#really hoping i captured him accurately;;

[mrprettywhenhecries]

❝go for it❞ [b.l]

Baron Lamram ✘ f!Reader

⇾ w.c. 3.3k words ⇾ warning(s). f!reader (use of feminine pet names), post canon!Baron, Marmalade spoilers, kisses ⇾ a/n. Inspired by an idea @babydollbaron and I talked about. 🧡 Also, since we don't know what Baron's real name is, instead of making up some random name to call him, I've decided to just use his alias.

Your mother's always been known for sticking her nose in other people's business—most usually yours—and this time, she's determined to set you up with the woman across the hall's handsome son.

[ masterlist ]

The southern summer heat made your shirt stick to your back as you climbed out of your car, your a/c still on the fritz and not enough money to have it repaired just yet.  At least your windows still rolled down and there was a cool breeze, despite the humidity. 

You grabbed the small bouquet of daisies from the passenger seat before shutting the door and heading toward the ivy covered building, blessedly chill once you passed through the entrance, holding the door open for an older man passing you on his way out.  He smiled in recognition and nodded in thanks.  

The nurse at the front desk greeted you by name, handing you the sign in clipboard with a warm smile.  “Daisies again, huh?” she asked, trading you the clipboard for a small key.

“They’re her favourite.  She says they’re a friendly flower,” you chuckled softly, pulling one from the bunch to offer the receptionist.

“She’s right,” she replied, bringing the flower to her face as you headed down the hall toward your mother’s room.  Before heading inside, you unlocked the small metal box by her door to switch out her empty prescription bottle for her refill, only to find a fresh bottle already sitting there.

“That’s strange,” you murmured, picking up the orange bottle to inspect it closer.  It was definitely the same pills, but there was no name on the prescription.  Sometimes when another patient passed away their family would donate any left over medication to those that needed it.  Perhaps that’s just what this was.

Frowning slightly, you locked the box back up and glanced at the door across from your mother’s, the familiar crocheted message hanging there making you smile before you knocked at your mum’s door, pushing it open to find her sitting in her rocker by the window, watching the birds at the feeder outside, a book set aside on the table at her elbow.

“Knock knock,” you called softly and she turned to smile at you.

“Oh!  Hey there Susie-Q,” she greeted, making to push out of her chair when you quickly stepped inside, not wanting her to get up, the door left open in your haste.

“Stay there, I’ll come to you!” you exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug, your heart aching for a moment before stepping back.

“I brought some fresh flowers,” you added, handing her the bouquet so you could empty the wilted ones from the vase and get some fresh water.

“Oh, they’re lovely!  Daisies are such a friendly flower, don’t you think?” she asked, caressing the petals gently and you couldn’t help but laugh, knowing she was going to say that.

“They certainly are,” you replied, placing the bouquet in the vase and setting it on the dresser next to her bed.

“Oh, before I forget!” your mother exclaimed, turning her chair toward you.  

“What?” you asked, a little taken aback by the excitement on her face.

“You know the lady from across the hall?”

“Uhm, yeah, Ms. Eda, right?  She’s a sweet lady,” you replied, frowning a little in confusion, wondering why she was asking you about that.

“You know she has a son, right?  Oh, I can’t remember his name,” she said, snapping her fingers as if that would help her remember.

“Oh no.  No, no nonono,” you exclaimed, cutting her off before she could continue her thought.

“What?  No, listen!  He refilled my bird feeder the other day,” she said, gesturing to the window.  “He’s a sweet boy,” she insisted, raising her eyebrows at you.

“Mom!” you exclaimed, huffing a wry laugh, your hand coming up to cover your face in embarrassment.  “Stop trying to set me up with your hall mate’s son!” you exclaimed, feeling your face warm.

“Why not?  You’re single, as far as I know, he’s single, and you know he cut his hair?  He’s actually very handsome–”

“I don’t care how cute he is, I’m not gunna hit on Eda’s son just because I’m single,” you exclaimed, barely registering the sound of a door shutting in the hall.

“That’s a shame.”

The amused voice behind you nearly made you leap out of your skin and you gave a sharp yelp as you spun around, only to find the very man you’d been talking about standing in the doorway, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

If your face was warm before, it was practically on fire now and you wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out.

However, you couldn’t help but notice that your mother was right—he was rather handsome.  His dark chestnut hair was shorter now, though not short by any means, with an artful unruliness to it that looked almost effortless.  His dark brown eyes practically danced when the mid-morning light shining through the southern facing window hit them just right, turning them almost golden with the faintest hint of green around the edges.

He looked well groomed, a smart leather jacket hung open over his blue button down tucked into his dark trousers, a far cry from his appearance the last time you’d seen him a couple weeks ago, his hair hanging down to his shoulders and in desperate need of a good brush.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya, sorry ���bout that,” he chuckled, his grin turning apologetic, while a soft flush crept across his face as his eyes met yours.  His voice was warm, like melted butter, with only the barest hint of a drawl to it, but it made your heart skip a beat just the same.

Quickly trying to compose yourself, you cleared your throat, trying to work moisture back into your mouth.

“No, I… I forgot I’d left the door open,” you spluttered.

“Well, hullo there,” your mum greeted, interrupting you and waving him closer.  “C’mon in, come closer so I can get a proper look at you,” she said and Eda’s son shared a grin with you before stepping into the room and letting your mom take his hands.

“Now what is your name again, darlin’?” she asked and he shifted his weight, his brows furrowing for a moment, as if thinking.

“You can call me Baron,” he answered with a nod, holding her gaze, and she seemed pleased.

“Baron,” she repeated, as if savouring the name before her eyes flicked to you.  “This is my daughter—“ she introduced, telling him your name as well.

Baron grinned, his eyes finding yours.  “It’s good to finally have a name to put with a face,” he murmured, ducking his head to listen as your mom whispered something in his ear.  He huffed a soft laugh, a slightly bewildered smile playing at his lips as he straightened, and you frowned, wondering what exactly she’d said.

“Mama?” you questioned, suspicion leeching in, only growing when she merely smiled at you like the cat that got the cream as she eased herself back into her chair, a mischievous glint to her eye.

“What’d she say to you?” you asked, turning back to Baron who still wore a bemused grin.

“She said I’d be a fool if I didn’t ask you to get a drink with me.”

Your mouth fell open, embarrassment washing over you and you looked from Baron to your mom and back, horrified.  “Oh my God,” you groaned, at a loss for words, hoping she hadn’t made him too uncomfortable, but Baron shrugged, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I’ve been called worse before, but my mama certainly didn’t raise herself a fool,” he chuckled, his gaze lingering on your face.  “So, what d’ya say?  Wanna grab a coffee?” he asked, nodding toward the door, a hopeful look crossing his face and you blinked, taken aback.

“Uhm, I–”

“Well, go on then,” your mom urged and you gave a small jump, almost having forgotten she was there.  “If you don’t go, I will.”

“Alright!” you relented, laughing as you held up your hands in surrender.  “I’d love to.”

“Perfect!  You two have fun now!” your mom exclaimed, practically shooing you out the door.  “You’ll have to come back tomorrow and tell me alllll about it,” she hissed, pitching her voice low before you stepped out the door.

“Alright, alright, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you replied, blowing her a kiss.  “Love you lots.”

“Tator tots!” she called back, making you smile.

Out in the hall, it hit you that you were now alone with Baron and the thought kicked up a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, embarrassment radiating off you in waves.

“So, uh, I know a good coffee shop nearby,” you offered, clearing your throat nervously, and Baron grinned, ducking his head.

“Sounds good.”

“So… how’s your mom?” you asked as you got your coffee and pulled out a chair at an empty table by the front window, trying to think of something to say and wincing, unable to come up with any other topic at the moment.

Baron didn’t seem upset though, he merely smiled pleasantly down at the strawberry frappe on the table in front of him, playing with his straw.  “She’s doin’ just fine.  How about yours?”

“Oh, good.  Good,” you answered, taking a sip of your cappuccino.  “As long as she’s got her meds she’s good,” you added, frowning as you remembered the excess pills you’d found in her medication box.  

“You know, it’s the darnedest thing though. When I checked her supply earlier, there was a whole extra bottle in there and I don’t know where it came from.”

Baron hummed, his smile sharpening for a moment, turning knowing.  “That’s strange,” he mused, dipping his finger in the whipped cream at the top of his drink and popping it in mouth, sucking it clean.

“Yeah,” you agreed, losing your words for a moment as you watched him, your lips parting, wishing for a taste.  When his eyes flicked back up to yours, you quickly cleared your throat and shrugged.  “I ain’t about to look a gift mouth in the horse though,“ you murmured, wincing when you realized you’d jumbled the words and quickly amended them, your face growing hotter.  “I mean, gift horse in the mouth.”

Baron chuckled, his gaze lingering on your face and you hoped he couldn’t tell how flustered you were.

“I’m sorry for my mom springing this on you.  She tends to butt into everyones’ business, whether they like it or not,” you began, flashing him a sheepish grin, but before you could finish apologizing for your mom’s behaviour, Baron cut you off.

“I’m not,” he replied simply, his gaze boring into yours.  “Sorry, I mean,” he clarified with a shrug.  “It finally gave me an excuse to talk to you.  Plus it helped to hear you think I’m cute,” he teased, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

For a long moment you merely gaped at him, barely believing your ears.  Had he really been interested in you all this time?

“Oh,” was all you could bring yourself to utter.  “Well… that’s good then,” you added lamely, unsure what else to say, though you were dying to ask how long he’d been wanting to ask you out.

“Besides, you’re lucky.”

“For what?”  His words took you off guard, pulling you from your thoughts.

“That you have a mama that cares so much about you,” Baron said, once more playing with his straw.  “I think it’s sweet.”

You nodded slightly, bringing your cup to your lips.  “I guess I am pretty lucky,” you agreed, catching his eye for a moment, and it was his turn to flush, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

“So, how’d it go?”

There it was, the question you’d been expecting since you’d arrived.  You were honestly a little surprised your mother hadn’t sprung it on you as soon as you’d walked through the door.  

She was peering at you over the fan of cards in her hand, trying to act nonchalant as she drew another card from the pile before discarding one.

“How’d what go?” you asked, fighting back a grin at the sharp look she threw you in response.

“Don’t be coy, you know what I’m talking about,” she exclaimed, pursing her lips like she always did when you tested her patience.

Rolling your eyes in amusement, you leaned back in your seat, studying your own hand of cards.  “It went well, we talked for a long while.  It was really nice,” you murmured, smiling to yourself, that giddy feeling still fluttering in your chest and your mother grinned in return, pleased with herself.

“So, when are you going to see him again?” she pressed, moving one of the cards to a different spot in her hand.

“Who said I’m seeing him again?” you joked, earning you an exasperated look.

“I may be old, but I’m not blind, girl,” your mama huffed.  “I’ve seen the way you two looked at each other when you thought no one was watchin’, and I’ve seen you smilin’ at your phone the same way every time it goes off.  Who else would you be textin’ lookin’ like that, huh?” she pointed out and you quickly set your phone down, knowing she’d caught you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, lifting your chin defiantly as you drew another card and winced, not drawing anything helpful.

“You don’t, do you?” your mom asked, raising an eyebrow at you, a wicked grin crossing her face as she laid her cards down on the table.  “Gin!” she announced.

Knowing you’d been beat, you groaned, tossing your cards down.  “Alright, fine!” you relented, dropping the act.  “He’s coming over for dinner on Friday and we’re gunna watch a movie.”

“Oh, Netflix and chill, huh?” she countered smugly.

“Mother!” you yelped, your face aflame as she began to cackle, gathering up the cards.

“Up for another round?”

“Yeah, alright,” you sighed, checking your phone once more.  “Just no more talk about my sex life,” you muttered.

“No promises!"

It was about ten minutes til Baron was supposed to arrive and you were rushing around, doing one last once over of your place before he got there, making sure everything was in place.  When your buzzer rang, you nearly tripped over the coffee table as you ran to let him up, fidgeting as you waited by the door, pulling it open just as he ascended the stairs.

“Hey, I brought the food,” he said, lifting the plastic take out bag as evidence.

“And flowers?” you asked, grinning as you spotted the bouquet of wildflowers in his other hand.

“Saw ‘em by the side of the road and thought of you,” he murmured sheepishly as he handed them to you.  “Though they’re nowhere near as pretty as you,” he added with a smirk.

“Charmer,” you replied, bringing the bouquet to your face to smell them, hiding your smile as you stepped aside to let him in.  “Thanks for bringing the food, I’m starving,” you exclaimed, shutting the door behind you as he passed.  “You’re much cuter than the usual delivery boy,” you teased, having grown a bit bolder since your first date.

“Well, that’s good to know,” Baron chuckled, setting the bag on your kitchen counter to pull out the takeout containers while you searched for a vase for the flowers.

“Fork or chopsticks?” he asked and you looked over to see him holding up one of each.

“Chopsticks,” you decided, filling the vase with water and setting it on the table.

Baron grinned at your choice, handing you the little paper sleeve and taking the plastic fork for himself.  “Good, cause I’m hopeless with ‘em,” he chuckled.

“Soda?” you asked, opening the fridge to grab yourself a bottle, taking two at Baron’s “yes, please,” and rounding the corner to join him on the couch.  Picking up the remote, you flipped through movies until you both agreed on one and pressed play, digging into your dinner.

“This was such a good idea,” you sighed, tucking your feet up under you and getting comfortable, inching closer to Baron until your knee pressed against his thigh and your elbow brushed his arm.  Despite the brief contact, warmth suffused you  and you carefully kept your eyes on the television, only chancing a glance at Baron out of the corner of your eye.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, you cleared your throat softly and set your nearly empty take out container aside.  “Can I ask you something?”

At your question, Baron set his food down as well, a hint of a smile on his lips as he turned his attention to you.  “Yeah, shoot.”

“Would you still have asked me out if it hadn’t been for my mum’s interference?” you wondered, the thought having plagued you for the past several days.

Baron looked thoughtful.  “I figure I would’ve eventually,” he murmured, his dark eyes finding yours in the dim room, the light from the tv dancing across his face.  “I’ve sorta had my eye on you,” he admitted, his grin twitching as his gaze flicked down to your lips and back up.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he replied, huffing a soft laugh.  “Just waitin’ for the right time.  There was something I had to finish before I could let myself get… involved.  A two year relationship I had to end,” he murmured.

“Oh–” you breathed, the news hitting you like a punch to the gut.  “I… had no idea.”

Baron shook his head, a far off look crossing his face for a moment before it was gone.  “S’alright.  It was always meant to end there,” he mused cryptically before he took a breath and his grin returned.

“What about you, Miss I-don’t-care-how-cute-he-is-I’m-not-gunna-hit-on-him-just-because-I’m-single?” he taunted and your mouth fell open.

“That was–!  I didn’t–!” you spluttered, feeling your face flare hotly.

“Admit it, you had a crush on me,” Baron teased, a playful light dancing in his dark eyes.

“I think you’re imagining things,” you replied lightly, managing to keep your voice even.

“Oh, am I?”  You could feel Baron shift toward you, his brows lifting in challenge, leaning in til his breath ghosted across your cheek.  “You’re awful cute when you blush.”

“And you’re not as sweet and innocent as my mama seemed to think you are,” you countered, your lips tugging into a grin.

Baron shrugged, still hovering in your space.  “Maybe not, but I can be sweet when I wanna be,” he drawled, his voice sending a tingle down your spine and your breath hitched in anticipation.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he breathed, but before he could capture your lips, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in, kissing him first, sending his eyes flying open in surprise as your lips caressed his eagerly.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you countered breathlessly, your grin turning giddy and Baron shook his head in disbelief, an amused huff bursting from his lips. 

“Guess we both owe your mama a thank you,” he chuckled, pulling you closer, his hands squeezing your hips, and you laughed, cupping his face with your hands, stroking his freckled cheek with your thumb.

“Guess we do,” you agreed, unable to tear your eyes from his face.  “She’s never gunna let us live this down though,” you pointed out and Baron shrugged.

“Can’t say that really bothers me much,” he teased before his lips were once more on yours, his tongue hesitantly delving deeper, rolling languidly against yours.

Wrapping a deceptively strong arm around your waist, he swallowed your soft gasp as he lowered you to your back, not once breaking the kiss as he trapped you beneath him, the movie playing on forgotten while you lost yourself to his embrace.

You may owe your mother a thank you for pushing you and Baron together, but you definitely weren’t about to tell her how good a kisser he was.

⇾ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @babydollbaron @heartbreak-sandwich @b1tchywheeler @girlwiththerubyslippers

[sysig]

By the skin of your teeth (Patreon)

[1000sunnygo]

Law: Straw hat ya! Stop being recklessly-

[Callback to their first meeting]

Luffy: "Also! Once you start getting along with Mingo, make sure you brothers start coming to school together!"

Cora: "Me and Doffy together at school??! "

Law: That dumbass! So that's the reason?? *starts running*

Others: Law!!

-

Cora: Put me down! I...

Luffy: I too have older brothers, you see.

Ace and Sabo - two of them!

They keep outpacing me by a long long shot...

I have to keep chasing their tails non-stop so I won't lose!

Cora: Straw hat ya...

Doflamingo: ?! Corazon...?

*wham*

-

Cora:

Whenever you try to slip into the dunno-what-it-is world, I'll stop you.

Doflamingo: You want to defeat me?

Cora: Not my words.

T/N: Brothers synchronized their first step into school campus :') Rosi, left handed, stepped in with his right foot, and vice versa.

Cora: It's the wind of the new era.

Sengoku: Both of you, you're late!

Tsuru: Be a good boy and hurry up, Doflamingo!

Doflamingo: Fufufufu... Just can't win when it's Tsuru san.

Cora: So they called you.

Kuzan: Yo, Welcome back!

Cora: Kuzan san!

Kuzan: Same to your brother!

Doflamingo: Fufufu...

Luffy: LET'S GOO, MINGO! CORAO!!

*food car's horn beeps*

Nami: You guys!!

Luffy: Oh hey, everyone!

Oi, Mingo, let's all have Crepes together!

Doflamingo: Fufufufu... I don't need one at the moment.

Recommending Joker's New Genesis God Crepe.

Luffy: Corao! Torao!

Law: I don't need one either!

Luffy: So Mingo's recommendation was~~

Cora: I'll go with this one.

*chart shows 'cream'*

[flashback to Doffy bringing creamy Crepes to Rosi]

Law: Cora san, isn't this almost entirely only cream?

Cora: Yep, it's perfect.

Lots of cream, please!

End note: Even when their paths don't intersect, they stretch ahead for the two.

End! Next on May 3rd.

T/N: Law said no but he did buy a Crepe.

Also, I loved the implications that the basic cream crepe might be an item doffy specifically kept for Rosi.

If you have time, please leave some words of appreciation to the mangaka, Souhei Kouji sensei, for this amazing subplot under his tweet! I'm sure he will take a note of its popularity :)

One Piece Academy Chapter 45: Brothers part 2 (Quick translation)

source | translation index

Trebol: Corazon?! How come you're okay~?!

Diamante: Uhahaha...Is that Law I see?

Pica:...!

Zoro: Ow, those are some mean looks.

Sanji: Did they gather to gang up on Corazon?

Nami/Usopp: NOOOO~~!!

Luffy: Mingo you jerk!! Doing what you did to Corao, I still haven't--!!

Usopp: God forbid.. Luffy, don't provoke them!!

Gladeus: So that's the Straw hat? How cheeky...

Doflamingo: Down there...There's one of my Kitchen cars.

Let's go eat.

everyone: ??!

Luffy: UHOWWWH!! SO THIS IS THE LOBSTER ONIGIRI! LOOKS SUPER TASTY!!

Nami: Luffy, you!

Luffy: R-right...I shouldn't eat... they haven't made up yet... !

Usopp: Corao!! That guy definitely has some plans under his sleeves!

Baby 5: Of course! Don't underestimate our Young Master!

Law: *clink*

Cora: *step* *step*

Law: Cora san!

tears in my eyes

Cora: Delicious!

(........)

Cora: The flavor was a bit strong.

Doflamingo: Kids these days prefer that way.

Coby: It's not a trap?!

And they're eating together like nothing happened... How is that...?

Luffy: Shiishishihi.... I see!

Baby 5: Is it okay, Young Master?

Doflamingo: I have successfully settled things with Corazon.

But for whatever reason, he's here and doing great. Take it as just another outcome.

T/N: throwback to when Doffy said Law's erroneous choices lead to the outcome where Cora got stabbed

Law:

Doflamingo: What is it? Law.

Law: I will never forgive you. That is all.

Cora: Law...

Law: Not saying in the spirit of revenge, though.

Thanks to Cora san, I've become free... I refuse to live with my heart trapped within your clutch.

I will surpass you by myself, of my own volition.

And someday, I'll have you mopping the floor after beating the crap out of you!

That's how thugs settle their business, don't they?

Doflamingo: Fufufufu... well, that's something to look forward to.

Sugar: *noms*

Doflamingo: *stands up*

Cora:.....

Luffy: Oi Mingo, you don't wanna party?

Baby 5: Young Master is busy! Unlike you people!!

Luffy: What's up with that guy anyway...

*brothers take opposite directions*

Franky: There he goes. To the school?

Corazon: Well, time for another strategy meeting!

Law:

Cora: Huh?

Luffy: FWOOOOOOH~~~!!!

Cora: Straw hat ya!!?

Nami: Where are you going, Luffy??

Luffy: SCHOOL!!!

Sanji: Hold on a second!!!

Continues in Reblog ⬇️

[goggles-mcgee]

Phantom Fudge

I love the fics of Danny settling into Gotham and having some sort of business and just absolutely confusing the Batfam with how flippant he is about the crime.

My take is, instead of a coffee shop or bookstore or occult shop, Danny opens a fudge shop!

His parents taught him, and he found he actually really loved it, and besides, his dream of being an astronaut was out of reach due to his unique medical readings. In this au, his parents learned about him being Phantom and took it well after a good period of spiraling because-Holy shit they shot their son. You may be asking, Goggles, didn't you just make a post that was all about Jack and Maddie not taking the news well? Yes. Yes, I did.

I go back and forth with wanting to salt them and not. I like both.

So anyways, Danny is the heir to the Ghost Throne, but he won't actually take up the official title until his time on Earth is naturally over. After everything got better with his parents and his regular ghost fighting buddies, he actually was able to raise his grades and graduate. Many teachers were amazed at the progress but really, Danny may not have been as smart as his parents and sister (he is an unreliable narrator and is actually very smart just not as conventional as his family) but before his accident he had done pretty good in school. The GIW was still a thing, but without the Fenton technology, they weren't doing as well as they previously did. His parents broke their contract after they rescued him from the GIW labs, it was a little after he told his parents about his halfa status and they came storming in to save him and all the other ghosts that were captured. After that, life got so much better. His parents listened to him, and he got to teach them all about his people. They started publishing more papers with actually accurate information and were doing their best to overturn the anti-ecto acts. They haven't accomplished it, but Danny was sure they would.

That's actually why he moved to Gotham. Tucker had the idea of contacting the Justice League to help with the anti-ecto laws, but their calls weren't being answered. Neither were the...strongly worded emails Sam sent in. So Danny did what he did best and jumped into something not entirely thought out but hoping for the best. He moved to Gotham so he could get close to Batman and ask for help. He got accepted into Gotham University on a scholarship. But he wanted to make some money on his own without his parents sending him some kind of allowance, and he didn't want to work at Bat Burger. He started selling fudge around winter at his school, and he got permission to do so.

From there, he got enough money to actually open a small fudge cart. Then he got enough for a small shop near his apartment which was rather close to Crim Alley so he hired some working girls to help with the shop and he employed any Alley Kids looking for some cash as delivery workers. (They only delivered in Crime Alley, though, but that was fine with Danny.) Danny loved his little fudge shop that he lovingly named Phantom Fudge, and the sign had a cute little ghost eating some fudge on it. When he was in school for classes, he left the shop in his friend Ginger's hands. She had been a working girl before, but before that, she had had experience working a small mom & pop kind of shop, so Danny felt good leaving her in charge. When Ellie visited, she helped out with the shop too.

Danny was thriving. Then he started getting customers of the ecto variety because, of course, he would. Apparently, he was something of an ecto filter for the shades and ghost of Gotham, so they would visit his shop to soak up some of the pure ectoplasm in the air. Then he experimented and made some ecto-fudge, which is what he gave to any ecto beings that entered his shop. Most couldn't pay, but they would give him a heads up if they saw anything shady happening around his shop.

Like a little heads up that some robberies were happening in the area, or some rogue was getting close. It was a nice little system they had. Though some ghosts came in just to tell him their unfinished business and like...he wasn’t King yet, but these were his people, so he tried to help them out as best they could.

One particular couple showed up a lot and would ask him to help warn their son of any danger they heard was brewing. They would ask him to leave messages for the son or any of his kids but also the butler if needed. Danby thought this guy had some great parents. They didn't cross over because they needed to make sure their son was safe and taken care of. It was most likely that they wouldn't cross until their son did by the sounds of it. He got permission to call them Grandma and Grandpa, which was weird, but he didn't question it.

Martha and Thomas were nice spirits, so he had no problem helping them out. But Danny is Danny and his well-intentioned help of course caught the eye of the whole batfam.

They had been receiving letters in the Manor that appeared mysteriously. The first one they had all thought was a prank from the many people there. It was a simple, 'Don’t go to the gala. Something bad will happen.' That started it all. They were all baffled but laughed it off, and those who went to the gala didn't know how to feel when the seeming wait staff took over the event and held the guests hostage.

A coincidence surely.

Then they got another note, 'Freeze is planning to do a B&E and snatch some equipment from a Wayne lab. Idk which one since you have so many.' And just like last time, the note was speaking the truth. It continued from there, and everyone tried to capture whoever or whatever was leaving the notes, but any cameras they had glitched out before returning to normal and showing a new note had showed uo somewhere in the Manor. Bruce was going crazy trying to figure out who or what their messenger was.

Alfred once found a note that said, 'Tim has been awake and pushing himself too far. He is going to crash.' He took it to heart though and made Tim rest and take a break. He would not let the note happen. Tim had had far too many crashes the past couple of months.

The note that broke Bruce, though, was small in words, but it made him feel crazy. It was his parent's death anniversary, and when he went to visit the exact spot, he saw a sticky note on the floor. He shakily picked it up to see all it said was, 'It's okay.'

Now he is really worked up and determined to find the note messenger.

While that's going on, Danny also gets some local vigilantes visiting his shop, and he is so excited to see them and try and be their friend so he can ask for help. Plus they seem to be fans of his fudge and that just makes him happy.

The batkids thing the Phantom Fudge shop owner is suspicious, but hot damn did he make some bomb ass fudge.

[authorhjk1]

Dea Romana

(Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader)

(Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thank you for patiently waiting for me! I'm done with writing my exams now, so I will be able to write more again until Juli. Since I like history a lot, the beginning got a bit longer than originally planned, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless. I tried to make everything as historically accurate as possible, but please don't expect everything to be true.

Stay healthy! I will do my best to upload the next piece as soon as possible!)

Every muscle feels like it's burning. Your legs and arms feel heavy. Your feet barely lift off the uneven ground with every step you take.

Dried blood stains your face. Your armour doesn't look much better. The shield you are holding, has a big dent in it. The javelin in your right hand feels like it's made out of steel. The chainmail on your chest weighs heavier than usual.

"Marius!"

Your second in command shouts at you from the back.

"The women need a break!"

You sigh in annoyance. It's bad enough that you almost got your whole century killed. Now you have to delay your reunion with the rest of the legion because of those Gaul captives.

"We will take a short break."

You announce to your eighty legionaries and the twenty rebels you captured.

Spotting a small stream near by, you walk closer, while most of the soldiers sit on the ground, some are standing guard.

Taking off your helmet, you start to wash your face. The dried blood sticks to your skin. After some effort, you are just a little bit cleaner.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you kneel in place. In front of the small stream, your century in the back, looking into the deep forest.

You have lived a hard life. You were not born a Roman. Not born a free man. But you took your life into your own hands, instead of hoping for the mercy of the gods. Because gods don't have mercy. Only you can change your own destiny.

"Let's keep marching. We are almost there."

You go back to the front of the century, your men following your orders. Most of the Gaul rebels you captured are women and children. Their husbands and fathers killed by your swords and javelins.

Orders are orders. To kill or to be killed. These are the only two principles you live by. At least most of the time.

"Have you heard yet?"

Quintus asks from behind you, catching your attention. You silently wave for him to walk next to you. It's not necessarily the gossip you're interested in, but you did learn that it's important to know what is going on inside your century and the legion itself.

"Aelius fucked up some of his soldiers."

You raise your eyebrow while you keep walking. Nothing new there. Aelius is a spoiled son of a whore. He only became centurion in the tenth, because of his family's status. And he is usually unnecessarily brutal with his century.

"Reason?"

"They ate some of the extra rations we all got a week ago. Aelius said that they are meant for centurions only. Not for legionaries."

You have to stop yourself from spitting onto the muddy path you are walking on.

Aelius paints the perfect picture of the Roman nobility. Rich assholes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Did he kill someone again?"

Quintus shakes his head.

"But I heard that the premus pilus had a talk with him."

You let out a dry chuckle.

"All the centurions of the first cohort are the same. Do you really think he got in trouble?"

"No. But I thought you would be interested. It's not like you have very good connections with-"

"Shut it, fool."

It's not really a secret in the tenth legion that you and Aelius are bitter rivals. The two of you are the completely opposite of one another. A rich brat, who is the centurion of the third century in the first cohort. And you. The former slave, who climbed the ranks to be the centurion of the first century in the second cohort.

There aren't many ranks that separate the two of you. But making the jump into the first cohort as a former slave is nearly impossible.

Your century walks in almost complete silence for the next couple of hours. Despite being one of the most feared soldiers in the legion, you can't help but be cautious. In case there are more rebels lurking in the shadows of the large trees.

"Marius!"

The scout you send out to check the path ahead is jogging in your direction.

"We take another short break."

A light murmur of gratitude echoes through the ranks.

You wait for the young man, barely older than a boy, to reach the spot where you are standing.

"Someone seems to be traveling towards the camp. Our paths are going to cross, once we reach the small clearing ahead."

"Do you know who it is?"

"It looked like a person from the nobility. There was a carriage. And a couple of men with spears. Probably guards."

"We can't be too cautious. Titus!"

You shout for your second in command to walk to the front.

"Take your contubernia and make fast pace. I want to make sure that everything is going according to regulations."

"Yes, Marius."

The rest of the century starts marching at normal pace again, while the eight men rush ahead. The scout leading them towards the small crossroads.

"You know what's going on?"

You shake your head at Quintus' question.

"Might be a politician from Rome. Or a nobleman's wife."

"You know that that's against the law."

Of course everyone knows. It's illegal for a legionary to be married. And yet, some centurions always think that they are above the rest of the legion, when it comes to this kind of rules.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An angry shout echoes around the forest, just as you and your men reach the small clearing.

The scout was right. A carriage, pulled by two grays, accompanied by a handful of men, armed with spears, and some servants.

An older woman is standing in front of the carriage's door, screaming at the poor Titus. Glancing over his shoulder, your optio rolls his eyes.

"Woman. Don't scream at a Roman legionary."

You make your presence known as you keep walking towards the middle of the clearing.

The servant, probably around forty to fifty years of age, looks at you with anger in her eyes.

"Do you even know, whom you are holding up?!"

"No."

You state bluntly, finally standing in front of her. Behind you, you can hear your men take their positions. Not to threaten the travelers, but to guard the area.

"Well, she is one of the most prestigious women in all of Rome."

"And what is a woman like her doing so far away from the city?"

"Visiting her husband."

You click your tongue. As far as you know, none of the centurions in the first cohort have wives. Which means, she must be the woman of a centurion, who ranks lower than you.

A smirk, which you can't suppress, plays around your lips. How are you able to enjoy a higher position than a noble in this republic?

You walk off without another word, leaving Titus in charge. There is no need to bother with this stuff. Some of the Gaul rebels fell a little behind earlier. You have to check on them. In case they are sick or badly injured.

"Her name?"

You hear Titus ask, before the woman let's out an exaggerated gasp.

"Sana Lucii."

You groan in annoyance. By Jupiter. Is this really his wife? Lucius Aelius? Just when you thought, you couldn't hate that man even more.

You despise men, who don't follow the law and rules of the republic and the legion. Of course, sometimes you can define them a little different for your own gains, but this is just breaking them.

Trying to stay calm, your fingers tap the pommel of your gladius. You don't hear a response from Titus. He must know which Lucius the old woman ment.

"Marius?"

He finally makes you turn around.

You walk back up towards the carriage, just as the door opens.

"By Bellona! What is taking so long!"

You have to say, you are amused by the woman's expression. You didn't expect her to call out for the goddess of war.

"Just doing our duty, lady."

Titus answers politely, although you know how hard it is for him to not lash out. He hates Aelius just as much as the next soldier. Especially, since he is your optio.

You are stunned, once the woman actually shows herself. Her beautiful face is slightly twisted with annoyance. Although, you would be sure that she could look like Venus herself, when she smiles.

She is wearing a turquoise stola, which also covers her brown hair. The thin material enables you to have a look at her white tunic underneath. Her skin looks flawless and pure. A golden necklace adorns her neck and collarbone. It's probably worth more than a whole year of your salary.

An image of a goddess.

"I hope we can speed up this process. I'm supposed to be by my husband's side."

Lucky bastard.

"Please. Speak respectfully with my legionaries."

Her gaze meets yours. You can feel your heart skipping a beat. Not one woman has looked as pretty as she does. Not one.

"Who are you to lecture me on speaking?"

"Salve."

Your fist meats the blood stained chainmail on your chest.

Maybe, if you behave respectfully, so does she. The army is for her protection after all.

"My name is Marius. And-"

"What's your first name, centurion?"

A cute smile suddenly plays around her lips. Maybe this will get her out of here faster.

"Gaius."

"I see, Gaius. I'm sure you have more important things to do than stop me from traveling further? My husband must be waiting for me."

If she didn't know better, Sana could swear that she caught a glint of hate in your eyes.

"This is protocol. We have to check on everyone, who approaches the camp."

"I'm a noble woman. Can't you make an exception for me?'

You don't fall for her sweet smile. You are on duty. Not even Venus herself could distract you. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Your choice. Here, or at the gate in front of even more legionaries. Like everyone else."

That last part makes her glare at you. You won this round.

Not waiting for a response, you gesture for your men to search the woman's belongings. Your Imperial legate has more than enough enemies in Rome to be cautious of. And you don't want him to end up dead inside his own camp. Even if she is allegedly Aelius' wife.

Quintus nods in your direction after going through her belongings, signaling that everything is alright.

"We will accompany you on your way to the camp. We are on our way back, anyway."

You turn around without looking at Sana again. A signal for your men to get into formation.

It feels like she stares at your back for a second longer, before you hear the door close behind you. You don't like the Roman nobility. At all. There is only one man you are willing to follow.

After two more hours of marching, your century and the noblewoman's entourage finally reach the camp's gate.

"The village, where the senior officers are staying, is right behind the camp. You can't miss it."

The older woman, who screamed at Titus earlier, still looks at you as if she is holding a grudge.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in these wonderful lands, lady."

You raise your voice a little, making sure that Sana can hear you. It drips with sarcasm and you can hear Quintus chuckle behind you.

"Vale."

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk past the old servant. Her shock at your rudeness visible on her face.

Already making your way past the guards, you can't hear Sana's scoff.

Who are you to talk to her like that? If she is gonna tell her husband about this, you are going to be in trouble for sure.

Sana will never be able to get used to this. She was able to decide that, immediately after she stepped out of her carriage. It took her only a couple of steps to enter the small house her husband is living in right now. But that was enough for her already.

Nothing here looks like Rome. Even the legionaries look out of place. And their shouts and the sounds of shields and stuff isn't what she hears when she is home. Sana is already missing the comfortable house with the atrium. She likes to bathe in the sun throughout the day, while sipping on a really good wine.

"You're late."

Lucius doesn't even look up from his small table as he hears his wife coming in.

"That's how you great me after a year?"

"You know how I value punctuality."

"Out of my hands. Some centurion insisted on searching my luggage. He was really rude."

Now Lucius is looking at her. Sana knows that he can't stand someone disrespecting him. And when she gets disrespected, it goes deeper. He is affected as well.

"Who?"

She can see his eyes becoming a little darker. He bites his lip, maybe trying to prevent himself from shouting.

"His name is Garius Marius. I think?"

"That son of a whore. How does a slave dare to stop you?"

Now, Sana feels shame run down her spine. If she knew that he was born a slave, she would've hit him for talking to her like that. No matter his rank, he is and will always be beneath her. Once a slave, always a slave.

"I swear to Jupiter. One day in battle, I will..."

Lucius takes a deep breath, before focusing back on his wife.

"We are eating dinner with the Imperial legate, the leader of these legions tomorrow, and the senior generals. I expect you to impress them."

"I'd be happy to, love."

Sana almost spits out that last word, but Lucius doesn't seem to notice. He sits back down, opening an envelope. She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed. He won't let this incident pass without consequences.

Sana eventually leaves the house to explore the small town and it's market. Despite being married to Lucius, she can't stay around him for too long. She is only his wife, because of his money and connections. As soon as she can find someone better...

Sana feels a little dizzy as she steps out of the big house. Lucius told her to be on her best behavior. But that idiot was behaving the worst throughout the dinner.

She hated how calm and reserved the other centurion was, the man who stopped her. He was the lowest ranking soldier and yet, everyone listened to his advice and thoughts about future and past battles. And how is he on a first name basis with the imperial legate? And why is Lucius too incapable to enjoy the same treatment? How can he do worse than a slave?

Sana holds onto the wall, standing right next to the entrance. Suddenly, two men walk out the door. They don't see her because it's dark. She tries to find out who they are. The first one is a little taller, while the second has broader shoulders and looks more muscular.

"We can't do this forever, Gaius. We need a plan to wipe him out. I expect you to help me with that."

"Of course, Gaius."

Sana almost groans in annoyance. Of course it's that Gaius Marius. And the other one is the Imperial legate. Gaius Julius Caesar.

"Rome is an empire. We will defeat Vercingetorix sooner rather than later. His supporters will crumble soon."

"You did a good job today, centurion. You've proven once again, why you rightfully carry the name I gave you. Gaius Marius Antonius."

Sana assumes they are talking about some barbarian leader. But Caesar gave him that cognomen? She can't help but wonder what he must've done to be called "priceless".

"You know the political situation in Rome. The more time I waste conquering Gaul, the more powerful my enemies become."

"I swear to Mars. I will cut down anyone who tries to oppose you, Gaius."

She sees Caesar put a hand on the centurion's shoulder.

"It's only a matter of time, until you will be one of the Tribuni angusticlavii, leading the tenth legion into battle. And I will make sure, you will eventually become a rich senator."

Sana has heard enough. It's so disgusting to her. A slave becoming a senator. She is working so hard to become the most powerful woman in Rome. And with that in the whole empire. How can that lowlife become something better than she herself? Sana either needs to push Lucius further up the ranks, or she needs to find someone, who can match Marius' new found status.

Sana groans in relief, when she can finally leave the small village. It's not like someone forbid her to leave, but there just wasn't something to do in and outside the village. What was she gonna do in a forest? A very dangerous one at that?

But now, she heard of a big market place around two hours away. Sana is still looking to buy some oils and pottery. She could do that in Rome of course, but she is hoping to find them cheaper in their land of origin.

Looking out of her carriage, Sana leaves behind the village and the big camp right next to it. The constant noise made her head spin. Not that Rome isn't loud, but this is something else.

After about an hour, Sana hears a troop of men marching in front of her. She became familiar with that sound after a few days. She doesn't look outside, despite being curious. Why would a century be here? The battles would take place in the opposite direction. Right?

Sana hears how the carriage passes the back of the century. The heavy steps of the legionaries kick up some dust. Her old servant looks outside, curious herself.

"It's him again."

The older woman grimaces, before letting the curtain drop back into place.

"Who?"

"The man who stopped us a couple of days ago."

Sana's attention is now on the men outside. She remembers the conversation you had with Caesar.

"Really?"

She pretends to be cold, not wanting to get caught. After having seen you around a couple of times, the young noble woman is unsure on how to feel about you.

Yes, you are a former slave. A peasant. But you are also a great centurion. A trusted man to Julius Caesar.

Despite being not the highest ranking officer, Sana did notice how the other men look at you. She catches an occasional whisper of your brave actions in battle. She sees the men greet you with almost too much respect. Even the other centurions seem to want to be on your good side.

Maybe that's what Sana has to do too. In order to further climb up the ladder. It is risky. And it's still a long time in the future. But if Caesar can really make his ambitions reality, you will be one of the first people who benefit from it. And if Sana plays her cards well, she can benefit too.

For a moment, she wonders what a man like you would need. Something she could have to bargain with. Money? You probably earn quite a lot already. Especially compared to your earlier environment. Land? You will get that too, if you stay long enough in the army. A wife? You are a soldier. You are not allowed to be married.

As Sana is still pondering on what to do to convince you to help her gain more power, she gets closer towards the front of the century.

And it's not like she doesn't have influence. She could maybe even get you a promotion into the first cohort. Of course without her husband finding out.

Sana draws back the curtain a little with only one finger. Just a few meters ahead, she can see you walking.

Your helmet is decorated by a big crest of red horse hair. The back of the helmet and the rest of your armor shimmer in the light of the sun. She remembers your first encounter. Your armor was full with blood, indicating that you were more than able to fight a battle.

You turn around as you hear horses behind you. It wouldn't have been a surprise. One of the auxilia officers could be taking his men out to train.

Surprised at the sight of the carriage, you catch a glimpse of the passenger. Her eyes meet yours, a big golden ring decorates the finger that holds back the curtain. You could swear you see a small hint of a smile play around her lips.

"Salve."

You great her by hitting your armored chest with your fist. Not because you like her, but out of politeness.

"Salve, centurion."

Her passive aggressive mentioning of your rank indicates that she is still not over that incident a couple of days ago.

"Are you visiting the market?"

"I am. I suppose you are not here to buy pottery?"

A mocking smile replaces the earlier one.

"It may sound unbelievable, but I'm not."

A cute chuckle escapes her mouth.

"Well, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day."

Is she still mocking you, because you are on duty? You are not sure, but you can see her lazily wave goodbye as the carriage drives past you.

"Don't get too close to her. She is only gonna be trouble."

You look at Quintus.

"I'm merely being polite. I don't need trouble with angry nobles. At least not now."

"By Jupiter. One might think you've become a responsible, grown man now."

"Fuck off."

You raise your hand, but Quintus ducks away, avoiding a potential slap.

Only listening with one ear to the conversation next to you, you scan the market for the young noble woman. Despite her attitude and the fact that she is married, you can't help but glance at her occasionally. Plus, the market isn't as safe as it might seem. Cunning merchants, thiefs and rebels might roam the place, ready to strike at any moment. And being a beautiful Roman woman makes her one of the most desirable targets right now.

"Listen, Roman! I barely sell anything! How do you expect me to pay your unreasonable taxes?!"

"Shut it."

You turn back to the stall holder. Titus' and his conversation got heated.

"We are not hear to argue. We are here to collect taxes."

The man grits his teeth.

"I'm telling you! I don't have anything to give away!"

The other people around you look at the scene, before walking past. Only you and a couple of legionaries are here. The rest of your century is patrolling another village nearby and the rest of the market, making sure you are not getting ambushed.

"Don't scream at me, old man. Pay up."

"I don't have a fucking coin!"

You know he is lying. You saw someone buy his fabric from a far as you entered the marketplace. And, judging by the money bag he held earlier, it wasn't cheap at all.

"We can do this the easy way, or the heard way."

You take a step forward, towering above him.

"But the hard way won't end well for you."

"I already told you, I-"

You let your head fall back in annoyance. Collecting taxes is a necessity. Not something to be proud of. It's not as honorable as fighting in battle.

"Do you really want to go this far?"

You look down at him again, your hand now resting on the pommel of your gladius.

He caught the movement of your hand, worry creeping onto his features.

"What is it gonna be? Your life? Or coin?"

The old man is not stupid. And a couple of moments later, you walk away from his stall. The tinkle behind you indicates, that Titus is adding the silver denarii into the bag with the rest of the already collected money.

"Are you trying to rob me, old man? You are a con artist!"

Women screaming at a merchant are as common as clouds under the sky, so you don't pay much attention to it as you hear someone scream.

"How can you demand so much for this lousy work?"

You keep walking, although you kinda feel, like you heard this voice before. It sounds oddly familiar.

"By Bellona! I'm going to have you beaten for your rudeness!"

And there it is. With an annoyed groan, you immediately recognize, who is disturbing the rather peaceful market.

If she was a common local woman, you would've kept walking. The Galli could solve their own disputes.

But Sana is, as unfortunate as it is, not a local. She is a Roman woman. A member of the elite even.

You take a deep breath, before walking towards her screams. You can already guess whom she is screaming at.

"Keep going."

You tell Titus over your shoulder, as you approach her from behind. Her servant must have stayed with the carriage, because Sana is standing in front of the stall of the potter all alone.

Before the young woman can scream another word, you grab her arm.

"What-"

You spin her around and walk away, pulling her with you.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"Silence."

You didn't say it in a loud voice, but your tone makes her go silent.

After a couple of meters, you stop, turning around to look at her.

"You're welcome."

"Excuse you?"

Her hands now rest on her hips. You can't help but catch how slender her waist seems to be.

"I just saved you from embarrassing yourself even further. You owe me."

You turn away, ready to reunite with Titus and your men.

"What the-"

It's now Sana's turn to grab your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"I don't owe you shit."

"Really?"

You turn to look at her again.

"Your temper is as bad as your observation skills. Minerva would strike you down for your utter incompetence."

You said the words, before you thought about them. You are aggravated. Because of the merchant earlier, because of her causing a scene, because of Lucius (as always) and because of her being his wife. Alright, maybe that last one was a little jealousy.

"How dare you? You are some rude-"

You stop her from saying another word by grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around.

"Look. Look and tell me what you see."

"What are you talking about?"

You see her frowning. An act that makes her beautiful face a little less flawless.

"Tell me what's going on."

You realize you are using the same tone as with the men during training. Harsh, straight forward, a little condescending. But not rude. Just factual.

"The merchant is still selling his stupidly expensive pottery."

You don't answer, waiting for more.

Sana, visibly annoyed, struggles against your grip for a moment, before giving in. You are a seasoned legionnaire. There is no way she is gonna get out of your hold on her.

"There are a couple of women and men who browse his items."

"Keep going."

"Someone is buying a bowl and an amphora."

"What is the woman on the right doing?"

"She is paying for her stuff. What-"

"Can you see how much she is paying?"

"Way too much for a stupid-"

"Do you see any of the locals complaining?"

Sana hesitantly shakes her head.

"Do you know the reason?"

"Because they are stupid. In Rome it's cheap-"

"We aren't in Rome, woman. This is Gaul."

You stand behind her, both of you silent for a couple of moments. You give her time to think about the possible reason. Although she is probably just complaining about you to the gods in silence.

"They all pay the price he demands, because he and his work are respected here."

"But they look-"

"Yeah. Some of his pieces aren't pretty."

You admit that.

"But he is an old man. His hands aren't as good as they used to be. He is obviously regarded with a decent amount of respect."

You gesture for Sana to look around the market.

"Most of the people here bargain over every single item. Food, cloth, tools and even pottery."

You turn her back towards the old man's stall.

"But not there. They respect him too much to try to get a better price. His work might not be the very best anymore, but his skill is known by everyone here."

Sana groans in annoyance and anger as she sees you coming out of the biggest tent of the camp. A week has gone by, since you treated her like a child at the market. Her blood still boils, whenever she sees you from a far.

She decided against telling her husband, not wanting to cause unnecessary friction. And if you have the favor of Caesar, it might be a bad idea to egg on her husband.

And Sana is still debating on your ability to help her seize more power. She is ready to do anything to get to the top. Even if it means working together with someone as low born as you.

Sana stops in her tracks as she sees her husband walk towards you.

"Aelius."

You don't greet him like any other lower ranking centurion would. The young woman can feel the tension between the two men, despite standing barely in earshot.

"Marius."

His face shows a disapproving twitch.

"It seems like we are catching up to Vercingetorix. I hope you don't make any mistakes in battle. I would hate to lose a lower ranking officer."

You click your tongue, taking a step forward.

With the two of you standing right in front of each other, Sana realizes that you are bigger than her husband. Not just in statue, but also in the way you carry yourself. With slightly less arrogance and more discipline.

"Don't worry about me, Aelius. As you know, I always make sure my men are taken care off."

Sana feels a shiver run down her spine. She heard more than enough stories about the battles of the tenth legion since she joined her husband. The amount of times that you were mentioned in one of them was noticeably high.

The young woman heard of a battle two summers ago. You weren't a centurion at the time. Merely a soldier of the second cohort. But in battle, your centurion chose to let his men die, while he stayed behind, watching his century getting slaughtered. After half of the eighty men were dead, you walked straight towards the cowardly centurion. A nobleman, which the storyteller didn't fail to mention with a hint of disgust. Your gladius seperated his head from his shoulders in one swift motion and you took command of the second century until the end of the battle. Caesar honored your bravery and agreed with your actions. Instead of getting executed, you got promoted.

"Are you implying I'm not leading my men well?"

Sana hears you chuckle.

"News travel fast among the younger men, Aelius."

"Maybe you should discipline your soldiers like I do. Your century is a disgrace to the tenth legion."

"Nugas garris. You are pathetic."

You walk off, leaving him behind.

Sana almost expects her husband to draw his gladius. How can you call him a disgrace? And idiot? He is higher ranking than you and he is a member of the elite.

But Aelius just watches you leave, before entering the tent you just came out of.

That short interaction reminds Sana of the power you actually hold. You might not be the highest officer, but almost the whole legion treats you as such. If it wasn't for your low birth, you might have been able to be the centurion of the first century of the first cohort.

Sana's decision is slowly forming in her mind. A plan to gain more power than she has right now. Siding with you might be risky. But the rewards could be great.

Sana glances at you from across the room as you stare at Caesar, who is currently talking. She is still not quite sure what she can offer you to make you join her side. But when the leader of the legion mentions the nobility in his speech, she sees your expression change for just a second. It is obvious that you hate all the wealthy and arrogant men and women. Maybe Sana can offer you something to get back at them. Or at least get back at Aelius.

"And that's why the tenth legion outshines any other. Your bravery and honor are praised throughout the whole empire. Rome is grateful for what you have done. And the gods smile down at the men, who give their lifes to the republic."

Caesar ends his speech. And with that, the long meal is finally over. It is night time already. Only the moon and the stars still shine.

You walk out of the large tent, ready to sleep. It has been a long day and there is no doubt that you will be fighting soon. Caesar's promise to promote you to such a high position still rings in your ears. You can't believe you've come this far.

"Gaius."

Her sweet voice makes you stop in front of your tent. She doesn't sound as angry as she usually does.

"Yes?"

You turn around, standing face to face with Sana.

"I'm here to ask you for something."

You look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I heard that you are the bravest and most powerful man in this legion. At least unofficially."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Where is all of this honey suddenly coming from?"

Sana gives you a melodic chuckle. Only now do you realize how close she is standing. Her oils make you breath in the flowery air that surrounds her.

"I want to strike a deal with you."

"What would you want from such a low ranking officer like me?"

Your sarcasm makes it hard for Sana to not lash out. Just because she needs you, doesn't mean that she likes you.

"As far as I've heard, you won't be a low ranking officer for long."

"Is that so?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it's actually quite simple. You have something I want. And I have something you want."

"I highly doubt that."

You watch Sana turn her head left and right, making sure that no one is around.

"There is a always something a man wants from a woman."

You are surprised at what she is suggesting.

"Judging by the look on your face, I can comfortably say that I'm right."

You shake your head, which seems harder than usual.

"Have you never thought about having your way with me? A noble woman?"

She takes another step closer. Now, Sana's sandals are touching yours.

"A married one at that? I bet you would love to destroy my husband. This could be your first step to success."

You narrow your eyes, still unsure of what to do. You've never been in this kind of situation. Is she making fun of you? Did Aelius put her up to this, setting a trap for you? Or is she genuine?

"What would you get in return?"

"Your power. Your influence. I can't live, knowing that another person might have more power than I do. I need to be at the top of the republic."

"And you think, I can get you there?"

Sana nods.

"With my support? Definitely."

She looks at you, waiting for a response.

You are still torn. She has a nice body, yes. But you're not fond of her attitude. She is a noble woman. And she is married. Getting caught would have serious consequences. For the both of you.

But the chance to use her? A noble woman? Fucking her, while her husband is only sleeping a couple of tents away? More than just tempting.

You look around the camp yourself. No one in sight.

"Get in."

A victorious smile forms on her lips. As she walks past you, she lets her finger glide over your armoured chest.

You follow her immediately after.

"Now that we have come to an agreement, I-"

You push Sana forward, bending her over the wooden table.

"What-"

You don't give her time to speak. If you're going to do this, you're going to do this quickly.

Hiking up her red stola, you reach underneath her tunic. The smoothness of her legs makes you hard as you reach between them.

"It seems like you are enjoying this more than I expected."

Your fingers graze her lower lips. She is not just a little wet.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to-"

You shut Sana up by covering her mouth with your other hand.

"I don't need you permission. I'm going to ruin you anyway."

Her gasp is muffled by your hand as you push your first finger inside.

You haven't slept with a lot of women, the army being mainly responsible for that. Nonetheless, you do know how to pleasure a woman.

Sana's moan escapes between your fingers as your digits slide along her wet walls. Her pussy is already gripping them tightly.

If it weren't for your hand, her head would've sunk onto the table already. But you are holding her in place, which ultimately makes her arch her back.

She tries to say something, but your grip on her mouth makes it impossible for her to speak properly.

You are surprised at how wet Sana is.

"Was your desire for power just an excuse? Do you just want me to fuck you?"

She tries to shake her head. You don't let her.

"Do you get off, knowing that a lower born man is fucking you?"

Sana is unable to respond, when you let go off her face. Her whole upper body is now lying on top of the table. You drop your belt and hike her clothes up a little further.

"Don't get confused. I still don't like you."

Sana's growl doesn't sound very convincing with your fingers inside of her.

"Might be true. But you aren't married to Aelius because of his personality anyways."

Pulling your fingers out of her core makes Sana moan loudly. She blushes in shame. Doubt starting to rise inside of her. Is she really only doing this to team up with you?

"You only seem to care for power."

"So? Only a coward wouldn't want power."

You shut her up by letting your tip graze against her lips. Sana hisses through her teeth, unwilling to moan again.

"I'm just curious about how far you would be willing to go. How dedicated you are to this cause."

"Don't worry. I'm ready to do anything."

"Anything?"

You raise an eyebrow, which Sana can't see.

"Anything."

"That's reassuring."

Your nonchalant tone makes Sana shiver.

Finally, you push inside of her.

"Fuck, woman."

You can't help but marvel at how tight she actually is.

"Fuck me already."

It's a mixture of plea and demand.

With one hand you grab her hair, pushing her cheek against the wooden surface. Your other hand holds her waist.

Another moan escapes Sana's lips as you thrust forward. Before she can react, you pull back and push inside of her again.

After just a couple of seconds, you start to fuck her hard. The table rocks back and forth with every thrust. Her moans escape her lips, whenever you bottom out inside of her.

"Harder!"

Sana holds onto the edge of the table, her knuckles slowly starting to turn white.

Because you keep pushing her upwards with your thrusts, the young woman's feet eventually dangle in the air.

You are now able to fuck her even deeper. Her moans become louder when she feels your cock invading her pussy even further.

At this point, Sana is merely a hole for you to fuck. She doesn't move. Only your thrusts rock her body back and forth. The thin material of her clothes makes Sana's nipples rub against the wooden surface. They've become hard due to her arousal and are now adding to the pleasure she is already feeling.

"So good!"

She moans yet again. You suddenly realize, that this isn't really a save place to be this loud.

"Shut up."

You growl into her ear, trying to quiet her.

But Sana can't help it. She has already lost control over her body. Your cock is parting her walls again and again, making her clench around it tightly.

She is even unable to produce a disappointed whine, when you stop fucking her. You leaver her snug pussy, before getting her off your table.

Turning her around, you push Sana against the wooden post, which is holding up the roof of your tent. Reaching for your belt, you hold her arms up, before tying them together.

Sana is now unable to leave. You pick up her light frame, making her impale herself on your cock.

"By Bellona! Fuck!"

"I told you to stay quiet."

Your faces are barely an inch apart.

Because you push her body against the post, you are able to lift her up with only your left hand. Your right one moves upwards to wrap its fingers around her throat.

"One more word..."

You let the threat of unknown punishment linger in the air for a moment.

But you can't hold yourself back for long. Sana's pussy drips her juices onto your cock, coaxing you into resuming your pounding.

A whimper escapes her mouth, when you start to fuck her again. You can tell she is at least trying to stay quiet this time. While you make her bounce on your cock, you thrust upwards. It makes her eyes roll back, whenever she feels your cock pushing against her guts.

"Venus!"

A louder sigh escapes her mouth yet again. You close your fingers around her throat a little further.

"Behave."

The conflict in Sana's eyes amuses you.

She should be the one in charge. She is the noble one of the two of you after all. But here she is, bound to your post, your hand around her throat as you fuck her as hard as you can.

Sana tries to fight the belt, wanting to tell you that you have to choke her harder. She can't keep quiet when you fuck her like this.

Another moan escapes her lips and you tighten your grip yet again.

"I warned you."

You hiss into her face.

Sana's wide eyes look beautiful. The way she stares at you, begging you to fuck her harder, while she tries her best not to make any noise.

But she fails miserably. A loud sigh echoes through the tent.

Without a word, you reach upwards. The sound of metal on metal cuts through the night as you pull your pugio out of its sheath. You let Sana get a good look at it. Then, you slowly part her lips with its blade.

"If you don't want to hurt your pretty face..."

You don't continue your sentence once more. But Sana is well aware of the risks.

With your dagger in her mouth, Sana has to pull back her lips, while simultaneously biting onto the blade, to make sure it doesn't fall or hurt her.

You see her closing her eyes as you keep fucking her. She is now really quiet, focused on keeping your pugio in place.

"Finally. Your voice so annoying."

Sana blushes in shame, able to see your honesty in your eyes.

"At least you have a nice body. I could fuck you every day."

The young woman almost lets out another moan. She really has to hold herself back. This was the first time someone reduced her to nothing but a wet hole to fuck. She didn't expect it to feel this good.

You suddenly hear footsteps outside. You stop moving, almost making Sana whine in disappointment, but then she hears it too. The two of you hold your breath. Neither of you wanting to get caught.

As the footsteps disappear into the night, you resume your fucking.

You make Sana bounce up and down on your cock. She glides along its full length. Whenever you impale her on it, Sana's eyes shoot wide open. She would scream if it wasn't for the dagger between her teeth.

"I'm gonna cum."

You hiss into her face, unable to hold back longer. Her tight pussy has been working on draining your cock this whole time. It feels perfect, almost too good to pull out. But cuming inside is obviously not an option.

You put Sana back onto her own two feet, taking the knife out of her mouth. Undoing your belt, you free her arms. Sana drops to her knees, opening her mouth. You catch a couple drops of blood on the corners of her mouth, before she wraps her lips around your cock.

Your pugio falls out of your hand and you take a fistful of her beautiful hair. Her eyes look up at you, telling you to finish inside her mouth. Her tongue glides over every inch of your cock it can find, while her lips are tightly sealed around it.

"Sana."

You manage to groan her name, before you unload inside her mouth. You feel dizzy, having to close your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, you see Sana gulping down your cum.

"How often do we need to do this, so that we have a deal?"

"I think you know the answer."

It's so dark that Sana's face is barely lit by the torch outside. You could swear a small smile plays around her lips though.

[p1hypen]

TERRIBLE TWOS — P. SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS! A rash decision on your end causes you and Sunghoon to break up. What you think is for the best turns out to be the complete opposite, actually. Cue two years later when a random encounter with your ex forces you to revisit past feelings that has never quite fully departed from either of you. PAIRING! Chairman!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader WC! 11.4k (Got carried away)

GENRE/CW! Exes getting back together, fluff, slight angst if you squint, smut (fingering, brief mentions of fem oral receiving, sunghoon has a 7 inch cock; i headcanon that, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, lots of tongue kissing), swearing, reader is in denial just a tad bit, ft. non-idol!yunjin, reader is a struggling fine arts major, etc. MDNI

A/N: originally, i intended for this to be a simple one shot but it somehow turned out to be greater than that in the end lol. this was also my first attempt at writing smut; i've always wanted to try it but damn is it kinda hard. i feel like the title doesn't match or capture the story as good but whatever-- it used to be called 'seasons,' yet that didn't make sense either so... terrible twos it is! i hope you enjoy <3

“Y/n?” 

A trace of uncertainty laces the man's voice, his mind racing with the possibility that he might have mistaken a stranger for someone from his past. Internally, he winces at the prospect of this awkward mix-up, dreading such an encounter with a random person. He clings to the hope that his intuition proves accurate.

Could it really be her? Amid the bustling crowd, she always managed to stand out, an unmistakable aura surrounding her. Her presence eclipsed even the most vibrant of settings, radiating a unique energy that outshone a field of flowers.

When he tentatively calls out her name in a hushed tone, she spins around on her heel, and for an ephemeral moment, Sunghoon feels as though he's stepped into a scene from a classic romance film.

Time stills and so does he. 

Each of your movements steals his breath away. The way your hair dances in harmony with the wind, and how your eyelashes cast the most delicate shadow upon your high cheekbones. Your gradual unveiling leaves him struggling to swallow past an inexplicable lump in his throat. 

Sunghoon notices the moment your eyes widen. Behind those enchanting orbs, he discerns a flicker of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. During your time together, he had the uncanny ability to read those emotions hidden within the depths of your eyes.

“Sunghoon…” You say no louder than a mere whisper that could easily get lost in the summer’s wind that passes through the both of you. 

Your heart throbs in your chest. The biological response is far too overwhelming that you can feel your stomach tying itself in double knots. You think you might need to be pointed to the nearest bathroom so you can barf up the swarm of butterflies that disturb your system. No doubt, does crossing paths with an ex whom you share a long history with manage to do that to you. 

“H-how are you?” You’re the first to strike up a conversation despite that being Sunghoon’s unspoken responsibility. 

How am I? Sunghoon has to brace himself to collect his messy thoughts. 

“I’m pretty good, and yourself?”

His response is curt and short. In any other setting, he would have elaborated on his answer but he wasn’t sure how much information was too much to reveal to an ex regarding the state of his well-being. You nod at his words, not really expecting much nor having high hopes that he would give you more to work with in this conversation of playing catch-up between an ex. 

See, your relationship ended amicably, with both of you acknowledging that the spark kindled between you two had faded out. With your mind elsewhere, too focused on your academics (so you like to say), and Sunghoon preparing to inherit his family’s business, there was little room for romance in either of your daily routines. Your typical weekend dates were swapped out for meetings with major corporations and other soon-to-be-chairman-related activities so that he could fully understand what the rest of his future held for him. 

Even though you missed having your boyfriend's undivided attention, you refused to act as a temporary roadblock that prevented him from making significant progress. Despite your heart and brain being at war with each other, you made the conscious decision to slowly back down from being his lover and tucked your face in the pages of your academic textbooks.

With Sunghoon too busy to even acknowledge that his girlfriend was distancing herself from him, you were the first to come forward, bearing the news that breaking up would be the optimal solution to your and his fading presence in one another’s lives. 

That night when you bid goodbye, he felt half his heart shatter inside of him. Little did you know that you carried the other part wherever you went, but now that you were no longer capable of sheltering that missing piece, it almost made him want to die inside more than just a tad bit— a lot, actually.

He pretended to play it cool as your back turned to him and he watched you retreat to your car, feeling both helpless and defeated. With an unflinching countenance, a tightly clenched jaw, and fingers gripped at his sides, Sunghoon longed for his feet to have chased after you, preventing your departure from his life. He yearned to undo whatever had driven you away, to rewrite his mistakes and reshape your shared history.

Sadly, not even the first star in the sky he saw at night could grant him something as demanding as that.

On the contrary, had those things happened, he wouldn’t be here today on a Thursday afternoon rekindling a connection that got tossed up in the air and fell through his fingertips.

“I—“ Before you get a chance to deliver your sentence Sunghoon’s hold on your arm prompts him to draw you to his chest. 

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, eyes simultaneously widening for the second time thanks to a certain ex. You look up at the taller one with crinkled brows. A mixture of confusion and a looming feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach that hasn’t quite left, tugging at your heartstrings. His intoxicating scent of Dior Sauvage is all too overwhelming for your nose to take in. You swear your head could start spinning any minute now. 

He’s so close to you. You’re so close to him. If someone were to come by and accidentally bump into you, you would be pressed up against his chest, breaking what limited distance is keeping you two apart. 

A bike rider disrupting pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk whizzes by, obnoxiously ringing the bell attached to their handlebar as if they aren’t to be blamed for riding on the concrete pavement, and it’s only then do you realize that Sunghoon was protecting you from getting hit. His body relaxes once he declares that it’s safe for you to comfortably stand in the open from any oncoming obstructions. 

“Sorry… acted on impulse.” His grasp on you immediately retreats to the inside of his pant pockets and you swear that his touch leaves a ghosting sensation on your skin. 

Sunghoon refuses to meet your lingering gaze, eyes averting to some random couple walking their dog across the street from where the two of you are standing. It’s almost funny how he fully believed two years ago that one day both of you would be exactly like that: dog owners who take their beloved fur baby on walks together and enjoy the simplicity of the little things that a relationship has to offer. 

“It’s okay, thank you,” You murmur, unsure of where things should go from here. 

A beat of silence comes and goes before Sunghoon has the chance to take the initiative to prove he’s different from his past self. 

The past self you witnessed throughout the duration of your shared romanticism. The past self who failed to convince you to stay because he never wanted you to leave his side. What he wanted was to work things out and to understand what he could do to change and make things better for the two of you.

Even if that meant you breaking up with him first to realize this.

“Listen, why don’t we…” He suddenly starts. Sunghoon analyzes your face and when your features evidently show that you’re all ears for what he has to say, he takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Get dinner. Together.“ 

Although the question comes out more like a demand rather than a request, you’re slightly taken aback because you were almost certain Sunghoon probably resents you for the breakup— at least that’s what you tell yourself— and that he doesn’t want any business involving you entering his life for a repeat performance. The only different thing is that you’re his ex.

Can you blame him? It was so sudden.

The concealed hurt he tried to mask but failed to do so when you told him you wanted to end things, hoping it’d be left on good terms, rambling about how much you do and will continue to care for him no matter what he does in life or who he chooses to love after you. It seems you did more talking than he got the chance to, and Sunghoon wasn’t sure if you had this all planned leading up to that moment, or if he should’ve seen it coming. 

Whatever it was, Sunghoon could never hate or repent you, but you’re no telepathic mind-reader and wouldn’t know how he feels about you now unless you asked. 

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you ponder the idea of sitting in a fancy restaurant with Sunghoon and sharing a long conversation over an expensive meal that is highly overpriced for its ridiculously small portions. 

“On one condition,” You quip. Sunghoon gestures for you to keep going and you clear your throat. “No five-star Michelin places, okay? I just want a simple dinner to make up for lost time.” 

The older male chuckles, nodding his head sensibly. If there’s one thing Sunghoon learned about you is that you were never hard to please and preferred the opposite of a high-end luxury lifestyle that he naturally grew up with. 

“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8, how’s that sound?” 

“That’s perfect but um—“ you purse your lips. “Do you… Do you still remember where I live?” 

“Of course. It would take a lot more than time and distance apart from each other, for me to forget your every being.”

Sunghoon leans in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The underlying intimacy hiding beneath his actions has you contemplating what the course of your relationship would have looked like for the two of you, had you not broken up with a man as sweet and thoughtful as him.

Was calling it quits between you two a mistake? Should you have stuck it out just a little longer? 

You can only shove those thoughts to the farthest point in the back of your mind and recenter your focus to the handsome ravenette. 

Sunghoon, sporting a warm grin that gradually grows into a pearly white showcase of his perfect teeth and adorable canines, makes it worth marveling if second chances are a thing that people still stand by. 

The next evening, Sunghoon unexpectedly arrived at your front door 20 minutes ahead of your readiness. While you were trying to situate yourself into your cami dress that paired well with the current season, a knocking sound coming from the entrance to your studio unit startled you in its wake. You tapped on the screen of your phone to check the time and crinkled your nose when the numbers staring back at you read 7:40. 

Sunghoon’s habit of arriving for an occasion earlier than expected was not unusual for his character. The taller's mannerisms crept into other facets of his social life after years of being trained to believe that "early is on time" and "on time is late." However, 20 minutes ahead of schedule was definitely new to you, and part of you can’t help but think if this is stemming from anxiety or if that’s just you projecting your nerves onto his much early arrival. 

“Just a sec!” You struggled to reach for the zipper to your dress, stress-sweating due to the pressure of having to rush through the rest of your routine.

After what felt like a millennia you finally managed to seal yourself shut into your attire and scurried to the front door where poor Sunghoon was waiting for you to answer.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get to the zipper of my dress and I don’t think me flashing you or my neighbors in semi-public is socially acceptable.” You awkwardly laugh, strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck and forehead from the accumulated sweat you managed to produce. 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head at your guilty tendency to overshare too much information for the dramatics.

“No worries. I know I showed up earlier than expected. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.” He smiles softly and for a second it almost slips your mind that you’re no longer romantically involved with each other. 

Oh, how you wish you could leap at him and smother the dashing man with kisses all over his Greek god-like, beautiful face…

“Here,” The taller unveils a bouquet of flowers that he attempted (underline, attempted) to hide behind his back. In reality, you could already see bits of it peeking out but chose to play coy about the item he was holding back from giving you. 

You fawn at the striking arrangement of tulips that come in different shades of the prettiest of pinks. Tulips. Of course, he would remember that those are your favorite. His words from yesterday ring in your ears, and believing them, you truly start to confide that Sunghoon could never boot you out of his memory as easy as a snap of his fingers.

“The prettiest bunch of flowers for the prettiest girl.” Sunghoon cautiously says, unsure if that would be stepping a line. To be fair, there isn’t an official handbook on what you should or shouldn’t say to an ex— except for some of the more common phrases; whatever that may be.

You let out a lighthearted laugh at the bold, yet cheesy, compliment and invited Sunghoon into the safe haven of your apartment, ignoring the way your heart practically skipped a beat when he said that. 

He’s been here on plentiful occasions so he’s really no stranger to the arrangement of your flat and could probably draw out an entire floor plan if he wanted to. At one point he almost committed to the thought of moving in with you, but you were a firm believer that it would be best if he stuck to the minimalist mansion he decorated himself; it was passed down to him from none other than his father. Needless to say, Sunghoon was a pouty puppy that day.

“I’m almost ready I promise.” You say. “I just need to add some finishing touches and then I’m all yours for the night.” Immediately your hands fly to your mouth when realization dawns on you about the delivery of your words. 

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, and luckily, you miss the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his plump lips teasingly.

“You know what I mean!” You panic, waving off the metaphorical atmosphere that surrounds both of you.

You excuse yourself and escape to your room as the tips of your ears start to flush with embarrassment.

Once the door leading to your bedroom shuts behind you with a mellow thud, your back presses up against the surface of the entryway. A loud sigh that you weren't even aware you were repressing since Sunghoon arrived breaks out past your tinted lips. With your mind a foggy mess and your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, you’re under the impression that you resemble the stereotypical anime school girl the way your entire demeanor changes when you’re around him. 

But that’s the thing.

It’s only Sunghoon. 

It’s just Sunghoon.

So what if you guys dated in high school and partially during college? So what if he was the first and only guy you’ve been with, and even though you have no one to compare him to, he would still be the best ex you could ever have? So what if you regret breaking up with him because you got ahead of yourself and refused to be transparent with him? 

So what if you want him back…

You pat both sides of your cheeks to wake yourself from a philosophical dilemma. you refuse to go down a rabbit hole of emotions especially when you’re about to go out to dinner. 

You shuffle through your wardrobe in search of a certain pair of Converse that a special someone gave to you as a birthday gift. When you find it neatly stored away in its original packaging and the box that it came in you’re almost too eager to slip your feet into the collar of the Chuck Taylor’s.

You halt in your steps when you reach your vanity and grab your everyday bottle of perfume, spritzing one pump, then two, then three, and four more of the floral scent, that you’re showering yourself in it at this point.

When you've deemed that you’re completely ready and satisfied with your appearance for the evening, you exit the inviting comfort of your cozy chambers. Sunghoon’s back is facing you as you ascend into the living room. You can’t make out much of what he’s doing and he’s seemingly too preoccupied to notice your footsteps stalk across the wooden paneling. His neck is craned downward looking at something on the decorative table where you have a neat arrangement of framed pictures. 

“You still have this?” He turns around revealing the photograph that he was referring to, now in his possession. There’s a distant glimmer of emotion that you can’t quite make out peeking around the curves of his irises. 

You let out a resigned sigh. 

You’ve been caught red-handed for leaving a single trace of the past out in the open. 

Of all the furniture and miscellaneous objects that collect dust on different surfaces in your flat, Sunghoon chose to go for the photograph of you and him standing under a cherry blossom tree in Ilsan Park. Your arm was hooked around his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulder. The brightest of smiles stretched across your faces as petals danced around you. It was the perfect moment captured in stillness and you wish you could leap through pictures to relive that special day. A distant memory that feels like it happened not too long ago.

“I couldn’t get rid of it. It’s— That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.” You simply explain. 

It was true, because out of all of the selfies, candid photos, and other pictures you shared together with Sunghoon, your date to Ilsan Park remained your number one core memory as a couple. 

You watch intently as Sunghoon places the photo back where it originally belonged on the console.

“I think that’s one of my favorites, too.” He says as a matter of fact. “That or the one where we went to Lotte World and wore matching uniforms together.” The taller laughs.

You giggled, the recollection of your amusement park date flashing across your mind. You dragged him to go on each and every attraction with you as he stumbled in your tracks, struggling to keep up with your social battery. You felt like two high schoolers in love at the ripe age of 20 because being with Sunghoon gave you the impression that you were your 15-year-old self again. 

“I like that one as well! I thought I looked pretty cute in that uniform.” You grin sheepishly.

Sunghoon chuckles and it causes you to whip your head to survey him. His eyes crinkle before they’re no longer crescent and back to their original doe-eyed shape. 

“You’re still cute, y’know that?” 

The comment sends your heart ablaze along with the blood that rushes to the surface of your cheeks. You can only hope that the thin layer of makeup and blush you applied is strong enough to camouflage the effect that sunghoon has on you. It’s no secret that he was always a smooth talker and still is. It makes you wonder if he’s ever used that flirtatious skill on other women he’s come across after you— or if he has. 

You tut your tongue at him and reach for your crossbody purse draped on the couch that you lazily tossed aside yesterday after coming home. 

“Ready, m’lady?” Sunghoon twists the knob and pushes the front door open, supporting the weight with his broad frame to keep it from closing in on you two when you exit. 

“Wait!” You pip, halting in your steps. You briskly retreat to your room and grab the bouquet of tulips you left on the side table next to your bed. 

You scurry over to Sunghoon, cradling the arrangement of florals like it was your baby. The haired boy opens his mouth to say something but you’re too fast to retort, 

“I wanna show it off. They’re too pretty to be left at home.” 

He nods and motions his hand for you to leave the unit first. The taller gives himself a mental pat on the back for inquiring in a floral shop before coming to retrieve you for dinner.

Tulips are a girl’s best friend, after all. For you, at least.

Coincidentally dinner happens to occur at the one restaurant you frequently visited when you and Sunghoon were dating. It was a simple ma and pa spot only locals in the area knew of. They were popularly known for their cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup. You like to think of it as a secret only two of you know about and continue to gatekeep it from your friends or families from ever coming across of it. 

The owners grew familiar with both of you through your frequent visits and friendly conversations. your rapport with them resulted in a warm welcome every time you returned, often accompanied by a generous discount as a token of their appreciation. Since your last visit to their restaurant, a while has gone by, and you both have been overdue to make an appearance at the restaurant.

“Aigoo, Sunghoon-ah, it’s been so long!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, wearing the biggest and brightest smile that brings out the crinkles in her complexion when she notices two familiar faces. “And Y/n, it’s good to see you too!” She turns to you with the same mien still permanently plastered on her face. 

You bow your head. Her contagious smile has you mirroring her grin. 

“Come, come, sit.” She waves her hand for the two of you to follow in her trail as she leads both of you to your— undesignated but designated— table that you and Sunghoon would constantly sit at.

Before you even have a chance to pull out your chair, Sunghoon beats you to it with surprising swiftness. The aged wood scrapes gently against the floor as he courteously pulls the chair back for you. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you appreciate this chivalrous gesture, unable to contain a soft giggle of delight. 

Mrs. Kim watches the interaction between the two of you and smirks, completely out of the loop that you have broken up; still under the assumption that you’re both dating to this day. Who could blame her when in her eyes you were the perfect missing piece for one another in this world like you were made for each other from the start. 

“The usual?” She asks despite already knowing the answer to her question. 

“Yes please,” Sunghoon nods.

He sits after folding his blazer in half so that it can rest neatly on the chair's backrest. To add some fuel to the flame, he unbuttons the cuffs to his long sleeves and rolls them past his forearms so that they stop an inch below his elbows. The expensive watch that rests snugly on his wrist glistens, almost blinding you. You’re reminded that the man sitting across from you is responsible for an entire company under his name and capable of powerful things.

You gulp. You feel like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be and instead take an interest in the condiments that are pushed to the side of your table. 

Soy sauce, vinegar, napkins… 

When you think that you’re ready to re-center your attention onto Sunghoon once your racing heart has calmed down from its high, the taller has his eyes closed as he combs his fingers through his hair. His lips are parted ever so slightly and there’s a shine to his plush tiers.

He has to be doing this on purpose now.

You watch the way his Adam apple bobs when he swallows and you swear it should be a sin to look this effortlessly good in warm overhead lighting. 

You huff, a little too audibly for the male across from you to hear and his doe eyes flutter open. The sudden eye contact catches you off guard and you’re struggling to maintain yourself from the tension your mind is projecting. You shift around in your chair trying to find a more comfortable position.

This is going to be a long dinner.

After Mrs. Kim returned with your delectable dishes, the food vanished quickly as you guys delved into stories and shared the exciting highlights of your respective journeys. You and Sunghoon spent the rest of your meal at the table reminiscing about the past two years including the many ups and downs you’ve dealt with.

You learned that a month after your breakup, Sunghoon’s father officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company to his son as the new successor. The ravenette confided in you, revealing that even though he had been groomed for this role his whole life, the transition wasn't as smooth as he had envisioned. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Taking charge of a major company brought with it a level of pressure he had never experienced before. The expectations were high, both from the company's board and the employees who had known him since he was young.

As he grappled with the complexities of his new position, Sunghoon couldn't help but reminisce about a simpler life. He missed the carefree moments he used to share with you, the laughter, and the ease of his unannounced visits when he would turn up at your door with snacks he bought from the corner store and canned beer. 

Eventually his determination and drive to persevere kept him standing strong in the face of these obstacles. With his family behind him, a supportive workforce, and you in the back of his mind, he knew he had people to look back on and make them proud. 

You praised the older for his character development, gushing at his transition from uncertainty to confidence, while sympathizing with the initial troubles he first started off with. Being a chairman at his age is bound to weigh heavily on his mental and emotional health, and you can’t help but wish that you had stayed by his side through it all in order to be that support pillar he needed at immediacy.

“So, what about you? I didn’t really get to hear your answer yesterday.” Sunghoon asks.

You blinked. “Me? Well, uhm…” 

A bubble of insecurity creeps into your stomach. Your mind races through a mental checklist of your own achievements, or rather, the lack thereof, especially when compared to Sunghoon’s impressive journey. While your lives have taken very drastically different paths, you can’t shake the feeling that at the end of the day, the two of you are worlds apart from each other. He’s the chairman of a highly respected company. And you? You’re just a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. A pursuit that feels miles away from Sunghoon’s milestones. 

During the period that he was absent from your everyday life, all you managed to build was your art portfolio, which you eagerly sent to numerous galleries in a desperate bid to gain recognition as a struggling artist. Rejection letters became an all too familiar sight, each offering the same hollow praise— impressed but not interested. Those were dark times, where self-doubt loomed large.

Thankfully, your situation started to improve when you summoned the courage to step out of your comfort zone. You took to social media, opening art accounts on Instagram and Twitter, and sharing your artistic odyssey on TikTok. Yunjin, one of your closest friends and best friend since middle school, commissioned you to paint a mural inside a cafe she was working at. “I begged my boss for this to happen!” She said enthusiastically over the phone the night she asked you for the favor. Everything to you was a leap of faith, a glimmer of hope that prompted you to fully believe in the light at the end of every tunnel. 

In spite of your situation turning out for the better, it was impossible to ignore the inescapable sense of solitude and loneliness that clung to you like a shadow. It followed you everywhere you went. A mental reminder that, no matter how bright life was starting to seem, you still felt trapped and not completely content with yourself.

You convey these exact thoughts and feelings to Sunghoon in a messy ramble, hoping that this unintentional therapy session you’ve turned dinner into won’t scare him off. You can only hope that you’re not ruining the evening with a sob story of another art kid struggling to make a name for themselves in a society, where choosing art as a career path is at a greater disadvantage in comparison to your stronger counterparts. 

When you find yourself coming to the end of your rant, a wave of silence washes over the table, and you grab the nearest cup of water to gulp from. Ignoring the condensation that sweats around the glass and soils your palms. Your eyes look everywhere, purposefully avoiding Sunghoon and the tragic visage he’s probably giving you right about now.

“Y/n, look at me.” 

You raise your head, complying to his soft demand. 

“I’m proud of you,” he begins, and in that instant, a surge of emotion that has been suppressed for far too long wells up within you. “It takes a lot of courage and willpower to continue to follow a path you’re uncertain of.” The comment makes Sunghoon chuckle dryly, closely reminded of himself, shaking his head. “But look at you, you’re doing so great.”

The warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes— they combine like a gentle storm, and suddenly, tears brim your eyes, begging to spill over. Your vision is splotchy and you refuse to blink, save for ruining your mascara. You weren’t planning on being an emotional wreck tonight, especially over dinner with your ex.

“I understand how hard it must have been dealing with those struggles alone, and I wish I was there by your side to help support you when it happened.” Sunghoon continues. He pauses to take in a breath before resuming, “But I’m here now… I’m not going anywhere, and if you’d let me— I want back into your life again, Y/n.”

A solitary tear breaks free, followed by another, and then another, until suddenly your eyes unleash a torrent of waterworks like a relentless downpour from a stormy sky. You hide your face in a handful of napkins you hastily grabbed, unaware that Sunghoon got up to move from his seat and slipped into the chair next to yours. His touch catches you off guard but you immediately relax as he guides you into his embrace, allowing you to hide yourself in his arms; your face tucked away in his chest. He caresses your hair, his slender fingers thread through your styled locks as he lulls you to comfort from your shaken state.

The two of you stay rooted in that position until you confidently and mentally reassure yourself that you are okay; you’re going to be okay. Your breathing has calmed down from its high and returned to a normal, healthy rate as your tears subsided and are non-existent.

No longer conscious of your makeup— a matter far from substantial to care for anymore— you wipe away the mess around your eyes. Black clumps of mascara and some concealer transfer onto the napkin. Seeing the stains garner a weak laugh to emit from you. Sunghoon cranes his neck to survey what you’ve become engrossed with. He sees the ruined makeup and laughs lightly into your hair. 

You’re thankful that there aren’t many customers dining in tonight and that it’s just you, Sunghoon, and three other parties who are far too busy drinking, conversing, and laughing amongst themselves to acknowledge the young couple tucked away in the corner.

Mrs. Kim leads both you and Sunghoon out of the restaurant with a warmth akin to a grandmother bidding her grandchildren farewell, her heartfelt wish for your safe return home evident in her loving smile.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Kim. Thank you, again, for another delicious dinner.” Sunghoon bows at a 90-degree angle and the formality stirs a boisterous laugh from the frail old lady. You mimic his actions, also expressing your gratitude for the lovely meal and free dessert she served to you guys ‘on the house.’ 

“When you guys come back I better see a wedding ring on her finger, Sunghoon-ah.” Mrs. Kim scolds lightly. You almost choke on your own saliva at the remark, coughing awkwardly to cover up your bewilderment. Sunghoon does his best to maintain his composure for the sake of the elder’s oblivion.

“You guys disappear for two years and still no diamond in sight. I was hoping some big change happened!” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, crossing her arms.

Sunghoon dips his head again in an apologetic manner. “You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.” 

You whack the taller’s arm giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look, eyebrows scrunched with perplexity. The last thing you want is to continue to feed into Mrs. Kim’s false reality that the two of you are still a couple. Who’s to say that Sunghoon isn’t actually on the same page as you and everything is just a facade? I mean, sure, he’s been flirty here and there, bought you flowers, comforted you at dinner, and practically asked you to take him back… 

Your trust in Sunghoon has clearly waned, a result of your fluctuating self-confidence that leads you to confide in the pessimistic "what ifs." Your clouded judgment and self-doubt gnaw at your thoughts, casting doubt on the possibility of a reunion between the two of you. 

Sunghoon ignores the daggers slicing at the left side of his face and the buzzing pain you inflicted on him from the harsh impact of your hand. His digits dig gently into your side, drawing you closer to him. You stumble ever so slightly and flash an unconvincing awkward smile to the old lady.

You situate yourselves into the driver and passenger seats of his Hyundai Ioniq. You’re quiet when you pull the seat belt over your upper half, and for the first 10 minutes, not a single word was uttered from either you or the male sitting behind the wheel. Your mind loiters as you watch the building lights illuminating the dark troposphere of Seoul whizz by at 2x speed.

You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.

Yeah right… You almost roll your eyes but catch yourself prolonging the idea of a hypothetical engagement and wedding ceremony with Sunghoon as your groom. 

Would he have gone down on one knee to propose to you had both of you remained lovers? 

You shake the contemplation loose from your prefrontal cortex. 

“Is it okay if I roll the window down?” You’re the first to break the ice. Sunghoon nods, his attention still focused on the road in front of him. Without looking, his fingers find the car’s air-con button to turn it off and he gives you the ‘go’ to proceed with your desire. 

The tempered glass descends and you’re immediately greeted with the beating rush of the summertime air. You giggle and rest your arms on the weatherstrip trimming of the Hyundai, your head poking out like an excited dog who’s riding in the car with its tongue hanging from its mouth. You close your eyes, taking in the wind that messes with your hair and brushes past your skin. It’s enough to transcend you into a different headspace, almost forgetting that you’re in a moving vehicle and not on some speedboat skidding across the water in Europe.

Sunghoon looks your way, unable to suppress the natural smile that lights up his face whenever he sees you. You truly are a surge of energy he needs when he wants to uplift himself if he’s feeling down. You’re his happy pill— so much so, that he wishes he could keep a chibi version of you for him to carry in the pocket square of his suits and let you rome on the wooden surface of his office desk to help him get through the work day. It’s silly and love-sickening, but Sunghoon only knows how to act a fool with you around him. 

His fingers drum against the padding of the steering wheel, waking you from your daydream. You hadn’t realized that you’ve already made it back to the city and are soon approaching your apartment complex. Your neighborhood is only a couple of turns away from your current destination as the two of you sit at a red light. You roll the window up, at least it was fun for the duration it endured. 

When he pulls up on the side of the street in front of your building, you try to find some lame excuse to stay with him for another minute longer, not wanting to say goodnight to him. You’re scared that this evening will be a one-off event and you'll return to your old ways, enveloped once more in the arms of self-isolation that consumes you completely.

Your grip on the door handle tightens. 

“Sunghoon,” you shift your view in his direction. “You don’t mind walking me to my front door, do you?” 

The male smiles with his eyes.

“Who am I to not accompany a lady when needed.” 

Sunghoon makes quick work to unbuckle himself from the driver’s seat and rounds the front of the car to open the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take, which you generously do so, and grants him the unspoken permission to whisk you away into the levels of your residential building. 

The elevator ride is a close resemblance to the trip back to your place, however, there’s a contrasting atmosphere waiting to burst like a champagne bottle and spill over. Sunghoon’s holding your hand the entire way and you don’t resist the notion. 

When you approach your unit at the end of the hall, you fish for your keys that are sitting at the bottom of your bag. Sunghoon’s hand slips out of your grasp and you almost whine at the loss of his warmth and touch, but you know he’s only doing it for you to use both free hands to ultimately unlock your door. The click! of the lock coming from the other side is an indication that you can push past the door once the knob is turned.

You stand there, hesitant to enter your own home. 

“I guess— this is it?” You murmur tentatively to yourself and the taller. You rock on your heels purposefully stalling time as you force both him and yourself to stare a little longer at the iron numbers detailing your front door. 

You let out a rigged breath.

“Tonight was great. The longest I’ve been out of the house in a month, really.” You cringe pathetically at the confession knowing that a month ago Yunjin was the one who pulled you out of bed to get some fresh air and sunlight because you were hiding away like a vampire. "Thank you... Sunghoon, for treating me to dinner and spending the evening with me..."

He remains stoic and unusually quiet, making it challenging to decipher what he’s thinking or feeling. You wish you could enter his mind to get a glimpse of how his brain functions. You’d hate to seem pitiful for hoping that his advances from today were, if at all, genuine.

If what he said at dinner was coming from the heart.

As you contemplate what might be your last encounter with your 'the one who got away,’ Sunghoon astounds you with yet another trick up his sleeve, when he secures your wrist in his delicate grasp. Forever one step ahead of you, his lips collide with yours in a passionate fervent. The only appropriate reaction that you can give him in response is to return the kiss with just as much fervor. The strap to your purse slides off your shoulders and lands below you with a little thud thanks to Sunghoon’s antsy hands pushing it out of the way.

He cages you against the surface of the door, your back bumping into it when he forces the distance between your bodies to dissipate. Bothered by the tiny gap that prevents you from being as close as you possibly can to him. The only active barrier is now the layer of clothing he’s wearing and the tiny dress that nearly clings to your every curve. He can’t wait to impatiently rip you out of it and slip in a “I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”

Your hands find sanctuary in his soft hair. How you missed tugging at their roots when he’d go down on you in bed, on the kitchen counter, and in the shower with your one leg supporting your entire weight as Sunghoon made the other side dangle over his shoulder. Those positions are tempting, and biologically the flashbacks of your sexual activity with the male feed into the expansion of your slick that gradually soils your panties.  

You squeeze your thighs together. The pressure of your inner fat is an empty feeling of pleasure that you wish Sunghoon could replace with his tongue, fingers, cock, or all three one at a time. The male notices this cry-for-help and trails his right hand down the sides of your waist. He stops at the lace hemming of the cami dress, bunching the material to provide easy access to your mid-thigh. His fingers dance on your skin, traveling upward ever so slowly in an antagonizing fashion that almost infuriates you for his teasing manner in the heat of the moment. 

Sunghoon reluctantly breaks the kiss. The evidence of your already smudged matte lipstick has left a faint trace on his plump tiers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth ready to latch onto the sensitive area he knows best that will cloud every crevice of your mind with nothing but want and lust. At the end of this night, all that you will know is how to be his obedient cocksleeve like the good girl he’s conditioned you into.

The sound of someone clearing their throat on the opposite end of your apartment’s hallway is akin to a record player scratch. You’re grateful that the construction workers, or whoever built this place, designed the structure of your building to be a certain way so that the split-off point from the elevator wasn’t a simple corridor style where you could see both fire exits at each side. Instead, it was more so a wide V-shape. 

In other words, no one really caught you and Sunghoon in semi-public eating one another’s faces. 

You stop to share a quiet laugh with Sunghoon and ultimately enter the safe space of your flat, out of your neighbors point of view where they could have had a free, front-row seat to some juicy content. The door closes behind you, you can barely get out of your shoes and make it past the front step leading to your living room when Sunghoon’s haste to have you underneath the sheets with him in your bed has you stumbling backward. He catches you before you can register that you would have fallen onto your ass against the hardwood. His lips serve him well, contributing to the situation as a distraction that redirects your every inner thought bubble. 

Sunghoon casually kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile alongside yours— the least of his concerns at the moment.

The kiss from outside repeats itself, and this time, Sunghoon can contently resume what he intended to do had another tenant not interrupted the mood. But the voyeurism exploration kink in him would have liked either sequence of events. 

His tongue traces a wet stripe up your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You dully bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimper that is sanctioned at the back of your throat, trapped by a surge of lust and anticipation. Sunghoon’s mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear, and his hot breath tickles. 

“I wanna hear you, baby.” He slurs. “Don’t be shy on me now.” 

Sunghoon’s lips sheathe that sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp. Your shoulders tense at the foreign feeling of his mouth on your body, and you’ve forgotten how good it was to receive a hickey. You relax under his touch when he gives the soft fat of your waist a reassuring squeeze.

His canines graze your skin while he sucks on the same patch, switching interchangeably to lap his tongue at the area when he begins to see a blossom of red and purple hues mix together, creating the prettiest bruise that would surely take more than a couple of days to fully heal. You groan when his teeth apply the right amount of force onto your flesh, leaving indents in their wake. His perverted mind relishes in the fact that only he is capable of marking you in ways that no other man could ever come close to.

He steps back to fully appreciate his canvas, that is you, and the absolute masterpiece that you are to him.

He leans in, pressing another kiss to your lips, this time with a gentler, more tender spirit, devoid of any sloppy motions. It’s delicate, a striking contrast to the heated lip-locking session the two of you were entranced with just moments ago on the other side of your apartment door. His larger palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, making you feel loved and cared for.

Sunghoon lures your tongue into his mouth, clamping his lips around the muscle. He suckles at it, eliciting the cutest whimpers that he missed hearing from you since you’ve been gone. 

“Hnngh… Hah,” you pry yourself off of him, a string of your shared saliva connects the two of your equally moist lips. 

Your puffy lips shimmer in the moonlight streaming into your livingroom, as if the moon itself decided to play a starring role tonight. You squeeze his bicep, noticing that the muscle has doubled in size since you last touched it. You peer up at the taller through your eyelashes and Sunghoon has to conceal his primal instincts from fucking your throat with his raging hard-on. 

Your fingers graze the fabric of his long-sleeve collar, tracing delicate patterns across the black tie donned around his neck. Something about being able to witness a man up close in a suit never failed to provoke a flood of arousal from overwhelming your erogenous zone. Specifically, Sunghoon. It’s a shame— not really— that it eventually has to come off. With a deft touch, you begin to unravel the four-in-hand knot, a testament to Sunghoon’s meticulous self-preparation. The silk unravels, revealing its intricate texture beneath your fingertips. 

You assist Sunghoon in removing his suit jacket next, observing it gracefully descend to the floor. You briefly wonder why he's so nonchalant about leaving such an expensive garment on the ground, but he dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. After all, as a chairman, he has the means and privilege to easily replace such clothing items.

You decide that it’s your turn to take the lead for once and initiate another heated session of sultry lip service. Your mouth kisses Sunghoon’s with primal hunger. Teeth clash, and you see no remorse for your hostility sponsored by pent-up sexual frustration and longing for some sort of relief that only Sunghoon can render. 

In a poor attempt to unbutton the last layer of clothing that shields Sunghoon’s upper half, your fingers fumble with the small disks that are fastened by the slits. You whine frustratedly against his lips once you realize you’re not making much progress. It is incredibly hard to multitask when your tongue is being manhandled by his.

“Here, lemme do it.“ Sunghoon mutters in a low growl. 

He tears open the placket just like he would to a bag of chips, and the buttons you were struggling to relieve him of pop off in ease, taunting you for your lack of efficiency at getting him out of his attire. He wriggles his arms free from the restraints of his sleeves and shrugs the apparel from the summit of his shoulders, allowing the ruined piece to join his suit jacket on the floor.

“Your turn, babe.” 

He twirls you around, your back fully pressed against his front as the tent in his pants pokes at your globes. The thrill of his length nestled between your ass spurs you to grind yourself on him, a staggered exhale of his hot breath fans the curvature of your trapezius, prickling your skin. The cotton material of your underwear cultivates a sticky sensation the longer you stay trapped in it.

“S-shit baby, you’re a fucking tease.” Sunghoon grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn his way so that he can seize your lips in an inconsistent kiss. Alternatively, it’s a tongue duel of him wanting to shove the muscular organ down your throat.

“A-ahh,” You moan helplessly.

He yanks the zipper of your dress. The item peels off of your bust, exposing your bare skin and naked torso simultaneously. You have to wriggle your hips past the remaining fabric in order to fully reveal your bare figure to Sunghoon— besides your damp panties that is.

“No bra today? It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen…” Sunghoon taunts.

“N-no…” You squeak, shaking your head.

“No? Use your words baby.”

You turn to face him, your perky mounds that come into his view are a sight for sore eyes. Even in the dark and scant amount of natural lighting from the celestial object in the night sky, is Sunghoon competent at reading your flustered features. How you manage to be cute yet look so lewd all at once is beyond his comprehension.

“I-I didn’t wear a bra because I thought it’d be easier to go without one.” You mumble, telling the truth.

“That’s better,” Sunghoon coos. He pecks your cheek and you smile at the reward.

“Eeek! S-Sunghoon!” You burst into a fit of shared laughter and giggles when said name scoops you into his arms, your body cradled against his chest, as your legs dangled over his one arm while the other supports your back.

“Just practicing when we’re both walking down the aisle at our future wedding.” Sunghoon jests.

Tenderness fills your eyes when you look up at him. He’s joked about the hypothetical conception of marriage twice in the night that you’re fully convinced it wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea. Given that both of you are ready and first rekindle the status of your relationship, of course.

Sunghoon grins. There’s a gentle kindness to his pearly whites, and you reach up to press a chaste kiss to his jawline.

He relocates to your bedroom. Gently, he lays you down on the bed, your body propped up on your forearms, bearing the weight of your upper half. With an unwavering gaze, you study Sunghoon closely, every detail of his expression and every nuance of his presence.

His eyebrows knit and meet in the middle, fixated on undoing his pants to escape from their restraints, followed by his underwear soon after. His stiff member rebounds off his lower abdomen, precum leaking from the mushroom tip. A satisfied exhale leaves his mouth. He stalks over to you with a sly smirk, towering your smaller frame when he crawls on top of the bed, his knees plant themselves into the mattress and his additional weight dips the space where you lay.

You whine when his length ghosts at the expanse of your inner thigh, suspense and arousal continue to bubble inside of you. Sunghoon murmurs for you to lay back. “Make yourself comfortable,” were his initial instructions before hooking the waistband of your panties with his fingers and dragging them below your legs. The undergarment was tossed to the side.

You nibble at your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut when a slender finger circles the perimeter of your labia.

“You’re so wet babe,” Sunghoon purrs.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he slides his index finger through your inner lips, gathering an abundance of your slick to bring to his mouth for a taste. Both eyes flutter open in time to witness Sunghoon suck at the digit drenched with your arousal. The sight is sinfully lewd, nearly too much for you to handle. Your face reddens and you fight the inclination to hide behind your hands.

“You taste so good, too.“ He licks at his lips. “Wanna try?” Sunghoon cocks his head to the side, and you can’t find it in you to turn down his offer when he looks so innocent— yet acts like the devil himself when he’s overcome with lust. You nod your head with approval.

His duality needs to be studied at Harvard, you think in the back of your mind.

Sunghoon plunges his index finger past your hole, triggering your back to arch an inch off the bed. He chuckles lowly and watches as your hands grab desperately at the sheets beneath you to steady your sanity. The singular digit curls inside of you. Your unforeseen shock is vocalized in the form of a moan and Sunghoon repeats the motion several times.

“O-oh my god—“ You gasp.

The ravenette withdraws his finger and taps at your mouth, signaling you to open. You submit to his implicit dictation. Your lips encase his pointer, tongue swirling around it like a piece of sweet candy you’re tasting for the first time.

You bat your eyelashes prettily and moan. “Mmmh…”

“Dirty girl,” Sunghoon sniggers. He retracts his finger and you let it slip past your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.

“Can you please give me your cock now?” You plead with a pout, doing your best impression of an endearing set of puppy eyes.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Let me at least prep you first, baby. How long has it been since you’ve had someone’s cock inside of you, anyways?”

You part your lips but close it just as quickly. To be candid, you've never been one to actively immerse yourself in the 'I'm single' scene. Your only foray into it was with Yunjin, roughly three weeks after your split with Sunghoon. The two of you ventured to a club, but it proved to be a brief endeavor. Within two hours, the fifth shot became a catalyst, turning you into an unending fountain of tears.

“Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry…”

“I’m sorry baby. Did I overstep your boundaries?” Sunghoon cups your face with his right hand, his eyes scan yours, sincerity and concern laced in those chocolate orbs of his.

You stifle a giggle. Of all boundaries he could have crossed he draws the line at asking for your body count and not him fingering you.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asks.

“Nothing just… I think it’s ironic you ask me that now and not before we did all of this.” You motion to your bare bodies when you say ‘this.’

Sunghoon’s ears redden.

“But don’t worry, Hoonie.” You hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer to pepper his face with several reassuring kisses. “I don’t mind it all. Now can you please fuck my brains out!”

Your ex (whatever he is to you at this point) throws his head back to share a quick laugh, shortly pressing his forehead against yours.

Without warning, he buries three fingers in your pussy; your hips twitch at the sentience. They slide in and out without strain and together the two of you watch as he finger fucks your hole to “prep” for his cock. The squelching noise of your juices fill the room in addition to your moaning, and Sunghoon confronts a hurdle of his patience wearing thin, wanting to fuck you senseless.

His digits leave your hole and you whine immediately at the loss. Sunghoon uses the mass quantity of slick as a substitute for lube to lather on his angry cock. He shuffles against the bed, forcing your legs even further apart to fit himself in between them. The stretch burns your muscles but is soon forgotten when the tip of his length is rubbing your folds, occasionally bumping your swollen clit which generates a needy whine.

Sunghoon’s face screws with ecstasy when his shaft inches past your entrance. Your walls hug his length and he whimpers at the tight muscles that suffocate his erection. You squirm under him, tensed and breathing heavily. It’s hard to relax when seven inches feel like it’s splitting you in half after a long hiatus from sex. Sunghoon notices your discomfort and stills his hips from pushing further, allowing you the necessary time to adjust.

“Sorry baby, I know it’s been a while. You can take it, right? Like the good girl you are?”

You nod. He kisses your forehead, cheek, and lips to soothe your anxiety, using his lips as a distraction to keep your mind from zoning in on his cock. He seizes the opportunity to fit the rest of his length inch-by-inch, and you feel like a virgin all over again when the burn of his cock stretching you open is almost too unbearable.

“Sshh, it’ll be alright, baby.” He wipes away a loose tear. “I’m gonna move, tell me when and if it’s too much, okay?”

“O-okay, Hoonie…”

Steadily, Sunghoon recedes his hips, cock following in suit, just enough for the tip to be the only thing that your pussy clenches on. He snaps forward, your boobs jiggle at the motion and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head when he repeatedly thrusts at a steadfast pace. The pain you were once scared of is no longer a fear you have to worry about, as pleasure is the only thing you know how to feel.

“F-faster, harder, p-please Hoon.” You fight through broken moans to let your voice be heard.

“Shit—“ He curses.

Sunghoon’s fingers dig into the plush fat of your waist while his other hand presses into the space of your bed next to the side of your head. His eyebrows knit, focused entirely on increasing the speed of his thrusts. He continues to piston fuck your pussy, abusing your hole in the utmost gratifying procedure. Your thighs jiggle each time that his balls slap against your skin. Everything reminds him of an amateur homemade video he’s seen from other couples perform on Pornhub. He’ll have to ask you some other day if you’d ever be open to filming your own tapes to watch back.

“Mmh, right there, Hoonie.” You sigh dreamily, locking your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together. “You’re fucking me so good— Aah!” A high pitch squeal slips from your vocal box when his tip probes at your G-spot.

“F-fuck,” Sunghoon leans in close, relying only on one forearm to hold himself up from crushing you with his entire weight. He hides his face in your boobs, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud that hardens in response. He persistently thrusts deeper, his cockhead pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Hnngh… Y-yes, yesyesyes!” You chant. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and tugging whenever his mouth would suck or massage at your breasts. “You’re gonna— make me c-cum!“

Sunghoon’s unrelenting despite your warning. He can feel your walls clamping around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm, and it taunts him to force himself deeper within your warm cavern at every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to his biceps. Nails digging into his skin as your face distorts into extreme pleasure.

“I’m so close too, baby.” He groans. “Just.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Couple.” Thrust. “M-more!”

“I’m cumming! I’m c-cumming—“ Your hips tremble with a frenzied urgency as your pussy pulsates around Sunghoon’s cock. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp and a long, impassioned moan escapes your lips. The sheer intensity of the moment leaving you incoherent and lost in ecstasy.

Sunghoon twitches inside of you. “Hah— you’re so— fuck!— s-sexy,” He grunts. Your head thrashes at the overstimulation of his length continuously pumping into you and you push at Sunghoon’s chest weakly, crying on his cock for him to slow down. You whine, whimper, plead for mercy so that your pussy can recover from the intense orgasm you just experienced not too long ago. In spite of that, he ignores your pleas and concentrates on finishing. It isn’t until white ropes of cum are shooting at your walls when his thrusts start to get sloppier and progressively come to a stop.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon exhales through gritted teeth. Both of you are a panting mess trying to catch your breaths as your chests rise and fall synchronously. The ravenette pulls out slowly and he groans when he sees his seed spill out of your hole, it closely reminds him of those hentai comics he’s read through illegal websites.

“I’ll get something to help clean you up.” Sunghoon lifts his weight from the bed but you reach for his forearm to grab him. You don’t have to say anything for him to understand that you don’t want him to leave your side. He brings a hand to yours, the pad of his thumb grazing the hills of your knuckles soothingly. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”

Not even 30 seconds has gone by when he re-enters your room with a damp cloth. He wipes at the areas where a mix of your cum and his seed litter your skin with sticky residue. He discards of the ruined cloth before joining you in bed where you welcome him with open arms. He plops down next to you and you turn to lay on your side so that you can get a proper view of his handsome face in post-sex afterglow. You reach out to gently touch his moles that adorn his features. The moles you missed seeing as the first thing in the morning when you’d wake up with him by your side. He grins lazily and cranes his neck to bring his lips to your forehead.

“Sunghoon…?” Your faces are merely inches apart from one another. Though the close proximity is not a foreign situation— especially after just having sex— you speak to him with a hushed tone.

“Yes?” He inquires.

“At the restaurant, you implied that you wanted to get back together again… Is it true? Do you really mean it?” Your lips are quivering and you mentally berate yourself for being so soft hearted in these types of scenarios where emotions are high, vulnerable, and transparency is called upon.

Sunghoon breathes shakily. “I really mean it. I miss you, Y/n.” He tucks away loose strands of hair that fall on your face. “These past two years without you have been hell. The first couple of months were so bad, I almost reconsidered being the chairman for father’s company so I could fight for us. Fight for you. I’m sorry if that part of my life got in our way as a couple, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be around you.”

You sniffle, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should’ve communicated instead of thinking I know better and that I thought what I did was for the greater good— because it wasn’t. And you’re right, the two years I spent without you were awful. I never wanna go through that again.”

Sunghoon loops an arm around your waist and guides your head to bury against his chest.

“We don’t have to.”

Morning rays gently infiltrate the room as Sunghoon stands before the full-length mirror in your shared master bedroom. His voice carries across the space as he greets his loving wife, 'Good morning, Mrs. Park,' while he meticulously adjusts his tie.

You stir in bed. The unwelcome intrusion of sunlight forces you awake despite the supposedly blackout curtains you requested when you first moved in with Sunghoon. You sigh in irritation. Dismissing the hope of another ten minutes of sleep, you push yourself upright, your arms stretching above your head, accompanied by a vibrant yawn. Sunghoon, amused by your morning ritual, chuckles softly.

“Still sleepy?” Your husband turns to face you after successfully finishing the Windsor knot of his tie. You blink away the fog of grogginess from your eyes and grin when you get a clear vision of your husband clad in his usual work uniform.

“Mmm… you’re so handsome.”

Sunghoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, touched by your kind words that always seem to set the perfect tone for his day. He approaches your side of the bed with a confident saunter and takes a seat beside you.

“Any plans for today, my lovely wife?”

You can't help but giggle at his endearing habit of calling you 'wife' and 'Mrs. Park.' It's become a sweet tradition between the two of you, a reminder of your loving bond that has grown since your wedding day. You twist your hand to observe the silver band that ornaments your ring finger. The diamond twinkles back at you in the bask of the light.

“I think Yunjin and I are getting brunch, then we’re going shopping right after, and later in the evening we’re gonna drink some wine and paint as we gossip about our husbands.”

Sunghoon laughs. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of yourself then.” He nudges your side playfully and you giggle. “Don’t forget to fit me into your schedule. Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”

“Cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup?”

“Where it all started.”

You envelop yourself in your husband's embrace, showering him with affectionate kisses. Starting from his moles and moving to both cheeks, his nose, forehead, and, ultimately, his irresistible lips, you express your love and absolute adoration for him with each tender peck.

“I love you, Mr. Park.” You murmur against his plush tiers.

His fingers delicately sweep aside the loose strands of hair obscuring your face, as he lovingly takes in every captivating feature, examining them with deep worship.

“I love you more, Mrs. Park.”

Two years ago you and Sunghoon sealed the knot in California. The ceremony took place at the Alila Ventana wedding venue, perched on a cliff along the rugged coast line of Big Sur. It offered a dramatic landscape, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean; the perfect picturesque backdrop for photos and videography. The outdoor spaces, gourmet dining, and coastal elegance were truly significant factors of your reception.

Sunghoon kept his promise to Mrs. Kim when the time came to send out the wedding invitations. Her excitement was beyond words as both of you entered the restaurant, radiating a newfound delight. Her gaze immediately fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on your finger— the same one she had scolded him for, which was now complete.

Come time to exchange your vows, Sunghoon's heartfelt declaration to cherish and devote himself to your love made it extremely difficult to keep your makeup in tact. Yunjin, your appointed maid of honor, had to step in to hand you tissues one after the other. The audience laughing to themselves at your showcase of emotions.

True to his words, Sunghoon carried you bridal style as he stalked down the aisle. Your families and friends cheering from their seats, their joyous applause resonating through the air. The warmth of their smiles and the happy tears in their eyes mirrored the love that enveloped you both in that moment.

Since then, life with Sunghoon after marriage was anything but dull.

[ramp-it-up]

Best of All

Pairing: Pilot!Steve Rogers x Publicist! Reader

Word count: 3.3 K

Summary: You and Steve FINALLY make it to your suite. And the results are sweet.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY Minors, DNI. Former Enemies to Lovers, and there was only one bed, 20 yr angst, sexual frustration, A yacht, swimming,Steve sketching reader, dry humping, fingering, size kink, personal lubricant, woman on top/ in control, Captain/Sir kink, praise/degradation kink, dirty talk, sloppy oral (m/f receiving), raw p in v, breeding/lactation kink, creampie. Basically porn with plot. Not Beta’d. All errors are on me.

This is the next part in the Greatest series.

A/N: It has been just a little over exactly a year since I've written these two. Please forgive my ain't-shitness. And thank you for rocking with me. I love you all!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

You were relaxing on the bow of the yacht, staring out over an amazing view.

You’d had a delicious brunch with Aperol spritzes, and as the yacht floated on the beautiful Gulf of Genoa, the only sounds you heard were of the water, John Coltraine, and the scratching of Steve’s pencil against the paper of his sketch pad. 

He had been wonderful, and contemplative, company for you. 

Your time was spent journaling and looking at the water and the cliffs, rotating your lounger with the sun. You even dozed for a few minutes, waking up to find Steve looking at you piercingly as he sketched. 

Your sister was right.

Steve was very much into you.

You could get used to this you thought as you got up and walked over to Steve, who looked up at you and smiled.

“Can I see what you’re sketching?”

Steve blushed, and then moved so that you could sit down beside him.

“Sure.”

He put his pencils down and handed his leather bound sketch book to you. You gasped.

“Steve! These are…”

You flipped the pages, looking to him for approval. He nodded and smiled at you.

There were many images, on the boat, some very detailed from the day, some rough sketches, but they were all clearly you. You turned to one drawing of you naked, and it made you feel some kind of way.

You’d never posed that way for him.

“Drew that one from memory. Last night.”

“You make me look so…”

“Beautiful? Then that just means I’m drawing you accurately.”

“You really see me this way?”

You were gazing at the sketches with wonder.

“I can’t believe that you don’t. Y/N. You are one of the most beautiful, most desirable women I’ve ever seen. People talk about Aria, but she looks just like you.”

You turned and put the sketch book down on the table beside Steve’s lounger.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Steve’s eyes lit up.

“You can have anything you want.” 

“I want you…”

Steve groaned as you climbed up on his lap and grabbed his face. You traced his lips with your fingers before he closed the distance between you and captured yours with his own. You were breathless before he pulled back and rested his forehead on yours.

“That was… nice.”

Steve shifted, sending his crotch grinding into yours and relishing the way you shivered in his arms.

“You want me?”

Steve looked back up at you. Hopeful.

“Yes. And I want to try. A relationship? Dating once we get back to the states? It will be hard. I travel a lot with what I do, go from coast to coast, and all over the world with Aria.”

You were nervously speaking in questions.

“Hmmm. Wonder how I could get from coast to coast, and all over the world? Oh right, I have two airplanes and I’m a pilot.”

Steve smirked at you as you smacked him on the arm.

“I just don’t want you to feel as if you have to chase after me. Or wait for me to get back when I need to go. Long distance can be hard.”

Steve nodded, and then gave you a quick peck on your lips.

“I know. But I would follow you to the ends of the earth. And I’ve already waited for 20 years. What’s a little longer?”

“How can you be so damn perfect?”

You attacked him, kissing him again as he laughed and grabbed you, holding you close.

“Not perfect, maybe just perfect for you?”

“Maybe,” you smiled into his shirt as you traced a vein down his arm. 

“But I want a do over.”

“A do over of what?”

“Of our first date.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. But first, I wonder if you will give me some? Please? Pretty please Steve?”

You reached down and grasped his hardness in your hand; Steve moaned.

Steve’s mouth was open as you begged for him.

“Oh Baby, you have no idea how much I want that.”

You whined as you moved your hips to feel more of him.

“Steve… need you…”

Your sultry whisper in his ear made him weak.

“Me too. I just … I want it to be special… to take our time…”

“I need you inside me, Captain.”

“Fuuuuuck.…I want that too, Doll. So bad… I dreamt of it last night.”

Steve moved so that his mouth was on your neck.

“You taste like coconuts right now. Why is that?”

“Hmmmm. Flavored body oil spray. It’s edible.”

“Well then, I need to taste more…later. “

You writhed against him hoping for some relief.

“So desperate. I love it when you get needy for me, Baby.”

Steve took in your face and your lips opened in desire. He grabbed the back of your neck, wrapping his hand around your face and inserted his thumb into your mouth. You sucked at it greedily which made him groan again.

“Is that what you want?”

You moaned around his digit and nodded, your heart about to beat out of your chest. Steve leaned down to whisper in your ear as he shoved his thumb further past your tongue and held your mouth open.

“I loved the way you took it in your mouth yesterday. Such a good, good throat. Such a good, sweet girl for me.”

His hand was now at the crotch of your bathing suit and your eyes rolled back into your head at his filthy words as he gagged you with his digit. His long fingers on his other hand pulled the suit to the side and slowly inserted two inside you.

“I can barely get in here, Sweetheart. You’re gonna struggle to take me …”

You grunted, both at what he was doing to you and at what he was saying.

“Yes… you’ll have to be patient just a little while longer. Tonight…”

His wet thumb was caressing your nipples over your bathing suit now. You were frustrated.

“You’re all talk.”

“And you’ll do whatever I say. Later.”

Steve’s words and his steely eyed stare were speaking straight to your pussy. You clenched down on his fingers and he moaned.

“So fucking right. Patience, Doll. Just a little while longer. Meanwhile, you and I need to cool down.” 

Steve abandoned you to take off his shirt, laughing at your lust before he reached down to gather you in his arms again while approaching the passerelle.

“Can you get your hair wet?”

“Yes, I planned on swimming, but are you really about to throw me in the water right now?”

“No. “

Steve shook his head as he stopped on the edge.

“Good.” 

You smiled as you took in the view.

“I figure we’d take the plunge together.”

And then he backed up and ran toward the edge, you squealing in his arms, the warm mediterranean water separating you when you hit the surface. Soon you felt his arms slip back around you as you found each other again and kissed in the warm Italian sun. 

You wanted this moment to last forever.

—-

You made it through the 6 hour voyage and back to the hotel to change for dinner. The meal was nice, with great wine and even better conversation. 

After the meal, Steve asked a question as you walked to the elevators.

“Does that invitation to your suite still stand?”

You pressed your back into the elevator wall as Steve pressed the button for your floor before you even answered his question.

This cocky bastard. It was so hot.

“Sure, are we gonna have a pillow fight?” You raised your arms to his board shoulders as he leaned down to your ear.

“Did you say pillow bite?”

You cocked your head at him, smirking.

“So it’s like that?”

“Very much so.”

You kissed him as the doors opened onto your floor. Steve kept his hands on you as you opened your door and immediately had you up against the first available surface once the door closed hands and mouth everywhere he could reach.

After you two almost broke what looked to be a very expensive vase, Steve stepped back from you, lips swollen from your kisses and chest heaving.

“D’you want me as much as I want you?”

You realized now that the look on Steve’s face that you’d once interpreted to be irritation with you or annoyance, was in fact concentration. You pondered the meaning of being the center of his attention as you moved toward him.

“Do you not remember the way I took your cock down my throat the other day?”

You pressed your body against his and Steve swore, growling in your ear. 

“Oh yes. That was truly.” He kissed your neck.

“Truly.”

This time the kiss was on the plane of your chin.

“Truly amazing.”

He kissed your lips softly when you decided you were tired of playing around. You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.

—-

Soon, you were both naked in the bedroom, a bottle of Prosecco rescued from the honor bar and opened on the dresser. Your eyes were drawn to Steve Rogers, who was as beautiful as one of the statues in the Galleria Borghese. 

Steve was grasping his cock at the base as his eyes swept over your body. He was remembering the taste of you.

“You are so beautiful.”  

He squeezed himself harder and tried to keep from moving his hand up and down his thick shaft as you stared and licked your lips.

“Come over here, Stevie. Please.”

You lay on the bed on your stomach, showcasing your ass and looking at him invitingly. Stave moved closer, but stopped.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t going to fuck you tonight?”

You began to pout.

“Fix that face.”

That command made you whimper at the power in his voice.

“You are going to fuck me, Doll.”

“What?”

Steve reached for your hand as he switched places with you. Then he lay there and resumed stroking himself. You licked your lips at the sight and retrieved the bottle of Prosecco, suddenly very thirsty.

You contemplated the power he was giving you, and decided you liked this rush of control. 

“I like the idea of that, Steve. I’ll get to express exactly how much I want you.”

You took a swig and leaned down to kiss him, giving him a taste from your lips. He licked your mouth as you thumbed his nipples, causing him to shiver from your cold touch. You couldn’t resist tasting his cherry red lips again and again as you lightly squeezed his throat, then ran your hand down his sternum and his abs to the tip of his wet cock. 

You grazed the length of him down to his balls, then looked into his eyes and kissed his lips as you took control of him.

“Your lips are perfect,” you whispered as you caressed him.

“No. yours,” replied Steve as he sought your mouth again. 

“You like my mouth?”

As you leaned to teasingly kiss the thick cap of his cock, then took him fully down your throat 

“Oh.. Shit…”

Steve massaged your scalp as you bobbed on him

“You are so fucking hot, Doll…”

You looked up with a smile and moved to lick his nipple, then kiss him again as you stroked him. Steve was mesmerized. Your hands, your lips, your tongue, he couldn’t concentrate on any one part of you that was ruining him. 

It was sensation overload, and he needed to focus to not shoot off.

You were drunk on power. You spit on his cock, deep-throated him once, twice more, and then pulled away, causing Steve to groan as you withdrew contact, your sloppy blow job scrambling his brain.  His head was on a swivel as he watched you get up to go to the dresser. 

“May I?”

Steve nodded, eager for what was to come. You had a small spray bottle in your hand, and when the liquid made contact with his body, he jumped from the sensation. You rubbed the oil on his cock and up his body to his nipples, basking in the rapt attention he paid you as you sprayed yourself between your breasts. Steve’s cock got impossibly harder in your hand at the sight. 

“I think I’m gonna like this.

You loved to hear his sexy deep voice break.

“You like me?”

“Yeah. I…”

Steve trailed off as your hands roamed his body.

“I like you too, Stevie,” you kissed him again. ”

Steve actually whimpered as you swung your leg over his hips and sat down on his cock, rubbing your pussy along his shaft as it lay against his stomach. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to keep from manhandling you.

“I wanna try that sweet cunt.”

“Hmmm. Is it sweet? Wanna taste it again?”

You leaned back and circled your clit with two fingers, then inserted them into his pretty mouth. Steve’s adam's apple bobbed as he sucked your fingers and swallowed your taste. You pulled away to suck his cock again until he was moaning, at which point you kissed and licked your way up his body, settling your thighs at his shoulders. 

He gripped your ass as he turned hushed head so that his lips could kiss your thigh. His fingers reached around your leg to play in your crease as he gave your clit kitten licks and kisses. You tried to move back down, but he grasped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises that would give you daydreams the next day. He started sucking your clit so intently that you began seeing stars.

“Wanna fuck you now, Stevie. Wanna cum on your cock”

You were on the edge as Steve pulled off of your clit with an obscene slurp.

“I’m yours, Y/N.”

You reached back and grabbed his throbbing cock as you scooted your pelvis down, one hand on his neck and one hand positioning him to enter you. His shaft was large, but the head was even wider, and the stretch as you worked yourself open on him made you moan loudly. Steve grabbed your chin to make you look at him while you slid down his length, stretching yourself out so incredibly well.

“My cock looks so big against your tiny pussy.”

His eyes were riveted.

“It is big, Captain. You’re so huge.”

You grabbed the headboard while you adjusted to his size. Steve’s hands came up around your waist and held you steady as you trembled around him.

Those blue eyes looked up at you with adoration.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Are you okay, Doll?”

“It feels amazing,” you stared down into his eyes and smiled, your slick leaking down his thick shaft to collect and drip off his balls.

“Yes. Yes it does. Holy mother god.”

 He looked down to where you were connected.

“You’re wrapped around me so tight and so good, Doll.”

Steve looked up at you and licked his lips, pupils blown wide and struck dumb by lust. 

You leaned down and kissed him when you bottomed out on him.

You stared at each other as you both finally got what you wanted. You took his head in your hands and kissed him as you pounded together. 

Then you started moving. 

Steve played with your nipples and you arched backwards as he planted his feet and pistoned up into you faster.

“Oh! Steve. Feel so full. So good.”

Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place as his hips moved at the devil's pace. The sound of his dick breaching your wet pussy and skin slapping on skin was everything. His thumb went to your clit and traced figure eights as you shuddered in his grip. 

“F-f-f- u-u-u-ck! I’m- I’m coming!”

“Give it to me!”

He stroked you through your orgasm and then sat up, manipulating you so that you were sitting back on your arms in his lap as he moved you up and down his cock like a sex toy.

“Shit, you feel so good!”

Steve looked down at you and then up at the ceiling, eyes rolling

“Jesus, you’re so fucking hot.”

You looked down and the image of Steve’s large member destroying your hole was enough to make you cum around his cock again. Steve took control, taking your hips in his large hands and moving you at his will.

“Oh my god.” 

He ground you against the base of his cock and started grinding circles for his greedy eyes and your pleasure. You were addicted.

“Such a good little slut for my cock. Need you to give me one more. That’s it. Good girl.”

He grabbed you by the hair and kissed you as you shuddered through your orgasm and suddenly, you were on your back as Steve flipped you over, getting on his knees and folding you in half to fuck you even better. 

Steve stopped as he tried to hold back.

“You got me so close Doll… I gotta calm down.”

“I just want you to stuff me full of your cum, Captain.”

“Ooohhhhhh. Fuck.”

Steve sped up and then stopped, trying to calm down. But he couldn’t help what he said next that turned out to be his doom.

“Are- are you trying to have my baby, Y/N.”

You arched against him, shuddering at the thought.

“Nnnnnnoooooo. Fuck. Maybe.”

“You wanna be all round and full of my child, tits so full of milk…so I can suck… holy fuck!”

The image was making Steve start to shoot off.

“Fill me up, Steve–I”

“Ahhh!”

And then you keened as you felt his hot cum start to spurt against your walls. You came around his rapidly pulsing cock as he finished inside you.

You two were a hot, sweaty heap as you came down together, Steve kissing your forehead and praising you.

“You did so good for me.”

He gathered you in his arms.

“I love you.”

Steve gazed at you.

“Think I’ve been in love with you for 20 years, Y/N.”

You smiled at him.

“I love you too.” 

You said it, barely above a whisper. But you meant it. Then you said it again.

“I love you, Steve Rogers.”

You attacked him, kissing him again as he laughed and grabbed you, holding you close. 

“All of the bad things that we’ve gone through to get to this moment is for the best. I can see that now.”

Steve looked to you just like that little boy you met 20 years ago. Then you saw the beautiful man who loved you.

“You’re right. And this, right now. It’s the best of all.”

[star-girl69]

Music To Watch Girls To

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

sypnosis: is it wrong to be obsessed with clarisse? obviously not!!

a/n: i cant just write a drabble what is wrong w me it’s always gotta be a full fledged fic damn anyways i don’t like this one that much so don’t crucify me, but i hope you all enjoy!!

Music To Watch Boys To - Lana Del Rey

warnings: FRIENDS TO LOVERS GOOD LORD, all clarisse know is be mean to her friends, like girls, and lie, reader is a little insane this time…., it’s not watching clarisse train bc i got struck with inspo but you all will like it dw, there’s still muscles and watching clarisse fight, swearing, violence, mentions of weapons, reader is an honorary ares cabin member bc i think it’s cute and i do what i want, y/n gets hurt like 20 times ITS FOR THE PLOT OK, kissing!!!!, like angst for half a sec not rly tho, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

The only word you think of when you think of Clarisse is fuck.

It describes your feelings about her so accurately. The first time you saw her, you knew you had to have this girl. And the first time you heard her talk, she was calling some Hephaestus kid a dumbass for not fixing a dent in her armor correctly.

She was an asshole, a bully, whatever, and she was also the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. But, thank the Gods you became close friends with her brother Matty, and then Carrie, and then you practically knew everyone in the Ares cabin like your own siblings.

Even just friendship with Ares kids is an intense rollercoaster.

They admired your for your deadly skill with a bow, a few of them even openly claiming you were probably the best at camp. They were loyal and fierce, protective, funny and everything you could want in a replacement family. Your mortal parent went down a dark road after your godly parent went back to Olympus, and you had never felt that love that everyone craved.

Clarisse hated you at first, like she does everyone, until one day at the bonfire you were sitting with her and a few of her siblings, the fire was hot and it was never the same. You still remember her eyes on you, feeling intoxicated under the moon. Besides, the nights are made for secrets.

And it became a tradition.

You would look at each other next to the fire, and never speak of it again.

The rest of the time, she was like any friend. That same loyalty, focus, but sometimes you could swear she seemed to look a little longer.

After the arrival of Percy Jackson, Clarisse was especially on edge. She was supposed to be training, but she was instead sulking and ranting to Matty and Carrie.

“And he really thinks he killed that Minotaur? Doesn’t matter. That’s what everyone else thinks.”

“Talking about the new kid?” you ask, sitting on top of the picnic table next to their cabin.

“Oh, yeah,” Carrie mumbles. “Talking all about the new kid.”

Clarisse stops her angry pacing to send her a harsh glare.

“He’s just a baby, Clarisse.”

She slams her hand down on the table next to you, pointing her finger in your face.

“He’s a liar,” she hisses. “I’m gonna make him admit it.”

“Hm, okay,” you say, pressing her foot against her stomach and pushing her back. “And that’s totally logical. But have you considered that he actually killed the Minotaur?”

“I’ll punch you.”

“Oh, you love me, Clarisse,” you smile, sweeping your arms out in a big circle. “I’m the brightest part of your day.”

She glares at you.

Matty coughs to hide a laugh.

“Just ignore him!” you say. “I don’t get why you’re so obsessed over him anyways.”

“I’m not explaining myself to you,” she huffs, stubborn as ever.

“Okay, Clarisse,” you say, drawing out the words.

You miss Carrie and Matty shooting each other looks.

—-

Chiron announces the next capture the flag game later that day, and the next morning you’re heading off to the Ares cabin with your bow and armor in tow.

You walk in. They’re all adjusting their armor, polishing their weapons. A few smile at you and wave, but you head straight towards the back. Clarisse is there, helping some of her younger siblings pick out weapons from the secret weapons stash the Ares kids have curated over the years.

It’s Danny’s first game. He’s only twelve.

She looks up at you for a moment, which is about as much acknowledgment as you’re gonna get. You sit at the end of someone’s empty bed, right next to Danny.

“How you feelin’?” you ask. His face is twisted into a stone cold mask.

“Excited,” he says, like he practiced it in the mirror.

“Well, I’m scared.”

He looks at you and frowns.

“You’re the best archer in camp. Matty says so.”

You shrug. “I may be the best archer, but I’m nowhere near the best fighter.”

He nods, thinking hard like the whole world is suddenly starting to make sense.

“Hey, if I promise to keep a look out for you from the trees- will you watch out for me on the ground?”

He doesn’t need your assurance. He’s a child of Ares, they’re prebuilt with the lust for battle. But you know how to play all of them like a fiddle. They like feeling important, and he’s only twelve. It doesn’t hurt you to give this to him.

You stick out your hand and he grabs it.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Y/N,” Clarisse says. You realize she’s been standing there for a while. “Are you here to distract everyone or for a reason?”

“You know, I would welcome you into my cabin warmly.”

Her face remains stone cold. Danny runs off. Clarisse can be some sort of halfway nice, but rarely, and most of the time everyone just knows her cruel words, her ruthless tactics in battle, and her misleading words and smiles.

“You’re no fun,” you pout.

“You’re the one who sticks around. No one’s holding you hostage- you can leave.”

“I need a dagger.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking. “Wow, you actually came here for something? What happened to yours?”

“Broke,” you shrug. “The handle fell off. Weird, whatever.”

She hums, looking through the daggers hung on the wall. “This one.”

She hands it to you. It’s similar to your old dagger, except a lot sharper and a lot more sturdy. But it’s the same style you’re used to. You wonder if she knows that or not- Ares kids do notice everything.

But for Clarisse to actually do something like that with intention is rare.

“I like it,” you say. “Thanks!”

She hesitates for a second.

“Keep it.”

You look at her. “I can give it back.”

“I already told you to keep it. Don’t be pathetic and make me reassure you.”

“Okay, Clarisse,” you roll your eyes.

—-

Your position on capture the flag is always the same.

Carrie, Matty and Clarisse hunt in the woods on the ground, and you get thrown up into some random tree to shoot arrows at anyone you see.

The idea is, they see the arrow coming from up above and look to the trees, only for Clarisse, Matty and Carrie to ambush them on the ground.

It’s only the third game you’ve employed this tactic, so the blue team is starting to catch on.

After Chiron gives his speech you could probably say yourself, you head over to the three of them, holding your arm out to Matty and the red bandana. He ties it around without saying a word, Carrie reaches over and scolds you for not tying your armor tight enough.

“Blah, blah, blah,” you say. “I’ll live.”

“Yeah,” Carrie snorts. “Because I fixed it.”

“Shush,” Clarisse hisses. She finishes talking to a few more of her siblings, and they take their companies off into the woods. She turns back around. “I have a different plan today.”

Carrie and Matty grin dangerously.

There’s something in between the three of them, some sort of matching glint in their eyes.

“Okay, did I miss something? Why are you guys being so… scary?”

“You’ll see,” Clarisse says, her eyes dark.

Gods, it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

—-

The great thing about being up in the trees is you get to see everything.

You get to see the way Clarisse grins while she fights, the way she whips her spear around like it weights nothing, the way sweat forms at her brow- and the way her muscles flex. That’s the best part.

Her arms, her legs, her stomach, every part of Clarisse is just lean and toned muscle.

It makes you want to betray yourself in a way that would permanently embarrass you.

You follow them, of course, even though you have no idea what the hell is happening or what the plan is. There’s a reason she’s not telling you the plan. Why?

When you walk past the woods where you normally hunt, you start getting fidgety.

“Ok, guys, seriously. Tell me what’s going on.”

You realize you’re heading towards the side of the big hill, starting the climb up through the trees and rocks.

Clarisse turns around.

“Stop. Worrying.”

You grit your teeth. “I’m not worried. I’m just confused.”

She sighs, signaling to Carrie and Matty.

“You know,” she mutters. And they leave, so it’s just the two of you.

They spit up, making their way on the farthest two ends, all leading to the same ledge.

She grabs your wrists. “Stop cracking your fingers. It’s annoying, and you’ll hurt ‘em.”

“Then tell me what’s going on.”

She lets go of one of your wrists, but keeps her tight grip on the other, forcing you to keep pace behind her.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, Y/N. Don’t worry. I’m not going to put you in danger, obviously.” She laughs, as if the idea is ridiculous. “You’re a damn good archer.”

“Oh, my Gods. Did you just compliment me?”

She tenses up, finally realizing she did it.

“D-don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, I won’t. It will just be our little secret, won’t it?”

You bite your lip as you smile so you don’t burst out laughing.

“Sure,” she mutters, and you don’t miss the way she stares at your lips. She clears her throat, finally letting go of your wrist. “Percy Jackson-”

“Who’s a baby.”

“-attacked us last night.”

You raise an eyebrow, walking next to her. “Did you attack him first?”

She doesn’t answer that.

“I doubted you would join us. I just didn’t want you to be alone in the woods.”

“Why?”

“Hm, I saw Annabeth as we left the bathrooms. She knows, she knows we’re gonna get revenge so Luke’s gonna go straight for the flag because we’re not in the woods.”

“So you’re just sacrificing the entire game for revenge? Against a 12-year-old?”

“Revenge,” she mutters, thinking over it. “That’s a fun word.”

She smiles, looking at you.

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter.

—-

The rest of the walk continues in silence, until you can see Carrie and Matty in the distance, both waiting for Clarisse’s signal. She grins.

“Now, why don’t you just stay behind me and draw an arrow, and tell me if anyone’s coming. And when he’s distracted, you’ll sneak around behind him and block him from escaping, hm?”

You look around the forest. “Okay. But, Clarisse-”

She smacks her hand over your face. “I don’t need your morality right now. I just need you to keep those pretty eyes open and be our lookout.”

“Fine,” you hiss as you throw your hand off her mouth.

“Thank you,” she smiles, sarcastically. “Was that so hard?”

You mock her under your breath, but she signals to Carrie and Matty. They all start walking forward, trying for stealth, but your feet make sink into the gravel. He hears them. He sits up.

You don’t know anything about Percy Jackson, except for the fact he supposedly attacked the three musketeers you call your friends and possibly killed a Minotaur.

True to your word, you stay behind Clarisse, watching as she lifts her helmet off, throwing it to the ground.

Her spear sinks into the dirt.

“Flag’s that way,” Percy says. “It’s not here.”

“We know.”

You start walking out from behind her. His eyes flick between all four of you.

“Yeah, glory’s fine.” You can feel her eyes on you. “Revenge is more fun.”

She looks up at her spear, slamming it down, and you hear the familiar crackle as it lights up. Red hot electricity.

She laughs a bit.

He scrambles for his sword and spear, forgoing his helmet. They close him in. You walk around Carrie and behind him. His eyes move between you and Clarisse, but there’s nothing he can do to stop the four of you from surrounding him.

“No maiming. It’s like the one rule.”

His stance isn’t even close to correct.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll lose dessert privileges for a while,” she fake frets, looking up at her spear. She smiles and looks back at him. “I’ll live.”

Her face twists into a mask of focus and she swings out at him. He manages to dodge her first hit, and block the second with his shield.

She looks at Carrie and Matty. They lunge forward, attacking him together, and he certainly is a demigod- he has a natural talent.

But you can only really focus on the way she lifts her spear back over her head.

She grunts and spins, shocking him, before jabbing forward at his armor, making him fall back over the log he used to be laying on, right at your feet.

“I’m actually not interested in maiming or killing you, believe it or not,” she says, standing over him. “I just want you to admit you’re a fraud. It’d make me feel better. Are you feeling up to that yet?”

The way she holds her spear, the way she says it’ll make her feel better- you miss the way he swings out with his shield, hitting you in the shins.

“Fuck,” you hiss, leaning down to touch your burning leg. “Oh, fuck, that hurt.”

Percy grunts and takes off running.

“Y/N,” Matty says, a silent question in his concerned voice.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, shaking your leg out.

Clarisse glares at his retreating figure.

“I guess he has a fucking death wish,” she whispers, voice full of a deadly promise.

She grunts and launches herself over the log, Carrie and Matty following. You straighten yourself and take off running after them. You leg does burn, but you still manage to keep pace. Besides, Matty is already far ahead, surprising him and knocking him down from the path, making him tumble through the woods and land on the beach.

Matty and Carrie wave their swords at him from the right. He pants and breathes heavily, backing up, but when he turns around to run- Clarisse is there.

You draw your bow again, out of habit.

The arrows you use aren’t actual arrows of course, but filed down to little circle rocks at the end. They won’t kill you, but they fucking hurt.

You can’t help but giggle as he falls onto his back, scared just by Clarisse being there.

She laughs too, before all three of them launch into an attack.

They push him back, towards you, and you step back with them, waiting for the perfect moment.

But your eyes drift up to Clarisse. She’s hanging back for just a second while Matty and Carrie jab at him. She looks… proud. She looks really fucking proud that you’re laughing at this 12-year-olds misery.

But Clarisse was right. Revenge is fun. And you hate it, but you can’t stop it.

You smile back at her, and it’s like those nights at the bonfire, you know you’ll never speak of it again. It doesn’t matter. Right now, there’s angelic music playing in your head, and you’re watching her. You’re watching her, the sweat on her brow, the way her hands clasp her spear.

Her face twists into something else.

“Y/N!” she shouts, but Carrie and Matty pushed him too far, you didn’t move back enough- distracted by her- and you slam into each other, a tangle of limbs and metal.

He does this awkward sort of flip over you, landing a few feet behind you. You drop your bow in favor of catching yourself, and it gets caught on his shield and dragged along with him.

It’s a blur, you yelp as you go down, Percy groans.

They’re all standing there, tense and watching the way Percy stands up with your bow in his hands. His stance is nowhere near correct, it actually makes you cringe more than your bruised side after the fall.

Why the hell are you the one who keeps getting hurt?

Percy let’s out a breath. “Why don’t we all just walk away and forget this happened?”

“You just made that impossible,” Clarisse hisses.

You just want to get an ice pack on your leg and sit down. You’re tired. You want to boss Clarisse around as payment for bringing you here.

“Okay, okay, just stop. This is stupid, all of you. He’s, like, 12. He didn’t do it on purpose, you’re just attacking him for no reason.” Carrie and Matty look at the ground. Clarisse glares at you.

You turn around and face Percy. “Just go, okay.”

He looks between you and Clarisse.

“O-okay,” he breathes.

You can feel her move, hear her footsteps in the sand, her spear cutting through the wind. She comes around you, and Percy gets scared, so he raises up the bow and let’s it go- pointed straight at her face.

But it never hits her. It hits you, of course, because you have the worst luck in the world.

It hits you right in the chest, and it doesn’t kill you, but Percy is strong and it knocks the wind out of you.

Clarisse throws her spear to the ground and catches you, screaming your name at the top of her lungs.

Gods, this was so stupid. All of it. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he meant to stop her from attacking him. Because Clarisse is bloodthirsty. She cares about no one else but herself.

You were stupid to think she ever did.

But even through all of this, everyone treating you like a rag doll, you stare into Clarisse’s eyes. She’s frozen. She’s watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, she’s watching the way you press your hand into your chest, trying to breathe, she’s looking at the fear in your eyes.

You’re terrified. And Clarisse looks the exact same way you feel.

You mouth her name.

Carrie and Matty are gathered around you, telling you to just breathe, take a breath in, but you can’t.

Clarisse let’s go of you and ignores your hands trying to hold her back, ignores Carrie warning her.

Oh, Gods, you’re in love with her and she’s just your friend, but it all hurts and you just need her right now.

Percy tries to scramble away from what he’s done, but Clarisse grabs him by his shirt and holds him up.

You think she’s actually going to kill him- then the conch sounds.

You all turn around.

The blue team runs to the beach, sticking the red flag into the ground. They all cheer loudly, Luke and Chris at the center of it.

Clarisse throws Percy back down on the ground.

She picks up your bow. Matty helps you stand up, you can breathe now, and you’re really fine. You just couldn’t for a minute. You don’t look at Clarisse, even though you want to.

—-

The four of you end up at the sword practice field, sitting on picnic tables like you did that one day.

Matty touches a few scratches on his arms from where he burst through the woods, scraping himself on something thorny.

Clarisse walks towards a dummy and starts attacking it. She lets all her anger out on it. They didn’t win, and her revenge is incomplete so, its not even worth it. You could have told her that from the beginning, but whatever.

Clarisse can do whatever she wants. She doesn’t listen to you, she doesn’t care about you- not as much as you want her too. Not as much as you care about her.

She’s so wonderfully in her element it makes you want her more. This is where she belongs, in the field in the sun, with her spear in her hands. She belongs here, where she feels closest to her father and farthest away from her responsibilities, from the constant battle it is for her to keep her emotions in check.

Even after a minute of her obliterating the dummy, she seems better. Finally, after another minute, she slows down until she stops.

You don’t stop looking at her until she turns around and looks at you. She breathes out.

“Are you okay?” she asks, sitting down on the opposite end of the bench.

“Fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

She hums.

“C’mon, Matty,” Carrie says. “Let’s go back to the cabin, I’m thirsty.”

You’re not ready to get up yet, you’re too comfortable here on the bench, it’s too easy to breathe in the valley.

Clarisse flexes, stretching her spear over her head, and you watch her. Of course you watch her. You don’t think you’ll ever just be able to look at her in passing- you’ll always have to focused, you’ve always have to have your eyes totally and completely on her.

Like she’s some book you have to study. Like she’s all you’ve ever wanted to look at.

“Stop staring at me, weirdo,” she mumbles.

You sit up straighter. “I’m not. You’re just flexing dramatically all over the place, of course I’m gonna take notice of it.”

“Okay, sure,” she taunts, and you remember what happened, you remember how you felt when she walked away from you to continue with her revenge.

“I-I’m gonna go back to my cabin.” You don’t wanna be around her, not right now at least. “See you later, Clarisse.”

She stands up immediately. “I’ll walk you.”

“No, thanks, it’s fine.”

“Y/N, you got hurt because of me.” She crouches down and tugs up your pant leg. “How’s your leg? Your side?”

Matty, Carrie and Clarisse too, sometimes, are always touching you and doing things for you. It’s sweet. They aren’t good with the words, but they show you they love you, and that means more than anything else.

If she hadn’t done what she did, if she really cared about you, then you wouldn’t mind her touching you like this. You would love it.

“Clarisse- get off of me,” you shake your leg out, which hurts a bit, but she lets go and stands up.

Her face twists into one of anger, her fists clenched.

“I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry you got hurt. I feel really bad about it, so just let me do this for you.”

“It’s not about that,” you mumble, cursing yourself and hoping she doesn’t hear you. Of course she does.

“Then what’s it about?”

You try to turn away, but she clamps her around your wrist and tugs you back towards her.

“What’s it about, Y/N?”

She holds your hand to her chest.

You both know what it’s about.

“Just stop, Clarisse,” but your body betrays you and you make no move to push her away. She notices, of course she notices, and she pulls you closer. “We’ve been dancing around each other for months.”

She blinks and her grip on your wrist loosens.

“And it was fun. It was a fun game, okay, Clarisse. But you can stop playing it now. You showed me today that your care more about yourself then you ever could me. I’m sick of it.” You tug your hand away. “I’m so sick of it, Clarisse.”

She grips you tighter again.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m running around looking like a fool, and you think I care about myself? You think I don’t care about you?”

Your breath is a little shaky again.

“You could have helped me and you chose revenge.”

“For you.”

“What?”

“He slammed his shield into your leg, knocked you over, and then shot you in the chest. Of course I wanted revenge. Not for me, it was about that at first, but then, Gods, did you do something to him?”

You laugh. She smiles, staring at your face like she’s seeing you for the first time.

“Like, he just kept coming after you, I don’t get it. But I… I like you. Like, like you. And I don’t know what that means, but I don’t really care. I just… want you. I want to be near you all the time. And I go crazy when you’re with someone else. I want to touch you all the time, hug you, hold you… I want to kiss you so bad I think I’m gonna fucking explode.”

Fuck is always the first word you think of when you think of her. It used to be because she made you so angry with the secrets, but now it’s just the things the says make you wonder how much more you can fall in love with her.

“Well, I don’t really want you to explode,” you roll your eyes. “That’d be too messy. Besides, I-”

“You’re always such a fucking worrier.”

She plants her hands on your face and presses her lips to yours. You can feel the slight desperateness she won’t say, but she’ll tell you with her body. You can feel everything she won’t show, won’t say. How beautiful you are. How scared she was. How much she wanted you and for how long.

You feel it all just by her lips, and you can’t help but wonder what more she can tell you.

She pulls back and smiles.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it.”

“I’m the light of your life, Clarisse.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, grabbing you tighter and kissing you again. You grab onto her arms, smiling. You always wondered what he muscles would feel like against you.

There’s only one word to describe the way it feels.

Fuck.

—-

clarisse when she accidentally told y/n she has pretty eyes: PLEASE DONT NOTICE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

y/n my ladybug not noticing: 🧍‍♀️

—-

y/n and clarisse just being insane together WDYM YOURE LAUGHING WHEN A KID FALLS OVER STOP

—-

clarisse: bitch stop WORRYING

y/n: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME SHUT UP

—-

clarisse and y/n both pretending that clarisse giving her a dagger wasnt literally a declaration of love and also clarisse throwing her spear down to catch y/n???? bitch she’s in LOVE

—-

taglist:

@jazhandzzz

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss

[igotanidea]

3 minutes: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI! swearing

***

Hey Jason, can I ask you something?

Y/N and Jason were cuddling and kissing on the couch, things started to become a little heated and then, out of the sudden, she got into a questioning mood.

Obviously, Jason wasn’t exactly content with the unexpected shift, but gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to just continue with the steamy make out session, he nodded with the calm expression on his face.

If only she knew how much it took from him to keep it.  

“Sure thing, babe. What’s on your mind?”

“Which girl would you prefer: a skinny, pretty and a little sad, shy one or a little heavier, sassy, funny and energetic one?”

“Well…” he muttered, considering the answer. He was going to be as honest as possible without hurting Y/n’s feelings. “While I suppose initially a pretty girl would get my attention I do like when there’s more depth to people. And sassy humor is pretty much essential for me?”

“Was that a question or an answer?” she teased, catching up with his hesitant tone.

“Don’t you know me? I think that by now you should realize that looks are not everything.”

“Duh!” she chuckled, kissing the tip of his nose playfully “Did you think I was with you cause you are handsome?” she repeated her action “Cause you are not.” The seriousness of her tone was bellied by a grin. “At all.”

“Oh really? And here I thought I was your personal male supermodel.” He laughed wholeheartedly pushing her away as she teased him. “But hey, it’s on the inside what counts. And when it comes to that – you got plenty going on.”

“So I’m like your kinder joy?”

“That’s actually quite an accurate description. Sweet on the inside if you are patient enough to tear through the foil.”

“Wow. Um- I didn’t actually expect you to use such an illustrative comparison….”

“Yeah, that’s me.” He smirked with a face full of complacency. Always in your corner when you are feeling down.”

“Thank you… I guess I’ve been feeling a little insecure lately. Except not the little. And not lately.”

“Good thing you got me here then, huh? Now can we please forget about that and focus on us?”

“Mh. Where were we then?” she whispered seductively leaning forwards brushing her lips over his softly.

“Right where we belong.” He responded by pulling her to him, kissing passionately, trailing lips down her neck, feeling the heat rise again.

“Yeah… Yeah, I think I’m starting to remember something…”

“What do you remember, baby?” Jason whispered against her skin, caressing her shoulder, pulling the strap of her top down.

“Something good…” she hummed, closing eyes and letting him continue his ministrations “Something so good…”

“Care to share?” In a blink of an eye she was laying on the couch on her back, Jason’s hands moving over her belly “or would you rather keep it a secret?” he leaned down nipping at her earlobe.

“Isn't it exciting to know that there are some things that stay just between us...?” She moaned softly, tilting her head and caressing his chest.

“Definitely.” Jason nuzzled his nose into her chest, inhaling her scent “Just you and me having something special.” Once more he captured her lips, tangling fingers in her hair, keeping her head in place, not that she was going anywhere.

The soft sigh that left her lips only aroused him more when he rolled on his back, pulling her with him so she was on top, straddling him.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way, princess.”

She laid on top of him, her full body weight pressing him into the mattress, tracing hands down his sides, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt. The effect was almost immediate. Jason arched into her touch, his cock hardening at the feel of her fingers on his bare skin.

“You drive me crazy…” he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, grinding against her, though still in clothes. Regardless, the undeniable need for friction was too much to just lay still. “But I wouldn’t want anyone else doing it to me…”

“I sure as hell hope you wouldn't...” She kissed his neck, grinding her hips on him as well.

“Fuck, I don’t even want to imagine another woman-“ he gripped her hips, continuing the movement.

“Don’t ever mention another woman when we’re together.” She almost hissed, cutting his sentence in the middle, biting on his neck, leaving a hickey and licking the stinging place.

There was no way to deny that her possessiveness and marking the territory attitude only turned him harder.

“I’m not planning on it.” He responded, tangling fingers in her hair, guiding her head lower on his neck. “Besides, I already got the only woman I need.”

“The only one you’ll ever need.” She corrected, raising her gaze on him.

“The only one I’ll ever need…” his tone was hoarse and sultry as he leaned to her again.

Being stopped with Y/N’s grip on his chin.

“Be a good boy and strip for me, will you?” She gave him a look full of fire that left him lost like a little puppy, ready to follow the orders of the owner.

“Well since you asked so nicely—” Y/N moved away from him to give him space to undress and the sudden loss of contact made him almost tear his clothes away. Anything to get her body against him again, not that he was going to let her win this. “But remember, baby, payback’s a bitch…”

“Well then, how about I make it up to you then?”

She slid down, standing on the bed foot, starting to take off her clothing piece by piece. Turning it into a sensual striptease. Tracing her body while removing her shirt, inch by painful inch. Shaking her hips while taking off the skirt. Bending down in a little provocative manner during the removal of her tights.

Almost daring him to make a move on her.

But Jason was hypnotized with her every gesture. Eyes wide with desire, hands clutching the sheets, wanting both to pin her underneath him and to watch this show forever. Evidence of his lust was obvious in his naked body, not that he would ever do much to hide it. If anything – the hardness was rather supposed to be exposed for her to lure her in. 

Nonetheless, Y/N seemed to be lost in the world of her own, continuing her dance. Caressing and playing with her breast before unclasping the bra, sliding it off her body, freeing her chest from confinements, and finally -- sliding down her panties. The moment they both were waiting for, one more than the other.

“Fuck, Y/N…. You do know just how to turn me on, don’t you?”

In response, she crawled to the head of the bed, leaning on all fours, while searching for his lips.

“I can’t get enough of you…” his hands slid down her back, all the way to her butt, kneading the flesh there.

“That’s kind of the plan…”  she pressed her chest to his torso, brushing over him like a wild feline, tracing kisses down his neck, unrestrained by anything.

“Yes, kitten… show me how you want me…” he slapped her ass playfully, one hand kept on palming her butt, while he used the other to start stroking himself.

“Oh now, you’re doing my job for me….?” With a gentle pat, she removed his fingers from his cock and wrapped her own around him.

“Fuck… fuck, Y/N, yes… keep doing that baby….” He groaned, closing eyes and moving against her hand. “Make me yours…”

“You’re going to be a good boy for me?” she stroked him harder, focusing her eyes on him.

“Yes, yes ma’am, I’ll be whatever you want, just don’t stop…”

“Don't worry my pretty baby... I’m not stopping any time soon...” She flicked her thumb over the head of his cock, gathering the pre cum and pulling it to her mouth, licking the droplets with the tip of her tongue.

“So goddamn hot…” Jason groaned from the back of his throat.

“You can touch me too, my little bird…” she whispered in his ear, sliding a little closer to him once more, making it more than obvious where she wanted his touch.

“Like that?” he cupped her breast, letting the familiar weight adjust to his hand. Squeezing and twisting her nipple in a way that made her squirm and gasp for air. The way he knew she liked.”

“Oh yes…”

“That’s right, kitten. You enjoy my touch, cause it’s the only one you’ll ever get for the rest of your life. You’re mine.”

“Fuck, I love it when you get a little possessive.” She placed her hands on his on her chest, showing him to touch her harder.

“And I love it when you get so vulnerable and open with me…”

“Oh I am open.” She smirked, hooking one leg over his hip, straddling him, but not taking in yet “I am so open. And so wet.”

“I can tell.” He grabbed her waist, trying to pull her down, kissing like a wild man, unable to stop even though she kept on pulling away from time to time. Purposefully. To leave him wanting and needy. “Don’t fucking do that, kitten.” He groaned chasing her lips, his tone both a threat and a pleading and with the sudden pressure on her body she knew she would be sporting bruises the other day. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you>?”

“Yeah, I do. But don’t worry, I will abuse my power in all the pleasurable ways.” Y/n hummed lifting her hips, hovering mere inches over his shaft.

Jason’s eyes darkened with desire.

“Abuse me all you want. Just … don’t… fucking… stop…  Please…”

“Oh my pretty boy... My heart is breaking seeing you hurting...” She slowly sank to his length. “Is it better now...?” She tenderly brushed hair from his sweaty forehead, observing his eyes falling closed feeling her wrapped around him like that.

“So much better…” he gasped, caressing her back, wanting so much more, but frozen in this moment. He buried face in his hair, breathing in her scent. The smell of her shampoo, the musky aroma of incoming sex and the individual one of her body. Irreplaceable. Hitting all his olfactory sensors, bringing out the feeling of home. She was his home. His everything.  “Y/n….” he whispered “fuck…”

 “Is it warm for my little bird?”

“Yeah, it’s getting warmer, all right. And most of that heat is because of you.” He nibbled on her neck, leaving love bites on the entire length.

“Cause I’m so hot?” she started rocking her hips on him

“You have no fucking idea.” He grabbed her waist and started thrusting forwards with almost extraordinary energy and enthusiasm. “And I fucking love it.”

As the unexpected force of his movement made her jump and stumble forwards, she instinctively reached for his shoulders to find balance and purchase.

“I got you kitten. Hold on tight.” He catches her easily, pulling her down on him easily, digging fingers into her flesh, guiding their movements together. “That’s right. Ride me, kitten.”

One of her hands rested on his shoulder blade, the other on his chest as she picked up the pace. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back, allowing him to control the movements of her hips while thrusting upwards. His eyes were focused solely on the way their bodies unite, making sure to his just the right spot inside her, to make her yearn, burn and shudder with need and pleasure. So fucking beautiful towering over him, lost in the tryst.

Just like him.

There was something erotic about the way she takes him inside to the halt, and then lets him out. Her body opening to him like a wild flower opens to the sun, allowing its warmth and love kisses to caress its petals.

That’s what she meant to him.

She was like a rose – beautiful but not helpless, with thorns.

Like a poppy – vibrant and standing out amongst other flowers on the meadow.

Like a  cherry blossom – magical, soft to the touch but also so ephemeral and fragile if not looked after properly.

He was going to take care of her.

Forever.

“Jason…” she moaned, pressing his head into her chest, running fingers through his hair “Jason…” in the last surge of desire she grabbed his cheeks and looked straight into his eyes.

“Don’t ever stop Y/N—”

“Never-“ she gasped, not breaking eye contact for even a second, seeing the universe in his eyes. “Never-oh!”

As their climaxes approached and hit them like a tsunami wave, bringing the breath of freshness and coolness, but also threatening to wash them off the face of the earth, they held tightly to one another. Like she was his lifeline and he was her rock.

Just like in the biblical parable, that says you cannot build a house on the sand, Jason and Y/N were one’s another solid foundation. A base to build a house on.

For house is not a place, but a person.

Even when he fell back on the bed, exhausted and sweaty, facing the ceiling with mind reeling from love, pleasure and inexplicable need to lock her away from the world, his hold on her waist did not falter for a second. Only now, it was much more tender, softer, though still needy. The irony of the situation was truly textbook. She couldn’t be closer to him and yet, he was still missing her.

After a moment of heavy breathing she climbed off his lap (more like rolled off) and took the rightful spot on the side of the bed, which was hers by design. Even though they were both on their backs, their bodies found a way to one another as she reached for his hand entwining their fingers. Simple gesture, nothing really, and yet amongst lovers sharing true love, if that thing was to ever exist outside of novels, it meant everything.

After a moment, as on cue, they both rolled over to look into each other’s eyes.

“Hi.” She smiled cupping his cheek

“Hi yourself, kitten.” He responded by taking her wrist and kissing her knuckles softly.

“Did you know that statistically the round between couples lasts 3 minutes?”

“Way to ruin the mood with your nonsensical facts, Y/N!”

“it’s not nonsensical. I’m only saying that you are far more than stereotypical to me.”

“Because of how long I can last?” he raised an eyebrow  incredulously, but it was quickly followed by a glint of amusement in his eyes. Despite everything he loved being praised on his performance skills.

“Because of everything-“ she whispered lovingly.

“Oh, stop now.” He grunted, pulling her to his chest, forcing her face down onto his skin so she wouldn’t notice the tears brimming in his eyes. “Otherwise I might think you love me or something.” A single tear escaped his eye at the feeling of being complete.

“I’d hate to implant false beliefs in your head.”

“That would be such a mess, right?”

“How about we keep on cleaning it together?” her soft voice reached his ears, serving as a counterpart for his feigned gruffness.

“Now that doesn’t sound so bad.” He smiled, pulling the covers on their entangled forms, allowing himself to fall asleep, knowing she was there to stay.

A comfort that made him feel warmer than under the blanket.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Perfect - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: Okay, so I really hope this is good. I based the Reader off myself, so I hope the reactions and frustration are at least somewhat accurate. I also added a little bit of angst. Hope that’s okay

Based on this request

CW: fluff, angst, Reader has AuDHD, Reader is an artist, frustration, anger, perfectionism, pacing as stimming, Logan is a good boyfriend, Reader is called handsome, Reader is his own worst critic, forehead kisses, cheesy ending, soft ending

699 words

“Logan!” You almost jump out of your seat, not expecting to look up and see him standing there.

It’s a habit of his, moving silently. It scares the shit out of you most days. You’ve nearly gotten hurt jumping out of surprise.

Today you just drop your sketch pad, your pencil falling to the floor. You bend down to pick them up, setting them to the side.

“You said you wanted to see me?” Logan quirks an eyebrow, watching you with an expression of vague amusement.

“Oh! Yeah!” You grin up at him. “I wanna draw you.”

He blinks and tilts his head a little. “What?”

You nod eagerly and get up, pacing a little. “I saw an art challenge online about drawing something you love. So I want to draw you.”

He snorts, watching you move about the room. “You’re fucking cheesy, you know that?”

You give him your best puppy eyes. After a moment, he lets out a sigh. “Fine. But I’m not wearing a shirt for it.”

You hesitate for only a moment before agreeing. It’ll be fine. You’re great at drawing. This’ll be a piece of cake.

You’re on your fourth attempt and it’s only getting worse. You don’t know why, but you just can’t get the shape of his stomach right. No matter what angle or line you use, it looks… odd.

You exhale in frustration, feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never struggled so much before. Why now? Why now? Why with Logan?

“Hey, hey.” He crouches next to you, resting a hand on your thigh. “Calm down. Just breathe, alright? It’s just a drawing.”

“It’s not!” You don’t mean to snap, but the frustration feels endless. “It’s a drawing of you! It had to be perfect!”

You get up out of your chair and stalk about the room, clenching and unclenching your fists. Tapping them angrily against your sides. “I’ve done this like a million times before! Why not now?”

Logan watches you for a moment. Then he picks up one of your abandoned sketches and smoothes it out. “This one looks pretty good to me.”

You barely glance over. “It’s not good enough.”

He frowns.”It’s good enough for me. I like it a lot. Especially the way you draw my eyes.”

That gives you pause. You stop your angry pacing and turn to look. He holds up the drawing for you to see. If you ignore the stomach and the unfinished arm… you guess he has a point. You did capture his eyes well… and his shoulders. Those were hard.

You cross your arms, giving yourself a moment of sulking before you sigh and relent. You hate fighting with Logan and you don’t want to start arguing over something he genuinely seems to like. Even if it’s not perfect.

With a soft grumble, you walk over and tuck yourself into his side. Wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into him. It helps soothe the last of your frustration. Calming the burning restlessness in your limbs, even just a little.

He rests an arm around you, still studying the drawing. You eye it with a light glare, but hold back from commenting on everything wrong with the drawing.

“It’s perfect,” Logan says, finally. “My favorite.”

You blink up at him. His… favorite? Out of all your drawings, this is his favorite? “Wh— Why?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “I just love it.”

You think it’s absolutely ridiculous he doesn’t have a reason, but you don’t say that aloud. Instead you just nod. “Alright.”

He gives your side a soft squeeze. “You good now, handsome?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because it’s my turn now. I’m drawing you.”

You fake a groan of protest, but willingly head over to the couch. “I expect a full scale portrait. Complete with horses and a golden chariot.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do my best. Just sit down.”

You grin as you sit. Maybe your drawings didn’t turn out perfect, but your boyfriend certainly did. Maybe not for anyone else, but perfect for you. And you wouldn’t want him any other way.

Logan Howlett Taglist: @yhlqmdlg @alekkkkssss

[riaki]

thrifted romance | megumi fushiguro x reader

synopsis: you’ve never really spoken with megumi before, so when your friends leave the two of you behind on a snowy night, you take the opportunity to get to know him.

wc: 6.2k... SO SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY cw: swearing, college au, noncurse au, i don’t thjnk there’s anything else ??

this got way longer than i intended it to be and i rushed to grind it out so it may not be coherent.. if so i apologize :’3 and this one’s late but i hope the content makes up for it ! enjoy meemow barely proofread!

it's a late winter evening when you meet up with megumi and your friends on the side of the street— cozied up in puffy layers and a long blazer stained with coffee splashes and a few hot chocolate smudges here and there.

fall had melted away with the slow gradient of leaves from the trees, sinking into fluffy piles on the sidewalk that soon became coated and replaced with light snowfall; the first of many problematic inches. midterms were just around the corner, and with it meant late hours spent pulling all-nighters that left you exhausted, eyes dark around the edges with a lack of sleep; breaths of minty hot chocolate and coffee from the amalgamation you'd concocted to at least pretend to get into the holiday spirit.

(a fruitless effort, though— if not for your failure that warned you to stay out of mixology, but the way your roommate's cat had knocked over your mug and ruined the flashcards you'd been wrestling with and looked completely smug with itself.)

really, though, there was absolutely nothing jolly about school, or exams. so when your favorite inefficient, sidetracking study buddy had offered to spend the weekend out, who were you to say no? nobara had offered to go find a club, but it was far too cold out to frolic around in skimpy clothing and your expensive winter coats were much too valuable to risk being stolen in the haze of drunken students and sweaty bodies. so, you'd decided to go shopping, because what else is there to do with her? besides the usual karaoke session with the upperclassmen she seems to like so much, of course.

turns out, it'd had been a group endeavor. or, more accurately— a group of four, unlike the duo you had previously thought you'd be going out in. yuji and megumi were there too— friends from separate majors; you'd heard that yuji was involved in the uprising surge of software engineers and computer science majors clambering for a shot in the world of big AI tech companies, even though he supposedly was about as computer-smart as your teetering old grandma ripe with age, permanently stuck in her rocking chair crocheting the days away.

megumi, on the other hand, was a mystery. you'd shared a few classes together; his chipped dark nails that shone the same blue as his esoteric eyes beneath the warmth of the glowing sun, and his inky black hair that spilled over the collars of his simple gray sweatshirts like effortlessly graceful calligraphy on paper had captured your attention as smooth and seamless as the daylight turned to darkness, days cut short by the onslaught of cold. even so, you'd never brought yourself to interact much— he seemed like he'd prefer to keep to himself, if the way he'd disdainfully scoot away from anyone who tried to approach him and turn up the volume of his headphones indicated anything. you had laughed to your friend and called it introversion to its finest, only to promptly shut up when his unmoving gaze landed on you, leaving you feeling like a clown on the stage, rimmed by rich dark red curtains and a wooden floorboard as the beaming spotlight shines upon you imaginary button nose, hot and glaring under his gaze. 

even though you'd approved of his music taste once you snagged a few notes by the ear, you'd really thought his taste in fashion was too bland to be the type of person to shop with nobara— her meticulous style and image were much brighter and more flamboyant than megumi's jaded attempts at a splash of color through the occasional blue argyle or layered turtleneck. still, those were better than yuji's paltry attempts at fashion; at least the myriads of color on nobara's figure were coordinated. the pink-haired boy with funny scars on his face would probably have been better off learning graphic design or art, with the disasters of clashing colors on his person.

and he'd gotten the opportunity to demonstrate his questionable tastes on the chilly evening, when black ice had begun to form on the roads and the soft light of boutiques with slow jazz flowing from the speakers filled your frost-bitten red ears as you walked up to the shade of a nearby lamppost. once you'd all met up, nobara had hooked an arm around your elbow and dragged you off, leaving the boys to follow along like it was walking dogs.

honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if you were— at least, with yuji. he carried nobara's bags like she was the next princess in line, without complaint and with the little fearful quivers that dogs get in their legs whenever their owners scold them for barking or misbehaving, much like how nobara would yell at yuji if he dropped a single cream linen sweater or ruffled pink cami.

megumi, on the other hand, was far too lethargic and quiet to be considered any kind of canine. although the weaved bracelet on his left wrist with a cute little puppy charm you caught sight of when he'd rolled his sleeve up implied otherwise. the only reason he'd even had to do that was to rub the sickeningly sweet orange blossom hand sanitizer nobara had spritzed on each of your palms after you took turns petting a stray cat, one that seemed to take a great liking to you and megumi in particular.

the night seemed to drag on forever; pale yellow lights and holiday decorations blurred into swathes and bubbles of color in your vision as the hours passed and the caffeine from the cute little coffeeshop you'd stopped at earlier began to wear off.

but there had just been something magical about that evening; spending time with friends (albeit, more like acquaintances) had granted you a much-needed break from cramming your mind with an overflow of information that was sure to spill out the moment you answered the last exam question. so, when it was almost midnight and it was time to retire to your bed, you'd insisted on staying out for just a little longer while nobara and the rest returned to their dorms to catch some sleep. yuji had complained something about his legs cramping, but you were feeling giddy, and the stars were twinkling just as bright as the light in nobara's eyes were when you told her you had to soak in the fresh air for as long as you could before being locked in to study again as she laughed and headed home with her pink dog-boy escort in tow.

megumi had mumbled something about staying with you since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. you didn't think too much about it, because if you did, you were sure you'd end up with a faced even more flushed than it was frostbitten from the cold.

so, here you were, strolling down the quieter side of town, a brooding boy with inky dark hair and hands pale with blue veins shoved into the pockets of his jacket trailing behind you. he had one airpod tucked into his pierced ear; you assumed he hadn't brought his headphones because yuji would be there to prattle and babble. even so, you were content not to say anything, so there was plenty of opportunity for him to wear both. but he wasn't. you decided not to linger on it.

you'd just finished writing a silly little note out of the crisp snow gathered on the windshield of some stranger's car; the flakes were cold and biting on your skin, leaving it feeling numb with little droplets of icy water when you pulled away to admire your handiwork.

"actually, maybe i shouldn't be doing that." you decided after a moment, mumbling under your breath. it was just a little message with a whiskered smiley face, but the headlights on the car and the bumper seemed to form a frown at you when you stepped back, shaking its motorized head at your vandalism.

"you think?"

megumi's voice sounded from behind you, a little weighed down by the cold with a wisp of warmth leaving his lips like a powdery exhale, curling into the prickly night air. he was standing on the sidewalk, observing you all prickly-like as if you were some flagrant toddler he was babysitting. you still had to get used to the way his voice sounded after rarely hearing it; the few crumbs you got when your professors forced obligatory presentations onto struggling students had sent this warm, fuzzy feeling collecting in your stomach at the rich tone of velvet it held. not rough or overly deep, but smooth and reassuring. the kind you could fall asleep to; like there was a lullaby just waiting to be poured from his tongue with little scratches in the indent of his tone.

of course, you hadn't heard enough of it to make such an assumption, so when you heard the little quip framed with irritation at the edges, it wasn't all sugary sweetness like you imagined.

"yeah, well, sorry i like to live a little," you huffed, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to resuscitate some warmth back into them with a small little sigh.

"you call that living?" he scoffs a little, cocking an eyebrow at the vandalized toyota behind you. now, it just looked a little sad; imaginary eyebrows over the red lights droopy in disappointment. you followed his gaze, before looking back at him and making a sour face as you stepped onto the sidewalk.

"maybe we just have different tastes, y'know? doesn't mean we don't have to get along like this," you mumbled, shaking your hands out a little to get the remaining snow droplets off before stuffing them back in your blazer pockets. "just like itadori and nobara. one has terrible taste in fashion and the other doesn't, but they both like their bright colors." you feel satisfied with yourself for that one, but clearly, megumi doesn't feel the same. but the corner of his pink lips seem to quirk up just a tiny bit, and you feel pride blooming in your chest.

there's just something about the way it looks— an almost implausible smile coaxed onto his lips by something particularly amusing, reaching his dull blue eyes in a way that made their usual tedious apathy morph into something like fondness, or appreciation. adding a shine to his navy irises the lamp light overhead could only hope to mimic. then again, you didn't let your mind linger on it for too long like usual— so instead you chalked it up to the one other thing that had caught your eye besides the sharpness of his jaw and the handsome slimness of his face: his jacket.

you take back what you said about his style and its blandness before— it would be unfair to what he was wearing right now. just a simple black turtleneck (one that you were sure he'd worn to the early morning wednesday lecture you had a few days ago, when the sun was still bright enough to catch on the condensation of the cup of lemonade your white-haired, oddly sweet-toothed professor had), and black jeans, but the vintage racing windbreaker hanging from his shoulders brought it together in a way that was unfairly seamless; all dark blues and stripes of checker; a neutral grayblue that reminded you of the sky on rainy afternoons, trudging about the shopping districts in tokyo. there were a few brand patches here and there, some red bubble lettering of names you didn't recognize in patches of color that brought out the shade of his eyes. maybe the labels of those energy drink brands you often caught him running on when the shadows beneath his long dark lashes seemed heavier than usual.

all that to say he looked good. like, seriously good. you didn't know how you hadn't noticed all night— but now that you had, it was hard to keep your eyes from his slim and tall silhouette (not that he minded). the jacket really complimented it.

"that's a neat jacket. where'd you get it?" you asked after a moment of chilling silence; he'd probably noticed you looking, and you prayed he didn't think you were checking him out. although, if that meant getting your hands on one of those windbreakers, you wouldn't really mind. he glanced up at you, tearing his attention from the sad snowy toyota camry that seemed worn past its years at the newfound attention on megumi's racing jacket. he blinked a little, and you didn't miss the little flake of frost on his eyelash; probably caught from brushing past a windowsill earlier. by now, most shops were closed; even so, the street still felt warm and safe. well, maybe it was to be credited to a person rather than the concrete— but like you had been all night, you ignored it.

"oh, this?" as if he was wearing more than one jacket (it was cute), "i thrifted it." and for some reason, you didn't expect to be surprised, but you were. him? thrifting? the few western-fashion tailored thrift stores you'd been to with nobara had been lacking— not like you'd been able to stay in them long; the artificial ginger had this... beef with reused clothes. she liked her clothes clean and fresh from the press, even if you reminded her they could just be fresh from someone else's press. megumi must be familiar with the antiquated racks of varied worn graphic tees and frayed pants if he could fish something that classy from a thrift store.

then again, it's not like you had any experience to go off of at all.

"really? y'know, i've always wanted to go thrifting," you sighed, stretching your arms out, watching the fabric of your blazer wrinkle and curve to follow the movement of your muscles. a light dusting of snow coated the surface, like powdered sugar on tiramisu. that makes the coffee stains fitting. "but i feel like i'm bad at it." you said, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk, the rubber bottom of your sneakers brushing against a little clump of pine green weeds.

"bad at it?" megumi echoes, following you with a faint ruffle of smooth fabric, like the sound of a zipper sliding down. before, the world had been a cool shade of gray, like smoke rising from a cigarette or the blurry blue of the sky from the window of a speeding bullet train. but now, you let yourself soak in the sound of his voice, like grinded coffee beans and a smooth, soothing honey medicine for your throat on a sick day when you get to cozy up in your bunk bed and watch the clouds drift by.

it's nice.

"yeah. like, i wouldn't know where to go, or what to find, or what to look for..." you trailed off, rubbing your cold fingers together again as your breaths leave in little exhales of coagulating mist in the cold night air. now that it was late, it the temperature would only continue to drop.

you walked in silence for a little longer, listening to the scuffles of shoes against concrete, glassy with ice that had begun to creep up on the roads like a steady stream of seafoam from the tides.

"why don't we go thrifting now, then?" he asks out of the snowy blue.

you paused, and you almost smacked straight into a pole. "now?" you spluttered, turning around to face him. the look on his face was unreadable; a mix between exasperation, amusement, an attempt at stoicism, and something like affection in the corner of his lips as they curved upward. it was like a CPR compression; the smile that sent fuzzy electricity through your veins and reinvigorated your heart.

"yes, now." he said it like you were stupid, which you might just be, the way you stared dumbly at his face. "the place i got this jacket from is just over there," he said, jutting a ring-adorned thumb behind him. you had to lean up and peek around his shoulder to see it; you wouldn't've noticed if he didn't point it out. it was tucked between two buildings, a stairway downward into the store. the only thing indicating its status as a retail and thrifting store was the broken neon sign and painted red arrow that gestured towards the staircase.

"looks really shady. and it's late." you grumbled after you got over yourself, and he shot you an irritated look. that was all he really seemed to be doing tonight; that downward knit of his dark eyebrows and the slight pout weighing his lips down. not very suave, you think.

he swallows hard, and you aimlessly watch the bob of his adam's apple. "well?" he prompts, a hard edge to his voice despite the situation. you stand there for a little while, marinating in the growing cold until you cant feel the tips of your fingers.

"fine."

one accidental slip on the crosswalk and a few minutes later, you're stepping down the last wooden stair of the thrift store and into the building's basement; it's much bigger than you would've thought, with an expanse of layered clothing racks that obscure your vision, the corners of the walls clogged with cobwebs and years of dust build up. there's a faint lingering scent of cigarette smoke and cologne; something vanilla that you've caught clinging to megumi's wrists and neck on the rare occasion you brush past him. faint jazz spills from the speakers, something in a swing rhythm with the signature lilt of saxophone that makes you think you should be out enjoying a romantic fancy dinner instead of being cooped up between old wrinkly moth-bitten clothes. but you're here with megumi, so you convince yourself you don't mind either way.

"you sure this is the right place?" you asked, trying (and failing) to keep the obvious distain from your voice as you kick a folded 'floor-is-wet' sign from your path and step into the store. you can't even see the cash register from where you're standing.

"yes, i'm sure. can you stop complaining?" you can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice, and you're sure you could see it too if you just turned around. "trust me. it's not all shit." his voice softens, and you freeze up a little as he brushes past you; the corridors and margins are tight, so he has to turn sideways to fit. even so, a tag on your coat manages to snag on his jacket, and you hasten to unhook it before he can notice. he almost disappears into the racks, and you have to follow him, pushing your way through thick coats and worn graphic tees that have cracked logos and balls of lints clinging to them.

you're no thrifting expert, but you're pretty sure the store's supposed to be in better condition than this.

"hey." megumi's voice soon snaps you back into reality, and you look up from the mustard yellow top you were eyeing warily to meet his sedate gaze. "the good stuff's in the back. c'mon." he doesn't give you much room to argue even though it sounds like you're here to do drugs rather than find clothing, and before you can react he's reached forward to grab your wrist and tug you along. a yelp of protest almost spills from your lips, but you bite your tongue and let him drag you along, trying to extinguish the hue of cherry you know is making a home on the tips of your ears.

you brush past patchwork coats and a few leather belts that've tangled with the lace from the silk shirts next to them, but nothing really catches your eye, until you realize that he's let go of you only because of the lack of warmth around your skin and you focus yourself on the current again. you glance up at him, but he already has his back turned to you, sifting through a rack of black shirts that all look the exact same. maybe you have an untrained eye, though.

still, you can't help it when your gaze lingers over the back of his neck; one strand of dark hair has caught itself beneath the collar of his turtleneck, and it irks you. and you decide to do something about it because you'll know it'll bother you if you don't.

time seems to move in a liquid slow; things are blurring and there's no mothballs or ugly recycled coats to get in your way as you reach over and swipe your hand across his neck, hooking a finger beneath the strand and pulling it out of his collar. it takes you a moment to realize what you just did, and when you do, it's like there's a permanent mark seared into your index finger just from the touch of his skin against your own. you think he might have whiplash because he turns his head around so fast to catch your gaze before you can slink away, eyes wide and eyebrows knit, and you notice his bottom lip is snagged between his teeth.

he raises an eyebrow, but before he can utter a shaming word that'll only make you feel more embarrassed you shake your head vigorously, apologetically.

"sorry— it was bothering me. i hope you don't mind." you managed to say, the words spilling out in a rush before you turned away and slipped past him, disappearing into an aisle of dresses. you can feel his gaze burning cold holes into your back as you distract yourself.

you don't let yourself linger on what you just did— you seem to be doing a lot of that, lately, especially with him as you go through a few batches of clothing. by now, it's far past midnight, and you're feeling much more sluggish than you'd like to admit. you haven't seen megumi in a good twenty minutes save for the few times you picked up a few shirts and a cute diner jacket you thought would look good on him. he just thanked you bluntly, taking the bundle of clothing from your arms before walking away to the fitting rooms. you wished he'd stay to let you see the jacket.

you'd tried on a few things, discarding your blazer in favor of a cute knitted cardigan you grabbed, but nothing seemed to stick the way you'd like them to. it would be a great help if you had nobara to assist, but you were sure she was snoring away at home right now, and at the thought of your warm, inviting bed, your knees wobbled a little and you balanced yourself on the wall.

"hey— oh, you alright?" it's an unfamiliar voice; you lift your head up, looking for the source. it's a young boy— he looks to be about your age, maybe a little younger. there's a blue lanyard around his neck, and he's got a spattering of freckles on his hands, which are curled around the collar of a white linen shirt. he must be the one who's tending to the store.

"yeah, i'm okay. sorry," you said hastily, pushing away and rubbing the back of your neck. how embarrassing— he didn't seem to mind, though. he just smiled, big and bright and toothy. cute. reminded you of how toddlers would grin up at parents with those huge red lollipops in hand.

"no worries. i just thought i'd let you know that we're closing soon, since it's almost 2am." he said, shifting his weight on his sneakers. you nodded, about to give a hum of confirmation before another voice cuts through the slow jazz filling the stifling air above, all familiar in its smoothness.

before you could respond, though— "[name]?" megumi's voice rang out in the quaint little store, calling for you, and so you give the employee an apologetic nod before you turn and start toward the noise. you pass a mirror with a coat draped over the top, peeking your head around a tall rack of long skirts to catch sight of the raven head, in all of his glory. you notice that he's taken off his windbreaker.

"what’s up? we have to go soon," you reminded him, yawning a little and rubbing your eyes as you straightened up and stepped over to his side. there was another mirror in front of him, you noticed, with fading stickers pale in the dim yellow light stuck to the wooden rim. even so, with the smudges and the bare sheen of the silver, he looked good. that black turtleneck really suits him.

"i know. i just wanted to ask for your opinion." he said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. you tilted your head curiously, and he held up a deep mauve sweatshirt, with some varsity logo branded on the fabric. it had a nice touch to it; a warm color that reminded you of red wine and slow evenings. you were sure it had been one of the pieces you'd picked out for him, but you were too sleepy to recall. "you should try it on. i think it'd look good," you said, gesturing toward the mirror.

you think you must've said something wrong, because he looks at you for a moment too long before he seems to catch himself staring and he nods, a choked little sound leaving his throat which he hides by ducking his head down and covering his face with his long bangs. you think you're hallucinating the pink on his cheeks.

after a moment, he glances at you. "hold this," he shoves his jacket towards you, and you have no choice but to take it. doesn't seem like he's used to taking no for an answer, but you're certainly not the one complaining when he tugs the sweater over his head, ruffling his soft black hair as he steps a little closer to you, observing himself in the mirror while straightening out the folds and fixing his turtleneck. you were right— it does look good on him. almost unfairly so— you don't know how he manages to rock granny clothes so well, like he was born a retirement home's runway model.

unlike him, you're not a reticent shut in— and although you'd like to say you have no problem telling him how good he looks, it's still a little difficult when the words feel like they're lodged in your throat in order to prevent you from making a fool of yourself again. but you ignore it and push on.

"you look great. i think it really suits you," you breathed, shaking your head as your hands tighten around his jacket in your arms. he blinks, adjusting the collar before glancing down at you. you take a moment to really appreciate the sight— him, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the chipped lights overhead. despite the dilapidated store and the antiquated, worn clothing surrounding him, he still manages to look like some ethereal angel boy you'd stumble upon in a bookstore on a dreary winter's afternoon and never be able to get out of your mind again.

ink black eyelashes flutter when he blinks, framing his eyes like the bangs falling over his face when he turns around again to observe himself in the mirror once more before he takes the sweatshirt off. it catches on his turtleneck, which rides up when he slips the mauve sweater over his head, tussling his hair and exposing the dip of his pale hips, all muscle and flesh and bone, and you pray he chalks up the red on your face to the cold. the end of his belt dangles from the buckle as you hand his jacket back to him, fingers almost brushing— just barely out of reach.

a meager conversation flows between the two of you; you follow him through the endless maze of used clothing until you somehow stumble upon the cash register and he buys his sweater; the only thing he manages to buy after all this time spent milling about in a dusty, dinky little retail store. the boy from earlier helps check him out, and the icy glare he receives from megumi when he glances at you seems to fly straight past your head as you pick at your cuticles. the tips of your fingers are still red from messing with the frosty snow earlier. you wonder when the car owner will find your message.

it's almost freezing when you get out of the dusty shop, emerging from the smoke-stained alleyway stairs and into the cold night air. your breaths almost seem to form a precipitate, and the thought reminds you of the chemistry conversions waiting for you on your desk beneath the lamp, and you cringe internally. staying out for a few hours longer seems way better than succumbing to the never ending stream of worksheets and documents calling your name. you wonder if your charismatic professor will let you get away with a few assignments if you call in sick. are papercuts excuse enough?

the click of a lock behind you signifies the store's closing— the employee left through a back exit, it seems. and you realize too late that you left your blazer in the dressing room when you turn around and a sigh falls from your lips. megumi, paper bag in hand, glances over at you.

"you okay?"

you almost forgot he was there, in his brooding vintage racing jacket glory. you shake your head, before sighing forlornly again. he notices this, making a little face; his lips press together and his pretty eyes narrow. he thinks you sigh far too much. you'd look prettier if you smiled some more. he likes it when you do.

"i left my blazer in there, but he just closed it and it's so fucking cold out," you whined, bringing your hands to your face and rubbing your eyes tiredly. you're cold and your fingers are going numb again, and there's light snowfall. so much for not losing your coat at a club. you can't tell which one's worse. "sorry to complain so much, but do you mind if we—"

you're promptly cut off; the words on your tongue left unsaid, burning with the taste of bitter black coffee. your gaze trails from megumi's hand, the clink of his silver ring against the zipper rail of his jacket as his fingers curl around the fabric, up his arm to the sleeves of his dark turtleneck, rounding the curve of his shoulders and up his neck to his face. he's not looking at you.

the words that leave his wet lips are so small and hurried that you think you're hallucinating them; when you inevitably looked back at this moment later, you'd realize that he was being shy. he mumbles something under his sweet breath, and you ask him to speak up.

"i said, you can use mine." he repeats, louder than necessary as he finally brings himself to look down at you from under his lashes, biting the inside of his cheek. his voice is a little strained, and a soft breeze carrying the smell of cinnamon and fresh ice rustles his hair. you blinked, feeling like a deer caught in headlights over a layer of thin ice, ready to shatter at a moment's notice.

"oh— okay. um, do you have anywhere else you need to go..?" you said tentatively, reaching forward to take his jacket again. it was exactly like how you'd done back in the thrift store, but the vague sense of deja vu you get is accompanied by an endless fluttering of warmth in your stomach that melts away the winters and tiring exams, and the night seems to become a soft warm orange, as if someone's drained the cool hues from the landscape.

megumi just shook his head, reaching into his bag and taking out the sweater he'd bought earlier. he slips it on again, adjusting it over his shoulders and refusing to meet your eyes as he crumples the paper bag in his hands. you notice they're slightly trembling as he does it, fingers digging into the material with much more force than is really needed. his hair follows each movement of his head; the strain of the muscles in his neck when he swallows again and gestures for you to follow him back down the empty street, past cars coated in melting snow and jaunty yellow lights twinkling over the awnings of closed store windows, shut down for the night. the sweater suits him really well, you think; not too loose, but tight enough in the right places to send your heart racing a mile a minute.

you pull his jacket over your arms, tucking your sleeves in and zipping it up. it's big on you— that's no surprise, and you can almost taste the vanilla on your tongue, his cologne lingering on every fold of the insulated fabric. it's warm, and it feels like being enveloped in a tight hug. in megumi's head, he hopes— prays its him you think of if you ever feel that way again.

you walk in a stiff silence; both of you want to say something, but you're dancing around it, letting your words linger unsaid until the other breaks the ice first. it's only ever cracked once you reach the dorms, where you part ways. there's light snowfall, and a thin layer of white has coated his hair when you turn to face him. you reach forward, learning onto the tips of your toes to brush off the ice. his hair feels unimaginably soft beneath your fingers, slightly damp from the snow. but he's the furthest from cold when you pull away; his face is burning up.

by now, you can't bring yourself to mind.

"thank you," you said softly, sighing contentedly. you move to take his jacket off your shoulders and return it, but he stops you, holding a hand up. the expression on his face is unreadable, but his lips are pursed together in a way that makes you think he's pouting.

"don't worry—" a pause. " you can, uh. keep it. i know you wanted one. just... give it back when you want, yeah?" he says, curt. almost prude, if it weren't for the way he was avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment. it was like trying to play the world's most difficult game of whack-a'mole, attempting to catch his eyes and see the iceberg that's melted into pools of warm glittering affection in his blue irises. at the thought, you wonder if he likes arcades, and you make a mental note to suggest an activity to nobara the next time she has the urge for an escapade.

you don't bother asking him whether he's sure, because you don't want him to take his words back. so you linger there in a moment of silence, letting it hang over your heads like a warm throw blanket, cozied in front of a fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate in your hands. maybe a coffee mix like you'd attempted before.

angel boy clears his throat first to speak, all honey that links the syllables together like christmas ribbon; rich like orange flavored dark chocolate. "i'll see you later, then." it's short and sweet, but your heart is already flying so high on euphoria you can barely bring yourself to care, or suppress the giddy grin that's spreading across your lips.

yeah, you're tired. yeah, you're still a little cold and you think you need to thaw at your desk for a week until exams, but at least you've got his jacket to accompany you when your study buddy passes out first and you're alone on all nighters. frankly, you can't bring yourself to care— your head is spinning with the events of the chilly night, from crude messages in the snow to thrift store mothballs and lanyards, to one checkered racing jacket. but you don’t think it’s so bad when it threatens to stick to your memory, like chewed up gum under your professor’s desk. whether it’s from the students or the professor, that’s a mystery you’ll never solve.

"yeah. see you around, fushiguro." you can’t say the same about the mystery that megumi is, though. in fact, you think you’re already one step closer when you turn around and part ways, catching sight of him in the reflection of a frosted window. he’s slipping both of his airpods back into his ears, crimson at the tips.

the sound of your shoes against the rug stairway fills your ears as you clamber back up to your dorm, eyelids heavy with drowsiness and face flushed a pleasant warmth. even when you finally get to bed, you can't stop your eyes from drifting over to the bundle of lapis blue fabric sitting on your desk, and your mind from the soft spoken boy with eyes like the night sky and inky hair like calligraphy.

you decide you don't think his style is too bad, after all. and when you tell him that the next morning when he's still sleepy and his lashes fall slow when he blinks the weariness from his eyes, you get to enjoy the steady flush that stains his cheeks and prompts a hoarse cough from his throat when he ducks his head away and grumbles something under his breath, probably about being offended you even thought he was boring in the first place.

and if you ever ask, the only reason he lent you his windbreaker that night was to replace the scent of mothballs and dust with your sweet-smelling perfume.

so, as it turns out, you're able to get your hands on one of those pretty vintage racing jackets— except, it wasn't a new one; it was his. nobara hasn't stopped pestering you with questions since you showed up to class the next day; the only thing you hear for the next week is how much she regrets leaving early.

apparently, it's all yuji's fault.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[comicaurora]

Just finished rewatching first avenger and was kinda thinking about some of the detail diatribes. In the most recent, you said something about marvel failing to give Cap a real purpose in recent media, and now I can't help but think what could be a plausible motive. At some point I started thinking about superman and how marvel and DC have a tendency to parallel, and I was wondering if you think maybe Cap is Marvel's superman equivalent, in that he sets the bar? As a symbol of hope in a sense?

I'd say that's accurate. Captain America is a paragon with a capital P, and the best versions of him play that to the hilt. He won't just always do the right thing, he'll always find a way to do the most right thing. What he brings to the table isn't military experience or tactics, although on a basic power level that is most of what he can contribute to a fight - he brings an unshakeable moral compass and a clarity that cuts through the noise.

I think his portrayal in Earth's Mightiest Heroes does a very good job of getting that across. It's explicit that Cap is the team leader despite being the most underpowered fighter because he's just that good.

And it's not just lip service. Cap works as a leader because the Avengers trust him to lead them right - something that everyone else is too volatile or self-motivated to handle. For instance, Cap is one of the only people the Hulk unconditionally trusts, because Cap cuts through 100% of the bullshit around him and reads him like a book.

There are episodes where Cap gets depowered, weakened, captured, etc - none of it slows him down or makes him unable to contribute to the story. It's very carefully written to prove that the serum didn't make him Captain America, and its super-strength are not what he brings to the table, even if it does help him a lot.

Cap is characterized as a living legend, with all that entails - not a mythological hero with all their atrocities and downfalls, but an inspiration that sets a nearly impossible standard. He's a legendary hero, a paragon of goodness and nobility. He doesn't compromise his morals, he doesn't leave people behind, he will always choose the most heroic course of action no matter what it costs him. He's the definition of "hero" and all the heroes he inspired are constantly aware of how much he really does embody that legend.

The MCU doesn't know what to do with him because they're torn between "Iron Man has to be the most coolest specialest guy" and "the Avengers only exist onscreen together for five movies and they spend four of them breaking up" and there is absolutely no way to do Cap justice in that environment. I think Winter Soldier comes the closest, but of course we still only see Cap leading the B-team. If the MCU can't understand why it needs heroes, there's no way it'll understand why they need the hero.

[yanderes-galore]

Kamisato Ayato (Genshin Impact) Romantic with a darling who is a commoner? Prompts #21 & #26 on Yandere Writing Prompts #2

Sure I can! I watched some of his Story Quest so I think I know enough ^^ First time writing Ayato, I hope he comes off as accurate.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Kamisato Ayato Prompts 21 and 26

"You don’t realize how powerful you are with me by your side."

"I can make all of your pain go away. You just have to say the words."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Coercion, Stalking, Implied attempts at an arranged marriage, Delusional behavior, Kissing (Hand, Lips), Forced relationship.

There's a feeling tension as you sit in front of the Head of the Kamisato Clan. You feel his light purple gaze never leaves yours as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Not many met him in public... let alone catch his eye.

Yet you two have become friends months ago. You provided him with a way to distract himself from his duties, even if he couldn't speak with you often. Despite this... Ayato still managed to make time for his commoner companion.

He's always been kind towards you... but you have no idea just how much he knows about you.

"Let's get to the point, my dear." Ayato finally speaks, his hands folded in front of him. You can tell by his gaze he's thinking of something important. You shift in your seat, uncomfortable by the intimidating aura around him.

"We don't often have private conversation, Ayato." You speak, trying to ease the tension. "Is this something really important or are you just busy?"

"Something has been troubling me lately..." Ayato admits with a sigh. "I heard your family has been having trouble financially recently?"

Your breath hitches at his words. You wanted to ask how he knew that... but you assumed he could get the information if he wanted. He's a powerful man in Inazuma, after all.

"That shouldn't concern you." You laugh softly, concern on your face. Ayato picks up on this and shakes his head.

"How could it not? As Head of the Kamisato clan, I have my ways of getting information," Ayato reaches across the small table, but you only respond with more confusion. "I like to look after those close to me as I work."

"Then why bring this up? This is an issue concerning my family...." You cut him off, discomfort rising as he glares for a moment.

"It's an issue for me too. How am I supposed to focus on work if I know you could be going hungry or doing something unsafe?" Ayato continues before smiling. "So I have a proposal."

"I don't need your money, Ayato." You frown, Ayato shaking his head again.

"That isn't quite what I had in mind..." Ayato hums, quickly capturing your hand in his own. "But you are close... I do wish for you to rely on me."

You catch on to what Ayato is implying and try to pull your hand away. However, his grip only tightens with a disapproving look. You just didn't get it, huh?

"My dear..." Ayato sighs, stroking the top of your hand with his thumb. "You don’t realize how powerful you are with me by your side."

"Ayato, we can find another way-" You try to reason, but Ayato cuts you off.

"I'm certain you feel a connection between us, don't you? You're just nervous." Ayato whispers, a loving look in his eyes as he pulls your hand closer to his face. "If you just tell me you feel the same... I can pull you and your family out of your issues."

Ayato presses his lips to your hand softly, his soft purple gaze still never leaving yours. He looked like he wanted to give you the world. He'd do anything just to have you in his grasp.

"You're implying a relationship... marriage." You choke out the words, watching at Ayato nods with a smile. "Ayato, I-"

"I can make all of your pain go away..." He kisses your hand again, lightly licking the skin. "You just have to say the words."

You want to refuse. You care for Ayato as a friend, but didn't entirely jump at the thought of marriage. To you... he felt out of your league.

But Ayato saw you as his everything... he needed you to ease his stresses and provide him pleasures.

Ayato stands up from his seat, strolling over to you before yanking you close. He sees the hesitancy in your eyes. He wants to smother it... he wants you.

"I just want to hear it from you. In an instant I can get everything ready. You won't have to worry about Mora ever again." Ayato whispers, leaning closer. "Just say you love me... say you'll be with me, my love."

You go to refuse, but his grip tightens when you pull away. His gaze is dark when you don't respond. He treasures loyalty and obedience...

If you don't give him such... he'll have to teach you.

"I love you..." You whisper upon pondering your options. Truth is... you fear what Ayato could do if you refused. The darkness in his eyes scares you... and only seems to go away when you comply to him.

Ayato's breath hitches once the words echo in his ears. All of a sudden he's all smiles, no hint of darkness. He moves his grip to your face with adoration on his face.

"Good choice, my love..." Ayato praises. "I'll give you the world while by your side."

It's then the Head of the Kamisato Clan kisses you deeply...

Sealing your fate.

[kaledya]

HIIIII @marquisev first of all I'm so sorry for the late return!

And how are you? I hope you are well! And I heard that school is back in session and if you are still studying I wish you a good school year!

The Prince and the Spy

This episode was simply amazing I loved the way Serenity and Constantine's relationship was written Even I don't think I could write them that accurately Your description of the scenes and the writing of the dialogues are excellent. Also the description in the episode was very nice. And  Serenity's interpretation of the overlord meeting from her perspective, where she expressed her opinions about Alastor and how she found it strange that his act had changed so much, was also very well written.And I was really glad that we got a little glimpse of Hürrem.In one word it was great

—----------

Assistant and detective

YIPPE MORE HÜRREM AAAA!!!!

Hurrem's dialogues are really fun to read.I've already warmed up to his personality.Hürrem has self-confidence and wants to achieve the glory that lies before her.Even though she is a little nervous on this path, she is someone who does not let herself be crushed and chooses her words well in a conversation.

I really liked the writing of the dialogues.And my god, you really write and describe Constantine wonderfully, every move and every speech is written wonderfully, it's just perfect!!He has an extremely calm demeanor, speaks with care and never tries to crush Hürrem, he shows her kindness and respect.

The part where Hurrem wanders around hell looking for the meeting point was nice, and her little dialogue with Gio already gives a nice preview of their dynamic!

-

It's really fun to read about Gio and Hurrem's relationship, they have a really great dynamic.I really liked the jokes in between, it makes the reader warm up to the characters quickly.its like A spin-off series like Helluva Boss , although the main series is more story-oriented, here we get to know Hell much better thanks to the characters.Seriously great write up

And I think that the duties of the two are well explained in the chapter and Hurrem's situation as Goetia is also well touched upon.You captured that serious and playful vibe perfectly.And I really liked Gio's inner thoughts too.In general, the way you wrote him is great. The Judy and Nick vibe between Hurrem is very nice!!

*It's so cute how Hürrem makes parrot sounds when 

she gets angry!

—--

Popcorn

My eyes are blessed, Maid Verdelet is so beautiful

And congratulations on 200 kudos!!! Honestly you deserve so much more!!

And I don't know exactly what kudos is too, but I think it's something like ‘ like’, which means "thanks for writing this fanfic.”

-

And yes, the introduction of Baxter! It was really fun to watch that little animatic. I'm really curious about the impact Baxter will have on the story.

I think the interactions between Baxter and Lolica would be really interesting and I think they could be friends. Lolicia could be one of the people Baxter talks to the most at the hotel.

LOLICIA'S NEW OUTFIT OMG IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL!!!YOU SERIOUSLY DESIGN GREAT CLOTHES.LOLICIA'S NEW HAIR STYLE IS GREAT TOO SERIOUSLY READY FOR BATTLE!

—---

Before battle

The scene at the beginning of the episode where Alator was hallucinating was really nice. I think it added a great air of mystery to the episode, and as always, it was great to read Alastor's inner thoughts.I find the details you put in your dream really clever. It's nice to see such small details for both the future of the story and Alastor's own story.

I really like the way you portray Charlie, her interactions with Alastor are so beautiful to read.And I liked that she talked about the hotel's condition, so we can learn what the hotel is currently like.

The detail of Alastor not liking Precious really made me laugh.

Alastor's interpretation of Charlie's movements was really nice, and the dialogue that Charlie talked about caught my attention.

‘’I can understand that! she laughed heartily. I made mistakes for a long time and a lot of people don't want to see me again either’’

Charlie??

YAAY the part where Alastor remembered Serenity's memory was so cute!!

Alastor's advice to Charlie was also great!

The part where Alastor discusses his strategy with himself and thinks about his enemies and allies was really good.

I can't wait to see Charlie's reaction to him after this little massacre he's about to commit.

—--------

IS IT AN EPISODE FROM LOLICAN'S MEMORY??? WHAT IS HAPPENING???There were too many details, too many descriptions in that memory section?? That part was really well written.Who and what is coming for her!???

There are so many questions, I can't wait for this scene to be illuminated in the future!

First of all, it was great to read Alastor and Lolicia's conversation and planning as always. You really write their relationship wonderfully. 

And is Vittorio okay?? Please don't let anything happen to the little guy, there's no need to cause emotional damage to Lolica like this….

And yipppe they're finally heading towards the forest I'm already so excited for the chaos those two will cause.

—--

I'M SERIOUSLY GLAD YOU LIKE THE DRAWINGS!!❤️❤️

—-

Chapter 77 Fairy Ointment

It was really nice to get to know Lysander in this episode, I liked the parts about his childhood or the little fairy ointment story. And again, it was great to learn about Lysander's personality traits, his likes and dislikes, and to see his perspective on hell.The episode had a slightly mysterious and really nice atmosphere, the descriptions were good as always, I can picture all the scenes.

—---

Chapter 78 nettle breeze

The action scenes in the episode are very clever, even though Lys is the weak than the two in the book he know How to use forest for himself, and I think it's very nice that poison and mushrooms come to the fore in the war.I really think the war scenes are  well described, it's really fun to read.The internal dialogues between Lolicia and Alastor as they interpret the events are also really nice.And despite Alastor killing sinners, they’re resurrected again and again.And the mushroom effect on them reminds me of Last of Us

 I Imagine the sinners turning into more mushroom zombies every time they die.It was a really good episode, action-wise.

–

Pt2

OMG WHAT IS HAPPENING???????First of all, I am amazed by the general culture you have with each episode. I did not know that nettle had such an important place in Scandinavian mythology.And everything is so detailed, from the type of tree Leiv died on to the meaning of the braids he knitted for fishing. Just wow I seriously learn new things in every episode thanks to you.

And DRAMA AND PAIN I NEVER THOUGHT THAT LEIV AND LOLICA WERE HUSBAND AND WIFE WHAT????

And the scene where Lolicia finally recognizes Leiv and reveals her identity was so beautiful and the way s Leiv shed tears was SO BEAUTIFUL

I really liked the dialogues Lolicia used there 'You called yourself my guardian  but you died before me’

And for God's sake how did Leiv make enemies that they impaled him on a tree with a sword????

Also in the previous episodes Lolica was being chased by someone, what's going on?And why did they both go to hell, what did they do?

Overall, I really liked the emotional atmosphere of the episode. I think you did a great job of introducing the connection between Leiv and Lolicia.Seriously lolicia's confrontation with Leiv was so sweet

Yeeey finally Alastor's shadow brought news!!

WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S BROKEN, NO!!!???

And the water rising in the last scene AAAA I'M SO EXCITED

—--------

Popcorn: I think Leiv's design is simply amazing and very creative, he really has a great design.And it was really cool to read the details about the design!

—-------

chapter 81 The bear,Gold &heir saga 

YAAAY YOUNG  LEIV AND LOLICA 

This episode's atmosphere was very nice, it reminded me of old folklore animations.The animations and storytelling are made by the studio that made Wolfwalkers.

I really warmed up to Leiv as a character. Even though he made the people under him work like slaves, his interactions with Lolicia were really fun to read. It was sweet to see Leiv get embarrassed or excited in front of her. 

AND this episode left me with a lot of questions about Lolica having the Snow White passive 

And ‘'and the girl with the amber eyes and golden halo’’

Facts like the color of Lolicia's hair, the fact that animals don't attack her, and the fact that she came all the way from New Orleans without a boat make the event really interesting.

So was Lolica an Saint l before and then she fell? Or was she in New Orleans when she died or was she never human?What's going on right now?

The song between Lolicia and Leiv was really beautifully written lyrically, I really liked the song

And it makes a lot more sense why Leiv referred to Lolicia as an angel.

Seriously, I have so many questions in my mind and thanks to your writing style , I look at every detail again and everything can be related to the story.

The episode was great for both getting to know Leiv better and learning more about Lolicia!!

—--

Popcorn

DAMN LEIV IS HANDSOME Seriously your design talent is amazing Leiv's design is really beautiful And it was so much fun reading the information you wrote about him.

I think you have really great drawing skills. 

THE SKETCH YOU MADE IS SO GOOD!!! IT WAS GREAT TO SEE THE HUMAN LOLICIA AND LEIV'S JUMPS ON HIS WIFE'S LAP AND SEEKS CONsolation IS SO CUTE TOO

—--

Chapter 83 The calving of glaciers

THIS EPISODE WAS SO AWESOME

I love everything about this episode so much

First of all, I've said this a few times, but I love the way you write Charlie,  she stands her ground and also worries about her friends and tries to protect those around her.But she also knows that she can show her power to take control of the situation if she wants to.

Charlie talking to Husk about Angel was really nice, I really liked the dialogue between them.And I love The way you write Husk, as the depressed old but wise bartender, even though he's had too much to drink, sometimes he gives the best advice.

The scene where Charlie notices the water on the ground and tries to call Vaggie but her voice doesn't come out was really nice.

And Constantine's warning to Charlie was really very logical, as a reader I said, okay, something must be going very wrong.

And I think the warning system is really creative and logical!

I really liked the confrontation between Charlie and Alastor. Charlie not giving in or retreating despite Alastor's objections really suited her character.

In general, I liked the episode very much. The descriptions are good, it is a preparation for the other episodes, the general atmosphere of tension and mystery is very good.

—--

Episode 84 The Calving of Glaciers

HOW CAN YOU INCREASE THE QUALITY SO MUCH IN EVERY EP?

I don't know where to begin praising this episode.

Lolicia's reactions to the events were SO good Fitzroy's betrayal was really effective in the story, and Lolicia being cornered for Vittorio  really increased the tension in the story.

I really loved the dialogue between Fitzroy and Lolica, there was great tension and I really wondered what Lolicia's next move would be.

VITTORIO DID NOT DESERVE THIS. HE WAS ONLY PROTECTING HIS FRIEND. DISHONORABLE FITZROY I HOPE LOLICA BEAT HIS ASS

Also, the scene where Fitzroy throws Vittorio's severed arm in front of Lolicia is very impressive.Also Fitzroy's purpose in entering the Maze actually made sense and Lolicia remembered Serenity's words where it was really nice.

LOLICIA'S DEVIL FORM????? A VERY HIGH-QUALITY ACTION IS COMING, BABY!!!!

-

I really liked how Charlie was so worried about Lolicia and it makes perfect sense that Alastor was trying to hold her back 'believe me my Dear , as someone who has experienced it, I advise you not to do this’

IT'S SO COOL THAT LOLICAN'S SONG IS A VERSION OF GET IN THE WATER AND I LOVED THE LYRICS YOU WROTE

Every stage Lolicia goes to her demon form is so cool, you described it perfectly

NOOO LOLICIA HAS TRAPPED THEM IN A BUBBLE OF SILENCE CHARLIE DO SOMETHING GIRL!!…Your friend  losing her control a bit…But of course, as a reader, I wouldn't say no to cool scenes and I'm very excited right now.

I really liked Charlie asking if Alastor was manipulating Lolicia. The fact that She made a move with the information she had and questioned Alastor was really nice.

And I really love how you added Precious to Charlie's scenes, it's a nice reminder that she's there too.

It was nice that Alastor laughed and rejected the question 'who am I to manipulate her’

And Constantine gives another warning message 

things are getting worse.’

YAAAAAAY DRAMA AND ACTION

And Alastor says he's seen Lolicia like this before YIPPE FLASHBACK IS COMING!!

—-

Chapter 85

YEEEY FLASHBACK I think Alastor made the mistake of his life by going after Lolicia, but we'll see.

I can understand Alastor's questions, why is Lolicia so powerful if she's not doing the things the Overlords do to gain power?

AWWW Alastor remembers him trying to comfort Serenity because of her fear of the dark.

The scene where Lolicia appears from the darkness is so cool!

+I liked her dress

The indifference and ego that Alastor showed before he was defeated by Lolica was really funny I mean, with all this arrogance, it's a great chance not to lose to anyone today, you know what they say, radio demon, arrogance and pride are the things that blind a person the most.

Did he grab her chin? Alastor seriously where is the gentlemanliness in war? Tch tch tch

Okay, I loved Lolicia's cold and professional attitude in this war, it was very cool.It was also very good that she said 'you are too weak' to him specially when she had all the cards.

The poetic words that Lolicia said were really beautiful, I thought they were all very meaningful.

The last 3 warnings Lolicia gave to Alastor were really cool. In general, I really liked Lolicia's attitude in the episode. It was very fun to read.

She acts very noble and mysterious and You are very good at describing the environment and characters.

Then, the part where Alastor walks around injured and questions his actions and mistakes is really good.Then, in the part where Zestial comes to Alastor and gives a speech,It's always nice to read Alastor and Zestial's dialogues.And at the end of the episode it was nice to finally have an alastor who had suffered losses and probably learned from his mistakes.Because if he hides that ego, he won't be able to stay there for a long time.

In general, I really liked everything in this episode, the character dialogues, Lolicia's writing, Alastor's writing, the events, everything.

10/10

and I have gifts for you!!! and first of all I think you are a very good designer I really think your outfit designs and character designs are great please don't stop drawing you have a really great talent!

fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55936840/chapters/142045639

[emberfrostlovesloki]

11:11 [Emily x Reader]

Photo Credits: Left (@cheekycatlady) Center (@lockscreens-n-shit) Right (@@viciousclothing)

Prompt: Penelope and Derek play matchmaker after Emily meets the captivating and alternative reader who’s allegedly off the market at a shop where Prentiss is buying a gift for Garcia. A few weeks later, Emily and the reader have the chance to have what they’ve dreamed of for so long, a relationship, but will their differences and fears be too much to overcome? 

Pairing: Emily x Non-BAU!Reader, Fem!Reader, Alnterative-Goth!Reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: Fluff/comfort

Word Count: 8.9K 

Content Warnings: Language, unwanted attention (reader and Emily), if I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is for the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins’s Pride Writing Challenge! I used the dialog prompt “Are they… flirting?” “Big time.” This fic is a lot more fluffy than my usual stuff, but it was nice to just write something romantic for Emily. The reader is described as a goth and a fan of horror, but if those are not your aesthetics, you can swap those parts out for what you like. I do mention a horror film scholar, but I try to explain her ideas accurately. Emily is a gem of a character and I hope I captured her well in this fic. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/c = your complexion 

y/f/d = your favorite drink (alcoholic, non-alcoholic, soda, you decide) 

Emily pulled into the small strip mall a thirty-minute drive from her house. It wasn’t what she’d expected exactly. It seemed… boring. Em sighed and thought, ‘Aren’t all strip malls boring? This is a strip mall, not a strip club, and you're here for Penelope, not you.’ With a hint of a smile, Prentiss got out of her car and pulled her purse and iced coffee from the front seat cup holder. She yawned and put her glasses on as the mid-afternoon sun glared down on her. She had stayed up late from another mid-date last night, thus the tiredness. It hadn’t been bad per se, just boring. After talking about shared interests, the man she’d seen started talking about his exes and how Emily reminded him of each of them. The only good thing about the man was that he’d taken them to a nice bar and promised to pay the tab. So Emily had gone overboard with her drinks. When she’d gotten a glass of the nicest champagne on the menu, she realized she could just sit and listen to this man ramble on and call it performance art the next day. However, even the Advil she’d popped last night after she’d gotten home hadn’t cured her hangover. 

The little bell on the door rang as Emily entered the store. It took a second for her to put down her coffee on a small table by the door with some pamphlets encouraging a yarn crawl next month and remove her sunglasses to see the inside of the store properly. Prentiss was here to get Penelope a small gift after she’d admitted to feeling down after a rough case. It seemed Garcia’s girlhood hobby of crochet had come back to life after she’d seen a cute sweater online, so Em was going to get her some good quality supplies, or at least a gift card if she couldn’t pick out what felt right in the store. The fiber arts weren’t really her thing, and as she saw the front display, pastel rainbows of yarn skeins, and a sample shawl to celebrate Pride Month along with a variety of needles and hooks on the adjacent wall, she felt lost. More lost than if she was at a crime scene. 

The soft, “Can I help you find something?” had Prentiss whip around on her heel and see the woman she hadn’t noticed as she walked into the store. Em blamed her hangover, but couldn’t say the same for when she opened and closed her mouth once or twice as she took in the employee behind the counter. Perhaps Emily had expected a little old lady or a mom type to work at a place like this, but she hadn’t expected a young woman standing in all black and what could only be described as vampiric-looking makeup and accessories. The words, whatever she was trying to say or might have said to this type of person escaped her. 

The woman behind the counter seemed to flush, but it was hard to tell with her dark blush, given her y/c and intentionally washed-out tired look. It was the type of look Spencer had unintentionally. The employee looked behind the counter to get the pretty woman’s eyes off of her for a moment. y/n hadn’t expected to be visually dissected this afternoon. She wondered if she had something in her teeth and how embarrassing that would be in front of someone as pretty as the statuesque woman on the other side of the counter. 

Emily finally recovered and coughed slightly, now her blush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she said, “I’m sorry. I suppose I didn’t see you there when I walked in. I haven’t been to a place like this before. I’m trying to get some things for my friend. She’s into crocheting I think. I googled yarn stores in town and apart from the big craft store this is the only one that came up…” Em stopped talking when she realized that she was rambling and the woman moved from behind the counter letting out a chuckle. It looked strange on someone who dressed so severely. y/n said, “Well, welcome in. I can show you around and make some recommendations if you’d like. Does your friend have a favorite color? Do you know if she wants to make something in particular?” Emily let out a sigh, relieved that her behavior and lack of knowledge weren’t mocked. She guessed that there wasn’t a ton of gatekeeping in the crochet community, but she didn’t know. Em swallowed and said, “Well my friend loves pink or any bright colors. As for her projects, I only know she likes working with bigger threads. She says it makes the projects go faster?” 

y/n nodded. This poor, but beautiful woman was out of her depth here. However, y/n never judged. Knitting and crocheting wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Often people just thought it was for the geriatric, though that was far from the truth. y/n had to correct the woman, she couldn’t stop herself as she said, “Yarn.” The customer looked up and said, “Huh?” softly, and y/n felt herself heating up again as she said, “It’s yarn, not thread. Sorry I can’t stop myself from correcting people when they say that. I’m, y/n. What’s your name?” y/n didn’t mean to sound condescending as she corrected the woman, it just slipped out. She tried to recover herself by asking the woman’s name; she was striking. 

Thankfully, after a split second, Emily extended her hand and said, “Emily. I’m Emily. It’s nice to meet you y/n, and don’t apologize. I’m sure I sound like an idiot, so correct me as much as you need or feel like it. I won’t be offended.” y/n smiled and shook Em’s hand twice already enjoying her sense of humor. Emily couldn’t help but look at y/n’s long dark nails that matched her clear glossed, blood colored lips. y/n let Emily’s hand go and pointed toward the back right side of the store and said, “I think this side of the store is what you’ll be looking for. It’s our DK and bulky weight yarn section.” Em nodded like she understood what that meant and followed behind y/n looking at all the pretty skeins and knit and crochet samples on display. Even though Prentiss never thought this would be her niche, it was a very calming and pretty environment. It helped that the playlist that was on in the background had already played music she liked. Emily looked back for a moment at the comfy-looking chairs by the window and could picture herself sitting there for a few hours. 

Emily came back to the moment and realized she was getting distracted. She was firmly in the right section now as the yarn on the shelves looked like Penelope would love them. There was hot pink, yellow, and some purple yarn with sequins already threaded in the yarn. Emiy’s eyes looked around and y/n said, “I’ll let you look around for a bit. The yarn on the middle shelf is our most popular, but if you’re looking for something that’s a bit more affordable, because this stuff can get expensive pretty fast, is on the left and it’s still good quality too.” Emily nodded. She hadn’t even looked at a price tag yet. Money hadn’t crossed her mind. She had been too busy looking at the pretty colors, chairs, and sales assistant. y/n brushed past Em and back up toward the counter and said over her shoulder, “Hollar if you have any questions or if you need anything.” Prentiss turned her head and said, “Thanks,” as she watched y/n move back toward the front counter, her high-top Doc Martens giving her an inch in height that she didn’t have naturally.  

Em tore her eyes away once y/n was just out of sight. It wasn’t a big store, but the shelves that housed the yarn made it impossible for her to see y/n. Emily now turned to the skeins of yarn and picked up the hot pink skein that had first caught her eye. y/n’s comment about price made her look at the price tag, and Prentiss whistled under her breath. ‘$35.00 for some yarn?’ she thought. ‘What are they doing hand-picking sheep and making them eat strawberries until they turn pink?’ That sarcastic line of thinking did take her to the real conclusion, however, that unless yarn was cheap and mass-manufactured in a store, it must take a lot of time and effort to get that kind of color and quality. With the prices in mind now, Emily picked between five yarn colors that looked like Garcia’s favorites and picked her top three from the bunch. She decided on the hot pink, the purple sequined yarn, and a lime green tucked in the corner of a shelf. Happy with her choices, Emily moved around the store to look at the rest of what was there. As was natural for Prentiss, she was drawn to the jewel tones and more delicate yarn. The deep and rich colors reminded her of fall, her favorite sweaters, and hot lattes. She let out a sigh of longing for it to be cool again. For a second she felt eyes on the back of her neck, and she turned her face up sharply to see y/n just move her head toward the front door as if she was expecting someone to walk in. Emily turned her head again and bit the inside of her mouth. Why was y/n so cool? She tried to pinpoint why the woman at the front was having such an effect on her. 

She attributed it to three things. The first was the attitude. y/n had a very nonchalant attitude -- one that said that anything could happen and she wouldn’t be phased. Secondly, there was the confidence to wear what she wanted. Not that Emily had a choice, she was forced into the confines of business casual, but even if she wasn’t, she wasn’t sure she’d have the confidence to wear what y/n was. Lastly, y/n just seemed to be a really good person. It was based only on a feeling, but being an FBI profiler did have its advantages like getting a good reading on people. Prentiss let out a sigh, she was being silly and she knew it. She took one last look at some of the items displaying what the yarn could make and do before she moved to the counter. y/n smiled at Em and said, “Those are some pretty colors, I bet your friend will love them!” Prentiss nodded and said, “I’m sure she will. I’m happy I know about this place now, this could be good for gifts for some people I know.” Emily paused before asking, “Do you own the shop.” y/n chuckled and nodded her head no replying, “No. I just work here part time. I kind of grew up here though. It’s very special to me.” Em could tell. She wanted to ask more, but it would be awkward, so she didn’t. 

y/n sensed the shift in conversation and said, “Alright, well do you want these wound into cakes, or do you want to keep them in skeins?” The look of incredulity on Emily’s face had y/n laugh, pick up the pink yarn, and say, “So see how this is twisted into something that’s easy to hold?” Prentiss nodded yes, not having even thought about that. y/n continued, “So in order to work with this yarn, you have to unwind and rewind it into a ball, or you can use a machine to create what’s called a yarn cake. It’s easier to work with, but you, or your friend, can to this at home too.” Emily bit the side of her mouth and couldn’t think about what Garcia would want. She went on the safe side and said, “I think I’ll just take them as they are for now. If she brings them back would you still wind them for her?” y/n replied, “Yes, of course. I’d be happy to. She or you can come in anytime.” Prentiss looked up at y/n a bit surprised by the woman’s tone, and y/n winked at her. Again, Emily found herself a bit speechless and y/n continued like nothing had happened, “Okay, can I get anything else for you? Some hooks of needles, or is it just the yarn today?” 

Emily recovered just a bit out of breath, and said, “Um, that’s it. Thanks. You helped me a lot.” y/n smiled and said, “I’m happy to help. It is literally my job, as much as I’d like to just sit here and knit or read, life seems to have other plans.” There was a pause, like y/n was thinking about something and continued putting the yarn in a plastic bag before saying, “Because it’s your first time here I’m going to give you some free stitch markers and a crochet hook size gauge.” Emily nodded her appriciation. She could guess what the stitch markers were for, as for the guage device, she didn’t, but she was sure that Penelope would. Em took a closer look at y/n who was looking at the screen to ring up her total. The shape of y/n’s face and lips were alluring. Her dark eye shadow and long lashes fluttered open and closed as she concentrated. y/n caught Emily looking for a split second but looked back at the computer, a ghost of a smile on the edges of her lips. The small interactions between the two of them sent a thrill through Em. When y/n had given Prentiss her total, she handed over her card and in a moment, they were done. y/n handed Emily her bag and said, “Thanks for stopping in. I hope I see you again soon.” Prentiss nodded, moved toward the door, and said, “Thanks. Me too, y/n.” With that, Emily left the small shop and walked back into the sun. Prentiss made it to her car and sat down, putting her sunglasses back on. As she turned the key in the ignition, in the very back recesses of her mind, she hoped she’d see y/n again tonight in her dreams. Em heaved a sigh and decided she’d grab a smoothie or a juice on the way home, her hangover long forgotten. 

Penelope was thrilled when she opened her impromptu gift from Emily the next week. Garcia’s smiles, thanks, and hugs would make anyone feel good, Em believed. This was helpful to Em as she felt the loneliness of life creeping back into her bones. She really wasn’t one to believe in biological determinism, but the more old friends and co-workers from school that started getting married, or more likely, having babies, the harder it was to come home alone all the time. Alone to an empty apartment, and an even emptier bed. She sighed into Penny’s hug, hoping the feelings would stick for a while. It’s not that she was desperate for attention, or heaven forbid a child, but she wanted someone to be with, to share her bad jokes with, or rest her head on. Of course, Emily knew she could do this, life, by herself, she just didn’t want to. Emily pulled back as Garcia asked, “Where did you get these, there’re so beautiful. I want to get like twenty more skeins. God the color saturation is perfect, p e r f e c t, Em. you know me so well.” Emily smiled and said, “It’s this small shop on my side of town. I was shocked that you hadn’t been there before.” Pen sighed and said, “Well to be honest I have a huge yarn stash already, so I decided to just try and use up what I had a home, but now that you’ve gotten me this stuff, I have an excuse to go and get enough new yarn in the same colors so make a sweater.” Prentiss chuckled at her ability to influence Penelope’s financial choices, but it was all in good fun. 

That good fun had Prentiss and Morgan in Garcia’s car two weeks later moving from brunch toward the yarn store. Prentiss’s thoughts flashed to y/n, and she wondered if the pretty woman would be working today. She hadn’t expected to be back to the store this shortly, but the idea of a space to just relax and be from her first time at the shop flashed in her mind, and of course, if y/n was there, it would be nice to see her again too. Emily was sure Penelope would take Derek around the shop for a good hour, much to Morgan’s faux chagrin at his ‘time being wasted.’ 

The trio arrived at the yarn store, Love and Needles, and Morgan made a quip about the kind of love the patrons got. He, as Em could tell, had very much made the assumption she had about knitting as a hobby before she’d gone into the store and seen y/n. That the clients were old. Emily was please when she stepped in to see y/n sitting at the desk. Penelope had already started a lively conversation with her and Derek was standing back a few steps his mouth open in shock. 

y/n looked past Garcia at Morgan and gave him a small smile, showing a flash of her teeth which had the strong agent close his mouth quickly and stand up straighter. This made Emily duck her head as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She raised her head when y/n said, “It’s nice to see you again, Em,” with a small wave of her hand. Derek’s eyes danced between Emily and y/n and he tried to hide a small cough but didn’t do it well. Prentiss elbowed him in the ribs, and he stopped making noise. Emily rolled her eyes and Penelope retook over the conversation they had started and said to y/n, “Well I’ll come back and harass you about those shoes in about an hour. For now, I’m going to oooh and aaah at yarn, and probably spend my whole paycheck too.” Garcia took a split second to look at Emily and the blush that was still painting her face read and took Derek by the hand and said, “You, Mr. Morgan, with me. Maybe one day you’ll date a knitter, and you can impress her with your knowledge of the fiber arts.” Derek raised his hands in surrender and let Pen lead him farther into the store.

Emily looked after her friends, not sure to follow, stay planted, or maybe test out those comfy-looking couches by the window. She was pulled from her thoughts as y/n said, “So, how have you been? I think your friends are keen by the way. I wish I had some like that.” Em let out a small breath and replied, “Yeah, In terms of how friends go, they’re about the best you could ask for.” Prentiss cocked her head to the side, wondering why, and how it was possible for someone as magnetic as y/n to not make friends. Emily remembered the first half of y/n’s conversation starter and said, “And I’ve been okay. Nothing too exciting. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, and a few bad dates. How about you?” 

y/n gave off the vibe that she went to raves or drank red wine in a speak easy. y/n moved from behind the counter and leaned on the opposite side of where she’d just been. y/n studied Prentiss for a moment, taking in her outfit which consisted of a white shirt, corduroy pants, and a small kitten heel. It didn’t match y/n’s heavy-looking platform shoes, black tights, and dress. y/n was wearing the same makeup as the first time Em had seen her, except maybe the lips were darker today. After a moment y/n replied, “I’ve been fine. Nothing major to report.” There was another pause before y/n continued, “Maybe you could get off the apps for a bit? I found when I decided to take a hiatus it gave me some peace of mind. I had no hypothetical woman to please. I could just be me for once without any expectations.” y/n sighed and pivoted the conversation back to Emily, self-conscious to be talking about her struggles in front of someone as pretty as the tall brunette. Instead, she said, “I suppose I didn’t see you working a corporate job. I think I’d die if I had to do paperwork all the time.” Prentiss wanted to correct y/n, that she was more interesting than a corporate job. That she was a profiler in the FBI, that she knew how to shoot a gun, and spoke five languages. 

But Em stopped herself, even if y/n was on the dating market, which she had just said she’d taken herself out of, and even if she did date women, Emily could see herself pulling at strings. That her heart was moving faster than her head, and if she didn’t slow it down, she’d make a real fool of herself. She’d done that one too many times this year, losing both her sense of discretion and judgment sleeping with men most or women who gave the short time of day to fuck. They’d be gone by the morning, or she would be. Not wanting commitment, but not wanting to be alone either. It was the aloneness that she blamed the most for her choices, and she wasn’t going to repeat that now. So Emily replied, “Well it’s kind of a corporate job if you count working for the government as corporate.” y/n let out a low whistle and said, “That’s the most corporate of corporate. I don’t envy you.” There was a pause and y/n said slowly, “So, do you have any secrets you can share?” As hard as Emily tried to keep her mind off of y/n that way, she couldn’t stop herself from blushing again at how her statement could be interpreted provocatively. Just as Em was about to answer the question, the phone behind the counter rang and y/n moved to answer it. Emily could tell the way y/n was speaking, loudly and slowly, that it was an elderly client, and the conversation might take a long time, so she moved to the couches to sit down. 

Unknown to Emily and y/n, Penelope and Derek had been looking and listening to the pair for a few minutes now. When the phone call had interrupted their conversation Garcia motioned for Morgan to follow her to the far corner of the store. Once they were out of sight and earshot, Derek leaned down and whispered to Penelope, “Are they… flirting?” Pen nodded in an exaggerated manner and whispered back, “Big time.” They both leaned over to look past the displays of yarn to peak at y/n and Em and then hid again like teenagers behind a locker. Garcia said, “They aren’t even talking and you tell they're flirting. What type of Timewarp have we gotten ourselves into where Emily is openly making eyes at someone?” Derek sighed and rolled his eyes responding, “One where she probably doesn’t ever make a move. You know Em, she’s as stubborn as an ox if she wants to be.” Garcia dropped her eyes to the ground and said softly, “Yeah. It’s fun to imagine though.” Morgan nodded and replied, “Well, if it seems okay, maybe we can pull some strings? Nothing huge, but they could be friends at least. They seem to get along well, but I doubt they’d run into each other in other circles, so we might have to nudge them in the right direction?” Penelope feigned being shocked and said, “Mon Cheri, are you suggesting a blind date?” Morgan held up his hands and said, “Well not that drastic, but it Emily seems okay with a chance meeting then I don’t see how it can hurt.” Garcia faked a pout and said, “You’re no fun.” 

After another moment of snickering from the duo of friends, Morgan and Garcia moved back to the front of the store and like they’ve known each other for years, Penelope chatted with y/n sharing the best shoe, accessory, and makeup brands. Meanwhile, Derek moved to sit next to Emily. She smiled at him and asked, “So, are you ready to woo a woman with your knowledge of crochet?” Morgan smiled and said, “I’ve already done that. My mom crochets, so I at least know the difference between crochet and knitting, and that weaving in the ends is the worst part of a project which is more than most men I know.” Emily gave him a small smile and replied, “Morgan, you really are a lady's man.” Derek chuckled and gave a little salute of appreciation. 

After a few more minutes, the trio left the shop and it didn’t pass up Morgan or Garcia that after y/n had said goodbye to them, she said specifically to Em, “It was good to see you again, Em. I hope to catch you around sometime.” Everyone piled into Pen’s car with Emily taking the passenger seat while Derek smushed himself in the back. Once everyone was safely buckled up, they moved toward Morgan’s apartment first. As they sat and the Spotify played Garcia’s favorite playlist, Derek teased Emily by saying, “I didn’t know you went for the Abby from NCIS characters, Prentiss.” Em twisted in her seat and said, “Morgan give me a break. Even  you thought she was hot and you can’t deny it.” Derek let out one of his low laughs that reverberated though his chest. The kind that could make anyone laugh if they were having a bad day. Em loosened up as Derek replied, “I’m not denying it. She was hot. I just didn’t realize she was your type.” 

Emily sat back in her seat and closed her eyes as she said, “Neither did I.” She meant it to sound like a funny retort or quip, but in reality, there was a longing that neither Penelope nor Derek had heard from her before. Everyone remained quiet and just let the radio play until Penelope pulled up to Derek’s house. He hopped out of the car, then hugged Garcia though the driver’s side window, and then moved to Emily’s side and said, “Keep your chin up Em. You’re a real catch.” Prentiss thanked him; she knew she wasn’t teasing, or being facetious. When Morgan was real, he was real and that was why he was such a good friend. He was never afraid to be honest with his emotions which was a rarity in men. Derek waved at his friends and then moved into his house after calling out, “See you on Monday!”  

Once Derek was at this door, Garcia pulled away from the sidewalk and toward Emily’s apartment. There was a silence for a while before Penelope turned to Em and asked, “You doing okay? You know Morgan and I don’t mean anything cruel when we ask you about the people you like. You just hardly show interest anymore, and you used to be so excited to be going on dates, or when you found someone attractive.” Prentiss sighed and said, “Because I used to be excited about those things, Pen. I used to love the thrill of a first date, or seeing someone hot on the street, but I’ve tried so much and I just don’t seem to be anyone’s someone. I’m too bitter, or busy, or gay. I’ve been fetishized for being bi and shamed for having dated men. I just, feel like I’ve lost that spark, that rush that I used to get. To be honest, I gave myself away so much this year, that I think I need a break, and besides that, I don’t know if I’m y/n’s cup of tea either. She’s alternative, and that makes her stand out, I do think it’s very attractive, but I don’t want to fetishize that part of her either. I don’t want to put her in a stressful positon. She told me she’d taken herself off the dating market today at the store, so asking her out seems like pressing her boundaries, even if it is fun to have her wink at me.” Emily ran her hands through her hair in frustration and said, “I mean listen to me. I sound like a high school cheerleader trying to date the budding artist. It just sounds silly.” 

Penelope looked over at her friend and said, “Yeah, well it might feel and sound silly, but your feelings still matter. You feeling lonely and wanting someone to be with still hurts. I know that as well as anyone, even if I’m good at hiding it with all my sparkle and banter with Morgan.” Emily nodded and looked at Penelope. As opposite as they were in demeanor, they both shared the deep long for belonging somewhere. They just hid that want in different ways. Em let a small smile cross her lips as she wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye before Penny could see, and she replied, “Thanks, Garcia. Thanks for being my friend and making me laugh. I don’t deserve you.” Pen let out a bright laugh and said, “You’ll never get rid of me girlfriend. And don’t give up hope. Things change, everything changes with time.” The rest of the ride was mostly quiet as both women thought about their feelings and shared in the mutual pain that most women felt at some point in their lives. When Garica pulled up to Emily’s house, the tall agent leaned over and hugged the Technical Analyst, holding her tight, then she pulled back and said, “Listen Pen, if I start adopting cats, promise you’ll still hang out with me?” Garcia smiled and said, “Darling, I’m already giving them a name.” With that, Emily got out of the car and went inside. She turned on her record player and poured a glass of wine. She’d just bought a new book and decided to relax and read for the rest of the day. 

It was a month later, and Penelope and y/n had started spending more time together. Like most people, y/n liked the brightness that Garcia brought to a friendship, and how real she was. It was safe to say that y/n was shocked when she found out what Emily and Derek did for work. As she and Garcia walked around an outdoor mall, boba in hand, y/n said, “Wait, Em’s in the FBI? You’re in the FBI! She told me she worked for the government. I thought she meant like the IRA or something.” Penelope nearly choked on her drink as y/n said this. After coughing a few times Penelope responded, “No wonder she doesn’t get close to anyone. She’s lying by omission about how awesome she is.” y/n gave Pen a pat on the back and they kept walking. y/n started asking more questions about the team. After more window shopping and trying things on, Penelope said, “I should tell Emily to be more honest. Really.” y/n stopped in her tracks and said quickly, “Please don’t. At least don’t say I was part of it.” Garcia stopped and looked up at y/n. y/n had the corner of her dark lip inside her mouth and was wearing a face of concern. It was the first time Penelope had seen her like this. The fluorescent lights of the store made her look more ghostly than ever, her darker tones striking against her makeup and dark hair. The shine on her black shoes glistened. Although Penelope wasn’t a profiler, she’d hung around the BAU long enough to know that the quick and urgent tone from y/n meant something more. It hadn’t gone past Pen that y/n seemed to casually bring Agent Prentiss up in conversation. y/n seemed to notice her new friend's change of attitude and said, “I mean, I assume that Em has a reason for not telling me that. Like I don’t want her to think she was holding out on me. I don’t tell everyone everything when I first meet them either. It’s like when douchebags ask me the meaning behind my tattoos in an attempt to get to know me. Am I supposed to tell them my whole life story or just lie and say it’s for aesthetics because honestly, both are true? And yeah, I just don’t want Emily to feel any pressure to explain herself, at least not to me.” y/n flushed. She hated that when she got flustered she used so many qualifying words, ‘but,’ ‘like,’ and ‘and’ flowed out of her mouth like she was sixteen and figuring out her sexuality again. 

Garcia smiled and nodded. Maybe y/n didn’t see it, but y/n was down bad for Emily, and it made Pen’s heart swim. It didn’t hurt that Emily asked every Monday afternoon, when Em made a pitstop at Garcia’s office with a soda to ask if she had seen y/n at all over the weekend. It was funnier because Prentiss was much worse at hiding her crush than y/n. It was still another week before y/n texted Garcia: Is Emily seeing anyone right now? Does she like… you know… women?” Penelope let out a squeal and moved to find Derek and share the news that y/n was asking about Prentiss. Even if Morgan had kept a further distance from Garcia’s matchmaking, he loved the drama of it. The pair spitballed responses, and they finally settled on, “No, she’s currently not seeing anyone. And yes. Solid yes.” They both waited giddily for another response from y/n. It wasn’t until the end of the day that y/n said, “I want to hang out with her, but I’ve only met her twice and I don’t know a lot about her. She doesn’t have much on social media. What are some things she’s into? Music? Movies? Food?” Penelope chuckled and sent a few options: “Books, Queer Films, Lectures, Good Wine and cheese.” y/n shot back a thank you and then asked if she could steal Emily’s number from Penelope, promising that she really wasn’t a stalker or serial killer in disguise. Garcia happily replied with Prentiss’s number. 

It took y/n a week of research and building herself up before she found something that she thought she and Emily would enjoy. A local college was hosting Carol Clover, author of Men, Women, and Chainsaws to give a talk about her famous construct of the Final Girl. This would meet Emily’s love of queer film and academia and give y/n a chance to hear about the horror genre, which she enjoyed. Then there was the fear of actually texting Emily. The FBI agent had seemed so kind, and yet at the same time intimidating. Surely she couldn’t like someone as non-tradition as her? Not when she got dirty looks in public, frowning parents shielding their child's eyes from her body. Was it so profane to want to be yourself? Pushing her doubts aside y/n texted Emily saying that she had gotten her number from Garcia and that she was interested in going to a lecture next weekend and if Em would be interested in joining her. 

When Penelope heard a knock on her doorframe, she looked up to see Emily holding her phone up. Before Garcia could read what was on the screen, Prentiss said, “Pen, did you give y/n my number?” Penelope nodded and said, “Yeah, did she text you?” Em seemed to relax and say, “Yeah. I think she’s asking me out, maybe? Or maybe I’m just reading into it? She said she was on a dating break the last time I saw her, which was like last month. I kind of assumed she might have forgotten about me. I don’t know why she’d be interested in someone as boring as me?” Garcia could see the doubt in Emily’s face. The want for it to be more than just hanging out. That feeling that she and Derek could feel in the yarn shop. Em was questioning that. Even if Penelope had a good idea that y/n liked, liked her friend, she didn’t want to set her up with false hope. So with a steadying breath, Garcia said, “Em. I don’t know y/n that well. We’re not at telepathy levels of friendship yet, but I will say I don’t think she���s asking you to hangout for nothing. Like I said, things change and you won’t know if she’s trying to get to know you that way unless you go and find out. Or, you could be a stick in the mud and just tell her no, which would send a pretty clear signal from your end.” Em sighed and knew that Garcia was saying if she wanted clarity, then she needed to be clear. To take a risk. However, the hesitation was still there. To be let down again would be so hard. So painful. But not knowing, that would kill her more. If she missed someone as charismatic as y/n, then she would have really missed, so she gave herself the day to make a choice, be a coward, or give it one last chance. That’s what Emily said to Pen, and frustratingly, Penelope didn’t think that she was going to hear more about it until much later that evening when y/n texted her: She said YES! It was safe to say that both y/n and Penny spent the next hour freaking out over the news. 

Emily looked around the lecture hall. It was big and fancy, and already filling with people. Prentiss had struggled to find parking and ended up having to go into a parking garage across the street. y/n had already texted her that she was inside and had saved them seats. Em looked at the quickly filling seats. There was an odd mixture of people assembled in the modern and sleek room. There were film bros, students, and more none-descript people milling around and looking for a spot to sit. Emily let out a relieved sigh that she hadn’t over, or underdressed. She had opted for a maroon shirt and a knee-length skirt with nude tights on underneath. Unlike the last two times, Emily was wearing heals. They were black and elongated her legs. She wasn’t trying to send any strong signals that she was more than excited that y/n had reached out. Prentiss was starting to get worried because she hadn’t seen y/n yet. Em’s past fears of being stood up creeping back in her. She clutched her purse strap fiddling with the zipper. Finally, a larger man moved into the aisle, and Emily caught sight of y/n. y/n was looking around for Emily as well with a nervous glance. When their eyes met, y/n’s face brightened and she smiled and waved. Prentiss let out a breath and moved toward y/n. 

y/n had felt the same anxiety Emily had. She’d dressed down a little. She didn’t want her style to stick out like a sore thumb. She’d opted for black mary-janes and tights along with some shorts, a black turtle neck that was too hot for the weather, her toned-down makeup with a blood-red lip, and lots of silver jewelry. She hoped it wasn’t too much. y/n was less worried about her appearance as she beamed at Em. She was glorious as normal. y/n might have dressed in an intimidating way, but Emily was the one with the confidence. The one that could move through a crowd seamlessly. The power she held with just her presence. y/n thought for a moment about Emily’s job. About what she did every day to keep people safe. y/n still hadn’t told Em that she knew about her real work, but y/n expected Emily would have figured out she knew by now. And if she didn’t, then she’d let Em bring it up on her own time. For now, y/n extended her arms slightly at her sides and she and Prentiss hugged lightly. y/n breathed in Emily’s scent for the first time, floral and bright. y/n pulled back and said, “Thanks for coming.” y/n wanted to ask how her day was, and if anything interesting had happened since they’d last laid eyes on each other. And maybe why did you agree to come out with me? But all of that was made impossible by the host of the lecture tapping on the mic and the lights being lowered in the hall. Em and y/n quieted, as did the rest of the audience and everyone took a set. 

y/n was excited for the lecture, she loved horror, so getting to spend this time sitting next to Emily had the blood rush in her ears and her heart beating in her chest, even though she wasn’t sure if Em liked her like that. There was a clear energy between the two women seated near the back left of the room, like an electric current passing between them. Both Em and y/n listened with rapt attention. Emily perhaps a bit more at y/n than Clover. She loved to see y/n, so excited and happy. Plus the content was interesting even if she didn’t understand all of it. Every so often Prentiss would lean down and ask y/n a clarifying question which y/n happily answered in a whisper. There was one moment in the lecture where Clover mentioned the other characters in horror films apart from the Final Girl, the ones that die, stating, “The Final girl is chaste and tom-boyish. But the first victims are often popular or outcasts. The loner, the cheerleader having sex with the football player. And unfortunately, the queer characters. Remember, this was the 80s and even if the trope of ‘bury your gays’ hadn’t been coined yet, it was still heavily used.” At hearing this, y/n couldn’t help herself but lean over to Emily and whisper, “Wait, is this fucking play about us?” Emily almost choked trying to hold in her laughter, and y/n had to pat her on the back to help her calm down. Em was beet red at the comment and her reaction, and they both got a tut-tut from the people sitting next to them. y/n smiled and didn’t make any more comments, however, she did move her right hand out on her leg turning her hand palm up, and when Emily took it in her own, she was filled with a warmth that no turtle neck or sweater could give her. 

After the lecturer, y/n and Emily moved to a bar because they hadn’t had any time to talk before hand. Emily drove them there in her car, but it was y/n’s recommendation. As soon as Emily walked into a bar with y/n holding her hand, she knew it was a gay bar. Not that that was a bad thing, in fact, it was comforting. Emily didn’t go out much, and if she did, she hadn’t really thought to go to a place like this. On her dates, she did coffee or dinner, and no one, not even the women she’d seen had recommended a gay bar. So Prentiss drank it in. Not that it was very different from other bars, but there was more space on the floor for dancing, plus the music choices were different. While Emily was looking around, y/n led her to the bar and the bartender said, “Hey, y/n. How’ve you been. I haven’t seen you in months,” over the music. y/n smiled, and in her normal nonchalant manner, she shrugged her shoulders and said, “You know, alright I guess. How about you, Blaine? You holding up?” The man smiled and replied, “Oh, I’m good. It’s good to know you’re well. Now, what will you and your friend be drinking tonight?” y/n turned to Emily and got her order for a cosmo, and she got y/f/d. The cold glasses were ready in a few minutes, and y/n started a tab before heading to a table. 

The surface of the table was slightly sticky, but neither woman cared. They set their drinks on napkins and talked about their days, what they liked, and just life as a woman. As a woman wanting things. y/n looked past Emily for a moment as she said, “Sometimes I think wanting as a woman is a curse. Is there anything I can desire without being shamed, guilted, or ignored?” Emily frowned slightly. They were both two drinks in, and she could feel a slight buzz making her body warm and flushed. Not overthinking it, Em moved her hand across the table and placed it on y/n’s cheek, brushing the pad of her thumb down her jaw. y/n swallowed at the feeling as her stomach did somersaults. Emily watched y/n’s pupils dilate and she said, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed for wanting things. Even if other people make you feel that way.” Em paused and took a breath before saying, “I, I want to spend time with you. I have since the first day that I saw you. And I felt bad for that, and I feel bad because you said you weren’t looking, and I wasn’t honest. And even though I feel bad about that, I still wanted that and I’m not going to beat myself up about it. It’s okay to want. I’ve kept things from you too.” y/n looked at the table and then back up to Emily saying, “I wanted to be with you too. To know who you are. What makes you such a good person, so strong? And it’s okay to keep things hidden. Maybe not forever, but there’s a comfort in that. I understand.” The tone with which y/n said she ‘understood’ told Emily that y/n knew what she’d kept hidden. Her job. It felt silly now, but y/n seemed to get it and would indulge her for now. Em would tell her for sure if they kept seeing each other after tonight, but it was nice to feel so free. 

After a moment, Prentiss asked, “So is there something you want now, y/n?” y/n nodded, suddenly shy, and replied, “How about a dance?” Emily smiled and nodded, extending her hand out for y/n, which she took. The pair moved on to the dance floor which was crowded, but the bodies felt less pressed together than at a normal bar. There just seemed to be less pressure to be so close, instead Em and y/n just let loose and let their inhibitions let them move close to each other. At one point y/n helped Emily do a little twirl which she loved. After Em had straightened from being dipped down, a man tapped her on the shoulder and asked, “Might I cut in?” The fun Emily was having was instantly cut short as she said, “No. You can’t. I’m with someone right now.” Prentiss watched y/n change her face to one of disdain, it looked natural on her, pretty, ethereal even. And y/n leveled that look at the man who had cut off their shared joy. The man didn’t seem intimidated by y/n and he scoffed brushing harshly past Emily he asked y/n, “how about you, Babe? You down for a dance. You look like you need to lighten up. Maybe get laid by a real man?” y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed and said, “In your dreams, Babe, Now if you don’t mind, you can fuck off.” The man puffed his chest, offended to be rebuffed twice, but y/n didn’t back down with her glare and finally, the man moved away muttering something about ‘stuck up bitches,’ under his breath. 

y/n moved closer to Emily and took her hands in hers, checking in. “Hey, sorry about that. I swear to God I’m like the worst man magnet. Would you check and see if there’s a sign on my back that reads, ‘Lesbian, step right up?’” y/n turned around and Emily let out a laugh, turning y/n around by the shoulders leaning in and kissing her. y/n’s eyes opened in shock, but the warmth and scent of Emily so close to her had her relax and lean into the kiss. It wasn’t super long, but Chappel Roan was playing in the background, and for y/n and Emily it was like all the hurt they’d felt for not being wanted for whatever reason washed away. y/n moved her hands to Emily’s back and preseed herself closer to Em taking in the moment so she could keep it forever in her mind. When y/n and Prentiss pulled away, Emily’s phone went off with a chirp. She flushed and pulled it from her purse. y/n was still close to Prentiss when she pulled out her phone, she stepped back to give Em some privacy. Emily looked up at her and said, “You don’t need to worry. It’s nothing super personal. Just Penelope being nosy and asking how it’s going.” y/n pursed her lips playfully and asked, “And… what are you going to tell her?” Emily shook her head and replied, “Well, I’ll let you know when I have an answer. So far, pretty good” Em was going to say “don’t you think,” but stopped herself when she saw the time. It was 11:11 and she continued speaking, changing her train of thought saying, “Quick y/n, it’s 11:11, make a wish?” 

y/n titled her head to the side and asked, “What?” Emily moved forward took y/n’s hands in hers and said, “close your eyes and make a wish, quick.” y/n did as she was told and closed her eyes. She scrunched her face in concentration as she made a wish. y/n opened her eyes and said, “Well I did it. I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” Em smiled and said, “I’m kind of neurotic about it. Like a superstition. If I see it’s 11:11, I have to make a wish.” y/n nodded and they stood for a moment before Prentiss asked, “So, what did you wish for.” y/n chuckled and replied, “Come on now Em. you know if you say your wish out loud it doesn’t come true.” Prentiss smiled and said, “Well now I’m interested, how about you write it out for me?” y/n felt her chest constrict with excitement and apprehension. Could she? She wanted to, desperately, but it was so fast, too fast for someone like Emily. y/n looked at the woman she’d been brave enough to ask out and it was like she already knew. Em gave her a reassuring nod, and y/n moved back to their table. She pulled out a pen and wrote on her palm. y/n took a deep breath before placing the pen back in her purse and lifting her hand. 

The room was dark, the lights low as the light on the ceiling reflected off several disco balls. Emily had to lean in a bit to read the all-caps, slightly smudged: WILL YOU GO HOME WITH ME? Prentiss felt her heart swell, as she nodded her head. It was fast, yes, but it also felt right for the first time in so, so very long, Emily had waited for that, and she knew now was the time. y/n was smiling now and it wasn’t until she put her hand down that Em noticed that her nails were cut short. She moved in again and kissed y/n, her tongue sliding over y/n’s lower lip. y/n let her in, sucking in air while she could before their mouths closed around each other in a more passionate kiss. y/n let out a hum as they parted. She was half-breathless taking in air as she said, “How about we get out of here?” Em nodded, pecking y/n on the nose before taking her hand. They both grabbed their things from the table. They stepped out the door just as Teenage Dream started playing. Wish on hand, Em and y/n moved toward Em’s car, ready to find a place just for them. A place that was accepting and forgiving unlike how life had been for them before. Together, they could make that place.

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[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

The Storm - [Reader's POV]: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡