge to check if he’s indeed asleep is yanking at you, but you use all your willpower to resist, not wanting to risk rousing him when he’s as skittish as you.

But then you feel it.

Him.

It’s subtle at first, just a gentle pressure at your bottom.

Innocent and untainted as you are, you don’t even realise what it is at first, so you shift your hips unconsciously.

Then it’s stiffness grows, and grows, until it’s a baton poking at your rear.

Something in your core ignites, your chest constricts, and a wildfire of lust you’ve never felt before smoulders from your scalp to your toes before finally rooting itself in your sex. Ten hells, Jungkook’s boner is touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner and it’s touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner because of you and it’s touching your ass.

Your brain is devoid of all senses except a formidable hunger for him. Suddenly, though he’s almost surrounding you completely, the only thing you can feel is his hard member prodding you.

Is he asleep or not, you need to know.

Then a strange force possesses your lower half, and like a puppet on a string, your ass sinks back further onto him until his length is tunnelled between your cheeks.

The softest moan escapes him, almost a gasp even.

You think he’s going to say something, move away or stand up and leave. Instead he pulls himself away and slowly thrusts forward again. His clothed length slides smoothly up your crack, brushing ever so slightly over your slit. It sends a wave of arousal convulsing up your core, so powerful you almost choke.

Continuing to encourage him, your hips move in tandem with his, rubbing your ass all over his pulsing erection, occasionally letting it slide between your thighs against your clit. A pleasured mewl escapes, though you’re not sure who from. You’ve never felt anything like this, the ruin that overtakes your core at the friction. This is a divine sensation, luxury of the gods.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist as his pace increases, his breathing slowly shifting into wavering panting. Finally you succumb to the urge to twist around to look at him. Your heart erupts at the pure devastation contorting his face. His brows angled in pleasure, teeth clamped down on his lip to suppress those unholy noises, lids hanging heavy at the weight of his thirst for you. When his eyes lock on yours, something unleashes in him and devours you wholly.

Fire and ice. His lips feel like both fire and ice. Fire because your entire mind is burning at his smoothness, fuelled by your unkempt want for him to take over you. Ice because everything that isn’t him feels numb and insignificant, and your feelings for this man holding you is the purest flake of snow.

Your first kiss, and it’s already the best kiss you’ll ever have, you’re sure. Because the way his lips meld onto your, the desperation in the way he leans so far into you, the heat of his arousal forging it’s mark between your legs. Nothing in this world can top that.

‘Noona.’ He sighs into you. It drives you absolutely insane.

Fingers grappling in his wavy locks, you reposition yourself completely to face him. His length twitches against you as your leg swings behind him to pull him closer. He is holding your neck with a heartbreaking delicacy, thumb stroking your jaw like it’s the most fragile of chinas.

‘Jung-’ You whimper. ‘Koo…’

Tasting of mint, his tongue gently laps at yours when you open for him. You’re drowning in his essence, lungs filling with his air, though you welcome your sweet painless death like it’s a heavenly gift.

Knowing his docile nature, you move his hand underneath your top, giving him permission to roam freely on your skin. He snakes around your back and circles around your front before finally meeting your sore breasts. As he kneads them tenderly, you feel a warmth ooze out of you into a puddle of concupiscence in your pants.

Oh God.

Your own hands wander beneath his hoodie, raking up the bumps of his god-sculpted abdomen and taking hold of his muscular chest. His wet kisses are a drug, and you’re completely and utterly under its control.

‘Jungkook, I want you.’ You moan.

When his eyes fly open, you’re met with pools of desire, seething into you like jets of lust. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d experience him like this, covetous for you and withering under your touch.

‘Noona… Fuck.’ He trembles as your hand travels down his navel, daring to slide under the band of his sweatpants. ‘I want you so bad, noona.’

The whimper that leaves his mouth when you palm him through his boxers sends a flood of yearning down to your core.

Holy shit.

He feels…

Massive.

Heavy with girth, only about half of his length fits in your palm. You have to stretch your fingers in order to fully encompass him. He is fully at your disposal, groaning, grip tightening on you.

As he huffs into the edge of your jaw, his own hand comes down to find your pussy pulsing for his touch. When his touches your clothed slit, a compulsion forces your hips to buckle forwards. And when he begins to rub circles right on that tender spot, waves upon waves of ecstasy hit you.

Whining like an animal, your head falls back at the newfound pleasure he’s showing you. With you neck presented so openly to him like a platter of dessert, he plants dulcet kisses onto you, his gentleness kindling your fire for him. Despite your attempt to wind your focus back to him, your grip on his erection slackens at his vibrations on your cunt.

‘Can I?’ Jungkook whispers into your ear, softness tickling your lobe. You don’t waste a second before nodding eagerly.

Then his fingers slide underneath your panties. Sensitivity explodes at the contact between the pad of his thumb and your clit. A string of moans release from you. His fingers stroke tactfully up your slick, lubricated by your wetness for him. And when he slides his digit into you, the thread that holds your soul to sanity snaps.

‘Oh my god.’ He pushes through the sleek pressure of your walls. ‘Jungkook.’ The whimper of his name rolling off your tongue sends a rush of blood down to his aching cock.

‘Noona, is that okay?’ The genuity in his voice squeezes your heart.

‘Yes, it feels so, argh, good.’

He latches his lips onto your neck and sucks clouds of lavender to your smooth seamless sky. His finger is slowly pumping in and out. It is a foreign feeling, so strange and unfamiliar, yet all the more exciting. The rise of his knuckles hit your wall at eye-rolling angles. Your hips roll in his rhythm to help him reach newer depths. The pleasure is unforgiving, relentless.

Another feeling gnaws at your chest, a longing to please him.

‘I want to make you feel good, Jungkook.’ You mumble, shy.

He looks up at you, finger gradually ceasing its movement. The pure passion alit in his eyes drives you thrumming for him.

‘O-Okay.’

‘You… You have to teach me though.’ Redness flushes your cheeks.

‘Okay.’ He says again, and you wonder if you’ve broken him at the way he’s frozen.

Sheepishly tugging down his pants, you inch yourself down and settle between his legs, the duvet rested upon your shoulders. He bobs free from the restraint of his apparel.

Your eyes bulge at his cock that is, despite the darkness, standing tall and proud, beaming at you. How is that monster going to fit inside you?

A strong vein runs down the course of his length. Angry red tip swollen and trickling with a clear liquid. You look up to find him staring helplessly down at you, gulping. A nervous fear is eating away at your throat; you’ve never done this before, how are you supposed to know how right now?

‘Teach me.’ Your fingers come around the base of his shaft and he gasps audibly.

‘Uh-’ Another gulp. ‘Lick the tip.’

You lick the tip. Drawing your tongue over his engorged head, tasting his salty precum that continues to leak out of him profusely. He curses.

‘Like that?’ Your mouth doesn’t leave him as you say.

‘Mhmm.’ He runs his hand through his dark locks in exasperation. ‘Suck on it gently.’

You suck on it gently. Lips wrapped around his tip like a vacuum while you breath him in. Your cheeks hollow. You look up at him for approval. One eye is clamped shut, the other is barely held open to witness the most seraphic scene.

‘Fuck, noona, like this.’

You try to take in more, letting his wide cock slide into your mouth, careful not to scrape your teeth against his hilt. When he hits the back of your throat, you gag and splutter around him. Embarrassment shoots at you, yet when you glance up, he doesn’t seem to care.

Instead, he brushes your hair behind your ear and coos, ‘Careful, noona.’ He’s so sweet, so dear, you feel a crack in your heart.

So you try again, this time slower, swallowing as much of him as you can. Your hand swirl around his shaft while his massages the back of your scalp. You roll your tongue around his head every time you come up, flickering at his slit. Soon, your pace increases along with your confidence. Jungkook is a mess under you, thighs quivering, toes curling. Humming in satisfaction, your vibrations resonate into his dick and he yelps.

‘Noona, stop before I cum.’ The way he pleads sends your cunt throbbing. You pull his member out of your mouth almost obscenely, inhaling sharply for air.

He gently places you on your back, finger tracing your drenched lips in endearment. ‘Was that ok?’

‘That was perfect, noona. Are you sure that was your first time?’ Doe eyes wide in awe of you. You giggle and nod, glowing in timid pride. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

At that, the reality of this situation hits you. This is happening, this is actually happening. You’re going to have sex for the first time. With Jungkook.

Are you sure you want to do this?

You are sure you want to do this. If not with him, then no one else.

‘Yes.’ You state firmly, eyes never once wavering from his.

His gaze on you is so soft, yet so intense, you want to melt under him. ‘Okay. I- I need to go find a condom in Jimin’s room.’

Fuzzy with your feelings for him, you watch him scramble off in the dark to the other room. Loud clangs echo down the hall, you can’t help but smile at the thought of him digging through Jimin’s pig sty, frantically searching with his rock hard cock.

Jungkook returns moments later to the sight of you completely naked on his bed. Gaping like a little boy, he almost falls onto you as he climbs onto the bed while he tears off his own top. For a minute, you two just stare at each other’s bodies, allowing the beauty to sink in and etch itself forever in your souls.

‘Noona, you’re so beautiful. Do you know that?’ He leans over to kiss all over your face.

A warm prickle sieges your heart. No one has ever called you beautiful before. Emotion floods you like an ocean, and you’re suddenly met with a familiar sting behind your eyes.

He hovers over your lips, nose rubbing on yours so lovingly you want to cry. You’re at a loss for words, so you just nod, not daring to peep a sound lest a tear escapes from you.

His hands are shaking as he rolls on the condom. Prudently, he kisses up your inner thighs before spreading them open with care. Finally, he pecks the top of your flower fondly.

Then slowly he rests his elbow beside your head and situate himself between your legs. Both your breaths are wobbly, you search his face for security and find it. His irises reflect his galaxy - you. And your fear ebbs away.

Stroking his tip along your wetness, he kisses the shell of your ear. ‘Are you really really sure?’

‘Yes, Jungkook.’ Your fingers entangle in his hair assuringly.

‘Tell me to stop if it hurts a lot. Promise, noona?’ His concern is heart wrenching.

‘Promise.’ You whisper, other hand locking with his.

Only then does he begin to ease into you. At first you don’t feel much, just his tip diving into you. Then the rest of his length pushes in, plunging through a tremendous pressure built into your walls. Pain blooms inside you as he enters deeper and deeper, it’s an ache that you anticipated but never imagined. You both cry out, though for different reasons.

‘Are you okay?’ You can tell he’s struggling to stay still, shoulders tensing at the temptation to thrust again.

‘Mhmm.’ You manage to gripe. Because despite the blinding pain, you are okay.

‘I’m gonna go as slow as I can.’ He ensures you, fingers tightening around yours.

When he plunges into you again, you expect the hurt to lessen, but it doesn’t. It overwhelms your whole body, yanking inside you. Though, every time he kisses your lips so tenderly, your forget the soreness he’s impaling into you for a fresh second. Opening your eyes, you see him panting at your tightness, trying with every muscle in his body not to go wild at you.

‘Fuck, noona.’ He exhales, forehead rested on yours.

Seeing him so berserk with pleasure calms your running anxiety. His thrusts inevitably quickens, and you just about begin to see pass the pain. Behind the ache, there’s a gratifying sting clenching your walls. The slap of his hips against your thighs ring loud.

‘Still okay?’ Jungkook asks again, worry painting his face at your silence.

‘Yes, you can go faster.’ You answer despite the ever-present soreness. When he drives hard into you, stars and tears blurring your vision.

Something in him snaps as you feel him twitch inside you. His movements grow sloppy and feral, just like the grunts that he heaves. Chasing his climax, you can tell how close he is to his sweet release.

‘Oh- Noona, I’m so cl-ose.’ He’s whimpering into your neck.

‘Jungkook, baby. Come for me.’

At your name for him, he goes crazy, ramming into you with a strength and stamina that you couldn’t expect less of from him. ‘Noona…’ He begs. The pressure inside you is easing, pain dulling, though you know you won’t feel any pleasure this time round.

Then, in one last powerful push, he ejects into you with a loud cry. You pull his lips to yours immediately to soothe his euphoria. This look of pure pleasure on his face rips you to shred as he refuses to let go of your hand. His hips jerk into yours to ride out is high as his whole body deflates onto you.

Although it’s a freezing night, goosebump plaguing both your skins, neither of you feel cold. Instead, you are enshrouded by the warmth of your passion and desire, all you feel is each other.

You, wrapped tightly around him, and him, spasming inside you.

Heavy with exhaustion, he nuzzles up to kiss you. Long, slow and hard. You have never truly appreciated his beauty until this point, under the subtle snow-clouded moon, eyes boring into you with a never-dimming glow of adoration.

Jungkook removes himself from you, hastily disposing the condom to not miss a moment by your side. Dressing you first so you don’t catch a breeze of cold, his touch feels so much warmer, gentler.

Snuggled up under the covers, he holds you so close to him that you hear his beating heart. For a timeless passage, you stare into each other wordlessly, fingers tracing delicately over every patch of skin.

‘Y/N...’ He muses out loud. ‘Y/N… You don’t know how perfect you are…’

Again, he has rendered you speechless.

Caressing your cheek in his palm, he continues. ‘I wish you could see yourself through my eyes because then you would understand why I’m so completely in love with you.’

At his words, your throat constrict. ‘What?’ You choke out.

‘I’m in love with you, noona.’ His lips are trembling, chest pounding against you. Disquietude emanates from how he’s peering at you.

‘Oh.’

‘I don’t know how you never knew, I mean- I guess it’s pretty obvious from the way I act around you. Even Yoongi-hyung spotted it right away…’ He begins to ramble, focus hopping to the collar of your jumper that he’s toying with. ‘I just… I don’t know. There’s something so special about you that I can’t find in anyone else. I thought it was just a crush but... but then you moved in with us and… And my feelings for you just drove me insane. That’s why I kept trying to avoid you. I know I wouldn’t be able to hide it if I actually spent time with you, I’m kinda stupid when it comes to girls if you can’t tell already.

‘But the truth is,’ he takes a deep breath and sighs, ‘I am truly, deeply, madly in love with you, Y/N noona. Everything about you. The way you devour jajangmyeon as easily as breathing. The way you never go a day in winter without wearing these fuzzy socks. The way you only drink lattes and chamomile tea. The way you would rather spend your friday nights curled up with a book. The way you pretend to find Jimin annoying but secretly love the attention he gives you. The way you rushed out to find me in the snow and forgot the bring your keys. And the way you can’t talk to me without stuttering just like how I can’t look you in the eye when we have a conversation.

‘I know this is a lot to spring onto you, and I don’t expect you to love me back at all. But just know that I’m here for you whenever you need. I’m your furnace in a snowstorm, hand warmer in a blizzard. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same for me, I’ll still be here.’

Jungkook finishes with a final huff.

You stare at him, dumbfounded by his confession. Emotion floods your veins at the revelation, and you can all but break down into sobs. Jaw gaping, you regard him from his arms, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts.

‘Noona, say someth-’

You kiss him, urgently and desperately. Like you’ve been drowning in a sea of lostness, aimlessly floating about to try to find your way, and he’s your first gulp of air. Mist of perplexity is finally starting to clear away, and you see the path ahead of you with crystal lucidity.

It’s Jungkook. Jungkook, who knows your favourite colour when even your own mother doesn’t. Jungkook, who waddled out into the freezing snow to buy you new socks. Jungkook, who so gently and delicately made love to you tonight. Jungkook, who has loved you unconditionally and will continue doing so regardless of your feelings towards him.

‘I think… I think I’m falling truly, deeply, madly in love with you too, Jungkook.’

End

extras: christmas special

@shookpreme @hazelelizabeth99 @teenage-hippie @bunbundesu @tangledsparkles @gingerpeachtae idk who wanted to be tagged lol 😬

02/09/2019

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hiddennerdworld · 3 years ago

Text

Homesick (pt 4) with Hanta Sero

Note: This is a long one 😅 sorry I just love him. This is probably the last one of the ‘series’. I hope to do some more fluffy stuff like it tho. Also, I absolutely adore the idea of Latin Sero but didn’t know how to write it in, so we’re just gonna pretend lmao. And sorry for the abrupt ending. Still hope you enjoy it :) (I added a little reference to one of my favorite songs too ;) )

———————————————————————

The best place to just sit in think is outside staring at the stars. That happened to be exactly where you were. On the roof of the dorms just looking at the stars while you’re laying on the ground. It was a beautiful fall night with a little breeze and the smell of autumn in the air. The sky was crystal clear and you could see tons of stars twinkling back to you. Most may find this a relaxing situation to be in, but you were definitely not relaxed. You had this little pit in your stomach ever since you moved into the dorms and couldn’t quite describe what it was. Being outside was better than just lying in bed, at least here there’s a beautiful view, but its presence was still lingering. While fighting with yourself on whether you should try to think it through or try to ignore the feeling, you heard the roof door opened. You quickly sit up and look over to see Sero.

“Oh, hey Y/N!” He said while rubbing the back of his neck not sure what to say at first. But after looking around for a bit, he collected himself and stepped forward. “Sorry I wasn’t expecting to see anyone up here. I definitely wasn’t expecting to see such a beautiful babe such as yourself.” He said jokingly and started moving his eyebrows.

You couldn’t help but blush and giggle at his goofy nature. You always did. Whenever you would be hanging out with your close friend Mina and her friends, you laughed at Sero’s jokes everytime. Even if they were bad, there’s just something about the smiley boy.

“Yea? Well, what were expecting then, pretty boy?” You also found it easy to banter with Sero. It could be awkward at times but it never mattered.

“Just an empty roof and a starry sky, but it looks like tonight I get an extra treat. Can I sit with you?” You nodded and then he took a seat next to you. “What’re you doing up? I thought everyone turned in for the night.”

“Ah, you may have thought that, but you see I’m not like everyone else. My brain doesn’t allow me to sleep. At least recently.” You said while pointing at your head.

“Can I ask why’s that?” He asked softly.

You shrug. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve just had weird vibes ever since we moved in.”

Sero lit up and said “Dude, I totally know what you mean!” He then calmed down and continued, “Sorry, I just thought I was the only one. It’s just so different ya know?” He asked lying down to look at the stars and you did the same.

“Different from living at home? Yea I know exactly what you’re talking about. I thought it would be a lot more normal.”

“I didn’t know what to think really. I was excited about getting to see my friends everyday. Believe me I still am, but a part of me is missing. I actually came up here to swing around. Maybe get rid of this empty feeling.”

You turn towards him “Really?”

He looks back at you and nods. “Yep, but this is much more relaxing don’t ya think?” He said as he looked back up at the beautiful night sky. You hummed in agreement. The both of you just sat in silence for a bit until Sero broke it with telling you about his family. He told you about how he would watch soccer and baseball with his dad and telenovelas with his mom. You told him about how you and your siblings would play Mario Kart.

You guys kept going for who knows how long. Laying on the cold, hard concrete ground, but didn’t pay any mind to it. You were both to busy laughing and being deeply ingrained in conversation. Time had been frozen and the weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Unfortunately, it didn’t stay like that for long. As the night went on, it the temperature dropped a lot. You had your arms wrapped around you, but didn’t really notice. However, Sero did notice and didn’t like the idea of you being cold. He sat up and asked “Hey, why don’t we go back to my dorm and we can get more comfortable?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him.

He just laughed and replied, “Not like that, but it’s funny to see that’s where your mind went. I just meant we can continue to chill in a place where it is not so chill so maybe you can warm up. I’ll take the hammock and you can lay down on my bed if you want.” You agreed and went to his room.

———————————————————————

It was a challenge to stay quiet on the way there. You didn’t want to wake your friends at such a late hour BUT you and Sero found everything 100 times funnier when you had to remain quiet. The walk consisted of you two giving each other looks, snickering, and then shushing each other. It just looped until you eventually got to his dorm. The fun didn’t stop there though. Once you got to his dorm, you tried multiple times to get into his hammock and fell out each time causing the two of you to cry laughing. Was it sleep deprivation or just the way you two made each other? Both, the answer is both.

Soon though you both calmed down. You got comfortable in his bed, already wearing your PJs from earlier. And Sero was swaying in the hammock while his music played quietly in the background. You guys continued to talk and talk. At times you got deep and others you would talk about complete nonsense. However, you both started to slowly drift off at around 4 in the morning, not even processing what the other was saying. So you decided to call it a night.

“I can’t even keep my eyes open anymore. I should probably go back to my dorm. Goodnight, Sero.” You said in a hushed tone while slowly getting out of bed.

“No, you don’t gotta go. Just stay in the bed. It’s late and I don’t wanna make you walk allllll the way back to your place.” He totally sounded out of it. There was a sleepiness in his voice.

“I think I can manage the walk down the hallway and then to my bed. I don’t wanna make you sleep in the hammock.” You said but you weren’t even sitting up yet. Just propping yourself up on your elbow as you continued to lay in bed.

“Pfff don’t worry about it,” Sero said using his hand to swat away your concern. “I have slept in this baby more times than I can count. I probably can’t even get out of it at this point anyway. Just stay here and we can make it a fun sleepover night.”

You went back to getting comfortable in his bed. “Well if you put it like that. For real though, if you get uncomfortable let me know. There’s plenty of room here if you’re okay sharing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sweets. Sleep well, Y/N”

———————————————————————

The next morning you woke up in a strange place. It took you a few seconds to remember you had fallen asleep in Sero’s room when you inhaled the scent of the incense he had in his room. It was weird not being in your room. It was even weirder was that you felt a weight on your side. You turn to look over and see Sero holding onto you. You never thought he would actually take you up on your offer. Seeing him there made your heart warm and a pink blush rushed to your cheeks.

As you were about to go back to the position you were in Sero stirred awake and moved back a little, not knowing that he decided to get so close in his sleep. It leaves you with a little disappointment, but you’re still happy just being around him. “Good morning, hun.” He said in the middle of stretching and yawning. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty great thanks to you. I definitely wouldn’t have gotten much sleep if you weren’t so sweet and let me talk your ears off.”

A little smile grew on his face. “Hey, I can’t take all the credit. You did the same for me. If you weren’t here I’d just be talking to a wall and they’re no fun.”

His smirk grew head hearing you giggle at his jokes. “Yea last night was pretty fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yea, it was,” Sero said and then sighed while flipping over to look at the ceiling. He rested his head on his hand and had his other arm lying across his stomach. He seemed tense. On the outside, he looked totally relaxed still because that’s just how he is, but you can tell something is off.

“You alright?” You asked leaning closer to see his face.

He sat there for a sec thinking. “Yea, yea it’s just... last night got me thinking.” He paused again seemingly trying to find what he wanted to say. You just looked at him with kind eyes ready to hear him out. “Y/N, I really like you.” He turned to you then scoffed, “Well I mean I haven’t really been hiding it from you, but I’ve never said it straight up either. To be honest, I wasn’t sure about it. I just thought it was a little crush and I didn’t wanna scare you off because we were just becoming friends and just moved into the dorms.” He placed his hand on yours, making you blush, and then continued. “But last night was the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I’m not depressed all the time or anything, it’s just different with you. I didn’t want it to end, which is why I asked you to stay. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same. I don’t wanna weird you out, but I think you do. Things between us are just so natural and I’ve never felt awkward with you. You must feel it too, right?” He finished his speech staring at you with pleading eyes.

“Sero, I-“

“Oh no!” He flipped over and covered his face “I knew it! I’m so s-“

You just grabbed his face and turned it towards you. “Will you let me finish, you dork? Of course, I feel it too. It’s weird but you’re the closest friend I’ve had since we got to UA, hell maybe the closest friend I’ve had in a long time, even though we haven’t been talking for long. You make me really happy, so yeah I like you too, Sero.”

“Really?!” You nodded in response and his shocked face turned into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him, which is saying a lot. He grabbed you and you let out a little yelp. He pulled you on top of him and gave you a big hug. “You have no idea how happy I am.” He said as he rested his head on yours.

“I think I do. I can see it all over your face.” You said as you looked up and squished his cheeks.

Sero grabbed your hands of his face and intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yea but I still don’t think you reeeeally know. Could I show you?” He asked as he slowly brought his hand to cup your cheek, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

You managed to whisper a “yes please” and were then met with his lips on yours. The kiss was gentle and sweet. It took a second but you guys both melted into the kiss, cherishing the moment together. It only lasted a few seconds but it left you with more butterflies in your stomach then you’ve ever felt before. You both pulled away and looked each other in the eyes leading you to giggle and hide your face in his chest. His arms returned to your waist and gave you a small kiss on the top of your head. “So I guess you know now.”

———————————————————————

BONUS: You were suddenly awoken by running muffled footsteps and a banging on the door. Mina swings Sero’s door open and wakes you guys up from your nap.

“Hey, Sero have you seen Y/N? It’s like noon and I can’t find-“ her eyes bounce between you and him snuggling in bed.

“Oh.” She giggles and winces. “My bad! I didn’t know there was something goin on. I’ll leave you too it.” She said as she back up slowly and then dashes down the hall “GUYS YOU’RE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS!!!” You hear her voice and footsteps fade as she rushes to tell everyone.

Sero scoffed and flung his tape to close the door. Then he returned to cuddling you. You guys had some sleeping to catch up on.

#my hero academia #mha headcanons #mha fluff #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero #sero fluff #sero headcanons

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angelinasway · 3 years ago

Text

Regaining Hope Chapter Seven

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Thank you all for your amazing and wonderful reviews. I do need to address something though, when it comes to reviews, I honestly don't mind anyone critiquing me when comes to grammar, characterization, or even if its kind of a heavy subject and someone feels like they need to debate me on it. That is absolutely fine, for instance I knew I would get a few blocks and even someone asking about the religious views of this story. I do not mind that. I do however mind, if you think I'm a decent writer, but then proceed to belittle the content of my story. I'm going to try to say this as absolutely nicely as I can...If you don't like the content of this story, if the talk of soulmates, soulbounds, or claiming is not for you, if the romance of this story is not for you, kindly back out of this story now and please just don't leave a review. I will say that anyone who's been in the BTVS fandom long enough already knows what a Claim is pretty much a fanon canon, since its been around our fanfiction community since like 2002 at least. Wesley mentioned Angel and Buffy being soulmates in season one of ATS, so that is actually canon. I say this in the nicest way possible, because sometimes I think reviewers who don't write, do not realize how much a review about content can actually screw with our muse and inspiration and I believe there will be at least a handful of people that do write who will agree with me. That being said, this chapter took as long as it did for me to write because of a bad review, so I'm sorry for the long winded exposition everyone. I know this chapter is a bit choppy and if it wasn't for my beautiful Beta Hipkarma, I'm pretty sure it would have been illegible. This chapter deals with some pretty heavy subjects and I added a warning tag just in case. I do not expect anyone to feel the way Buffy does on this subject, and if you feel the need I will gladly talk to you through pm about it. Thank you guys so much again, and please review, unless you know its an above subject and you hate it. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Seven

The plane arrived right on time as Clark anxiously awaited Buffy’s arrival outside the terminal. He’d felt this way since he awoke this morning and he didn’t know why. It was almost like that feeling you get when you know you’ve forgotten something.

He’d dreamt of her last night and it was so vivid and real that when he opened his eyes, he expected her to be there. The feeling had washed over him after that, like a sudden cold draft in a stifling room. He’d also been as hard as nails and had to relieve himself twice in the shower. His dream Buffy whispering filthy words into his ear as he imagined pinning her to the shower wall and driving into her hard and fast. It only seemed to make the feeling worse though. There was a pounding, an almost driving force that told him he needed to see her and that coupled with the lust, he couldn’t seem to shake was a dangerous combination that he did not enjoy feeling at all.

It was so strange, yesterday he’d been fine, more than fine really. He’d walked into his house humming and smiling. His mom had noticed his exuberant mood in an instant and raised her eyebrows in surprise, a curious yet knowing quirk in her lips. She had immediately started bombarding him with questions about his evening and Clark had been unable to deny her even a single detail. Well, there were definitely a few things he left out, but he told her everything from meeting Buffy at the school to him having to sing at Lorne’s. This was a first for both of them, Clark making friends and being able to tell his mom all about it. She listened intently, a happy smile on her lips as if this was something she had always wanted for her son. The ability to just be treated normally by people, even if they knew what he was. The more he spoke about how great Buffy was the more his mom’s knowing smile grew. He told her he promised Buffy that he would pick her up at the airport, and his mom had agreed to let him use the truck as long as he promised to take her to work before he left. She had a full shift at the diner tomorrow, so he was pretty sure he could make it back in time to pick her up and take her home.

Later that night, after getting off the phone with Buffy so she could go patrol, Clark had spent the evening on the internet looking up several theories and ideas on the concept of soulmates. All in all, it was pretty simple stuff, a soulmate could be a romantic or platonic relationship with a mirroring of the souls. Where, both their values and ideals deemed them a perfect match. He had even gone to a few sites on the mystical aspects of soulmates that seemed to be pretty legit, and they believed that when it came to soulmates not only were the souls similar, but both souls usually challenge each other to perceive themselves and the world differently. In essence, your soulmate could help you transcend into a higher state of consciousness. All of that seemed to match very much with what he had been feeling since the moment he met her. None of that however, explained how he felt now.

Buffy had been right the other day when she said it wasn’t just the soulmates thing. He was almost positive the out-of-control lust and the uncontrollable desire to be near her had very little to do with the fact that they were soulmates and everything to do with the prophecy. Something wanted them to consummate their relationship, and he was pretty sure that something had a reason. He wondered if he was in danger of meeting the other woman and somehow changing his mind about her. He definitely couldn’t imagine ever doing that though, not when he felt what he felt, not when she had consumed his thoughts so thoroughly since the day they met.

He felt physically ill at the idea of ever having to fight Buffy as an enemy, Lorne’s words about killing her making him nauseous and dizzy. The demon said it most likely wouldn’t happen now, but God, what if it did? What if he wasn’t capable of fighting off this mystery enemy of the future. He shuddered at the thought, his anxiety level spiking in worry. He had to get himself under control.

As the passengers began to exit the terminal Clark looked on, his eyes searching for golden hair and green eyes. When he finally spotted her the tension that had been growing in his limbs immediately eased. It happened so fast he almost felt boneless by the sudden release. Her eyes met his and a similar look of relief washed over her face, but there was something else there. She was scared, which just made the tension begin to build again. Clark frowned in confusion, but didn’t deny her as she ran to him wrapping her arms around his waist tightly as she laid her head on his chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “There’s something wrong,” She whispered. “I shouldn’t be feeling this–”

“I know,” he whispered. “I feel it too.” Clark shuddered, so it wasn’t only him who was feeling it. “I think it’s time we learn more about this prophecy.”

He felt her nod. “I’ll call Wes once we get to the safe house.”

****<S>**<S>****

The drive there had been mostly quiet. The only real sound was Buffy’s smartphone giving directions to their destination. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching out and entwining their fingers however, and she smiled at him gratefully before closing her eyes and sighing. They finally arrived at what looked to be an unassuming house just outside of town that rested on a few acres of property. Buffy untangled their fingers and reached into her carryon bag that was between them and pulled out a large multicolored crystal.

“Here,” she said quietly. “Hold this.”

Clark, frowned but did as she asked. Watching her as she muttered the word, “Agnoscis.” The stone suddenly warming in his palm as he caught the house in front of him shimmer for a moment out of the corner of his eye.

“Latin?” He guessed.

Buffy nodded. “It means recognize. It’s so you can get through the wards.” She bit her lip, “We can also bring your mom here, in case you ever need to hide her you’ll have a place to take her that’s pretty impenetrable.”

Clark nodded gratefully, his eyes studying the sad expression on her face. He reached out and gently brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek. Her whole body shivered at the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips.

“Are you…are you okay,” He asked.

She shook her head, “I think it’s affecting me more than you.”

Clark was quiet for a moment, and then he shook his head. “It’s not, I think I’m just a lot better at controlling my impulses.”

Buffy chuckled humorlessly, “Maybe, that’s something you can teach me sometime.” She met his eyes and Clark lost his breath at the want he saw shining there.

God, she was beautiful like that. Her eyes almost swirling with color and heat. His temperature immediately skyrocketed, his pants becoming tight. He wanted to ask her if there was anything he could do, but didn’t dare for fear of what her answer might be. She had already told him she wasn’t ready, and if he was being honest with himself, neither was he.

He swallowed, his heart beating in his chest. “Come on,” he whispered, opening his door and stepping out. “Let’s go make that phone call.”

He walked around her side of the truck as she fumbled with her seatbelt, opening the passenger door for her and holding out his hand. She took it gratefully as she slid out of the passenger’s side, hoisting her bag over her shoulder after her feet hit the pavement. Clark reached in the truck bed and grabbed the only other bag she’d brought with her. He wondered where her weapons bag was, but remembered she’d just went through an airport and realized she probably couldn’t bring them with her.

As if she was reading his mind, she said. “Willow was here last night; I had her ward the training equipment so that we can use it without destroying it.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked up the driveway. Her hand fumbling with her keys as they made their way to the door. “I also had her fill the fridge and bring my weapons bag over.”

He didn’t say anything as he watched her slide the key in the lock and open the door. He followed her through a spacious living room that was tastefully decorated, through another door and into a modern kitchen. She slid her bag off, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. She pulled out her phone next, scrolling through her contacts and hitting send before putting it on speaker. She set the phone on the island between them and walked to the fridge, leaning her back against it as she closed her eyes.

Clark wanted to go over and comfort her, but something in his gut told him that would be a very bad idea. She was putting distance between them for a reason and he completely respected that. Her sudden change however, worried him and he was beginning to think maybe she really was suffering more than him.

"Buffy?" A cultured British male voice answered after the first few rings.

"Yeah, it’s me." She said quietly.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, his tone worried.

"No, not really." She answered. "I think it’s time you told us about this prophecy."

"Buffy, I've already explained–"

“No,” She cut him off. “No Wes, you don’t get to do this. Not now. Something is wrong with me, I feel…” Her face went red, as she looked at Clark, “I feel like I’m on fire, I…” Her eyes moved to her phone and glared, a growl tearing from her throat in frustration. Her teeth clenched as she ground out. “I feel incredibly sexually frustrated, okay? Like a cat in fucking heat.” Her face went scarlet and she avoided looking directly at Clark. “Want to explain?”

There was a sudden choking sound on the other line, as a coughing fit proceeded it. “Good Lord, it’s happening already?”

The outrage in Buffy’s eyes, did something to Clark in that moment and he stepped forward his anger simmering under the surface. “What’s happening?” He demanded.

“Mr. Kent,” Wesley said in surprise, “I didn’t…I didn’t realize you were on the line as well.” Clark heard the British man sigh, “I’m sorry we were finally introduced this way, I had hoped to meet you in person. I’m sure you already know that I am Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and that I am head of the Watchers Council.” There was a pause, before he continued. “I do apologize for not telling you both sooner, but I had hoped we would have a few more days before the bond started to require a need to be fulfilled.”

“Bond…what?” Buffy’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“I don’t really understand it myself,” Wesley admitted. “But it’s written that once the Immortal Slayer and, I believe the correct term is Star God meet, a…I think the term is soulbond will start to form and a compulsion to fulfill it will start to take hold. Now, both Willow and I think we’ve found a way to counteract the compulsion, but I didn’t expect it would start to take hold so quickly. I do apologize Buffy; I had planned to have Willow bring me there tomorrow so I could explain.”

“What’s a soulbond, exactly?” Clark asked, “And how is it any different than being soulmates?”

“I honestly don’t know, there are very few references to what it is exactly. I imagine that much like soulmates there must be a similarity or mirroring of souls if you will, but unlike soulmates there is a need…a compulsion for a confluence between the souls. As far as I can tell, once that happens it would act very similarly to a claim.”

Buffy gasped and looked at Clark, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Clark swallowed, “What’s a claim?”

“It’s a…a type of marriage between demons, vampires in particular.” Buffy shifted uncomfortably and looked down. “It’s barely ever used now because its unbreakable, not even magic can undo it. It’s ancient and powerful and requires total trust and consent between both parties.” She met his eyes then, an apology shining through but Clark didn’t feel like he needed one, in fact he just felt very confused.

“That doesn’t make any sense, not after what Lorne told me.” Clark said with a frown. “If this bond is as powerful as you say then…” It was his turn to look at Buffy apologetically, “Then even if I met this other person first, wouldn’t the bond take hold when I met Buffy regardless?”

“I don’t quite understand what you’re referring to.” Wesley said in confusion.

Clark looked up at Buffy and saw suspicion in her eyes. “Lorne didn’t tell you?”

“Lorne doesn’t give me the details of readings Mr. Kent; he treats all his clients very much like a therapist treats a patient.” Wesley said, adding. “The only thing he told me was that you were the one the prophecy spoke of and that you were on the right path in regards to your destiny. What exactly did he tell you?”

Clark shifted uncomfortably, feeling Buffy’s eyes on him but unable to meet hers. “He said I had two very different futures, that Buffy was my soulmate but I have another as well and in this other future this woman dies and something makes me go bad.” He finally got the courage and looked at Buffy, her eyes were wide and burning with hurt and maybe a bit of jealousy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, thinking he had ruined everything.

Buffy shook her head and swallowed, “Did he… did he say what would happen if you met her now?”

Clark nodded, "He said I'm a one-woman man, that it wouldn't matter."

She seemed to relax a bit at his words, her eyes softening and darting back to her phone as Wesley began speaking, "Then you are very correct Mr. Kent, if you met Buffy in this other future, it should have activated the soulbond whether you had feelings for this other woman or not. A soulmate is not always a love interest after all." He paused for a moment, "There are only two things that could have stopped it. One would be that you don't meet Buffy until this mystery foe had your mind or if you did meet her, she was already claimed."

Buffy gasped, and looked at Clark guiltily, “I almost asked him to claim me.”

A potent wave of jealousy and possession swept through him at her words. If she was referring to Angel, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. Not when the very idea of her being tied like that with someone else made his blood boil.

"What?" Wesley said, shocked.

"Spike, Wes. Not Angel." She clarified. "It was...it was right after we found Alicia. I knew it could make us stronger and I... I thought it might give us an advantage against Angelus. I never had the courage to ask him though."

“And thank every deity in the universe for that!” Wesley said sharply, “I don’t think you quite understand the repercussions that could have had on not just Clark’s future but your own.” There was a long silence, the only sound was heavy breathing before a much calmer Wesley finally said, “That kind of bond Buffy…think about what you did to Angelus and multiply it by a million. I was there that day you came through the portal after Spike died. You were almost feral; your Slayer was in complete control and she wanted to kill Willow for making her immortal. There was a part of her that already thought of Spike as her mate, and she wanted blood from whoever had wronged her. If you had been claimed and Spike died…” They heard him take a shuddering breath, “You would have burnt the world and then marched into Hell without a second thought in search of him. There would have been no stopping you.”

Clark watched Buffy shiver at Wes’s words, her eyes getting lost and faraway. His possessiveness grew at her words, but a small part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what happened between the two of them and why she so rarely spoke about him. The book had only said that the vampire had killed two Slayers, and had tried to kill Buffy on numerous occasions. He had been hampered by some form of neurotechnology by the US Government and began working with her reluctantly. Somewhere along the way he had fallen for Buffy and regained his soul, sacrificing himself for the world once, where he was resurrected by a mystical amulet he was wearing when he died. The author of the book believed he’d been brought back by mistake and the amulet was meant to be worn by Angel, but there was also some speculation that Spike may have been the actual bearer of the Shanshu prophecy. The author however, was highly skeptical about this because Spike didn’t do what he did out of heroics, even with a soul he relished in the violence of his nature. The author believed that becoming mortal would feel more like a punishment than a reward for the vampire. It spoke some about his time at Wolfram and Hart, about his part in the fight against Angelus, and how he died saving Buffy a second time.

“I don’t…I don’t remember any of that.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. “Even what I did to Angelus, I only remember parts of it. I felt like I was outside my body looking at someone who wasn’t actually me, except I could feel what I was doing.” She shivered, and it took every bit of self-control he had not to go to her, especially when her voice cracked. “When I came to, I-I was covered in blood and…God, Wes there was nothing left but a torso and head. I…” She choked. “I even took his face.”

When a single tear tracked itself down her cheek, Clark couldn’t take it anymore and he rounded the island and pulled her into his arms, hoping she was too upset to be affected by the embrace, but not really caring if she was, not when he could feel her trembling in his arms. He understood now why she’d been so adamant the other day about her being wrong in the way she killed Angelus and about Slayers not actually being creatures of light but warriors for the light. He could never picture her being capable of such carnage even after hearing it from her own mouth. Then again, he could never picture himself killing her either or anyone else for that matter, not on purpose at least.

They heard a muffled sniffle over the line, before a choked sounding Wesley finally said, “Oh, Buffy, I never…I never knew it was that bad. We found the warehouse and the blood, so I did realize…but…not to what extent, and then you just disappeared and Willow couldn’t ever get a read on you. It was like you were blocking her somehow. Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

Clark felt her shake her head, “I was ashamed.” She answered honestly. “Lorne’s the only one who knows everything, even the stuff I can’t remember.”

“Do you remember anything that happened before you captured Angelus?” Wesley asked cautiously. “I’ve always wondered how you did it, but was always too afraid to ask after the way we…the way we found you.”

Buffy sighed against Clark’s chest, her shivering increasing. “I think I let myself be caught,” she said quietly. “The only thing I really remember is being bound magically by Amy and then Warren tearing open my shirt.” Clark stiffened at her words, his whole body going rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her grip on him tightening. “Angelus threw him out of the way, and said everyone would have a turn, but he got to have me first.” Clark’s anger flared at her words, his fist tightening behind her back, he had to squeeze his eyes shut at the sudden heat he felt building. “I-I don’t know how, but somehow I was able to break through the magic that was binding me. Everything’s kind of a blur after that, but I think…” She frowned, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “I think none of the spells were working on me. I think…I think I killed everyone.”

Clark found himself sighing in relief at her words. God, just the image of someone trying to do that to her made him see red. Literally, in fact. He really hoped that something like that has never happened before, because he could already tell he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tearing whomever did it to shreds. As horrendous of a way she killed Angelus, he couldn’t judge her for how she did it, not after hearing that. God, if she hadn’t been able to break the magic… He felt himself shudder.

Wesley was quiet for a long time, “I’ve always known that Willow brought you back stronger, but being able to break a binding spell with sheer force of will is extraordinary Buffy. We should have started testing this advantage years ago.”

“I try not to think about that day, Wes.” She huffed. “I don’t think the magic going wonky even occurred to me until this moment.” She was quiet for a few moments, before she finally said, "So what happens if I bond with Clark and I lose him too?"

Wesley sighed, "Well, I'm hoping since it’s your souls that are bonding and not your Slayer, that it will make quite a difference."

"You're hoping? That’s really not a guarantee, Wes." She said in annoyance, stepping out of Clark's embrace and leaning on the island. "And what’s to stop my Slayer from trying to initiate a claim? What if this soulbond thing isn't good enough for her? Lorne already said she's been looking for her mate since I was called. He said that's why I was so drawn to both Spike and Angel." She shook her head, "Well, according to this prophecy he's my mate, right? Or the closest she'll ever get to one. So, what's to stop her from doing what she's been wanting to do for years? I mean I looked up claiming in high school, Wes. As soon as I read the word, I was fascinated."

Clark stepped around the table so he could look at her. She seemed worried and deep in thought before her eyes met his and they softened immediately, a small smile forming on her lips as she studied him.

Then they heard Wesley sigh, "I honestly don't know. We've still not even translated the whole thing and we've been working on it for over a year."

Clark watched Buffy frown in confusion. "Is there a reason you haven't gotten Dawn in on this?"

"I'll give you three guesses as to why." He said sarcastically.

Buffy snorted, saying mockingly, "Aww Wes, you're not afraid of my baby sister, are you?"

There was silence on the other end of the line and then a grumbled, "I would rather face all the demons in hell than deal with Dawn on a tirade about you."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Well tough, because I want her in on this."

"But Buffy–” He started to whine.

“No Wes,” she said cutting him off. “I love both you and Willow, you know that. But, if there’s anyone in this world who will have our best interests at heart and give it to us straight, it’s her. I want her in on this.”

“Fine,” He groaned.

Then a smile broke across her lips and an evil look of mischief Clark was slowly becoming familiar with sparked in her eyes. “Plus, she already knows I spent time with Clark the other day and she knows he’s something other.”

“How on Earth did she find out about that?” Wesley said in surprise.

Clark smirked as Buffy’s smile grew. “I may have pissed Faith off by waking her and Gunn up with a cold shower. She ratted us out.”

There was silence on the other line, but she swore she could hear him shaking his head. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.” She said chuckling and then sighed. “I’m feeling a little better now, I mean as far as the compulsion stuff goes.”

“Hmm,” Wesley hummed. “Perhaps it gets worse when you’re apart. I knew that you would feel a need to be around each other, but perhaps being away from one another has an even greater affect than I imagined. How about you Mr. Kent, how do you feel?”

Clark blinked in surprise. Now that Buffy mentioned it, he was feeling less uncomfortable than he had all morning. “Better, actually. It’s still there, but not as potent.”

“Then perhaps the theory is a sound one,” Wesley said. “However, to be on the safe side I’ll have Willow drop off the pendants she’s making this evening. They should be able to subdue most of the compulsion until you both feel ready to move forward with the bond. I would also recommend spending as little time apart as possible. I believe that the pendants are powerful enough to ward off the worst of it, however if this bond is as powerful as I think it is you very well might override the magics if the compulsion becomes too powerful.” He sighed, “I suggest staying there with Buffy for the time being Mr. Kent.”

Clark shook his head “That not going to work Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I need to help out on the farm. While I was away my mom got behind on the payments and if we don’t bring in a decent crop this year my mom could lose it.” He looked at Buffy nervously. “You could stay with us though; we have a guest bedroom.”

Buffy nodded, “Yeah, yeah, that might be a good idea. I can help you with anything you need, and we can start your training in the afternoons.”

Wesley cleared his throat, getting both their attention. “I think you’re forgetting the contract, Buffy. He may very well not need to worry about that any longer.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I’ll be right back.”

Clark watched her run out of the room as Wesley said, “Are you still there Mr. Kent?”

Clark looked at the phone, “Yes.”

“Good, I thought I’d go over the numbers for you and see if they’re satisfactory.” Wesley said. “I had thought of paying you as we would a hired mercenary or demon hunter, however since your role in the future will be pivotal to keeping this world intact, I decided you deserved what we would pay any Slayer, it’s only fair after all.”

“What aren’t you telling us about this prophecy?” Clark said, Wesley’s words telling him the man knew more than was saying.

He heard the man sigh, “I would prefer not to say at this moment. I already know how Buffy will feel about it, and I believe you both have enough on your plate with the bonding. I’ll tell you both, but she’s not ready to hear it yet.”

Clark frowned, “I don’t think you give her enough credit.”

“You may be correct,” Wesley conceded, “But I know she will not be happy about this, even if it’s a good thing. I, at the very least need to prepare myself for Dawn finding out, and she may very well tell Buffy even if I ask her not too. I do not believe either of you have long to wait.”

“Alright,” Clark said, “I’m going to hold you to that though.”

“Now,” Wesley said, just as Buffy walked back in the room. “How does two hundred-thousand a year sound?

Clark blinked in surprise, the blood rushing to his head. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, could he? “I’m sorry did you…did you just say two hundred-thousand?”

“Clark are you okay?” Buffy asked, running to his side. “You look a little pale.”

He shook his head, “It’s…that’s too much.”

“No,” Buffy disagreed, shaking her head. “It really isn’t. Entering this world Clark… you’ll be putting not only your home but your mom at risk and no amount of money will ever make up for that.” She bit her lip and nodded, “Trust me on this, most demons aren’t stupid enough to mess with the good guy’s families, but the real big-bads, the uber-powerful demons, who’s only goal is destruction and world domination? Those demons won’t care, they’ll do everything in their power to try and hurt you, even if that means trying to break you.” She sighed, “It’s why I want your mom to have access to this place too. It will make me feel better knowing you can get her to safety if you needed to.”

Clark sighed, reaching out and sliding the small stack of paper out of her hand. “And what happens if I sign these and change my mind?”

Wesley spoke up, “You are not beholden to anything Mr. Kent, if you sign those and decide that helping the Watchers Council is not in your best interest, it would simply be like you quitting a job. You wouldn’t be paid anymore of course, but you would not be obligated to continue helping us either. However, with the bond beginning to form I’m not sure how you would be able to distance yourself from the Council or Buffy, but if you made that decision no one would stand in your way.”

Clark pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes quickly reading it through. It was pretty standard stuff, nothing in it that had some sort of hidden agenda. He flipped the page and read through the rest before getting to the signature line.

“Do you have a pen?” He asked, looking at Buffy.

She went to a small drawer and pulled it open, grabbing one from inside and handing it over. Clark took the pen signing his name on the dotted line. “Okay Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, I signed it.”

“Very good.” Wesley said, “Now, I don’t suppose you’re up for giving him a tour of the underground facilities?”

“Of course.” Buffy said.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll call you before Willow leaves, in the meantime try and keep your wits about you.”

The line disconnected and Clark raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Underground facility?”

****<S>**<S>****

Buffy slid open the hidden panel in the wall of the master bedroom. She entered a number into the keypad and then looked up into a camera where it scanned her face, and slid her keycard into the slot.

The computer’s AI came online and a female voice said, "Good afternoon Miss Summers, what can I do for you this afternoon?"

"I need to give a new recruit security clearance."

"Name?" The computer asked, as Buffy removed her keycard and slid in the blank one Willow had left for them.

Buffy nodded at Clark and stepped away from the panel so he could stand in front of it.

"Clark Joseph Kent," he answered, stepping into the space Buffy had just vacated.

"Facial recognition." The computer said, and Buffy pointed up to the camera, indicating he needed to look into it.

Once that was done the computer said, "Four-digit pin."

Buffy looked at Clark and nodded, "Now choose four numbers you'll remember easily."

She watched as he thought about it a second before he put in his code. Once that was finished the computer said, "Thank you Mr. Kent, you now have full access to the Watcher Archives as well as all facilities. Ms. Summers would you like access into the rest of the building?"

"Yes," Buffy answered before the hidden wall shifted, sliding away and revealing the steel doors of an elevator that would take them down into the heart of the house. The doors slid open and Buffy removed the new keycard handing it to Clark as they stepped into the elevator, Buffy pressing the simple down-arrow button.

“We had these built in all the safehouses after what happened with Angelus.” Buffy said as way of explanation. “Or I should say, Wes and Willow did. I wasn’t really around for that.”

It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach its destination and the doors slid open. She could feel Clark’s eyes on her as she stepped out of the elevator and into the large steel control room. There were several monitors on the walls with keyboards on a stainless steel counter top that bolted into the walls along half the room.

“This is the control room.” Buffy said, “For safety reasons, if we’re ever in any code-red type situation, this room is always occupied in case someone manages to get past the outer wards. We can house up to thirty bodies here at a time and since most of us are a little something-other, we can at least hold off whoever’s broken in to give the rest of us a fighting chance to escape by sounding the alarm.”

She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t look at him right then. It was just occurring to her all that she admitted to Wesley and what she’d said in front of Clark. He was going to ask about Spike, she could almost feel it. Of all the things Wesley could have brought up, it had to be claiming. She felt Clark move closer, and wasn’t surprised when she felt him place his hand on her shoulder as she rambled on about where the exits were located.

“Buffy?” He whispered.

She sighed and looked down, “Yeah?”

“Why…why don’t you ever talk about him?” Clark asked.

Her shoulders slumped at his words, but she still couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at him. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

“Well then, I think you should try to uncomplicate it for me, because this thing sounds pretty permanent between us and I need to know if I’m going to be living in another man’s shadow.” He said honestly.

She spun around, her eyes meeting his in surprise. “God, no. It’s not like that at all. We were…” She sighed. “Maybe we should go into another room that’s more comfortable. This is a long story.”

Clark nodded at her and she turned, leading him through the heavy metal door to their left and down a hallway the AI illuminating the rooms as it monitored their approach. Buffy led him into a large rec room, a massive tv mounted to one wall with a standard sized couch in front. There was a card table in a corner and a pool table in another. A few pinball machines lined one wall of the room and a dartboard hung near a foosball table. She led him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit before she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She waited for him to sit down first, and sat at the other end biting her lip in thought, staring straight ahead into the black void of the blank tv screen, not sure exactly where to start. She figured the beginning was probably best, so she started there.

“When I met Spike,” she said slowly. “He was just about as evil as they come, or at least that’s what my sixteen-year-old-self thought. Though, I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Angelus yet, so I was a bit naive in that department. Anyway, his girlfriend-slash-sire had been weakened in Prague at some point and he came to Sunnydale to try and restore her and bag himself another Slayer.” She shrugged, “So, we pretty much started out as mortal enemies. We fought each other a lot that first half of the year, and he was a hell of a fighter. He almost got me on that first one, but incredibly enough my mom was the one who saved the day.” Buffy smiled in amusement. “Clocked him on the back of the head with an axe.”

Clark snorted in amusement. “Sounds like something my mom would do.”

Buffy smiled, “Yeah my mom could be pretty tough.” She shrugged, “Anyway, I ended up putting him in a wheelchair after dropping an organ on him during a spell that actually did end up restoring Drucilla. On my birthday I found out they were both still alive and Dru was reassembling an ancient demon called the Judge who couldn’t be killed by any man-made weapon. Me and Angel tried to stop it from happening, but we were both too late. That night I made the colossal decision of losing my virginity to Angel.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed, “And just like that his soul was gone. Maybe that’s why I clung on to the notion that we were somehow destined for so long. I mean, the breaking of Angel’s curse literally states that only a moment of perfect happiness could release the soul. I guess I thought that if our love was enough to drive his soul away, it must be special.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “Honestly, knowing Angel it had more to do with him somehow feeling redeemed in me or it very well could have been that he hadn’t dipped his wick in over a hundred years. Whatever the cause, so began several horrible months of mental torment from a demon wearing my lover’s face.”

“And Spike?” Clark asked.

Buffy sighed, “Spike went through his own torment at the hands of Angelus and Drusilla. Spike really did love her, but her love compared to his was fleeting at best. He told me once how they would mock him for being wheelchair bound and Angelus would…well, he would fuck Dru right in front of Spike because he knew how much it hurt him. I think that’s when whatever destiny Spike had must have started. He came to me and made a truce in the hopes of getting Angelus away from Dru and also according to him, he actually liked the world and didn’t want to see it destroyed like they were planning.” She sighed again, “Anyway, that’s probably the first instance where I started to see Spike in a somewhat different light. Less of a danger and more of a nuisance if that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Clark nodded. “I guess I could see that.”

“Okay, so skip ahead a few years, when I’m in my first year of college. I’ve seen Spike once in that time when he kidnapped Willow and Xander, trying to make Willow preform a love spell to get Dru back. Apparently, our little truce didn’t sit well with her and she dumped him.” Buffy shrugged, “We had one more real fight where we were actually trying to kill each other that year, and then a few months later the Initiative planted the chip in his head and then once again he came to us for asylum.” A small smile tugged at her lips, “We fought like cats and dogs that whole year. I think our bickering is partly what drove Giles to drinking so much. Then sometime during the next year when Dawn arrived and my mom got sick, he realized he was in love with me.” Buffy sighed. “It wasn’t a healthy love though, not even a little bit. He was obsessed with me. He had a weird shrine to me and he had, the super nerd Warren make a lifelike robot of me for reasons I’m sure you can guess.”

Clark grimaced before saying, “Is that the same Warren that–”

“The one and the same.” She interrupted. “I’ve dealt with some pretty gross demons before, but as far as Warren goes, he’s probably the worst human I’ve ever had to deal with.” Buffy sighed, “Anyway, as weird as Spike’s obsession with me was, he did some things that year that really surprised me. Things that normal vampires wouldn’t do, though I still to this day haven’t decided if Spike was the unique one or if Angelus was, because I know for a fact Spike isn’t the first vampire to keep a portion of his humanity after being turned.” She shook her head getting back on topic, “Anyway, he protected my sister’s secret when Glory tortured him for information and he promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. When I came back the next year, I didn’t really acknowledge it at the time, but he was still there. Still looking out for my baby sister. It’s strange how you don’t see those things when they happen, but Spike loved Dawn like a little sister and he loved my mom too. For some reason he was drawn to us Summers women.” She sighed and looked at Clark. “I already told you when I came back, I went to a dark place.”

Clark nodded, his eyes studying her face. “You have.”

“I went to that dark place with Spike, I didn’t… when I came back, I was numb and I didn’t know it at the time, but my Slayer had gotten stronger. Part of me hated my friends, I was furious with them for bringing me back and expecting me to be happy about it.” She swallowed, “Spike became my confidant at first, he became my quiet solace. I could sit with him and just be… he didn’t…he didn’t expect me to just be okay like everyone else. I was the one who made the first move…we were under a spell at the time but that didn’t stop me from making a second move after it was broken. One night not long after our second make out session, after my Watcher decided I needed to learn to do things on my own and left, we got into an argument about the kiss and I hit him,” she frowned bitterly, rolling her eyes. “He retaliated and must have realized his chip didn’t fire. The next day, well he started a real fight with me. The first one we had since…well since our brawl before the chip.” Buffy could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory, “It was the first time I felt alive since my resurrection and one thing led to another and we…well we weren’t fighting anymore. At least not with fists. It was the first time I didn’t have to hold back and it was exhilarating.” She looked at her hands, “And the next day I told him how disgusting we were, and I was cruel and awful to him.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying that he didn’t give as good as he got, but I was always the one saying the cruel stuff first. I was awful to him Clark; I beat him once and left him for the sunrise. He was trying to help me…well, I thought I accidentally killed someone.” She pursed her lips, even the memory of Warren now days could send her into a rage. “I hadn’t, Warren once again was trying to fuck with my life, but both of us thought I did. He didn’t understand why I had to turn myself in, how much even thought of hurting someone innocent was killing me. I…I just snapped. I honestly don’t know how he managed to make it to safety on time.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Clark’s arms come around her. “He still had bruises a week later and vampires, they heal fast.” She sniffled. “Shortly after that my ex-Riley came to town and somewhat reminded me why being with a soulless vampire was a bad thing. I realized that what we were doing…we had to stop. I was using him and it wasn’t fair to either of us, so I broke things off.” Buffy shook her head, “It was hard, because I really did still want him, but I resisted. Some things happened, over the next month or two, my friends ended up finding out about us and one night, he showed up at my house. I was pretty banged up from a fight earlier that evening and he tried to…I’m not even sure he knew what he was doing…but he tried to rape me.” Buffy said quietly, she felt Clark’s arms stiffen around her, this was the judgment she’d been waiting for. “I kicked him off, and he was shocked at himself and then I said, ask me again how I could ever love you?”

She looked at Clark then, and she could see the anger swirling in his blue eyes. “That’s why Spike got his soul. He thought it was the only way he could be sure never to hurt me again. He wanted to be the man I deserved. He did it for selfish reasons of course, but the outcome of those reasons? It was worth it in the end, because he’s the reason we don’t still have a Hellmouth in Sunnydale California.”

Clark shook his head, “I don’t…how can you have feelings for someone after they…even if he didn’t, how could you have not wanted to kill him?”

Buffy shook her head. “Because love isn’t rational, because it can be beautiful or a nightmare, and unfortunately feelings can’t just be flipped on and off. I think if he hadn’t gotten his soul, I would have felt differently, and maybe I eventually would have stopped caring about him. You have to understand though…what he did, it’s never been done before. He fought against his nature and became something incredible for it. I think I would be kinda a hypocrite if I could forgive and still love Angel for what he did to me without a soul, but couldn’t forgive and still have feelings for Spike.”

“Your ability to forgive, Buffy…I think you might have me beat in that department.” Clark said.

She shook her head, “I don’t necessarily think that’s true. I don’t think I can ever truly forgive Willow for bringing me back, and you now know what I did to Angelus.” She sighed. “I really do think it depends on the transgression. Willow tore me out of Heaven, she made me immortal, denying me the peace and reward that all Slayers crave. Angelus went after people I love and he tormented and killed my sister Slayers, all of which were young girls, newly called. I know what Wes said, and part of its true, but Spike was just the catalyst, he was not necessarily the cause. It was my hate, my emotions guiding my Slayer, and it wasn’t the first time that part of me wanted to kill Willow nor was it only her that wanted to destroy Angelus for what he had done.”

“And the claim?” Clark asked.

Buffy sighed, “It was something that was swirling around my head for a while, and at first it was absolutely a hundred percent my Slayer. But by the time I started seriously considering it, that was definitely all me.”

Clark looked away, “You wanted to bind yourself to him for eternity.”

She was silent at his words; she knew what he was thinking and he was wrong. She remembered very clearly why she wanted to do it. “It…I really did want to win, Clark. I know you’re thinking I must have been head over heels in love, but… I loved Spike, I did and I still do, but not…It was the type of love you hold for your best friend, for the person who gets you more than anyone else. I’m not saying it wasn’t romantic in nature either, but it was a love that formed over time. There was no cupid moment. I knew we were compatible sexually; I knew he would never leave me, and I knew it would make us stronger. Claims, they don’t even require love to be fulfilled, just a mutual respect for one another and I knew we could make it work.”

Clark sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you then?”

“Fear,” Buffy said simply. “Fear of the unknown, fear that he would say no, and fear that he would say yes.”

She watched Clark swallow. “And you want to do the same to me?”

Buffy blushed. “I-I don’t know. Yes, I think so…” She was silent for a moment. Did she want to claim Clark? Her Slayer seemed to think so, but was that the prophecy or an actual want. She certainly didn’t want to lead him on, so she said “But I think it’s something that could happen in the heat of the moment.” She could literally feel her face heating up even more. “Just, if…if I ever bite you when we…and say ‘Mine’, don’t answer unless you’re willing to do the same.”

“I’m assuming when you say bite, you mean breaking skin.” He said raising an eyebrow.

“I do.” She admitted. “That’s basically what a claim is, it’s a symbolic ritual of sharing one’s life force, blood, saliva, semen. The mixing of your essence with another to create two halves of a whole.”

A slow amused smile broke across his lips. “That actually sounds kind of beautiful, if not a little messy.”

Buffy snorted, her own amusement growing at his analogy. “Anything else you want to know, before we continue our tour?”

His eyes slowly gave her a once over, before he shook his head. “No, I think that was more than enough for today.” He looked down, “It’s hard for me to picture you like that, being cruel I mean. Not when…not when you’ve been so nice to me. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand anything you told me about him and you, and…and if I’m being honest, I can’t help feeling…” He looked at her seriously, his mouth set in a firm line. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back from the dead again, because I can’t promise I will be very nice.”

She found herself giggling at the visual. Dear God, that would be funny, especially with how quiet and reserved Clark was. Spike would drive him up the wall. “Oh, trust me neither will he, even with the soul he had the ability to drive just about anyone mad with rage.”

“Well, then it’s probably a good thing he’s not around anymore. I don’t think I’d like to be responsible for killing someone you cared about.” Clark said seriously.

Buffy rolled her eyes; he might be from another planet but he was definitely a hundred percent male. “Yes, Clark, lucky for you, you only have one of my ex’s left to contend with and he’s married.” She pushed herself away from him, grabbing his hand as she did and pulling him to his feet as she stood. “Now, come on, I’ll show you the training room.”

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wornoutmouse · 4 years ago

Text

Do it keep tagging you? @ozarkthedog

Day 3: Daddy Kink

Warning: dubious concent if you squint

"F-Fuck!" you softly moan into your sheets gripping your blanket as you haphazardly finger yourself, trying to gain any sort of satisfaction only to come up with nothing.

The reason you found yourself so pathetically horny was because of that bastard Tsukishima. If you could curve stomp the bastard, you would in an instant. Since the day you showed up to watch your new friend Hinata's volleyball practices, he has disliked you. The only reason being was the fact that you were the same height as him and it bruised his ego. "Eh, what's with Jane the Giant over here." You look around confused at who goldie locks were talking about, anf when you realized it was you, you were unamused.

"What do you mean bro we are the same height?!" you ask standing up hands on your hip trying to look intimidating. "Not with that obnoxious hair your not." that comment irked you, but you remembered your anger management classes and took a few deep breaths, "This is just how my hair is." you reply pulling a strand of curls smirking at the scoff the boy made as said strand reached your chin before snapping back up into your fro. "Yeah well, it's obnoxious."

Ever since then your rivalry had been unleashed from you challenging him to a game of volleyball, which he beat you at, to him challenging you at basketball which you beat him at. It was non-stop and never-ending but both of you would rather choke and die before apologizing to the other and honestly, you two were pushing Dachi to his limit intolerance.

To your surprise, you had been invited to join the team at the Nekoma Training camp despite not being apart of it what so ever. "It'll be a learning experience for all of us so why not invite our biggest cheerleader!" Dachi explained as you helped take in the bags. You could hear Tsukishima scoff behind you and you wished he choked on that breath as he shoved past you. "You aren't wrong about her being our biggest." You growl and throw a water bottle at his head hitting right on target

"Yeah well you couldn't handle all this even if you tried." you respond sensually gliding your hands along your waist and up your chest ending in a macho pose making Suga cover his mouth to hide his laugh. Instead of responding to the insult Tsukishima's eyes intently follow your hands, eyes spending a longer time at your wide hips than most of your body. His eyes trail higher and finally meet yours sending a shiver through your body. His gaze was quite unsettling and it didn't lessen when he turned around wordlessly carrying his luggage on his shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" you muttered scratching your hair flitching as your nails caught on a stray hair sticking out your twists.

Later on in the day, you opted to cook for the boys while they all showered. Well, almost all of them to your dismay, "Didn't know a giant could cook, what a surprise." you heard Tsukishima mock from behind you ask he sat on the kitchen island. "You know that this is an open space and you could be anywhere else?" you sigh cutting the fire off and making everyone a plate. "Yeah but I like making you uncomfortable so this is nice and fine for me." you shook your head asking God to give you strength.

Luckily he seemed to have heard your prayers as the other guys began pouring into the room and you handed each of them their food. "Well I've already eaten, so I'm going to go take a shower!" you declare wiping your hands with a cup towel proud of your job well done as you watched the blissful faces of your newfound teammates.

The shower was long and hot and you walked in peace as you fiddled with the soft fabric of the towel wrapped around you. "Thwack!" you stopped at the unusual sound and jerked your head around wildly trying to figure out where it was coming from so you could expertly walk in the opposite direction. "Thwack!" the sound was louder at this point and you deducted that it was coming from in front of you, unfortunately, the only thing behind you were the showers and the last thing you wanted was to be cornered so you held your ground. "Thwack"

You run forward and send a hard punch into the darkness only for another hand to encase around it, "What the hell are you doing, freak!?" came the annoying voice of Tsukishima, and for a moment you wished it were an intruder. "Why are you making creepy-ass noises in the dark!?" you retort tightening your towel around you to gain some source of dignity. Through the dim lighting, you could see Kei roll his eyes as he held up a lanyard of keys. "I was swinging these around dumbass." You looked at him for a moment before shaking your head in mock disapproval as you try to walk away.

Before you could get far, you feel a large hand yank your arm back, "Hey even though it's me and I wouldn't want to be within 6 feet of your giantess body, You shouldn't walk around in only a towel, this is open property." You nod in understanding as you look up at him choking on your breath as you're once again met with that strange look of determination on his face. You can't quite place it, but now in the chilling air with darkness so thick you could barely see 6 feet in front of you, it was exciting.

"Why are you just standing there like a fork int the road?" Tsukishima deadpanned as he turns to walk away, "By the way, everyone went out exploring so make sure your door is locked!" You pout before kicking yourself for hoping something would happen. "Like hell I'd let him touch me!" you grunt kicking open the nearest door and plopping on the bed arms folded in childish frustration. You absentmindedly stroke the arm he was holding and your mind went back to that look he revealed to you two times already today. It was a bit determined but what it was directed towards was a mystery.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath in acceptance. "Feeling good one time wouldn't hurt, I mean just to get it out my system." you reason with yourself as you climb under the sheets that felt strangely not like your own but you were too focused on your objective to care as you unwrap your towel.

You weren't usually one to speed through your special moment but your me-time could be cut short at any minute so it was best if you hurried. You suck lightly on your fingers to lube them up as you lightly graze your clit, using your imagination to reinvent your rival's look of determination though you would never admit to it. As you trail your wet fingers down you realize that it was the same look he gives during games. A look that meant he was sure of his movement and already knew the outcome. Your breath hitches as you sink your middle finger slowly inside of yourself gently prodding at your walls trying to make room. "I'm at least doing two today."

You bring your other hand around your neck loosely cradling it before squeezing ever so slightly before dragging the hand down to your large breasts. You weren't surprised that the cold air had made you nipples harden as you take them in between your manicured nails. You hum trying to stay quiet so you could listen to your surroundings. Soon however, your patience runs out and you finally slip in a second finger using your essence as release groaning lightly at the burning stretch that was uncomfortable but not unwelcomed. At that moment you recall the firm grip Tsukishima had on your arm and the hardness of his voice when he reprimanded you. Much to your dismay, your mind began to supply numerous insults he could say to you at this moment.

"Look at you taking my fingers so greedily my little giant." you shiver as you imagine the places his much longer fingers could reach inside of you as you struggle to reach the spot that was so close yet so far. You use your other hand to massage your small bud in time with your thrusts. "What is it not good enough for you? Are you such a slut that you need something bigger already?!" Your legs quiver and you nod to the non-existent voice mocking you in your head. As long as you didn't acknowledge it, the voice had no relation to someone with blond hair and glasses.

"Good girls get to cum you know. You can't ignore me forever. Y/N what is my name?" you whimpered, "Fuck!" you whined as you turn to your side, the pace of your little thrusts doing their best to speed up despite how tightly your legs were wrapped around them. "Say my name!" the voice came again more aggressive this time. "K-Kei." you whimper covering your hand over your mouth in betrayal. You imagined the voice that you finally acknowledged to be Tsukishima, take form like a figure sitting above you watching your pathetic displays of arousal as he refused to reach deeper in the way you knew he could. "That's not my name little giant, say my name." you shook your head gipping the pillow above you. In your imagination, Kei sharply pinched your quivering thighs, "Say it!" Unable to hold back anymore, you let out a broken and defeated moan "Daddy!"

You had finally found the position that let you reach a place so deep and so right, you saw sparkles of light behind your eyelids. You could feel the pit of your stomach begin to warm up as your release came close. As you try to focus on that, you miss the small dip in the sheet next to you but freeze when you feel a large cold hand come over yours, it's thumb gently massaging your clit sending shivers down your spine at the contrast in temperature brought you closer to your sweet release.

"W-Who are you?" you stutter out alarmed as the hand slaps yours away dragging a finger through your arousal before completely pushing the long thick digit inside of you with no regard to the size difference. Arching your back in ecstasy, a choked sob leaving your hand as you try to suppress your noises. You open your eye and blink rapidly trying to adjust to the darkness you were no longer used to. "What, don't you recognize your daddy?" came the voice of the real Tsukishima. "N-No, I-" you gasp as the long finger finds your g-spot and rubs against it like a man that found gold. You buck into the hand wrapping your legs around the long arm gripping onto it with your hands as if it was the only thing keeping you anchored to reality.

You barely touched yourself, now to have another person touching you so intimately was too much for your mind to bear. "T-T-To much please!" you whine as the finger prods at that one spot before you once again felt a cold thumb roughly massage your soft bud. There was an annoying click of a tongue as you feel yourself being turned on your side and a warm body slid behind you. "You have the nerve to be making demands after being a whore on my bed!" the fingers sped up and you could no longer hold back your moans as you felt your release reach its peak. "Don't be shy, say it again, call me your daddy." You shook your head defiant before you were jerked forward by a harsh slap on your thigh.

"Say it giant!" Kei growls in your ear leaving kisses along your neck. It would have been sweet had he not continued to say condescending remarks and hard bites that without a doubt would lead to hickeys. "Say what you fucking said Y/N. You know your place now be a good girl and say it or I'm not letting you cum." True to his word you could feel his finger leaving your warmth and you do your best to not let that happen. "Such as slut trying to suck me back in. I'll keep going if you use your pretty little mouth to say my name." You cover your face, "Please Kei." with a broken moan you jerk in reaction to Tsukishima twisting his finger inside of you harshly dragging his knuckle against your walls. "That's not my name and you know it." With a defeated wine you arch your back rubbing your ass against Tsukishima's groin, "Please Daddy, make me feel good!"

Tsukishima scoffed to hide his arousal, "Always like you to go above and beyond my little giant." As if feeling how close you were, Tsukishma's other hand reached from under you to grab your throat preventing any noise from leaving your mouth pushing your orgasm right out of you as the lightheadedness made the pleasure unbearable.

As you came down from the pleasure you could feel weariness overtake you and you sighed as you felt yourself being raised up to have a large shirt pulled down your body. You look over at Kei as he stood up and walked off, "Where are you going?" you asked as you pull the soft blanket cover you again. "I came in here because I forgot my deodorant." He smirked looking down at you but you were too tired to retort.

The next day you hid your face in embarrassment as Hinata was consoling Tanaka after he discovered the plentiful bruises littering your neck. "How can you even see them, I'm dark!" you whine as Suga pats your back reassuringly. "You being dark makes it more noticeable if I'm being honest Y/N." Tanaka lt out a loud wail, "Who would taint the pure soul of our precious Y/N?!" All while this is happening Tsukishima sits on the couch eating his udon, unbothered by the hysteria. And if one were to look they would see the satisfied smirk adorning his features. "Looks like I could handle all that." he whispered to himself

#haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #poc reader #black y/n #blackreader #haikyuu smut #tsukishima smut

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sprstories · 3 years ago

Note

could I possibly get some platonic scriptliss/tess ,,,, maybe an au where tess is able to be saved ? or at least is able to control 1x1x1x1 a bit better

but it's up to you what you want to write !! :D

For Tess, bringing (or rather summoning) a demon into his home was definitely a new way of life, considering that now he would have to take care of the permanently guest. Because yes, apparently the demon ironically did not know how to return to hell.

Ok, you can't blame Scriptliss for being summoned at a young age and considering that the chances of someone summoning a young demon were low, no one bothered to teach him the basics, at least not now.

Now, it wasn't like Scriptliss was a child either, he was a teenager, yes, but he was still a minor, maybe he's a year younger than Tess?

Anyway, never mind, he was going to take care of Scriptliss now, it was his responsibility now that he had permanently separated him from his family (if he had any).

The first days were not very comfortable, before he could calm the demon and not let him cry all day, but it was still uncomfortable, and more uncomfortable was the moment when he found him in the fireplace... sitting on the fire.

Demons cannot be burned with normal fire, and he deduced that the reason he sat there was because he got used to warmer places.

Many times he tried to get the boy out of there, all attempts with the same results, being scratched (and almost burned) by the demon with a tendency to be a cat.

And if Tess tried to speak with him, the ribbon-tail demon ignored him, how rude, but understandable, have a nice warmer day Script!

But he was getting tired of that, Scriptliss knew how to throw all his sanity and work to the trash, little by little he began to get tired of his stoic and indifferent attitude, he felt hated, and he did not like to be hated.

On the part of Scriptliss, he couldn't do anything, he was trapped, he had nowhere to go, nor would the robloxian with violet hair let him go anywhere, he felt... kidnapped.

He didn't even sleep at night, he was afraid of being attacked from behind. Every day he was more tired, and that meant more irritability and aggressiveness against the "human".

He also felt fear running down his back, fear of dying, many rumors said that demons died faster on the surface than in hell, no demon could confirm it, perhaps it is why those who tried to confirm it died in the attempt?

He wanted to cry, never thought of dying at a young age.

then a day, in that dysfunctional environment, the, presumably older, finally faced his guest from hell.

— We need to talk. — The demon growled, turning his back on him. Tess might well have prevented that if it weren't for Scriptliss being engulfed in layers of fire that could severely burn him. More tired than everything, he began to speak. — Do you hate me, right? i.. i will not hurt you, i swear. — He waited for response, but nothing came from the demon's mouth. — Listen, i know i probably.. made a huge mistake summoning you, you can't go back to hell, that's sad yeah, but... you can give this world a little chance? —.

— I don't want you to be here, with me. Go away. —.

His voice felt... hurt, with a little fear, it was actually the first time in days that the bookmark one spoke. But that didn't really matter to Tess, honestly, he just wanted to figure things out and if possible, have a new friend so he wouldn't feel so alone.

It sounds selfish, but who knows, maybe and Tess is the first social interaction Scriptliss had in his life, he was convinced that he could show him the world and see the beauties in the surface.

— In case you haven't noticed, this is my house, and you can't kick me out of the room just because you want to be alone. — Tess was getting more and more angry.

— I want to be alone because you intimidate me and scare me, and I don't want to see you, and you're ugly and i hate you... and.. and.. — Apparently he had no other words to express his displeasure. — and i can't leave this fireplace, i need to be warmer. —.

— I see, and if I turned off this fireplace ... would you talk to me? —.

Then Scriptliss turned more scared than ever, seeing the alchemist with one hand on a lever, firmly stroking the handle of the lever, threatening to put out his fire.

— WAIT NO, NO, DON'T TURN OFF THE FIRE. FINE, I WILL TALK TO YOU. —.

And that scared look he gave... made the alchemist wish he had swallowed those words.

Now all that Tess anger turned to slight sadness and shame, he regretted having to threaten Scriptliss to get his words.

— Ok, i'm sorry for that. — Tess spoke, ashamed. — but, tell me now, "Script". Why do you find me scary? —.

Scriptliss looked at the ground, helpless, and half astonished that the purple haired boy remembers his name (because Scriptliss honestly did not remember his partner's name).

— To begin with, you kidnapped me, or so I feel, I feel locked up and it's your fault, to be honest. — Script made a serious grin. — second, I don't trust you much, I don't know if you could stab me in the back or something like that. And third, I literally don't know you, I don't remember your name, and it's awkward now to adjust to living with a stranger. —.

And there it was, the bitter truth, the ugly thought about his person, and the worst thing was that it was true.

Tess waited to hear simple words, they weren't ready to savor THAT truth. The Robloxian's hand scratched lightly against his own hair, nervous.

— Yes, I see how it is, actually... i didn't expect to leave you with me until I realized that you couldn't go back to hell, I figured that if I let you go, you'd get in troubleand the mental fault would be mine. — Scriptliss looked at him seriously, recording those words that would stay like fire in his mind. — I'm sorry that you felt so locked up, I never really had a guest at my house and I didn't know where to leave you, plus you... always stayed there... in the fire .. looking at me as if you were a cat, a very aggressive one.

Tess let out a small laugh, which inevitably rubbed off on Scriptliss by imagining himself as a cat.

— Look, the point is, I understand that you distrust me and do not feel free... if you want you can go now. The door is here, unlocked. —.

The crimson widened his eyes, apparently now he was free, and might feel good, if not for a little problem.

Where would he go now?

He wanted freedom, but at the same time he was afraid to go to the outside world, he felt locked up, but somehow safe.

And the alchemist was right, if he showed himself to the world as a demon, he could possibly cause many disasters.

Had a great mental dilemma, to leave or not to leave? it was something so simple and complex to assimilate.

He looked at his surroundings, now that he noticed it, never noticed that staying there was the best idea, he always thought about leaving, but leaving meant revealing himself against the world.

And inside... at least he had a fireplace and a strange alchemist who swore to protect him. Besides, that guy already explained WHY he didn't want to let him go.

— Don't you want to leave? I am not saying that you stay here, if it is more comfortable for you to get away from this place, I accept it. —.

Scriptliss looked at him with pity, now he felt a little bad for having treated him horrible, Tess only wanted to help him, how ungrateful he was!

— I... i... I will stay here. — Then he received a surprised look, it seemed that Tess's soul went out for such an answer, but in a few seconds, that look turned into a big and bright smile, that only confirmed that... Tess was actually a good boy. — Don't look at me like that, i'm staying here just because i need the fireplace. —.

Tess nodded, extending his hand to his new supposed friend. But then he came to his senses and pulled his hand away before gets burned, he really had to get him out of there without scaring Script.

— Look, don't be scared, but I need to put out the fireplace. —Scriptliss pouted. — Don't look at me like that, you're not going to stay there forever, besides, if you want to get used to this new life, you'll have to take the first step.

But scriptliss could no longer repent, he had signed his sentence, his new life, he would have to get used to the surface temperature, and depend on that alchemist.

— ... Fine. —.

Before Tess could put out the fire, the demon jumped out of the fireplace causing his temperature to drop and the fire to rise.

And now that he saw him well and standing on his two legs, he noticed that... they did not have much difference in height, perhaps and even Script passed him by an inch or two.

It was inevitable that the demon would start to shiver from the sudden temperature change, he felt frozen. And it was noticed by the Robloxian.

— Uh, look, you can lie on that sofa, that one, the one in front of you, I'll bring you some blankets and a hot tea, okay? —.

Scriptliss nodded, leaning back and inevitably starting to feel drowsy, the effects of insomnia hitting him hard after three days without sleep.(Or just sleeping an hour each day).

As for Tess, he had several dilemmas in his head, now he would (officially) take charge of the demon until he gets used to it, that meant having to adapt him to the "real world" in a subtle way, but that wouldbe taken care of later, now his duty It was making the devil comfortable, he deserved it, you see.

He had to hide it from the world until he got over his fears from the outside, he was confident in bringing his "new friend" forward, he was not a normal robloxian, but he was a living being that was simply traumatized by ridiculous stories from hell.

Tess returned to the living room, and was not surprised to find Scriptliss asleep on his sofa, it was to be expected, for something he did not make the tea first.

He rolled the crimson gently over the fabrics and let the heat of the fire embrace him. That would definitely calm him down.

He stared at it for a while, many thoughts invaded his mind, to tell the truth, he was somewhat excited and nervous about the unexpected turn that his life took, who knows, maybe and in the future they will get along and have at leastone friendship or tolerance for each other.

A robloxian and a demon... friendship not very common to see, especially around here, but never impossible.

But, he really did see a bright future for both of them, and they would have it, didn't they?

...Tess, you should stop thinking about the future and focus on the present.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Extra info: Scriptliss got sick. (Thanks Tess very cool).

#super paper roblox #spr #tess aract #scriptliss #i choose the first because i want wholesome stuff #and also i could connect this drabble with the other one #however if you want the other options you can tell me!#tw: death mention.. i think #you know i like to make past drabbles #but an AU thing.. isn't bad [Writes that down]

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3d-wifey · 4 years ago

Text

The Academy ❧ Part 1

Pairing: Reader x Multiple

Synopsis: Given the chance to rewrite your life for the better, how could you say no? Of course, it helps that the ones presenting this gift are crazy hot.

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: Nothing yet.

A/N: If this feels hastily thrown together, that's because it is. It does help that Reader's relationship with the boys is meant to feel rushed tho. So, the lack of relationship building between the three seems intentional 😋. Reader's personality switch-up is also intentional. I promise the quality will get better after this. Happy reading!

You liked coffee shops. One would argue a little too much. You were like an addict and you typically got your fix at Komori's Delights.

You liked coffee shops, solely, because of the people. You would sit at the same corner booth you've been sitting at for the past five years and listen in on their conversations like a creep.

You led a pretty basic life. Once you turned sixteen, the adoption agency helped you get an apartment. And then, when you turned eighteen, a job in customer service. Yet, since it mainly involved doing online chat services from home, you rarely interacted with anyone. With no family that you knew of, you were pretty socially isolated. And you weren't doing too well on the friends front either.

People didn't exactly line up to hang out with quirkless orphans. Loneliness stuck to you like a shadow.

The only thing you honestly looked forward to when you opened your eyes was hearing about other people's lives. You could admit to yourself that it was pathetic.

It was just something about watching "normal" people interacting with each other. Their stories, their conversations, how they responded to and handled everyday situations. All of it, all of them, thrumming with life. A simple passion you dreamed of having, but sadly, didn't possess.

You were able to quench a burning thirst within yourself just by watching them. Living through them. At first, you wondered what that thirst was. What did you gain from being around other people that you couldn't achieve in solitude?

It took you a few years to figure it out. You spent many restless nights in your cold twin bed at the group homes, then in the equally cold queen bed at your apartment, trying to understand what you were missing.

You were around seventeen at the time and a fresh-faced graduate. Instead of going to any of the graduation parties that many of your former classmates were throwing, you were sitting at your booth. The same one that protected you from the cold fall winds and overlooked the entire shop.

Two women were arguing in the corner about something or other. The conversation didn't seem interesting enough to listen in on until the shorter of the two shouted something.

"Nobody had seen you in over ten hours. We were all scared something had happened. I was scared something had happened."

You vaguely remember them hugging and making up after that. It seemed strange to you at the time that someone could be so worried about another person. You never really found yourself worrying about anyone. Especially not to the extent of being scared for their well-being.

It occurred to you later that night. With just three sentences, you had your answer. You wanted some type of connection. To be seen. You wanted to be somewhere where people would know your name, know your face, notice if you weren't there. You wanted to be wanted. Something to tie you to humanity.

Now, here you were three years later. In the same weathered leather booth, working the same reclusive job, still hungering for that connection. Nothing had changed in your life.

You wrapped your hands around the mug and brought it closer to your chest, sighing at the heat it provided. The smell of cocoa and cinnamon wafted under your nose, making you relax further into the booth. You had mainly ordered the hot chocolate to warm your cold fingers, but it did pair well with the sugar cookies that came with it.

The temperature had dropped faster this year with the coming of winter and you were oftentimes reminded of how lucky you were to even have a home to escape the cold in.

With the winter winds, came the mass of people who sought out the café to hide from the chilliness outside. Now, Komori's wasn't what you would call exceedingly popular, so it rarely saw the same person more than once.

But, over the past five days, two people came to the shop roughly around the same time every day. They usually came with four or five others, but it was never the same people. The only constants with the groups were the two men.

And what men they were.

They carried themselves completely differently; the only thing they had in common was being absurdly attractive. The first one was tall and built like a football player, with big blue eyes, bright hair, and an even brighter smile.

It was obvious he had many admirers if the way his friends hung onto his every word was anything to go by. Based on how often he steered the conversation, you could tell he was a natural-born leader with charisma to match. His allure was sunny and encompassing, but carefree.

The shorter male was just as handsome, but his appeal was subtle compared to the blond one. You wouldn't notice if you just glanced at him, but you got the feeling that that was a conscious decision on his part. He didn't seem the type to like attention, going through great efforts not to be seen.

He typically didn't add much to their conversations unless he was reining his partner in. Messy, indigo bangs casted a shadow over his nervous eyes and long, pointed ears twitched whenever his group got too loud. He had a swimmer's body, but, again, you wouldn't notice unless you stared at him long enough. And you've done a lot of staring.

You sighed again, taking a sip from your mug. It was completely on-brand for you to over-analyze some random men. You looked over to one of the circle booths across the room. They were here again. The two men and five more strangers. Well, they were all strangers to you, but for some reason, you felt like you knew them, at least a little.

Maybe because you had been listening in on their conversations for practically a week, but, that was neither here nor there.

You had lost all interest in anybody else that came in; all of your attention was focused on them and them alone. You would wait hours at a time for them to come in with new people and watch as they talked. Their conversations always pulled you in. Especially when they talked about a place called Yuuei.

The blond one would talk animatedly about the place to the others to the point where they got excited too. It happened every time with every group.

You had gone home with your curiosity peeked the first time you heard them mention it. You spent the entire night hunched over your laptop, scrounging the internet—again, like a creep—for anything relating to Yuuei.

You looked everywhere, but it couldn't be found. It wasn't on any maps. There were no Google links about it. As far as you could tell, it wasn't some kind of slang or anything. The only mention of it was on a Reddit conspiracy theory thread about a cult that shared the same name. You tallied your loses and suspected that it was just some type of club and the two of them were probably recruiting new members. And, technically, you were right.

You were brought back to the present when the hairs on your arms and neck stood up. But the shop door hadn't been opened and there was no breeze inside the café. You weren't cold.

Your gaze swept over the expanse of the shop; eyes, not so subtly, hopping from table to table. Finding nothing but people locked in conversation, until you glanced at the circle booth. Narrowed (E/C) eyes met bright blue. Instead of becoming embarrassed at getting caught and looking away, like most people did, the blond held your gaze and grinned.

He smiled at you.

Not a condescending smile; not an angry borderline-sneer; not even a half awkward half fearful kind of smile that you often got from strangers after you stared at them a little too long. Just a warm upturn of lips that felt like open arms welcoming you back home.

You looked away in hopes that it would be the end of the interaction, but not before seeing the blond elbow his friend and gesture over to you. All while still wearing the same smile on his face.

You stared down at the light brown liquid in your mug, telling yourself the steam wafting up from the hot chocolate was the reason your face was so warm. Yeah, that's why. That's the only thing that made sense.

Every other sound blurred in the background until the only thing you could hear were twin footfalls. Confident footsteps leading the way with reluctant ones following close behind. Getting steadily closer and closer. Each step a metronome to your ears. Were they coming towards you?

The muscles in your arms flinched with every sound of shoes hitting the linoleum floor.

Step, step, step, until—

"Hi! I'm Mirio. And this here is my buddy, Tamaki." He introduced, reaching a scarred hand out towards you, probably expecting you to shake it. You stared up at them with wide eyes, dumbfounded at the turn of events. No one in this café had ever approached you before, not even the staff. His voice was accented, which was surprising considering you never heard it when he was talking before. Maybe it was just hard to pick up on from across the room.

You weren't sure what prompted them to come up to you and if you took a glance over their shoulder, you could see that the people they were with seemed just as confused as you. Not wanting to appear rude, you paused before reaching out and shaking his hand. His palm was rough from the buildup of calluses, and It dwarfed your own. It was warm.

"I'm...Y/n." You introduced yourself cautiously, watching them as they moved to sit down in front of you. Tamaki on the inside, Mirio on the outside. You wondered if it was normal for him to just walk up to a person he didn't know and strike up a conversation like an old friend.

"We saw you sitting by yourself—"

Jesus, how sad of a picture did you make that they felt the need to come over just to end your suffering?

"—and came over to see if you wanted to join us." You? Join them? Honestly, you would love to sit with them and finally be included in the conversation instead of just listening to it from the outside. But, something told you that the feeling wasn't mutual.

You glanced back to their booth to find their friends staring at you. Or, at least they were before they noticed you looking at them. Diverting their gaze before you could meet any of their eyes head-on.

You knew if you sat with them, all you would end up with were judgmental glares and badly concealed whispers about you. How fun.

"No pressure, of course!" Mirio was quick to assure, taking your silence as unwillingness. And his assumption would be right.

"I, uh, don't think I'd fit in with your friends." He looked at you with a confused tilt of his head, resembling a puppy who didn't know what you were saying to it.

"Oh, I mean them," You gestured to the group of five people talking amongst themselves and sneaking occasional glances your way, "plus the other people you guys usually come in with."

Although the statement sounded innocent to you, you couldn't help but feel like you fucked up somehow. Their faces didn't change, but there was something about the way Mirio's hands twitched and Tamaki's shoulders tensed that made you feel...uneasy. Paranoia creeping up on you like phantom hands.

"Other people, huh," Mirio paused before giving you a boyish grin, "So, you were watching us." He said not unlike a lawyer who just caught the defendant red-handed. You could feel your heartbeat pick up as he leaned over the table towards you, hands laced together, but your face remained blank. Despite his playful tone, the glint in his eyes made you feel like you were being trialed for murder.

It struck you then just how creepy that might sound to them. You probably seemed like some kind of stalker. A weirdo that's been watching their every move for the past five days, which, of course, you were. He had every right to be suspicious of you.

"Mirio, ease off of her." Tamaki interrupted, face practically buried in the wall. That was the first time you heard him speak, and, God, were you thankful for his timing. It sounded like he had the same accent as Mirio, but, for the life of you, you still couldn't place it.

"Heh, I'm just goofing." He laughed, big blue eyes colored with mirth as he leaned back from you in favor of picking up one of your cookies. But his relaxed posture felt too tense for that to truly be how he felt. It seemed forced.

"Anyway, I wouldn't really call them friends. Just people we've met in passing while we visited. Do you...know any of them?"

You leaned back, unconsciously mirroring him. Your nails tapped against the table to the beat of the music playing softly over the speakers as you took your time quietly examining the two men before you. Your brain ran over the people they brought into the shop. Dozens upon dozens of faces and none of them were familiar.

"No, I can't say I do."

There was a moment of silence before any of you talked.

"Um, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you're a pretty intimidating girl." He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. Blond strands falling out of his ponytail to frame his face. You held in a sigh. He wasn't the first person to tell you that and he probably wouldn't be the last.

You weren't sure what it was about your appearance that everyone found so daunting; it could be how hard you stared at people. Or how silent you were. Maybe you had a resting bitch face, but you couldn't be sure, since nobody was ever brave enough to tell you. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't doing you any favors.

"Is that why he's so quiet?" You joked humorlessly, peeking at the man to your right—Tamaki, you reminded yourself—to find him already looking at you. Piercing purple-blue eyes made the hairs on your neck stand straight as he stared at you without turning away from the white walls. It threw you off to see he was staring at you so intently, considering you didn't think he was even paying attention to the conversation.

"Oh, you mean Tamaki? He's just a little shy around new people. Ain't that right, bud?" He elbowed his friend a little sharply.

"Uh, y-yeah."

"So, where are you guys from?" Your gaze shifted between them, yet again changing the conversation.

You focused on the twinge of pain coming from your finger as you picked at the skin around your nail, a nervous habit you took up when you were a child. It was how you developed such a good poker face. Keeping your emotions off your face and instead directing them to the poor skin of your nail beds.

"Is it that obvious we aren't from around here?" The blond—Mirio—joked, putting his on the back of the booth behind Tamaki's head.

"Your accents kind of gave you away." You joked back. It felt nice to do that. To have someone to joke with.

"Okay, well...It's a little...town called Yuuei," when you perked up, they shared a quick glance before Mirio continued, "It's really small, so you've probably never heard of it. We're actually heading back pretty soon."

"What's it like there? It's still in Japan, right? I assume it is, considering you both speak Japanese like it's your native language," you tried to reign in your excitement, but the prospect of getting some kind of information on this place was too much to pass up, "Do you have any pictures I could se—"

"She's really pretty. Don't you think, Tamaki?" he cut you off, asking the other boy like you weren't just talking, "Sorry if that was random." He laughed. You weren't an expert on social cues, but something about his smile made you think he wasn't really sorry.

You froze and you glanced over at Tamaki with wide eyes, finding he looked more embarrassed than you felt. You kept your face perfectly blank, hopefully not giving away how off-guard that caught you.

"Yeah," he agreed sheepishly, slouching in on himself, "She is." He sounded certain in his answer, which struck you as curious considering how unsure he seemed about literally everything. Almost like it wasn't his first time saying it. For some reason, you couldn't see Tamaki going around complimenting random people like a playboy.

Mirio? Sure.

But, Tamaki? Not so much.

"Oh...thank you." You mumbled, rubbing the tip of your nose and picking at the faded blue fabric of your scarf. You prayed the booth would open up like a Venus flytrap and swallow you whole. You were just rambling a mile a minute to two guys you just met. Was that his way of polity telling you to shut up?

Not only that, but you were at your wits' end here. The conversation kept changing so quickly, touching on topics you had no idea how to navigate. You felt way out of your element.

How sad was it that getting complimented was where your mind drew the line?

"You're welcome, Sunshine." He pointed down to your scarf, cookie still in hand, answering the unasked question in your furrowed brows, "Your scarf. Really cute, by the way." You looked down at the offending cloth wrapped around your neck.

A baby blue woolen scarf with little patterned suns grinning and wearing big green sunglasses. You hadn't really thought much of it when you grabbed it on your way out of the apartment this morning, but here you were wearing a children's scarf in front of two of the hottest guys you've ever seen in your life. They say hindsight was 20/20, but you'd say it was just a bitch.

The fact that they didn't answer your questions didn't go unnoticed, but maybe it was deemed inappropriate in their culture to ask someone about that kind of stuff if you weren't close. You decided to drop it, not wanting to give the impression that you were disrespectful, but kept it at the back of your mind.

___

You still had no clue why it happened, but this...arrangement continued longer than you thought it would. You didn't really know what to call it, but, whatever it was went on every day for the next couple of months. You would wait at your booth, they would come in with new people, talk with them for a little, and then split off to come talk to you.

You know you shouldn't have, but you felt kind of special knowing that they wanted to come spend time with you. You didn't comment on how fast you guys were moving. Choosing to, instead, push the uncertain feeling to the back of your mind.

It was becoming an unwelcome habit.

You didn't bring up the subject of their home again, weary of another awkward conversational lapse on your part. You often felt that creeping uneasiness come up whenever you turned the spotlight on them. You were just trying to make the small talk that you often saw in other people's conversations, but Mirio's eyes would always develop a certain...look and even poor Tamaki would tense up with every question. You decided it was better not to push for information about them at all.

That was your second mistake.

While you didn't ask them much, they seemed to want to know everything about you. They—mainly Mirio—asked you probing question after probing question about your life. About your job, where you lived, who you lived with, if you had any family, etc. The constant stream of questioning seemed odd to you, but you were more than happy to bask in the attention like a lovestruck teenager talking to her crushes.

That's how they made you feel.

Maybe you were just excited to finally partake in those conversations you watched everyone else have. To finally have people want to listen to what you had to say. Frantic to form a connection, no matter how weak the foundation was. The red flags were obvious, but desperation tended to make you colorblind.

You were very hesitant to inform them about your complete lack of quirk at first. You've seen how people react to that and you weren't too eager to lose the only people that could be considered your friends. However, it couldn't be hidden from them forever. Especially, since both of them were so quirk oriented.

They, surprisingly, reacted better than you expected when you told them. In fact, they almost seemed happy.

After you told them that, they wouldn't stop talking about Yuuei. Even Tamaki would jump in on the conversation to tell you things about their home. Alternating between demonstrating their quirks and explaining the wonder that was Yuuei.

It made you apprehensive to be around people with such powerful quirks. It always had, especially in high school. You hadn't known them for long, but you were sure they wouldn't hurt you.

They strived to be pretty accommodating to your anxiousness, which no one had ever done before. And, like a stupid puppy, you were getting attached to their kindness. They and their compassion were like a balm to that scorching thirst that you endured for the past twenty years.

In the short two months you knew them, they had somehow become a solid fixture. They had dug out a divot in your life and laid in it like they've always belonged there. It got to the point where you would call in sick to work just to stay with them a little longer.

Your fall from grace wasn't instantaneous. It happened gradually; inch by beautiful inch. You started falling the moment they came to sit with you. No, the moment they walked into the café was your first step towards oblivion. You were plunging to your demise and you only had yourself to blame. You allowed them a permanent room in your life, despite knowing their stay was temporary.

You're confident they had no idea how important they were to you. Nevertheless, no matter how sorry it sounded, you grew dependent on them. They plagued your thoughts like a disease: that brief period you experience between sleep and consciousness filled with thoughts of them, the moments of long silence at home were spent thinking about your boys, and even when you were with them, ironically, you couldn't stop thinking about them.

How did Mirio get all those scars? I wonder if Tamaki is eating enough? Where were they staying in the city?

You actively worried about them for some reason that was completely lost on you. You were so used to them being there, you weren't even sure how you used to live without them.

"We leave this Sunday."

Turns out you were gonna find out sooner than expected.

"S-so soon?" You choked out, setting your mug down. He had caught you so off guard that you started choking on your hot chocolate. After calming down and assuring them that you weren't dying, you were able to think.

You knew they were just visiting and they'd have to leave eventually. But, for some inane reason, you thought you'd have more time. More time to prepare. More time to...more time with them.

They had walked into the shop by themselves and headed straight for your booth like they had just been drafted for war, which set off emergency lights in your brain. You should have known they were delivering bad news.

"We've actually been here way longer than we were supposed to." Mirio laughed, scratching the back of his head.

"They had to call us back this time," Tamaki's soft-spoken voice imputed, but it seemed like he was talking to himself, "They've never had to call us back before."

"Called back? By who?" You looked between them expectantly.

"Uh, by our leaders. It's a small place, you know? So everyone is basically family. It only makes sense that they'd be worried about us taking too long." The blond explained, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the cold.

So, they were leaving because they were told to? Their leaders had that much sway over their lives?

"Couldn't you guys just...stay a little longer?" Now you were begging them to stay. But what else could you do? By the way they were talking, you could safely assume that they wouldn't be visiting you any time soon.

Mirio frowned, placing his big hand on top of yours. Big blue eyes a lot duller than usual. No matter how hard you looked you couldn't find that spark they typically had.

"I-Sunshine," he sighed, like a man passive to his fate, "it doesn't work like that. We have to go home."

You looked over at Tamaki who was already facing you, a huge improvement from when you first met. His head was down and if his pointed ears could droop like a sad puppy, you're sure they would. They didn't want to leave you just as much as you wanted them to stay.

There was no music playing in the shop to fill the silence between the three of you and the shop lacked the usual chatter. Seems like your earlier comparison had some truth to it. They may not be heading off to war, but they were still saying goodbye like they were. Like you'd never see them again. You felt lucky you even had the luxury of saying goodbye.

The sound of your heart beating against your ribs flooded your ears. Realistically, you knew they couldn't have drastically changed your life in a little over two months.

You could feel saliva collect in your mouth as your stomach gurgled ominously. Before them, every day you would wake up, work, go to the coffee shop, and go home without truly being awake. It felt like you were sleepwalking through your entire life. Living, but never alive. Never really there.

No one to see you. No one to hear you. You were nothing more than a ghost.

Your chest burned and your throat tightened. You couldn't go back to that. You'd be alone again. You couldn't be alone again.

You took a deep breath and schooled your expression, but you were sure that Mirio felt you shaking under his hand.

"What am I—" you swallowed the lump in your throat, "—What am I supposed to do now?" You whispered. But, who were you even asking: them or yourself? They were leaving your life just as fast as they came into it.

Mirio was quick to stand up and the leather booth squeaked under him as he slid into the seat beside you. The weight of his arm was comforting and heavy on your shoulders. His pointer finger and thumb closed in around your chin, turning you to face him.

"I don't..." His voice drifted off when he met your eyes, his lips twitching downwards into a frown. You could see the gears turning in his head before he nodded to himself. An internal conflict coming to an end. Something filled his eyes as he searched your face. It wasn't the spark that you were used to seeing, but a fire.

"Come with us."

Tamaki's head shot up, anxious indigo eyes looking between you before saying, "M-Mirio, are you sure she should come? She, um," his right hand moved to grip his left arm, "our culture is pretty different. S-she might not be able to...adjust."

"That won't be a problem. I'll look after her."

"That's what I'm worried about." He whispered loud enough for you to still hear, but the blond didn't seem deterred. He never looked away from you.

Mirio called you, pulling your attention back to him. You were pretty sure this was the first time you've heard him say your name.

"Look, Yuuie is...it's filled with people like you—like us," he gestured between the three of you, "A lot of people were looking for the same things you are and they found them in Yuuie." Every thing he said was filled with unwavering certainty, an unavoidable conviction that seeped into your bones. It was clear he honestly believed every word.

The conversation was moving too fast for you to fully understand what he was saying. One second, you're on the verge of a panic attack, and the next, you're being persuaded to run away with them? Crazy enough, you were actually considering it. It seemed like such a simple solution.

"You wanna be seen, right? Admired? Understood?—"

Were you that obvious?

"—Well, there's no better place to be seen than at Yuuie! Our leaders strive to provide a place where every single person is appreciated for their contributions. There's always new people coming along. People who desperately needed a home—a guiding hand. Right, Tamaki?"

"Yeah, I guess." Tamaki agreed with a resigned shrug of his shoulders, eyes downcast.

"See? I'm sure everyone there will love you! What do you have to lose?"

What did you have to lose? Your minimum wage job? Your one-room apartment? Your complete and utter lack of companionship?

If you did go with them, what would happen? You never really believed in all of that mumbo-jumbo about fate, but this seemed destined. Every solution to your problems is wrapped up in one big bow laid out in front of you. How could you say no?

So you didn't.

"Okay," you picked at your fingertips under the table, "I'll go with you." The corners of his lips twitched upwards before spreading into a grin. Thin lips moving to show off pearly whites. Even Tamaki looked happy, if not a little reluctant.

And at that moment, as they gazed at you like you were the only thing lighting their way, you never felt more sure of anything in your life.

"I swear you won't regret it, Sunshine.

___

You regretted agreeing to this. No matter how much you liked them, you never should have said yes. This whole thing had felt off-putting since you left.

If you were being truly honest with yourself, something didn't feel quite right since you met those two. Ever since the first time they walked into Komori's Delights, you knew there was something about them that caught your attention.

You originally thought it was because they were new and exciting...and hot. But, it was clear that from the start, your subconscious could tell something was off. Too bad you didn't listen to it.

The fact that Mirio and Tamaki came to pick you up was more than a little surprising, considering they didn't tell you they were coming beforehand.

Instead of taking an Uber, like you anticipated, they both were very insistent on taking the bus. Not one for needless confrontation, you agreed. You figured they knew more about this kind of thing than you did anyway. And they paid for the bus fare, so you couldn't complain.

The bus drove you about an hour out of the city before Mirio requested to get off; another thing that struck you as weird, but you didn't say anything. The three of you walked to a secluded point in the rode that led to an opening in the tree line. Well, you couldn't really call it secluded considering all the people gathered there.

The sheer amount of people waiting for you had stopped you in your tracks. Logically, you knew it was stupid to think there wouldn't be others coming with you, but a small part of you had hoped that you were the only one they were taking home with them.

Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack, sharp nails digging into taut leather. The weight loosening as you adjusted them on your shoulders. The trek so far had been strenuous. Your right ankle hurt from getting it twisted in a hole and mosquitoes were everywhere. Putting the physical strain traveling like this had on your body aside; the girl next to you had been talking your ear off nonstop.

You were all for making friends, but there should be a time and place to start talking about your fucking life story. And, considering your shoes were wet with mud and the humidity of the forest made your shirt cling to you like a second skin, now definitely wasn't the time. You didn't understand how someone could be so chatty in your current situation.

"—you quirkless too?"

"What?" Your neck snapped towards her so fast that if you were any quicker, you could have given yourself whiplash. What did she say?

"What? Are you deaf or something? I asked if you were quirkless too. As in, do you have a quirk or not?" You let the childish jab slide and focused on digesting the sentence. The grass tickled your throbbing ankle as you worked to keep pace with her long strides.

"You're quirkless?"

"Not just me. Every person I talked to is quirkless and I'm pretty sure I talked to, like, everyone here." Your eyes sharply swept over the group, keeping a headcount as you went.

If one out of one hundred people in Japan are quirkless, what were the odds that over twenty of them were gathered in the same place?

"Hey, it's supposed to be winter, right?"

"Yeah." You agreed absently, more focused on trying to get a glimpse of Mirio's blond hair at the front of the group or Tamaki's indigo hair somewhere at the back. You needed to talk to one of them. You needed to know what the hell was going on.

"So why the hell is it so hot?" She asked, pulling her brown hair into a low hanging ponytail. Her roots soaked with sweat, a true testament to the sweltering heat.

"I don't know." You stopped in your tracks, acutely aware of the people passing you, but remaining still. A rock thrown in the middle of a lake, but the stream still flowing nonetheless.

Too many things were happening for them to be a coincidence. You weren't a mathematician, but even you could see that the parts of this equation did not add up. Mirio and Tamaki showing up at your apartment, the number of people without quirks gathered in one spot, and the muggy heat in the forest combined to form a sizeable pit in your stomach.

It was a mistake to come here.

"Y/n? What are you talking about?"

Tamaki's quiet voice startled you out of your thoughts. You hadn't realized you were talking out loud; you hoped he hadn't heard much. You didn't even hear him approaching. His lithe frame stopped beside you as you readjusted your grip on your backpack.

Perhaps you were overreacting; Just being paranoid. And, if something actually was wrong, it wouldn't be wise to tell him about your concerns. Either of them, a small part of your brain whispered. Probably the logical part. For now, you'll keep your suspicions close to your chest. You started forward with a limp towards everyone else, Tamaki close behind you.

"Y-you shouldn't stray too far from the rest of the group. Are you hurt?"

"Um, my ankle is sore and it's only going to get worse the more I walk on it," you looked over the treetops as you walked by them. No birds. No squirrels. Nothing, "Which brings up a question: How long until we get to Yuuei?"

You watched him stumble over his words before answering.

"I-uh, I'm not really sure. But it...shouldn't take too long now," you watched from the corner of your eye as he pulled a plastic baggy full of small baked balls out of his backpack, "Here, it's takoyaki."

You paused.

"What do you want me to do with it?"

"We've been out here for a while, I-I thought you might have been hungry," a flush settled on the apples of his cheeks as he stared at the ground, "You don't have to eat it, o-of course. I was just worried about you."

Worried about you? You stared down at the small ball of dough and meat he placed in your hand and waited. You half expected him to tell you what he wanted in return for the food, but he didn't. You were quick to accept, alonst forgetting to say thanks in your haste, especially considering he was right about one thing.

You were starving. It felt like you hadn't eaten all day, which couldn't be right since the sun was still where it was when you began to walk. You could just chalk it up to the incredible heat and humidity in the forest. And your job definitely didn't make you the most athletic person, so you got tired easily.

"Why aren't you up front with Mirio?"

"I have to stay back here to make sure nobody gets...lost," his shoulders hunched as he pulled out more takoyaki, "Besides, I-I don't really like being front and center like Mirio. I'm not brave enough to lead people." It was just a hunch, but you got the feeling that this was about more than just your current situation. His words were weighted like they had some type of double meaning behind them.

Sure, Tamaki wasn't the most confident guy you met. And, yeah, he could barely get through a conversation with a little old lady without chickening out. But, you were able to read people; you were so good at it that it was basically your quirk.

"Brave? I think bravery is relative. Each person is brave on their own terms," the group's chatter became louder as you got closer, "You left your hometown for the first time and came to the city, right? Don't you think that's brave?"

"No," his voice was so soft you could barely hear him, "not really."

"Hmm," you finally bit into the ball of bread and octopus, "You shouldn't try to measure yourself based off of other people's limits. I think you're brave enough as you are." You could feel his gaze trail over the side of your face like he was trying to use his eyes to crack you open. You decisively decided to ignore it.

"Thank you, y/n."

___

With the help of Tamaki, you were finally able to find Mirio. Actually, once you pushed through the throng of people it wasn't exactly hard to find his broad figure. That's another thing you noticed about him; just how much he stood out. Even Tamaki, who tried his hardest to blend into the shadows, easily grabbed attention. Demanding the focus of any room they walked into, if not with mere presence alone.

Despite that, they weren't what you were thinking about. The temperature was high and the morale was low. The group's overall excitement had dimmed considerably since you started traveling and there were more than a few people grumbling and whining. But, really, who could blame them?

The sun bore down on all of you with an oppressing heat and it was only getting hotter. The air was heavy with the evaporated rain, making it feel more like you were wading through an impossibly deep pool instead of hiking through a forest. Every step you took felt weighed down as if the air had wrapped itself around every limb like a heavy blanket.

You weren't the only one feeling the effects of the journey. You picked up bits and pieces of conversation as you walked, more like limped, next to Mirio. Protests from the group grew louder the longer you went. Surrounded by heat and with no break in sight, the crowd got antsy.

"It's so hot—"

"...long are we gonna keep walki—"

"All the trees look...same."

"—we're in a forest, dumbass."

"You know what I mean, man! I swear...passed this one before."

You were running on fumes yourself, but they didn't see you complaining. You dragged your eyes over to Mirio. Fluffy, golden hair bounced in its ponytail with every step as he marched forward. The sun set a glow on his peachy skin, but there wasn't a single drop of sweat on him. Considering he lived here his whole life, you assumed he probably was just used to the crazy heat. He kept his eyes forward with a placid smile on his face. If he was bothered by the groups growing grievances, he definitely didn't show it.

You stumbled until your shoulder hit the nearest tree, bark scratching harshly against your sweaty skin, but your ankle throbbed so sharply that you didn't even care. It was so hot. You brought a shaking hand up to wipe at your forehead. You all were walking for so long, but it felt like the sun's rays only got more intense.

"Okay, I think that's enough. You're pushing yourself way too hard. You're practically dead on your feet," he put his backpack on his chest and squatted down in front of you, "Hop on, Sunshine."

Your eyes widened. Was he serious?

"Wouldn't it make more sense to take a break? I'm sure I'm not the only person tired here." You panted, growing conscious of the eyes on you.

"If we stop now, we won't make it before nightfall. Come on. I'm not getting up until you get on. Just think of me as your noble steed." He smiled at you like he had no clue how embarrassing he was.

It was a thoughtful gesture. He had offered to let you get on his back earlier when he saw you stumbling around, but you declined, which proved to be a dumb decision on your part. And the thought of walking on your bum ankle anymore made you queasy, even now it throbbed despite you resting.

You gave a quick glance sideways at the group and, of course, they were all staring, staring, staring with their judgy little eyes. You guys hadn't even been out here that long and they somehow formed a group that you clearly weren't welcomed in.

You sighed.

There was no use being unnecessarily difficult. You were holding up the group as it was, and you had a feeling that he actually wouldn't get up unless you got on his back.

So you buried your pride and hobbled over to him. His big hands grabbed the bottom of your thighs and hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You weren't sure where to put your arms and just draped them over his shoulders.

His cool skin worked wonders for the extreme heat you were feeling that you couldn't help but cling to his back further. Was it inappropriate? Probably. And your clammy skin was likely getting sweat all over him. Did you care? Not at all.

However, you couldn't help but think of yourself as an annoyance. Sure, everyone else was complaining, but they were still on their own two feet. And here you were, forcing Mirio to carry you in his back because you couldn't handle the journey when he was probably just as tired as you.

"Hey, you wanna hear a joke?," he suddenly asked, pulling you out of your thoughts, "What did the man with two left eyes and two right eyes tell his doctor? He had double vision! Ha!" He laughed, a little too proud of his joke. Maybe it was because of how he said it completely out of nowhere or because of how utterly stupid it was, but it made you smile.

Then Mirio beamed at you from over his shoulder and his vivid blue eyes seemed like they shined even brighter when you chuckled at his corny joke.

Did he tell you a joke in hopes that you'd relax?

"If you thought that was funny, there's tons more where that came from. Heh, I really have my mentor to thank for this A+ material. Now, what do you call somebody with nobody and no nose?"

But you didn't hear the punchline as the heat and the vibration of Mirio's voice swayed you into a restless sleep.

Voices shouting, shouting all around you. Intense heat. Being carried through a dark purple cloud and then...nothing.

___

When you awoke, you were still on Mirio's back, but you weren't in the forest anymore. Instead, all you saw was a wall. Your eyes lazily swept over the great expanse of cement, muscles straining as your neck craned towards the sky. The sunlight hit your eyes, blurring your vision as you tried to see the top. The wall was taller than any of the buildings you saw in the city.

Was this another dream? Had to be. But it felt so real. Too real.

You tried to climb off of Mirio's back, but your body felt like it was being weighed down by the air alone. And Mirio's tightening grip definitely didn't help. You could barely keep your eyes open as you blearily looked around, but you couldn't make out anything but shapes.

"Don't worry, Sunshine. Just go ahead and rest those pretty, little eyes. I'll take care of you."

"M...irio...wh—" You could hardly keep your eyes open enough to finish your sentence. Darkness seizing your vision as Mirio's movements lulled you back to sleep. Your hearing was the last thing to go.

"How long did this group last, Sir?"

"Two days."

"A whole two days?! Pretty impressive, all things considered. Right, Sir?"

"Yes, Mirio..."

#boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #mirio togata #mirio x reader #tamaki amakiji #tamaki x reader #cult au #yandere au

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