#that part seems to have stood up to him the most | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lazyjellyfish300 · 1 day ago

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12 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔~𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑺𝒊𝒙

synopsis: you and Emo!Kento Nanami, your best friend whom you've been in love with for years, had a falling out. But, when you're assigned to be his secret santa, you come up with a meaningful gift you can only hope will fix things between you before the semester is over and you lose him for good.

Words: 12.5k 🖤

cw: MINORS DNI, xFEM! READER, x EMO!NANAMI, COLLEGE AU, ANGST, reader has "emo" aesthetics i.e.:eyeliner, wears certain clothing(obv self indulgence) ,jealousy, social anxiety , some pick me behavior, mutual pining, fluff, shyness, SMUT (protected p in v, Kento's a virgin, makeout, dry hump, oral f and m receiving, fingering, breast play, rough at the end, orgasm)

a/n: NGL it's been a struggle bus lately but I'm doing my best to finish this damn Xmas series. TY for your patience 🙂‍↕️ @actuallysaiyan my Emo!Nanami guiding light and inspiration as always. 🔥

12 Days of Smutmas Masterlist 🎁🎄🎅🏽

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics, pics from pinterest

You linger like a stubborn shadow in the corner of the overheated, loud, sweaty, and cramped Christmas college party at some frat you can't remember the name of with a Jack Daniels tapestry hanging on the main wall and a musty concoction of weed, beer, cigarettes, B.O. and too much cologne.

You fiddle nervously with your red solo cup, tracing over your name written in black sharpie for what feels like the millionth time, trying to act nonchalant and like you weren't on the verge of being overstimulated.

Jeez, even the line for the bathroom is a mile long. Guess that's out of the question. Oh God, everybody's staring. Kitchen. Okay, let's try that.

You wandered back to the kitchen, stumbling over your black knockoff Doc Martens, trying to preoccupy yourself with the surgeon general's warning on the discarded Mike's Hard Lemonade box instead.

Normally, you wanted zero parts of these holiday ragers with too many people. But, when you got the memo you were supposed to be Kento Nanami's Secret Santa, you knew there would be no getting out of this one.

Especially since you had so much to say to him after all of the things that happened between you two in the last several weeks, and the looming end of the semester threatened to put even more distance between you. You just needed him to hear you out, to apologize, clear the air, do whatever you could to make him not hate you anymore.

----

You weren't sure what it was, but once you two went to college, it was like Kento got hit with a sex pollen that attracted all these women that seemed to spawn out of nowhere. The awkward, shy, Kento seemed to become the object of everybody's desire.

But how could they not? He was the most handsome man you've ever seen, and you stood by that fact as his beauty only grew with each passing year you knew him. He was intelligent, a natural whiz and gifted in both the jujutsu and non jujutsu worlds. Despite possessing all of these fine qualities, his humbleness never wavered, clueless even at just what a gem of a person he really was.

You had no option but to grin and bear it like a thorn in your side, resisting the urge to give into that unbearable wave of nausea that would hit you like a train when you spied some random girl's name on his Blackberry or when a group of them batted their lashes at him while you guys ate lunch in the food court.

"Hiiii, Ken!" They'd giggle as they'd walk past, making him blush while you stood there like chopped liver.

But, you knew Kento, and you had faith in his ability to snuff out all of this false flattery. Most of these chicks would have been the very same ones who bullied you two all throughout middle and high school and made your lives a living hell. You suspected they were just wanting an easy A, or to get in his pants. Either way, the feeling made you sick to your stomach.

They didn't know that his parents were high school sweethearts. They couldn't list his favorite songs, or animes. They couldn't guess his orders at every konbini you frequented after class(and it changed from chips and an energy drink or a soda to shitty coffee and a sandwich depending on which one you visited). And they certainly never knew how the tops of his ears would turn pink whenever you caught him staring at you while you were finishing a thought.

No, those were things sacred only to you, and nobody else as his girl best friend. Best friend. Just friends. Ugh.

And while you were grateful for it, it made witnessing all this unabashed thirst over Kento all the more torturous.

He wasn't yours.

You had zero business telling him who he could be friends with, or talk to. You definitely didn't want to come off as the crazy fucking jealous girlfriend before you even had the title. Kento was smart, but somehow the fact that you've been in love with him for years was one puzzle he never cracked.

It was so pathetically obvious. How you'd cancel all your plans for him at the drop of a hat. How you intentionally wore your hair in that way he liked after that one time he complimented you. How awkward you acted whenever you accidentally touched him. How you almost never talked about any other guys around him and noticeably avoided those questions because the one you loved was standing right there.

But it all came to a head when you heard rumors that he might be taking someone else to the winter formal. Some popular girl from a well known sorority. She had rich parents, stellar grades, and a banging body too, just to add even more insult to injury.

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

And how did you cope? By finally texting Atsuya from the football team that of course you'd love to go out on that date you must have wrote him five rainchecks for by now. Always turning him down and putting him on hold in hopes that your best friend would finally wake up after all these years of loving him from afar.

You regretted it as soon as you said yes like a pit that descended to the bottom of your stomach. You ended up canceling out of guilt and pulling the Aunt Flo card, but it looked like the damage had already been done.

You neglected to remember that Kento spent every weekend tutoring the football team in math. You didn't have to guess that Kento must have caught wind of the gossip in the locker room from Atsuya when he went seemingly radio silent overnight.

When you went to meet him in your usual spot to study at the library on Wednesday mornings, he was a no show, and when you texted him, he didn't respond until hours later:

Sorry, had something come up this morning.

Ken? Is everything alright?

Kento?

You called him at least 7 times, embarrassingly enough, and all of them went to voicemail. Finally, he replied:

I'm really busy with exams. I think it's best if we take time apart to focus on our studies and finish the semester.

Was this about Kusakabe? Because if so I can explain...

Silence.

Kento, please.

And he never responded after that.

You didn't push the issue. You knew Kento didn't like to be bothered when he was upset, but God, having him disappear on you like this as though your two favorite hoodies weren't collecting dust in his dresser drawer cut you deeper than any knife.

How do you get over someone who was never yours to begin with?

It seemed like he was dead set on acting like you never existed, like you never saw him when he had nobody, before he became this big shot in college with all the ladies. Like you didn't support him after he lost Haibara and like you didn't have a thousand inside jokes and a shared language between you in the form of pizza, drawing sharpie on his studded belts and each other's notebooks, 80s anime, and loud music that only comes from knowing somebody for so long.

No, it seemed like that Kento you knew was gone, or he was at least acting like he was. And it was all because of stupid jealousy and a date you never actually went on.

The CD that you had burned just for him and clumsily wrapped in Munchlax wrapping paper was weighing in your pocket. You hoped and prayed that even if this was really going to be goodbye, that at least he wouldn't hate you before he went.

----

"Alright *hic*, everyone gather round, gather round."

99% of the attendees are already sloshed as the participants stumble to form a circle around the room for the gift exchange. You couldn't help but notice Atsuya's arm around a mystery date. Seems he took the rejection rather well.

The frat leader stood on a chair in front, yelling incoherent directions you only caught the tail end of, due to the man across the room you couldn't shift your gaze from.

It was Kento, clad in an MCR Christmas sweater with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms(that seemed a little bulkier than you remember), half drunk bottle of Fat Tire beer in his hand, and that amber gaze scanning the room until it came to a stop directly on you.

A noticeable look of shock broke across your face and you looked down immediately. You were certain he caught you, and out of your peripherals you notice he's not phased in the slightest. He simply raises the beer bottle to his lips again, still eyeing you wordlessly from across the room.

The old Kento would have looked away, but this new Kento (possibly emboldened by the free flowing booze), wasn't backing down from you. The rounds of secret santa reveals dredge on from one after another, most of the participants being too drunk to even stand up.

You've lost track of who has who, but you honestly don't care by this point. Your hands are growing clammy and your leg is bouncing more and more restlessly as it approaches your turn to give your gift to Kento.

But, as Shoko stands up next to you and presents her gift to Utahime, you can't help but notice an unknown girl approach Kento from behind, slipping into the seat next to him. Is this the same one he was supposed to take to the dance? You can't tell. There's been so many girls around him by now, you've honestly lost track.

Attention diverted, he turns to her, and she has the audacity to scoot closer and touch his arm. Your mind feels fuzzy as surely the scene playing out in front of you must be a dream. But you only seem to watch it from an out-of-body lense as you see his lips curl into a smile and lean in a little closer to hear what she's saying, their thighs touching.

She's got different hair than you. A completely different style and aesthetic. Probably smart. Probably far more interesting. An absolute knock out. She's the opposite height, opposite build from you. She's the walking antonym of everything that you are not and the ideal encapsulation of everything you wished you could be. She looks so cookie cutter next to him and the soft way he grinned at her looked like one of the special grins he used to give you.

It's too damn much.

The party continues on without interruption when nobody seems to even care or notice that you left. Kento's CD lands discarded on the chair in the wake of hot tears pouring out of your eyelids and ruining your eyeliner as you bolt out of the door.

-----

It's Christmas break, why in the fuck are there no taxis available right now?

You stand pitifully, thumb raised in the snow on the curb trying to hail a cab. You were in no state to drive and your mind was whirring a million miles per hour. At least the agony of what you just witnessed was being temporarily overshadowed by the mind numbing cold the longer you stood out there.

Your mind replayed again all of the times you thought for certain would be the one that he'd finally tell you he loved you. All of the glances, all of the touches that happened by accident, all of the things he remembered about you and the awkward hugs he used to give.

You guess this whole time you were operating with your blinders on. It took you messing everything up and another girl waltzing into the picture for the rose colored lenses to come off and realize that, like always, your mind was right and listening to your heart gets you absolutely nowhere.

No matter how many deep talks and sleepless nights and unspoken words and tears you exchanged over the course of your friendship with Kento, there would always be somebody better. Perhaps he was only ever meant to be nothing more than a friend until he outgrew you completely and the relationship ran its course. You had fallen to the wayside, and you only had yourself to blame for foolishly believing that he was ever worth leaping for.

-----

"Awww looks like emo girl tapped out!"

Kento jerks his head in the direction you once were, noticing the empty chair and small thin present sitting in its place. The girl next to him is still talking, but her voice fades to echoes as he searches, confused, his eyes darting all over when he realizes you must have left.

Kento looks down, his mind traveling somewhere else as the girl continues with her spiel. He puts two and two together, and feels his heart sink in his chest. In all honesty, he knew damn well what he was doing when Christina,(the girl who was now chatting him up and one of his new study partners), came to sit next to him.

He just wasn't expecting you to leave so suddenly. It was childish, he understands that now. And he realizes those feelings that have lingered beneath the surface for you for all these years can't remained buried for long. Maybe he just wanted you to feel how he felt when you agreed to that date with Atsuya.

It crushed him when he found out, so much so that he left the locker room immediately and went back to his dorm and laid down in silence for hours, listening to all the songs he never had the guts to admit were ones that he'd dedicate to you.

He even scored a 73 on his accounting quiz, something completely out of the ordinary for him. But, like most men, he bottled his feelings and chose to run away from the problem by sending you those cold texts.

Time is of the essence with every second that passes that he's not chasing you down in this snowstorm before you slip away for good.

"Hey, look, Christina? I gotta go. Sorry." He mumbled, nearly tripping over his legs as he got up, grabbed his secret santa present, zipped out of the stuffy dorm, and into the night where you disappeared.

-----

"Finally, Jesus Christ..." You murmured as a cab finally pulled up to the curb. The snowflakes started anew, and, combined with the wind chill, were making you tremble like a leaf.

"Wait!!"

Just as you were beginning to step in the backseat, you turned and saw Kento, running at light speed towards you and nearly slipping on ice. Your heart skipped a beat but you turned towards the taxi driver, giving him your address.

"731015 College Road."

"Wait! Shit, goddamn it!" Kento cursed as he skid to a stop, hand outstretched as he stopped the taxi door from slamming in his face.

"What the hell..."

Kento slid in the seat next to you, mumbling apologies as he almost crushed you with his actions, turning red when he caught his breath and was faced with yours and the taxi driver's expressions that were half flabbergasted, half annoyed.

"Same as her." He nodded, realizing his thigh was touching yours and scooting to give you more room, awkwardly looking at the ground.

The driver hmphed and shook his head, tossing his cigarette out the window as he pulled away, leaving you and Kento with no option but to endure the awkward silence of the painful ride.

The dorms you two live in are about 10 minutes away, but it feels like it's been stretched into an hour.

You can hear the scratchy sound of February Stars by Foo Fighters coming through the radio. At least you have that as a distraction.

"So, it's been a while."

"Has it?" You ask sarcastically, folding your arms and shifting your knees to point in the opposite direction.

"Look, I'm sorry..." Kento starts cautiously.

"For what?" You know exactly what you want an apology for, but your pride wants him to say it first.

"For dipping out on you like that." Kento replies, a bit uncomfortable now that the beer he downed earlier was loosening its grip. "For ignoring your calls and texts without hearing your side and being a bad friend."

"I tried to tell you, Kento. But you wouldn't even give me a chance to explain. I hope you had fun with your new girlfriend."

"... girlfriend?"

"Goodbye, Ken."

"Wait-"

The taxi screeched to a halt that made Kento flop back in his seat when you were already opening the door and practically attempting to jump out of the moving taxi.

"Goddamnit!!" Kento seethed again, then handed an extra $20 to the cab driver before jumping out, cheeks blooming red again. "For the trouble."

The cab driver raised his chin, accepting the $20 and driving off with a shake of his head.

Crazy drunk college kids and their relationship problems.

------

Kento called your name as you speed walked towards your dorm. "Stop! For two seconds, please!"

"For what?" You croak with tear streaked eyes.

"So I can tell you that I never went to winter formal. And there's nothing going on with me and Christina. There's nobody."

"Really?"

Kento huffs. "Seriously? You know me better than that. Do you honestly think I'd go to some nightmare dance?"

"I dunno. I thought I knew you, Ken. You've been acting differently lately." You resume walking again.

"How?" Kento asks, chasing you down.

"Nevermind..." You turn to put your key in the door.

"Hey, you left this." Kento hangs his head slightly as he shows you the CD he's holding, the secret Santa present you were supposed to give him.

You feel yourself freeze. "That..."

"It's got my name on it. Was it from you?"

"I mean, it was..." You go back to trying to unlock your door, the keys slipping through your fingers like butter.

Kento stands in front of you, slightly blocking your way. "You're not gonna unwrap it with me?"

You sniff and wipe a couple of tears with your free hand and avert your eyes.

Kento feels his stomach twist with guilt. How he wanted to reach out and comfort you. But the volatility of the situation leaves him unsure. He thinks for a moment, then breaks the silence.

"Look. I have the new Super Mario Bros if you wanna come over." He offers, lowering his voice as he extends this olive branch. "We can chill and do whatever. Maybe have a jam sesh like old times?"

You paused, evaluating this proposition. "For the Wii?"

"I'm stuck on World 7." He blushes.

You scoff. "Bullshit. You're the one always carrying me in that damn game."

"Okay, okay. I haven't started it, actually." He confesses.

"Wait, you haven't, why not?"

"I dunno, it..." He releases a shaky sigh. "It didn't feel right playing without you."

You take a step back, touched and a little dizzy from this whiplash at this realization that maybe he actually missed you after all.

He waits and the silence weighs heavy between you, his ears turning more pink and his stomach somersaulting more violently with each moment you don't respond.

"Please say something?" Kento pleads.

You do a quick appraisal and realize: what's the use? You couldn't say no to him even if you tried.

"What about curfew?"

"Um, well..." He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, subtle slyness in his tone. "I was sorta thinking that nobody needed to know. My roommate's gone for the holidays and it's just me."

You nodded, understanding, but also quite apprehensive with what this could mean. You weren't sure Kento was off the hook completely, but the part of you that missed him pushed you to say yes. You could sort out all of that later. For now you just missed your best friend.

"Okay. Yeah, I'd like that a lot. Lemme get some clothes from my room really quick? And I'll meet you back out here?"

"Y-yeah! Of course. Do whatever you gotta do." Kento blushed again and gave you one of those grins you so missed, relieved they were back.

—

"Ready." You smile at him a short time later as you come out of your dorm with your duffel bag with all the pins hanging off it you mostly bought and didn't shoplift from Hot Topic back in junior high. He smiles at the sight of you in your black Good Charlotte hoodie. One of his, as a matter of fact.

"That mine?" He asks, moving to the side to allow you to walk next to him in the hallway.

"Yeah, you left it here a while back." You respond sheepishly. "It was cozy to sleep in."

Kento can't ignore the warmth he feels everywhere at your admission.

"Glad it could be of assistance." He looks at you fondly as you approach the entrance to his dorm. "You're gonna wanna put that on."

Your breath halts as he carefully adjusted the collar of your hoodie, pulling the hood over your head, making sure your hair is completely concealed.

Kento pulls you in closer against his body as you two walk in the common area, blessing you with a faint concoction of cigarettes, his cologne, and that laundry detergent of his that smelled so good. You were equal parts relieved and flustered to be so close in his proximity.

Luckily there aren't many students up at this hour. A small group of guys sit in a corner with their beers and smokes, and one or two sit by themselves in various parts of the room trying to cram for last minute finals. They barely notice the imposter that Kento's sneaking in, a dark hoodied figure leaning on his shoulder.

"RIP. Man must have drank too much," they think to themselves before paying you two no more mind.

-----

"Here we go." Kento whispers as you arrive at his doorstep. He fishes his keys from his pocket attached to the friendship bracelet keychain you made for him one summer with his initials: KN. You feel a pleasant flutter of your heart when you recognized it.

You walk in Kento's small apartment which is impressively neat and cozy, with posters of his favorite bands on his wall, bookshelves lined with some of his anime figurines he collected and football jerseys and trophies on the other from his roommate.

The small, knee high Christmas tree you found on clearance together at a department store sits in the corner with a mod poge of ornaments you bought from Goodwill, smiling when you see Gary from SpongeBob, a poké ball, and a mac and cheese ornament hanging side by side.

"Make yourself at home." Kento gestures a little bashfully despite the fact that you've been over here many times, setting your overnight bag on the couch and letting you take off your shoes. "You hungry?"

"Hmm, you know what? I am, actually."

Kento smiles. "What sounds good?"

"Umm...what do you have?"

"Well, let's see." Kento strolls over to the kitchen with you in tow. "We have..." He clicks his tongue as he opens the pantry while you open the fridge door. "Granola bars, stuff for PB&Js. Protein powder."

He laughs when you make a face at him.

"Lemme see..." You take the canister of protein powder from the shelf. "Is this your roommate's?"

"Yeah. He makes shakes with it every morning."

"Blech." You shudder.

"Um, oh, we have Gushers." He pulls down the box. "Damn, there's only one." He offers it to you.

"I'm not gonna eat your last Gusher, Ken!"

"I insist." He chuckles. "C'mon. I already ate the entire box by myself."

"Share with me." You fold your arms, unwilling to budge.

"Fair enough." Kento shrugs and opens the pack for you, letting you choose the first one. You grab a blue one and pop it in your mouth with a grin, relishing the blue raspberry explosion on your tongue.

Kento looks fondly at you, popping a green one in his mouth before looking in the fridge with you. "Unfortunately we only have mostly healthy options besides the Gushers."

"Boringg." You poke your head underneath his arm to take a gander at the sparce options. You spy a bag of shredded cheese and get an idea. "Do you have tortilla chips?"

Kento catches your drift. "Yeah, actually. Nachos?"

"Nachos." You grin.

Soon, the countertop is transformed into a makeshift nachos station as you sprinkle the cheese on a high pile of chips in a bowl big enough for you two to share.

As it melts in the oven, you two take to the couch and get a head start on the new Mario Bros. The new propeller power up takes some getting used to, but you can't help the laughs and guffaws that escape you both as you play together, the never ending curse words streaming from your mouth when you lose the power up to a stray Goomba.

And, like you predicted earlier, although you come close to besting Kento in skill level, he's still standing when you two are battling Bowser Jr. and he carries you across the finish line when the shell hit and killed you at the last minute.

"God..." You drop the remote on the coffee table and he snickers as he looks over at you. "Looks like it's time for a break."

You pause the game and go back in the kitchen where you feast on the homemade nachos. Somehow they taste even better at 11 pm as the gooey cheese melts in your mouth, punctuated by the satisfying crunch of the corn tortilla chips.

Kento enjoys it too. His eyes cautiously steal glances of you popping chips in your mouth so casually in his space. He doesn't dismiss the underlying elephant in the room which is the fact that the hour is late and you're alone with these implications between you that neither have been bold enough to give a voice to thus far.

He needs to figure out a way to broach the topic, but he's drawing a blank.

"I have a confession, Ken."

His mind jumps to fight or flight, but his legs keep him right where he is. He wasn't expecting you to start this mid-nacho, but he guesses better to rip the bandaid off now.

"Yes?"

"...I'm still hungry." You throw him that adorable look that you reserved especially for when you were about to be begging for something.

And he's a willing victim in this cute little trap you laid. That wide glimmer in your pupils could get him to do whatever you wanted.

"Well, what were you thinking of getting?" He cocks his head.

"I'm thinking these nachos have me craving Taco Bell."

And who is he to say anything but yes? Especially since the mention of Taco Bell sets off a resounding grumble in his stomach that even surprises him.

"Alright, deal."

----

The hour is well past when you two should be asleep by now, several cheesy gorditas, Cinnabon bites and nacho fries later washed down with Baja Blast and more booze.

You're underneath a blanket next to him on his bed. The twin size of the mattress leaves you no option but to be right up against him with your thighs and arms touching. The mood has certainly shifted, with both of you scared to be the first to acknowledge it.

"Well..."

You can't help but burst out laughing.

"What?" Kento looks at you incredulously. He can't help but nervously laugh along when your wheeze of laughter ends up being more funny than the persistent awkwardness.

"I...nothing." You shake your head, backing down from opening the can of worms yet again.

Kento sighs. "Well, um. Should we open my present before we pass out?"

Your stomach feels that familiar pit building inside it. All the fast food you just ate certainly isn't helping the case either as it does slow somersaults with the reveal you know is coming. "Yeah, go for it."

Kento can pick up on your discomfort, because in all honesty he feels the same. But there's no time like the present. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't dying to know what you got him either.

He sits up, reaching towards the edge of the bed where the present is sitting. He reads the sticker that says in sharpie:

To: Kento 🖤

From: your secret santa

He wonders if his heartbeat is audible on your end as he earnestly tears the wrapping paper off(after appreciating your choice in wrapping paper as one of his favorite Pokemons) until the CD is all that remains. His eyes widen and he reads aloud the message written on the CD again in sharpie:

I'm sorry Kento. Merry Christmas.

Love was written and signed off with your name right underneath.

"Thank you. Really, I...this means a lot." Kento normally tripped over his words but you really left him speechless this time. Trading music was a religion between you two already, but this gesture of burning a CD for him was one you had never done for him before.

"You're welcome, Ken." You answer in a way you hope is cheerful.

Kento stands up, walking over to his CD player. There's a click and a mechanic whirr disturbing the quiet space as it roars to life. He loads it up then closes the tray, pressing play on Track #1, and turning bright red when the Peavey speaker absolutely blasts the song at full volume unexpectedly, making both of you jump 10 feet in the hair.

"FUCK! SHIT!! Oh, shit..." He mumbles as he cranks the volume control down. "Sorry...Jesus, fuck..."

You can't help but laugh, much more loose now the initial shock was over with and at Kento's adorable scared expression. "You shoulda seen your face just now!"

Kento shakes his head and teases back as he walks back to the bed to sit next to you. "Y-you looked just as ridiculous, y'know."

You giggle. "Sureeeee." You glance at the window. "Ya think your neighbors are gonna snitch on us for playing music too loud at 2 am?"

"Fuck if I know..." Kento sighs, laying his head back against the headboard as he takes his place next to you. "Let's just...listen to the music, alright?"

"Yessir, Kento, sir."

"Don't say that." Kento pokes you playfully with his elbow.

"Why not?" You prod back.

"Makes me sound like I'm old as shit or something..." Kento huffs, but he smiles at you all the same.

You both go back to listening, and he perks up in recognition.

"We the Kings. Alright, not a bad start, not bad at all." He smiles and closes his eyes. You look over at him, at your best friend with his relaxed expression.

The way those long bangs fell backwards over his forehead to showcase those enchanting eyes that could be so elusive, that Adam's apple that bobbed in his throat, the way his humble beauty never left his face no matter what state it was in. And, right now was your favorite, with his head thrown back and his body right next to yours listening to your favorite music in the world, hands dangerously close together on your respective laps.

You look straight ahead again as the song plays. Gradually, the curve of Kento's closed lip smile begins to slowly fade as he catches wind of the lyrics from the song currently playing: Rain Falls Down.

I hear your voice and what we talk about

And I'm trying to say what won't come out

Yeah, I'm trying to fix what's broken now

And I'm wishing that I could take your hand

And set you on some untouched land

Just so you are never sad again

And the world you've known will somehow end

There's a beating to your heart

That I just can't be apart

I can feel the rain fall down on us together

Just wait for the sunshine

Let's wait for the new day

When we can get away

It's me and you held close together

Hold on for the long ride

This won't be easy

Tonight

Hear my voice and know that I am here

I'm always there to wipe away your tears

I lay your hair behind your gentle ear

And tell you there is nothing more to fear

You are the reason I am the best I'll be

So let me stitch your heart so it won't bleed

And I won't rest until you finally breathe

'Cause I still love you more than anything

The song eventually ends and you can't deny there's more tension in the air than before you started. However, Kento wonders if maybe it was just coincidence. After all, what were songs nearly always about at least half the time? Love.

You're staring at your Nightmare Before Christmas socks, too nervous to even look at him, wondering if he's figured it out. But, you catch your breath when the next song starts playing and it doesn't seem to be the case just yet.

Kento wouldn't have guessed you'd put one of his favorite songs by Bright Eyes on the CD, either. Funny enough, this one happens to be one of several songs on that top secret playlist of his that he dreamed of dedicating to you one day. He's only astonished you managed to beat him to it. This time he's listening with you, it hits him like a rock.

And so I thought I'd let you know

Yeah, these things take forever, I especially am slow

But I realized that I need you

And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night

Just to meet me in the morning?

And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed

You felt as if you'd just woke up

And you said

"This is the first day of my life

I'm glad I didn't die before I met you

But now I don't care, I could go anywhere with you

And I'd probably be happy"

So if you wanna be with me

With these things there's no telling

We just have to wait and see

But I'd rather be working for a paycheck

Than waiting to win the lottery.

Besides, maybe this time is different

I mean, I really think you like me

The song ends and it's quiet for a moment before the next song starts.

"I wasn't expecting that..." Kento uttered quietly. You turned, and he was already looking at you. The third song, All My Heart by Sleeping Sirens begins to play in the background.

There's so many things that I could say

But I'm sure it would come out all wrong

You've got something that I can't explain

Still I'll try and try and let you know

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" You notice his voice is thick, emotion where you weren't expecting it as your own tears well up once again.

"I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to, Ken. I literally tried to-'

"I mean before..." Kento clarifies, grateful the dim bedroom makes the heat in his face somewhat less visible. "A-all this time, I mean..." He sighs wearily, and makes a shaky inhale, his shoulders begging to be relieved of this burden that he's carried since exactly one week after he first met you in elementary school.

It's spanned years and ebbed and flowed, but it has never left him completely. It was more than just a crush. It may have started out that way, but to label something so special that's endured this long would be doing you the disservice of a century.

You meant so much more than that to him. He'd give you the entire world for the simple fact that in his eyes, you were forever worthy of it.

"We've known each other for ages..." Kento's voice hovers above a whisper and it lingers next to your ear. "I wish you told me."

That first summer we spent's one we'll never forget

Looking for any kind of reason to escape all the mess that

We thought was what made us

Ain't it funny now? We can see

We're who we're meant to be

His voice is much closer to you now, and you're still afraid to fully turn and look up at him directly for fear that you wouldn't be able to hold back once you did.

"What's the point?" Your tears slip past your waterline once again and create trails of hot salt on your cheeks. "You've already outgrown me, Ken. Tonight has been wonderful, but let's not pretend like you haven't been distant lately and a completely different person."

Kento's heart breaks and in defiance, he turns your chin to finally look up at him. He's alarmed to see all the tears running incessantly and he feels it wrench when he realizes he's the cause for them.

"But how?" He asks quietly as he turns his thumbs into tissues to wipe them away. He can't help the thought at the forefront of his mind as he does this: you're still unbelievably stunning this way. Emotions worn boldly on your sleeve: puffy eyes, snotty nose and all.

"I thought you were tired of me. I mean, Atsuya told me you were..."

There's too many times I have to say

I could have been better and stronger for you and me

You always make me feel okay

Those late summers we spent, stay up talking all night

I'd ask "you think we'd ever make it?"

You'd say "I'm sure if it's right"

Ain't it funny to think just how stupid I used to be

Hope you always believe

You still have all of my

You still have all of my heart

It clicks for him all at once and now he wants to kick himself in the shins.

"This is still about Christina and the formal, isn't it?"

You hiccup as you shudder a little bit more as the tears still don't relent. "E-ever since junior year started, Kento. It was just everything. I thought I was losing you with all this attention that you were getting. I thought I was being left behind. You've always been so smart. A-and those girls are all really pretty, smart, and funny..." You hang your head in shame and Kento's heart skips a beat, staring at you in disbelief.

How could you not see that you were pretty, and every bit as smart and funny?

"Even if you didn't feel the same, I didn't want to lose my best friend. But I didn't wanna hold you back either..."

Kento brings you into his chest as he lets you sob into it without saying anything else right away. How painfully obvious the answer was all this time and here he stood with his head proudly in the sand, partly with blind acceptance of all this unsolicited attention that fed his ego, not knowing he was doing it to distract himself from what he's known clearly all along: being utterly in love with you.

"You could never, ever lose me." Kento answers, cupping your face, bringing your gaze back to meet his. "You're not holding me back, either."

You want to look away with embarrassment with how snotty and disgusting you must look right now as you just sobbed and sobbed your eyes out in front of him but he's not deterred, not even in the least as he sooths you with his lulling voice.

"I never went to the dance. I swear on my life. I talked to Christina at the party tonight because I was jealous of you and Atsuya but that was a dick move of me. I'm not ever gonna be stupid enough to put myself in a position to lose you again. I'm not gonna hurt you like that ever again. I swear to you..."

Those tender pools like melted caramel of his travel down to where your lips part softly in surprise with every emotional confession he gives you. These were details he only ever dreamed about. Part of him wonders how he could even be this close to possibly finding out and crossing that line between fantasy and reality to where you'd no longer be just a daydream to him.

"And I don't want anyone else..." He whispers. "It's you I've wanted. It's always been you. It's always ever going to be you. They couldn't come close to you even if they tried." He holds your hands more earnestly as he continues with this fire that was lit underneath him that emboldened him with each sacred truth he unraveled.

"Can you forgive me? Can you forgive me for being the world's biggest dumbass? I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I-"

His train of thought is quickly evaporated under the object of your loving stare, and the dwindling space between your face and his. For a moment he forgets how to breathe, once again marveling at how pure you were, even in the afterglow of your tears.

Especially in the afterglow, when your cheeks shone with the gleam they left behind, leaving the windows to your soul exposed to his. You remind him how to breathe again when that soft swipe of your thumbs over the back of his hand anchors him to this moment with you right before the fall.

There's only one thing left to do and it's like you two move in sync as you lean towards one another and the song continues to blare in the background.

Let them talk and talk and talk

Let them say what they want

We will laugh at the thought they don't know what we've got

The first meeting of your lips began as the most dainty brush. Kento's not sure how hard or soft to kiss you, and so he plays it overly safe, making himself almost as stiff as cardboard as he freezes at the first contact, hands still a clammy mess as they cling to yours.

At first, you were a little thrown off by the reluctance, momentarily worrying if he didn't actually want to kiss after all. You try to reassure him by leaning a little bit closer, using one of your hands to hold the side of his neck.

To your relief, Kento melts in response as though your touch granted him permission. You stay locked like that for a while in your first kiss and a half, lips molded harshly against the other's.

Neither of you want to be the one who ends the kiss, so you hold it for as long as you possibly can until you realize you've been going without oxygen a moment too long and you hastily break apart, softly exhaling against his open mouth, leaving Kento blooming the deepest shade of red he's been all night.

"S-sorry that was kinda..." Kento clears his throat, the shade of red worsening with mortification at how sweaty his hands were. "You're... you're my first, so..."

You smile at him, determined to put him at ease which he felt immediately with tingles blooming in his ribcage as you leaned in and tenderly brushed noses with him.

"It was perfect."

And you meant it. For two awkward college kids who barely found themselves venturing into romantic territory after being friends for so long, that kiss couldn't have gone any other way for you two.

But, you don't want to end your exploration here just yet, and Kento doesn't either. These deserted hours past midnight, the romantic tunes, and the enticing way he looks right now encourages you more and more to press the gas pedal.

"Do you wanna do it again?" He asks and he beams when you say yes. He leans in again, a bit hurriedly but he catches himself as he learned from the last time to slow down a bit. He releases both of your hands and cups your face this time.

You allow him to take the lead, letting him drink his fill of your beautiful face. The flutter of your eyelashes over a pair of irises with a color that made him feel weightless, the arch of your brows, and the hypnotic parting of your lips. You stun him in the rawest way and make him melt where he sits.

Unknown to you, all of those times you did your hair and makeup and wore your best outfits before tonight don't hold a candle to the way you look to him right now. It's because this one was fully intended for him in the sanctity of this moment when you've been your most vulnerable with him, in all of your precious, pure and unfiltered honesty.

And you could not be more beautiful to him than that.

He expresses this by wordlessly bringing his mouth to yours once more, cautious then loving all at once as he allows them to engulf you completely.

Every year that goes by, a year older we are

You'll still be beautiful then, bless your beautiful heart

They'll talk and talk and talk

How crazy is it?

Someone could waste their whole life, helplessly

Just patiently waiting for a love like you and me

This second kiss carried sparks more potent than the first. You become amazed at how quickly he learned as he begins to slowly open his lips against yours, embarking in their first slow dance together as they daintily pucker and press, before they seamlessly pick up a rhythm. You glide your tongue along his bottom lip until he responds with his own, the feeling trickling hotly to your core like lava.

The slick and wet roll of your tongues that map and trail thoroughly inside your mouth and his leaves Kento particularly dizzy, softly panting intermittently between each reunion. The faint taste of sunscreen from his Blistex chapstick mixes well with your raspberry lip gloss. Each little moan he makes is laced with the baritone of his normal speaking voice, the masculinity of it and his growing weakness causes you to move with more urgency, kissing him more passionately.

Kento's not opposed to this invitation one bit and he adjusts his fervor to meet yours, sitting up and pulling you into his lap. This new position unlocks a new level of ferality in your brain. His size quickly gives himself away as you feel his bulge pulse in his skinny jeans where the thin barrier of your leggings allows you a sinful sneak peek. All bets are off now as the walls between you have completely crumbled.

"Kento..."

"Baby, please...holy fuck..."

You grind against him, pausing after every roll of your hips for the friction to linger, chasing that relief for your aching clit that could only be cured by humping his fat cock.

Kento feels his restraint loosen impossibly fast. It felt like he went from never driving to speeding on the interstate. It's a lot all at once, but holy fuck does it feel good.

He allows you to overpower him, laying backwards on the bed with his head on the pillows as he pulls you on top of him.

"I didn't go on that date with Atsuya..." You pant then squeal at the abrupt change in position. "I swear to God, Ken. I didn't, fuck, I couldn't..."

Kento feels himself lighting on fire from this knowledge, seizing your ass cheeks in his hands as he too chases that feeling, that pulsing of your pretty pussy over his cock that he just knew was soaking through the fabric.

"Haa-aah....y-you didn't?" He throws his head back with his jaw dropped open, letting a heady moan escape as you kiss and suck his neck with uncaged vigor, still focusing on thrusting his hips upwards against yours where they magnetize and shove against your clothed cunt with building greed.

"I-I didn't, baby I swear to God..." Wetness builds in the corners of your eyes as he positions you directly over his thigh instead, hands flying to help you tear off your hoodie as he encourages you to ride him.

You lean down and kiss him deeply again, your breasts squishing against him and threatening to spill from your cups as the motion of you riding his thigh causes one of the straps to spill over your shoulder.

"I don't know what I was thinking...just thought about you the whole time. Just wanted you, Ken...I couldn't do it... I promise, I'm so sorry-"

"Aa-aah, fuck...I-I believe you, sweetheart." Kento's eyes clench closed in ecstacy, his hands following the dizzying pattern of your hips as they bumped and churned on his thigh.

"Fuck me I...I..." He pants, a sheen coat of sweat beginning to dot his forehead. "I'm not gonna fuckin last like this, baby, God...."

You show him a little mercy, stalling your hips as you dipped your head down to passionately make out with him again, postponing the tension of the tight coil that was building low in your belly. You both hummed pleasantly as you enjoyed kissing one another deeply again. The softness of the act was a welcome distraction from Kento nearly cumming all at once in his pants, dual wet spots from you both in your underwear and his boxers bearing the proof.

"Can I...be inside you?" He aims his next kiss at your throat, his lips thrumming with the tender melody of your sigh at his question.

"Are you sure, baby?" You greedily roll your hips again and he groans loudly. Clearly, you didn't need much convincing.

"Yeah I'm sure." Your foreheads meet one another and his thumbs skim your cheeks. "I have protection too." He adds before nuzzling against you.

"As long as you're certain you want your first time to be with me..."

"I'm positive." He replies, the reminder from the subtle pressure of you spread out on top of him makes him fight to bite back the desperation in his tone.

"You're the only one I ever wanted to do this with." He confesses, his cheek twitching when a section of your hair tickles his face, fanning a subtle waft of your PINK perfume. He flushes again and massages up the soft sides of your waist as he speaks.

"Just...just bear with me if...if I don't know what I'm doing or just tell me what feels good and I'll do it."

You nod and smile with a wave of anticipation for what's coming, "Of course, Kento. You're completely safe with me. And I trust you too."

Tonight wasn't your first time. You had a few sexual encounters but none of them were anything worth writing home about. There was no question that tonight with Kento was already leaps and bounds better than anything you ever experienced before, and the feelings that ran deeply between you weaved it with an undercurrent that made it even more special than any connection you've made. His pureness, his consideration for you, his sweetness towards you made you want to do anything for him.

"Good, good."

"Well..."

Awkward silence.

"Should we take off our clothes?" He inquires awkwardly.

"Mm, well, we could always keep kissing while we do it. Makes things a little bit more fun if you want to try."

"Yeah, yeah let's try it."

You smile down at him, tucking the stray pieces of your hair out of the way as you resumed locking lips with him again.

Unexpectedly, Kento takes the reins. Before, the kisses were experimental, slow and tender to express your affection. Now, you kissed as though to express your mutual, stirring desire. Kento moved his lips and tongue as if he was trying to devour you, pushing against you as he sat back up and pulled you into his lap again.

You tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and he hisses and responds by grabbing your breasts. When he does, you release his lip and whine into his mouth. He smirks, pleased with this effect he was having on you, feeling more and more brave the longer he stays immersed in this steamy experience with you. His long fingers quickly move to your bra clasp.

"Okay?" He pants, cheeks still dusted with color. The evidence of his exertion from him putting in the work with you leaves you swooning quite a bit as you take in his pretty, blush tinged face.

You nod and the bra clasp comes undone with little resistance. The weight of your soft globes bounces in the most alluring way when they spill from the cups of cloth. Kento groans, completely mesmerized from the first glance, letting his eyes roam and soak you up, moving back to look up at you where you sit perched in his lap, the perfect position for him to worship.

"You're so beautiful..." He whispers. "So, so beautiful...." He brings your breasts together, loving the line that forms down the middle when he squishes them together, and the way your nipples peek between his fingers. It was awfully possessive, viewing them this way, reserved for his eyes and for his touch only.

He wishes to claim them even more and leans in without a second thought, licking your left tit into his mouth. You throw your head back at the same time his eyes his roll back in his skull, starting to ride the outline of his cock through his jeans as he sucks and laps up your breast to his heart's content.

He pulls back a bit, a saliva string that drips around the pointed end of your nipple and continues in a slick trail as he moves to the right. He surprises you and pins you underneath him, mouth still attached to your right tit. You purr at him as you play with his hair while he sucks in your tits, memorizing the way his blonde locks run like silk through your fingers, how your thighs look now that they're spread on either side of his lean waist.

You help him unzip his skinny jeans, peeling them down as he finishes his work on your breasts that now gleam shiny with his spit, bidding both farewell as he hollows his cheeks and sucks his lips abruptly, leaving both nipples in a pointed puckered state from his tongue.

He watches as you slip out of your leggings underneath him, reaching down to help you tug them off, entranced with the soft flesh that dimples and only adds to the supple, divine figure you possess that he's touched himself at night to countless times. You're completely bare to him now besides your panties, kissed in the moonlight with your hair behind you like a halo.

"You're so perfect..." He praises you again, the shadows lining his face that was surely burning under the warmth of your ethereal gaze.

"I don't understand how I'm so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one." You reassure him as your lovely mouth curls into his favorite smile, gazing in his eyes as you go to rub his cock through his boxers. However, your pupils expand in shock when you're met with a heavy package that doesn't even fit in your hand.

Kento blushed as he noticed your reaction to his size, standing off to the side of the bed and stripping down, sliding his boxers hastily down his long legs. His cock is a slight beige that's sweaty, long, and pink at the tip, and it flops out in front of you all of its manly glory.

You feel equal parts aroused and scared. There is absolutely no shortage of size anywhere on his intimate area. Your pupils expand again as you observe how the circumference is almost proportional to its length, to his large set of balls.

His pubes are neatly trimmed, but there's certainly a generous amount that makes up the forest of dark hair, different from the color on his head that bushes around his thick base. It dances up his belly button in a pattern that makes your brain go fuzzy and your clit throb for attention.

Even if he looks like he could split you in half, you can't help how absolutely heavenly he looks in this moment, looking down at you with shyness and anticipation, like he's equally excited for what's about to happen, and that he hopes you like what you see.

"You're absolutely perfect, Kento..." You whisper. Your fingertips find his in the dark, eyes still locked on each other as he entertwines with yours.

"Every inch of you."

"No way, you're the perfect one..." He takes your hands in both his palms, bringing them to his mouth to plant a set of tender kisses on both sets of knuckles before he turns to his dresser to retrieve one of the condoms that he's had forever but never used, elated that it's with you.

"No way." You shake your head and he blows air through his lips. Before he can slide the condom on, you stop him, "Wait..."

Kento's eyes go wide as he watches you crawl seductively towards him, breasts bouncing, beautiful, and bare across his bed and eye level with his staggering length.

"Let me make you feel good. Please?"

Kento's always wanted a blow job. Truth was, he was hoping that he could possibly get his first tonight with you, but he'd never, ever ask in a million years. He felt like that was way too forward, and the last thing he'd want is to make you uncomfortable or make himself look like a selfish guy. He can't help but feel impossibly turned on in this moment, turning to you with a lustful expression.

"R-really?"

"I'd love to." You purr, aiming your gaze innocently through your eyelashes as you softly kiss his bulging tip. "Let me pleasure you, Kento..."

He tilts his head as he looks down on you, fingers cradling the corner of your jaw as you stick out your tongue, swirling it around the pink tip. Kento shudders immediately and you relish his sensitivity to just the careful licks of your tongue, imagining just how responsive he must be when you're taking the full thing in your mouth, or your pussy.

Your tongue laps slowly around the tip, and then the underside of his shaft, goading him slowly until you wrap your mouth around as much of him as he can, until you slowly begin to bob your head.

"Fffuck...." Kento almost loses his footing at where he's standing next to the bed, hands immediately anchoring themselves in your hair as he can't help but chase that fuzzy feeling you're giving him all over, beginning to rhythmically move his hips into each motion of your pretty lips down the veiny length of his cock.

"That-haaah, please, please keep going..."

You smile and coo to let him know you have absolutely no plans of stopping anytime soon.

He's so soft. His taste is nothing unpleasant or particularly delicious, but oddly rousing in his own way. His faint musk from his bush and salt from his skin makes you want to seek more of him so you can taste him properly, until he's dripping down your throat, or between your legs, you're not picky at all by this point. And feeling him throb in your mouth with every soft purr and moan you give him to let him know how good he feels is so fucking sweet.

"Shit...shit..." Kento pulls out of your warmth unexpectedly, panting and wincing as he feels his balls draw tight, aching by this point as he inadvertently edged himself.

"I'm sorry, aaah..." He grunts and takes a deep breath.

"Are you okay, Ken?" You ask, slightly alarmed as you scoot over and allow him to sit down.

"I'm...I'm perfect." He puffs. "Just...just thought I was gonna cum back there, and I didn't want to. Not yet." He blushes. "I'm really sorry about that. I really really liked it."

"No, don't be sorry." You lean your head on his shoulder, the tunes from the CD were still playing. You two take a breather, pausing to listen to some Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos.

"It-hah...it felt really fucking good, just to let you know." Kento interrupts, one of his hands coming to trace over your spine.

"Haha, I'm so glad." You whisper, moving your lips to kiss his cheek, giving his ear a little lick.

Kento exhales tiredly and you smile as you see him twitch and start to go fully erect again. So adorable.

"Are you sleepy?" You ask, beginning to leave more kisses on his cheeks, then jaw which he's started to clench.

"N-No..." Kento sighs as he closes his eyes. "No way. I'm not ever tired for you." He lays you back on the pillows before rolling the condom on his cock. Then, he returns to kissing down your neck and chest until he gingerly lays his chin on your sternum, just below your breasts.

"I'll just go slow? And tell me if it hurts?"

You nod, doing your best to not tense up when you remember his size you have to contend with. But still, you craved him inside of you more than anything. If there was any cause worthy of getting your insides rearranged for, it would be by Kento, every single time.

"Just...uhm, look at me?" Kento orders sheepishly.

You smile, endeared that he's so eager to try and sit in the driver's seat for once.

"Okay." You look up at him, tenderness lining your pupils and the corners of your eyes soften as you look at Kento on top of you.

Kento smiles back down at you, balancing above you on his forearms, flexing a little bit in adorable display, all for you. You giggle, running your hands up and down his biceps which were surprisingly solid.

He always hid his figure underneath his baggy shorts and hoodies, and you can't help but feel so lucky again that he was being so vulnerable with you like this, electricity running in a steady thrum underneath your skin when you feel him start to ease his weight on top of you.

"You're so beautiful..." He murmurs the phrase like it's the only one he knows. Like he wasn't ever meant to speak unless the words were spent acknowledging the true depths of your beauty, lest it go completely wasted.

He kisses you softly again, daintily licking his tongue into your mouth, pumping his cock up and down. While doing so you feel him gently spread you open with one of his knees. He cradles your head, still keeping himself connected to your lips as he teases his cock in circles near your clit.

Kento didn't have experience, but he did watch plenty of porn. He has a pretty good idea of what he needs to do to make sure you're well warmed up. And ultimately for you, and he'd spend into next morning figuring it out if he needs to.

He takes note when he feels you break away from the kiss to pant and press your head back a little further into his pillow, a sign that he's rubbing and stimulating you right where he needs to. He breathes softly, sweet breath tickling your face as his eyes gently flicker and roam over you, every sip of you he drinks threatening to be the drop too many that leaves him intoxicated.

He uses the round squishy tip of his cock to press and rub your pussy, drawing circles and very barely dipping into your dripping entrance that was starting to build and leak a steady pool of juices. He lays his cock flat against your clit, watching his meaty shaft be hugged by both wet folds as it slides up, and down, the ribbed edges of the condom are even more pronounced with Kento's veins to give your puffy clit all the euphoric friction you need.

"Kento..." You mewl out again, and he uses his kiss to swallow your cry before you can get too loud as he moves to guide himself inside you.

Pure warmth with the wettest silk is all he knows as he slowly enters you for the first time. He's being absolutely gripped by you on all sides like an intoxicating vice, feeling you hug and squeeze and pulse with life around him.

"Baby...holy...fuck..." Kento breathes out, sucking in air through his teeth. He's practically delirious from this foreign feeling, fighting with every ounce of strength he has to continue going slow and not give into that primal itch that's aching to be scratched to fuck you senseless into the bed springs.

He thought the blowjob was heaven, however being inside of you was the hidden pot of honey where he realized he needed to be all this time.

You feel his veins, his curve, the consistent way he throbs in response to every time you clench around him. The shaky and breathless effect you're having on him and hearing his gorgeous voice, soft and gentle in your ear is summoning and releasing butterflies in your belly that you never knew existed. However, you'd be lying if you said his size wasn't pushing you to your absolute limits. You're reminded on all fronts that you're full of him every time you move with every inch he feeds you, now about halfway inside. He is the most endowed man you've had sex with by far, and you whine softly from the stretch.

When he hears your whimpers, he pulls out immediately and sits back on his knees, relieving you with his tongue. His flat, warm muscle laps up the nectar oozing underneath your clit and swirls in figure eights in every sensitive spot he can reach. He's hooked on the taste he left from being joined to you temporarily and presses his face into your dripping warmth, soaking his chin.

You arch your back, toes curled, and he utterly groans, locking an arm around each thigh as he slowly drags his nose back and forth, bumping your clit in the process.

----

Time has now slipped away, completely swallowed up by the wintry night and in every single secret, intimate, steamy, filthy, tender thing that's unraveled tonight in Kento's bed.

By some miracle he's held on like a champion until you both are drenched in sweat, although it becomes clear he's at his limit, the condom practically sliding off with the surplus of sweat and precum you conjured up from him. You both heave with exhaust that's made it's way to the fogged windowsill in the confined space and all the time that's been whittled away in this passionate encounter.

He's licked your warm cunt until an ocean is practically pouring out of you, he's sucked both your nipples into his mouth again to the point that they're most certainly branded with love marks and not just his spit. He's wiggled and curled those long fingers of his inside your silky pussy until you snapped like a rubber band at least twice.

Now, he hovers above you again after putting on a fresh condom, harder than a rock and searing with ache. He kisses you and grunts when he feels you deepen it immediately, apparently eager to taste your nectar after it's been inside his mouth. Now, his cock glides into you, warm and snug, filling every inch perfectly like you two were separately divinely crafted to fit each other.

"So good, Kento..." You reward him with that mellifluous way you rasp out his name, and he cradles your head in his hands as though you could break.

And all you can do as you stare at one another, bodies fully engulfed as he gently rocks his hips, is hold each other close and walk that up that staircase to heaven together, years and years of knowing one another already behind you as the seamless foundation you can use as a bridge.

Kento imagines this is as close to what married people must feel like on their honeymoon. As far as he's concerned in this moment, your pussy is the only pussy he'd like to fuck for the rest of his life.

What would wasting even a precious second on someone else do for him? There's no need. The connection that burns between you right now has long exceeded anything physical, leaving carnality and greed long in the dust and burning in the surplus of time between you that you had already spent.

Now, it's something profoundly emotional that all words fall short of conveying, but only in the gentle push and sway of your bodies moving and rippling like wild tides out at sea as one. It's especially meaningful as he hands over every bit of himself to you. The piece and part of his soul that was untouched, now forever claimed by you, and you only, none else.

"I love you." He whispers and kisses you again, those eyes of sweetest honey amber.

"I love you so much..." He begins to move a little faster against you, his declaration leaving his body with searing passion in its wake. "I always have."

"I love you, Kento...with all my heart." You gasp and feel your jaw slacken, the coil in your lower belly tightening with impossible tension with each deafening thrust. He whines a little louder as his cock slips and squelches with silky obscenity.

"Fuck I...I have to...I'm sorry." He mumbles and kisses you hard, as he holds up your legs and folds them to your chest as he begins to thrust into you lewdly in mating press.

"Kento!"

You cry out his name and he swallows it again, taking care that whatever beautiful sound he can wring out of you stays in this heated space you built together, all for his eyes and ears only. His cock fills, stretches, and impossibly stokes at those leftover embers from all the previous fires he ignited inside you tonight.

Now, you both move and grind with freedom, with sweetest absolution from straying past those lines of friendship you both ached and longed to shatter, set free from your cage with the tender profession of your mutual love.

Your skin smacks and sticks, drenched and salty from resistance built from perspiration and arousal. The heat is almost uncomfortable, but it's all forgotten when you look at him and he gazes down at you with those eyes you have seared into your memory. Your pleasure and love is the very forefront of your brain that guides you down this road, a path you're not afraid of so long as he's the one next to you.

"Gonna cum, I'm gonna....FUCK!"

He yanks you into his mouth again, this time using your kiss as an echo chamber to stifle his sounds as he unloads himself. He shudders as the tension rolls off of him and settles into you like cascading dominoes.

He whimpers quietly, still locked inside your kiss as he jerks sharply a few times for good measure despite the barrier of the condom catching all his cum, bringing his thumb back to your clit as he does so as though to demonstrate what he'd do exactly if the barrier were not in place.

You fall off not long after, with a shiver and tremble that dies in a broken cry against his lips.

"That was...."

"Perfect."

He releases all his weight onto you but it doesn't phase you one bit, his pressure and embrace a welcome respite as you weakly glide down from your peaks. After a moment when he collects his breath, he rolls onto his back next to you, keeping his fingers tangled with yours.

"Y-yeah. To be honest I dunno if perfect comes close.." Kento closes his eyes as he feels sleep begin to rouse in his eyelids with the clearing haze.

"More than perfect.....What's a word for that?" You smile, sleep beginning to tinge the sound of your voice as well.

He lets out a huff, then chuckles. "I dunno, babe. You did kind of just reset my brain back there..."

"We'll go with more than perfect, then. How about heaven?"

He nods and exhales, but the smile that curves at his lips is undeniable in his tone. "That sounds about right to me." He turns to you. "You okay?"

"I'm okay, I just." You look out at the window, briefly surveying the sights available to you in the present moment: the flurry of snowflakes in the window, the dip of the mattress where he lays next to you, the shadow of his eyes, the glow that raptures both of your skin.

"Things aren't ever gonna be the same with us, are they?"

"No, I guess not." He scoots closer to you, noses inches away. "But I'm okay with it. Are you?"

"I'm more than okay." You whisper with sincerity. "As long as I have you."

He smiles at your words, not getting over this welcome feeling of being needed by someone, especially you. "Course you do. I'm not letting you go after this."

"I love you so much. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. I love you more."

And the sleep that befell you afterwards could not be more peaceful, wrapped up in the conclusion of your lovemaking and the blissful beginning of a new chapter between you.

You shared sleepy laughs and infinite cuddles the next morning, huddled for warmth and tucked into one of his shirts as you talked over a morning cup of coffee before playing Mario again. You received an awkward note on his door with a noise complaint afterwards, which you giggled and hid your face in your hands, Kento's face a bright red.

Needless to say, you got pretty creative over winter break with finding places to meet and burn off steam, from his place to yours, to the little motel on the edge of town, to the backseat of your shitty pickup truck with fogged windows in the snow.

But one thing you could count on was each other. Love in the purest form of brown eyes waiting for you outside your class door, fingers coming to find their home in the spaces between yours as you walked hand in hand together.

His clear commitment to you made all the outside attention cease when it was obvious he was happy in love with you, his best friend, solidified permanently in that playlist that never did leave his CD player since that night.

It never made you wonder or second guess yourself again. You belonged together, it was as inevitable as the snowflakes that landed in his hair to the crinkle in your nose as he pulls you into his arms and kisses you again.

#jelly's 12 days of smutmas ✼ ｡ﾟ･ྀི𓈒 ݁⋆#from my trees . ˚ 𖧷 ·𓇥 ° . ♡#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #smutmas #x female reader #x fem!reader #Spotify #dividers by saradika

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nestaians · 3 days ago

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alot of ppl forgive or not blame feyre much for how nesta has been treated bc feyre is naive or young or “doesn’t know any better” when its not an excuse,,

she is the high lady of night court for 2 to 3? years, a politician, idc if she doesnt do shit or it hasnt been that long for her to study. look not just bc she has been through it herself! but she should be able to tell the simple difference between right or wrong

ffs she is a mother now, some basic thinking would do her good or will she let rhysand decide what to do in any decisions about their child?

she already forgive him so quickly for keeping the fact she was going to die from her and beloved her family didnt tell her either -no angry towards them but god forbid nesta doesn’t just move on from her ptsd from being turned into a fae, the war and death of their father, god forbid nesta likes hanging out in bars -remember how feyre was judging nesta hanging out at such a place? what a loving high lady she is

nesta spending feysand’s money -which should have been given to her for all she went through thanks to them and her own work- is an issue bc its embarrassing to feyre even though they own the entire court, boast about all the money and things such as numerous houses they own and are fucking rich as hell

feyre cried about it, fine she was pregnant but pregnant women cant think clearly?

lets go back to rhysand keeping info about feyre pregnancy from her, after nesta reveals the truth she is taken on the hike bc “rhysand will kill her” but does not once feyre asks to see her own sister the only one who told her the truth? she cant look at her mate’s face and know he wants to hurt her sister?

feyre has always prioritised being to be there her mate then her new family over nesta and expects nesta to happily take part in that new family

ngl feyre was naive in how she talked about her and her sisters’ life at the cabin bc she was gone hunting most of the day & didnt seem to pay attention to anything bc who took care of the house work? nor seems to remember much about their childhood before they lost money so she naively painted a bad picture of nesta to inner circle, “the older sister who let her younger sister go out and hunt”

the fact that these 500yrs old do not take into account that feyre is young and might have missed something or not have been aware of other things and choose to judge nesta on feyre’s words omg

look nobody forced feyre to go hunt but inner circle acts as if thats what happened

who was doing other work around the house? elain? all she had was her gardens

but feyre is not naive is how after years of being a fae she still sees it like that, when rhysand brings it up she doesnt rebuke it, only “shes my sister and i’ll handle her” like nesta is a property

mind you nesta’s human life was ripped away from her and went through trauma after trauma bc feyre the genius involved them into it

nesta knew feyre was not at their aunts, nesta went to the wall for feyre, nesta put aside her own trauma from the cauldron and took care of elain, nesta stood tall and talked to high lords to beron and made him and them listen, nesta trusted feyre throughout the war, nesta helped in the war, saved cassian’s life, help kill the hybern king but she hasnt done enough to make amends for letting feyre hunt?

feyre does not stand up for nesta at dinners, against her new bestie mor’s judgemental comments and cassian’s harassing or her own mate shitty treatment of her sister. feyre lets this go on, laughs or writes them off as jokes

feyre forces nesta to comes to solstice party to be around her family so she can be ignored and feel unwelcomed for hours and then feyre has the audacity to be hurt bc nesta came cause of rent money that feyre had forced her on to

mind you feyre painted their loser of a father and hanged his picture but not nesta but feyre wants nesta to be a part of her family🥺 oh poor her feelings

did feyre ask nesta if she wants to be a part of feyre new family?

did feyre ask if nesta is okay without her mate and new family lingering around?

did feyre listen to nesta when she said no to coming to solstice party?

did feyre listen to nesta when she repeatedly has made it clear she does not want to be around cassian?

did feyre listen to nesta?

does feyre see nesta as her own being?

does feyre care about nesta?

no bc feyre does what she wants, bc feyre will get what she wants

she isnt stupid, she knows rhysand her beloved mate who climaxes at the image of their unborn son will make it happen for her

she shipped nesta and cassian since their first meeting like she has been shipping elain and azriel, so for feyre she wants them to be together. yeah she wants that for cassian but she doesnt want it for nesta or else she would have not had nesta locked up in a house with him

feyre is entitled and has a superiority issue (like rest of inner circle) towards nesta and has helped in drive nesta to her breaking point and locked the door to nesta’s cage

but nesta must apologise to feyre for hurting her feelings🥺

fuck off

feyre is to nesta what tamlin is to feyre

feyre being naive is not an excuse anymore, feyre being uneducated is not an excuse anymore, feyre not knowing better is not an excuse anymore

feyre simply doesnt care to do better

#pro nesta #nesta deserves better #anti feyre #anti rhysand #anti nessian #anti feysand #anti ic #anti inner circle #anti acosf #anti acotar

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mischiefmaker615 · 2 days ago

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Use You (Loki Love Story) Ch. 1

Summary: Loki shows up at your brothel with an offer. What could go wrong?

Note: Not sure how many parts this will have. while writing a one shot (in which in intended on being, my demon had other plans).

Requested song inspiration: Use Me by Johnny Blue Skies & Dove Cameron & Diplo

Requester: @bri_lostinharmony (wattpad)

Rating: R

The only sound in the room was the wood creaking under the pressure of your fingers, stabilizing yourself while your heart seemed to stop and your eyed lied to you. There was no way in Hel he was here.. your breathing seemed to stare the same pace with your heart, feeling light headed to whom stood before you with a pointed finger and a careful look in his eye.

‘’that one.’’

His tone was sharp and left no room for questions. Of course, no one would dare to question or deny him anyway, he was Loki after all, second prince of Asgard, and if he wanted something, he would get it.

‘’yes my Lord, right away- let me just clean her up for yo-‘’ your head mistress started, daring to begin standing between you and Loki before he seemed to easily wave her off.

‘’no need, she will do as is. Any necessary actions can to done by me.’’ Loki said carefully, this entire time his eyes not having left yours while your already sore legs began shaking.

How could he be here.. out of all brothels.. this was impossible! You had specifically chosen out the farthest one in the city of Asgard to avoid this damn risk. Yet you didn’t realize the one whom you would run into that you knew, was Loki. Of course, you had no special relationship with each other. You were one of his maids in the palace, paid decent and treated better. Yet.. you wished for better things for yourself, and better things meant needing more money. It was unheard of to ask for more pay, so you took on the second job- and the only job that would hire you.

It was hard at first, being treated and seen as a whore.. technically you are. But you always told yourself it was for the greater good, to reach that goal you were SO close on reaching! But that chance might have practically shattered right in front of you while the second prince of Asgard took slow steps forward, his eyes seeming to wait and expect for you to lead the way.

Was it treason? No.. but quite possibly an insult to be found out you had gotten a second job. An insult and seen as ungrateful to the palace. You didn’t expect anyone to understand.. you needed to leave here.. but would Loki do something? Would he see you as ungrateful for your place in the palace with the need to have to get a second job and choose to cast you out? you didn’t want to think about that.. for once, your body’s soreness acted like a distraction from your thoughts while you dropped your eyes and turned around.

‘He's just another client..’ you told yourself while you started up the stairs, having a strong feeling his eyes were on your ass, which somehow made the simple dress feel a whole lot thinner. The wood creaked slightly louder behind you, indicating he was much taller and heavier than you were, granted he also came in wearing his royal armor- except his helmet.

It wasn’t uncommon to hear or see royals come to the brothels, usually in groups but sometimes alone. Loki had very little stories of him appearing at one of these places- most rumors indicated he preferred bringing them back to bed them in the palace instead. Your cheeks reddened at the very thought about having to sleep with him… would it be awkward back at the palace? Would rumors start? Would this be painful? Your mind ran a hundred miles a minute, you mis stepped and began falling forward. Before embarrassment could consume you, you felt two slender hands grasp firmly at your waist to stabilize you, making you nearly yelp in surprise and straightened quickly.

The hands vanished from your body as quickly as they had appeared, you nearly missed him murmur “careful”. His voice was quiet, almost as if he were trying to keep the words a secret but there was no authority or anger in his voice. The unexpectedness of it alone nearly frightened you while you opened a door and stepped inside of the dark, empty room with him following.

‘’I am curious on why you find this extra income necessary.’’ His voice finally said, loud enough where there way no doubt you had heard him and your squeezed your eyes shut, finally landing on the topic you wished to avoid.

You knew this was probably the end. You’ve insulted the royals with your ungratefulness and felt yourself spinning around, your head low in a mid-bow with your hands clasping each other in a pleading position. ‘’I’m sorry my prince- it was never my intention to insult the royal-‘’

Loki’s raised palm made you shut up, an amused look on his face spread upon his features while you shook his head. ‘’what you do in your spare time is none of my concern love, I am merely wishing to know if you are being mistreated and try to find other means of supporting yourself.’’

You blinked at him in surprise. To be honest, if one was mistreated at the palace, a snitch was better off banished. Yet his concern was.. unexpected. Why would he care? ‘’no no.. I am treated very well at the palace your majesty.. I am merely trying to earn enough for- something..’’ you then slowed your words, unsure if you’ve shared to much or if he cared to know.

‘’well do to your pay at the palace, it would seem it is not merely the amount that is the problem, but the quickness of it. Do to the fact that we have abundance in everything, my only guess is that you wish to leave. Asgard.’’ He guessed, having made his way around the room to look around and held back his judgmental expression.

The room was dimly lit, the sunlight being toned down by the heavy curtains over the windows. The bed was simple, small and in the center of the room and that was all. thin sheets, and metal railings to make up for the headboard. You almost felt as judgy as he might have been- a royal coming to some sad shack like this. There was no way in Hel he was this horny to come down to this level.. which meant-

‘’why are you here?” you blurted out, your hands clasping over your mouth to late where he casually turned to face you while unclasping his cape from his shoulders.

‘’isn’t it obvious?” be mused, making you blush with the reminder and glanced down, not daring asking any more questions but he seemed to reach your mind anyway while he lay his cape aside at the foot of the bed.

‘’I had a day off, court had ended sooner than usual.’’

You raised a confused brow as you looked at him, hands slowly lowering back to your sides while he sat himself on the bed, clearly amused by your wonderings and lack of speech- or daring of it. Day off or not, he could have bedded anyone in the palace- willingly or not, let alone a better brothel.

‘’I followed you.’’

‘’you- ..you followed me?” you almost choked out, clearly confused and shyness consuming your body once he reached out a hand towards you. You hadn’t felt shy in such a long time, not after your new job had numbed you to the bone. Yet Loki.. Loki always tended to have that affect on you, and he knew it.

‘’come here,’’ he said gently, and you felt your feet begin to slowly move forward while your dainty hand reached out to take his, letting him pull you the rest of the way until you stood between him legs with his eyes gazing up at you. ‘’hold still.’’

Your job was to do what your client required, paid for.. frankly, he might actually get the service for free considering who he was. You didn’t dare move, not even as his hand moved to grasp your hip, keeping you still while the other moved up to lay flat against your chest. You were unsure if this was some start of foreplay, but with a sharp inhale, you noticed how he had closed his eyes with a concentrated expression. Your skin then began to feel tingly everywhere, panic threatening to make you move if you didn’t remind yourself to obey.

You decided to close your eyes, to wait to further instruction while you pondered on the strange feeling that seemed to crawl over your skin. Suddenly you noticed the soreness spread over your body seemed to be disappearing. Any gross residue or filth you took note of seemed to vanish with no lingering feeling. It’s as if you were in the bath without water, and a healing ointment you usually got when you returned to the palace- but netter.

When the strange feeling subsided, you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding while your shoulders seemed to relax. Fluttering your eyes down, your body tensed to find Loki smirking up at you, his eyes gentle but looking smug at you relishing in his ability to clean and heal you.

‘’feeling well?”

‘’y-yes my prince.. thank you..’’

‘’my prince,’’ he echoed, amusement in his voice as his hands released you so he could lay back on the bed with his elbows propping himself up to continue looking at you. ‘’I was unaware of how possessive you could be.’’

‘’that’s not-‘’ you stopped yourself, daring not to correct the prince whom you guessed had been merely jesting and instead buried your restless fingers to play with your dress fabric at your sides. ‘’..how may I service you my prince?”

‘’I want you to go back to the palace with me.’’

Your eyes went wide as your body tensed again. You clearly didn’t intend on looking stupid at him while you stuttered out a ‘’what?-‘’ when you clearly heard him, but the amused look on his handsome face also made it hard to process things.

‘’I want you to go back to the palace, with me.’’ He said a little more slowly, as if he wasn’t clear enough while he drank in every expression he pulled out of you.

‘’..my Lord.. I.. just cant leave my seco-‘’

‘’you do not need to whore yourself to gain money more quickly Y/N, you will be paid fairly to your needs at my hand.’’

‘’at.. your hand?”

‘’you will be my personal whore, no one else’s until you see fit it is time to venture where you wish to escape too.’’ He said it so smoothly, it’s as if there was no ounce of insult in his words.

His.. personal whore? To be bedded by him and only him, no one else.. you weren’t even sure what sex was like with him in the first place- although it was granted to me much better than all the pigs combined that stumbled in here. You hoped.. but you still weren’t sure of his sudden offer..

‘’my prince i.. my job here is to service yo-‘’

‘’yes, and I wish to service you.’’ Loki said firmly, yet gentle. This brought out a puzzled look on your face which only brought out a smirk on his own while he extended a hand out to you. ‘’I have a proposal then. Let me service you, here.. right now.. if you are satisfied, you are to return with me, quit this job and receive the funds necessary back at the palace while being my one and only whore. When and wherever I want, no one else. If you are dissatisfied, I shall pay you for your time here as a regular customer, and leave you be to your second income inhabitance like I never had set eyes on you. Do we have a deal?”

You were shaking now, beyond red cheeked and mind spinning. This could very well send you much faster to leaving Asgard.. -but why you? Your eyes lift to look at him, hesitant but careful while he gazed at you with no impatience or amusement. They held nothing but.. softness.

‘’..why me? You could bed anyone yo-‘’

‘’they are not you darling.’’ he cut you off, shaking his head with a soft voice. ‘’my eyes only find you. My mind only thinks of you. My body only craves you. I often find myself purposely crossing your path with eagerness to get to see you. Court granted me a blessing today, and allowed me to follow you. Yes it may have been unwanted, but your safety was all of my concern. It indeed shocked me to find out where you passed your time.’’ He almost tsked you, yet you found no judgement on his face while your eyes fluttered down to his offered hand.

‘’dare I ask again darling, it is all your decision.’’

Your teeth captured your bottom lip, finding truly no downside to any of this yet your mind reminded you of what he was. A trickster.

Yet you took his hand anyway.

TAG LIST IS OPEN, LET ME KNOW

DM a song for your own Loki Musical Mischief one shot :D

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @soulpiercing

#loki odinson #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki god of mischief #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki #lokifluff #loki smut #loki series #jotun loki #mcu loki #lokius #loki marvel #marvel loki #tom hiddleston #loki tom hiddleston

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kaira-diaries · 3 days ago

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Nocturne: The Collapse

Warning: (SMUT - mildly descriptive)(Violence)(non-con touching)(mentions of death) (non-cannon violence & lore)

Pairing: Frontman x fem!reader

Word Count: +15k

Summary: none, cause I didn’t feel like writing one out

A/N: Okay so here's part 2 of nocturne and I'm gonna be so honest this turned into a WHOLE ass thing with lore and heavy heavy plot. To avoid an extremely long read, a third part will be written. idek what happened that led up to this point of needing a third part but here we are (sorrows, prayers). happy reading !

Masterlist <-

Part One <-

_______________________________________________

2 Years Later:

Staring into the gilded mirror, you couldn’t help but admire the way the gown sculpted your frame. The rich maroon fabric clung to every curve, the shimmer of its silk catching the soft light and giving you an air of effortless elegance. It reminded you of the dress you’d worn the night you first met In-ho—a memory that sent a ripple of warmth through your chest. The neckline plunged just enough to command attention without screaming for it, while the delicate slit along the side offered a glimpse of your leg, teasing but tasteful.

Your hair had been styled to perfection, pinned loosely back with a cascade of soft curls framing your face. Each strand looked as if it had been meticulously placed, yet still carried an air of natural allure. You applied a few swipes of deep crimson lipstick, the bold color tying your look together and accentuating the soft glow of your complexion. The faint scent of your perfume—a seductive blend of jasmine and amber—lingered in the air, leaving a trace of you wherever you passed.

This wasn’t your first time at a lavish party, but tonight felt different. The room buzzed with energy, a blend of laughter and whispered conversations mixing with the clink of crystal glasses. The event marked the 20th anniversary of the Squid Games—a macabre milestone commemorated by only the most elite and influential. The space was grand, with towering ceilings adorned in gold leaf and intricate chandeliers spilling warm light across the opulent ballroom. Legends of the games—former creators, VIPs, and those who had helped shape its legacy—moved through the crowd like phantoms of the past, their age barely dimming their commanding presence.

You’d been glued to In-ho’s side most of the night, your arm lightly draped through his as you navigated the throngs of the powerful and the wealthy. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you at times, the quiet pride he seemed to take in having you at his side. But the endless small talk, the veiled barbs of rival VIPs, and the oppressive grandeur of it all began to wear on you. The need for air—or at least a moment alone—became too much to ignore.

Slipping through the sea of extravagantly dressed guests, you had made your way to the bathroom to where you stood now, finally breaking away from the suffocating intensity of the crowd. The heavy oak door was closed behind you, muffling the noise and leaving you in a blissful pocket of silence. The cool, polished marble of the sink greeted your fingertips as you had set your clutch down, exhaling softly.

You glanced at your reflection again, this time allowing a small, private smile to cross your lips. The faint hum of the music beyond the door barely reached you as you pulled your lipstick from the clutch. Holding the tube, you applied one last swipe of the rich shade with careful precision, ensuring every line was flawless.

And then your thoughts drifted—inevitably—to him. In-ho. You couldn’t help it. Even in the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom, his presence lingered in your mind. The way he moved through the crowd with calm authority, his sharp suit a perfect complement to his commanding demeanor. The way guests bowed and crumbled under his authority. He was magnetic, and you found yourself drawn to him like gravity itself. He wasn’t just the Front Man tonight; he was yours.

You capped the lipstick and tucked it back into your clutch, your fingers brushing the smooth leather as you let out a breathy laugh at yourself. Admiration? Maybe that was putting it lightly. He consumed your thoughts, even when he wasn’t near. Even your dreams hadn’t been safe from him lately, his face haunting the edges of your mind like a phantom you welcomed with open arms.

You took one last glance at your reflection, the faint glint of determination in your eyes, and smoothed the fabric of your gown. For all the chaos outside this room, you would meet it head-on, poised and unshaken. After all, tonight wasn’t just any party.

It was your world now, and you intended to own it.

Clicking the bathroom door shut behind you, you let out a soft sigh, the hum of the party no longer muffled by the thick walls. But before you could fully collect yourself, a deep, velvet voice cut through the racket, rich and teasing.

"If it isn’t the queen herself."

You turned sharply, your gaze falling on a tall, striking man leaning casually against the wall just a few feet away. His presence was impossible to ignore. The soft glow of the chandelier overhead caught his fawn-colored hair, perfectly styled to look effortless, and his piercing blue eyes sparkled with mischief as they locked onto yours. He was dressed in a crisp white suit that seemed tailored to perfection, the snowy fabric contrasting beautifully with the warm undertones of his skin.

Your brows knitted together in confusion, your expression guarded as he pushed off the wall with an easy, confident stride. His lips curled into a dashing smile, the kind that hinted he was used to getting his way, and his voice carried the faintest hint of amusement as he spoke again.

“Apologies,” he said, his tone low and smooth, like a slow pour of fine whiskey. “I’m just a fan of your work.”

You straightened your posture instinctively, your shoulders rolling back as you appraised him. “Is that so?”

He nodded, his smile widening just enough to reveal a flash of perfect teeth. There was something about him—his demeanor, the way he carried himself—that made you feel both intrigued and wary.

“Very much so,” he replied, holding out a hand with the kind of charm that felt practiced but still disarmingly genuine. “Hiram.”

You hesitated, your eyes scanning his outstretched palm before finally offering your hand to him. His touch was warm, his grip firm but not overbearing, and when he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, it sent a faint shiver up your spine. His lips lingered just a second too long, and when he straightened, his eyes held yours as if daring you to look away.

“Y/N,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. You withdrew your hand slowly, letting your fingers slip from his grasp, and tilted your head slightly. “Don’t think me rude, but I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

He shrugged, the movement graceful, almost feline, as he tucked one hand into his pocket. “That’s not surprising,” he said with a soft chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m new blood, as they say. My family never jumped at the opportunity to let me out of my room.”

A surprised laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, the unexpected humor catching you off guard. “Where’s the fun in that?” you asked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Exactly,” he said, his own laugh following yours, low and rich. There was something magnetic about him, the way his presence seemed to fill the space, drawing you in like gravity itself.

His gaze flickered over you briefly, taking in the deep maroon gown and the confident way you carried yourself. “I must admit,” he said, his tone dropping slightly, softer now, as if the words were meant just for you. “Seeing you in person is... quite the experience. Pictures don’t do you justice.”

The compliment hung in the air between you, and though it was bold, there was no arrogance in his delivery—just pure, unfiltered charm. You couldn’t help but feel the faint heat of a blush creeping up your neck, though you masked it quickly with a small, polite smile.

“Well,” you said, lifting your chin slightly, “it’s good to know I can make such an impression.”

His grin widened, and he leaned in ever so slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Oh, you do more than that, Y/N.”

For a moment, the air between you felt thick, the weight of his words lingering as he straightened again, his expression still lighthearted but with an edge of something deeper. “I won’t keep you,” he said smoothly, taking a step back, though his eyes lingered on yours a beat longer than necessary. “But I do hope we’ll cross paths again before the night is through.”

He gave you a small nod, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in that same dashing smile, before turning to leave. As he disappeared into the crowd, you found yourself momentarily frozen, the faint scent of his cologne—woodsy and warm—still lingering in the air around you.

You slipped back into the crowd, weaving through clusters of opulent guests whose laughter and conversation rose like smoke, thick and suffocating. The golden chandeliers cast warm, glittering light over the ballroom, illuminating every polished surface and shimmering gown. But your attention wasn’t on the decadence surrounding you—it was locked on the figure at the far end of the room, near the bar.

There he was, standing tall and composed, his presence commanding despite the sea of wealth and power surrounding him. In-ho’s hair was slicked back with precision, each strand gleaming under the light. His face was unreadable, that familiar stoic expression giving away nothing, though you could sense the weight he carried in his posture.

Breathtakingly handsome and untouchable, he seemed carved from stone—a monument to control and authority.

Your gaze flicked to the man standing across from him, and your chest tightened. Even in a room filled with the most powerful and dangerous individuals alive, this man stood out. The original Game Maker. His presence was understated, yet it radiated an aura that set him apart—a blend of quiet confidence and palpable danger.

His hair was streaked with silver, but his sharp features and piercing eyes betrayed a mind still razor-sharp. He looked remarkably young for someone whose legacy was steeped in brutality, and that realization unsettled you. It meant that when he had first orchestrated the games, he must have been terrifyingly young—just a man, barely more than a boy, with the intelligence and ruthlessness to reshape human desperation into a blood-soaked spectacle.

The sight of him brought back the stories In-ho had told you late at night, his voice low and careful, as though uttering the words aloud might summon ghosts. But one story had always stuck with you—the two-day games.

You swallowed hard at the memory, your footsteps faltering for just a moment as the weight of it crept over you. In those games, 456 players had been wiped out in just two rounds. No victor. No home for the prize money. You could hardly fathom it: the sheer scale of the slaughter, the precision required to make it happen, the lack of regard for even the illusion of fairness.

The remaining four games had been rendered pointless—there weren't any survivors to justify continuing. That level of efficiency, of calculated cruelty, had never been replicated. It was as if the man standing before In-ho had reached the zenith of brutality and left an unshakable legacy in his wake.

A chill crawled up your spine as you moved closer, your eyes darting between In-ho’s impassive face and the Game Maker’s calm, almost casual demeanor. In-ho once told you that those games had left an indelible mark on the system's history. They’d been both a triumph and a warning, a standard so high in its carnage that no one dared attempt to replicate it. The Game Maker had been both feared and revered, his name spoken in hushed tones even now, decades later. In simpler terms, he' done his job a little too well.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the man was saying to In-ho. From the subtle tension in In-ho’s shoulders and the way his jaw tightened, it was clear this wasn’t a casual conversation. The Game Maker’s lips moved with measured precision, and though you couldn’t hear his words over the din of the ballroom, you could feel the weight of them in the air.

What would a man like that say to In-ho? Was it praise, criticism, or something darker? Did he see In-ho as a worthy successor or a pale imitation of the ruthlessness that had made him legendary?

Your heartbeat quickened as you approached the bar, the stories swirling in your mind like smoke. The memory of those games—the brilliance, the carnage, the terror—felt alive in this moment, standing there between them like an unspoken shadow.

The Game Maker turned slightly, his sharp eyes flicking toward you for a brief moment, and a faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The kind of smile made your blood run cold, like he’d already sized you up, dissected you, and found your weaknesses.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze for that fleeting moment before he turned his attention back to In-ho. The stories had given you chills before, but now, standing in the presence of the man who had written them, the weight of history—and the danger it carried—felt all too real.

And as In-ho glanced your way, his stoic mask momentarily cracking to reveal a flicker of something—was it reassurance? Warning?—you realized just how high the stakes were tonight. Whatever this conversation was, it wasn’t just small talk. And if you weren’t careful, you might find yourself caught in the crossfire of two men who had shaped the games with blood, brilliance, and cruelty.

"This must be your partner, if I'm not mistaken," the man said, his voice smooth and measured, each word laced with subtle curiosity. His piercing green eyes studied you with unnerving precision, as though he was already peeling back your layers, exposing every secret.

You nodded politely, but before you could speak, In-ho's hand slid firmly to the small of your back. The weight of his touch was both grounding and possessive, and his voice, calm and authoritative, carried over the din of the ballroom. "Yes," he replied, his answer as much a confirmation as it was a claim.

In-ho nudged you forward slightly, his gentle but insistent push urging you to engage. You bowed your head respectfully, your voice soft but steady as you spoke. "It’s an honor, sir."

The Game Maker’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Those sharp green eyes gleamed like polished glass, reflecting the flickering lights of the chandelier above. The man radiated power—not the loud, boisterous kind, but the quiet, suffocating weight of someone who didn’t need to prove himself.

As the frenetic pace of the music slowed, the brassy tones melting into a smooth, languid melody, he placed his drink down with deliberate precision, his attention turning fully to In-ho.

“May I?” he asked, his meaning clear as his eyes flicked toward you, a sly glint in their depths.

For a moment, silence hung between the three of you. In-ho’s hand on your back stiffened, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your gown. You could feel the tension radiating off him, subtle but unmistakable, as though the request had struck a nerve.

Then, with a faint nod, In-ho’s hand fell away. “Please,” he said evenly, his tone betraying none of the hesitation you knew he must feel. The word was polite, but the weight behind it made it feel more like permission than encouragement.

The Game Maker extended his hand toward you, his smile widening just enough to reveal a flash of teeth. His presence was magnetic, his movements fluid as though every step he took was choreographed. You hesitated, glancing back at In-ho, whose expression remained stoic, his dark eyes meeting yours with an unreadable intensity.

Taking a steadying breath, you placed your hand in the Game Maker’s. His grip was firm, his skin cool against yours as he led you onto the dance floor. The soft melody filled the air, and the crowd seemed to blur around you as he guided you into a slow, measured waltz.

“I must admit,” he began, his voice low and velvety as he steered you effortlessly, his steps smooth and deliberate, “I’ve been curious about the woman who caught In-ho’s eye.”

You arched a brow, keeping your tone neutral. “Curious, sir?”

He chuckled, a rich, quiet sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “It’s not every day my Front Man shows such… attachment.” His eyes bore into yours, sharp and probing. “It’s intriguing.”

You resisted the urge to stiffen under his scrutiny, forcing a polite smile. “I would hope to be more than just intriguing.”

His smile widened, and the grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly. “Oh, you are,” he said, his words carrying a weight that felt almost dangerous. “You’re a fascinating piece on this chessboard. But tell me…” His voice dropped, barely audible over the music. “How much do you truly know about the man you’re dancing around this world with?”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, your carefully constructed composure faltered. His words weren’t idle curiosity—they were a calculated strike, designed to unsettle you.

“I know enough,” you replied evenly, regaining your footing, though the slight edge in your voice betrayed you.

“Hmm,” he mused, his expression unreadable as he twirled you effortlessly, the lights of the chandelier spinning above. “Enough to trust him?”

You hesitated, just long enough for his smile to sharpen. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Trust is a fragile thing, my dear. I would tread carefully if I were you.”

The music swelled, the melody stretching out like a thread about to snap, and as he pulled you closer, "you seem... unfazed by this world," he moved on, his voice soft but layered with meaning. There was a gleam of something more in his eyes. "Many would be rattled by the games, by what they demand from people. But you... you seem like you understand."

You tilted your head slightly, sensing the direction of his conversation. His words weren’t just casual chatter—there was something deeper, something he was about to reveal. Something he wanted you to hear.

"I’ve seen things that would break most," he continued, his tone lowering, the dance now a distant memory between you both as you only swayed. "I’ve lived through things that have reshaped me in ways that can’t be undone."

Your pulse quickened, curiosity gnawing at you. The night had already been full of tension, but now the Game Maker was pulling you into his past—a place few, if any, had access to.

He took a step back abandoning the dance, glancing over his shoulder at the shadows of the ballroom as if weighing whether to speak. Finally, he sighed, a sound that seemed to carry decades of experience with it.

"The two-day games..." he started, and the words seemed to hang in the air between you like a curse. "There’s nothing quite like them in the history of the games. Nothing that compares to what happened during those two days."

You felt a chill run down your spine as he spoke. The stories you had heard—whispers of what had occurred during that brutal event—were always fragmented, vague. But now, you had the chance to hear it from the mouth of the man who had made it happen. The man who had orchestrated it all.

His gaze locked with yours, intense and unyielding. "I was younger then, perhaps too young, but the potential for control… the power to shape chaos—it called to me." His voice lowered, growing colder with each word. "The games were never meant to be easy. They were meant to expose the worst of people. Push them to the edge and watch them either rise or fall."

You shifted slightly, instinctively pulling away, but he seemed to read the motion as curiosity, not discomfort. He continued, almost as though speaking to himself.

"I gave them two days. Just two. 456 players entered the arena. 456 lives—each one filled with desperation, greed, fear. By the end of the second day, 456 of them were dead." His voice was smooth, but beneath the calm was a trace of something darker.

"The thing is," he added, almost as an afterthought, his expression hardening, "it didn’t take much to break them. It wasn’t about weapons or traps. It was about fear. The fear of what they were becoming. And when the first 50 fell, the rest of them—every last one—knew their time was numbered. That fear, that panic—it spread like wildfire."

You couldn’t tear your gaze away, your heart pounding in your chest as you listened to his words. The Game Maker’s voice was chilling, detached, as if recounting a story of someone else’s nightmare. But the deeper you listened, the more you realized how deeply he was tied to that moment. How much it had shaped him into the man he was today.

"In the end," he said, his eyes darkening, "the other four games were pointless. The players had already given up. There were barely enough survivors left to keep going. The horror of it, the inevitability of their deaths—it was already in the air. The remaining games were just a formality."

You shuddered, the horror of his words sinking in like a weight in your chest. The sheer scale of the violence—the cruelty of the decision to make it last three days—left you speechless for a moment. You hadn’t imagined the extent of what had transpired.

"But..." You started, voice barely above a whisper, "Why did it stop after that? Why didn’t you keep going? Why not make it a standard?"

"Because there’s only so much humanity can take," he said softly, the words carrying a weight you could almost taste. "After that, I realized something. You can break people, destroy them—but if you push them too far, you lose control. And then the game becomes something else. A rebellion perhaps."

His eyes flicked to In-ho, who had watched the conversation from the sidelines, his gaze unreadable.

"You lose the control. And control, my dear," the Game Maker whispered, his voice a thread of a warning, "is most precious in our line of work."

For a long moment, the air between you both was thick with tension. The soft music continued to play in the background, but in your mind, it was drowned out by the image of what the Game Maker had described—the bloodshed, the terror, the total breakdown of human decency in a span of just two days.

Finally, the silence was broken by the soft clink of glass. The Game Maker picked up a drink from a server, as if snapping back to reality, the weight of his story fading from his expression. "But that’s all behind me now," he added with a thin smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "The games have evolved. And I, too, have evolved with them."

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond, the sheer gravity of what he had just shared leaving you momentarily speechless.

And as he turned to leave, his hand brushing against yours once more, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his past pressing down on you, like a shadow that would never truly lift.

"You’ll understand," he said softly, looking back over his shoulder with that same glint in his eyes, "one day, when you’re forced to see the games from the inside. It’s the only way to truly know."

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing amidst the glittering crowd, the echo of his words lingering in the air like a dark omen.

________

The ride back to the island stretched on, the distant hum of the yacht's engines muffled by the heavy silence between you and In-ho. The sea stretched endlessly outside the cabin windows, dark and vast, mirroring the weight pressing down on the both of you. In-ho sat beside you, his posture relaxed but his mind clearly elsewhere, swirling with thoughts he would never voice. His third glass of whiskey sat half-empty in his hand, the liquid catching the dim light.

Your eyes softened as you turned to him, noting the faint lines of tension at the corners of his mouth and the way his shoulders carried the invisible burden of leadership. Reaching out, you placed a hand on his thigh, your touch gentle but grounding.

“You don’t have to do this alone, In-ho,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the oppressive quiet like a breeze.

He looked at you then, his dark eyes meeting yours. For a fleeting moment, his guarded expression melted, replaced by something warmer, softer. A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it didn’t erase the shadows in his gaze.

“I know,” he murmured, though the way he said it felt more like an attempt to reassure you than himself.

The thought of tomorrow hung between you both. The games would begin at dawn, and everything was ready, every gruesome detail in place. The guards had their orders, the players were already in their quarters, and all that remained were the final preparations for the VIPs.

You leaned back against the leather seat, your mind wandering as you stared out at the endless black horizon. News had reached you earlier in the evening—there would be a new VIP attending this round of games. The announcement hadn’t surprised you, but it had stirred something in you.

For a brief moment, your mind slipped back to when that title belonged to you. The memory of your first arrival as a VIP, dressed in extravagant finery and wrapped in the naivety of someone who thought they understood the games, drifted through your thoughts. How wrong you had been then.

But those thoughts were quickly overtaken by a new unease, one that gnawed at you from the edges of your mind.

"How much do you truly know about the man you’re dancing around this world with?"

The Game Maker’s words echoed in your head, their weight heavier now than when he’d first spoken them. The way his sharp green eyes had lingered on you, the knowing smile that had curled at his lips—it was as though he had planted a seed of doubt that was only now beginning to take root.

You glanced at In-ho again, studying the sharp line of his jaw, the faint glint of his mask resting on the table beside him, and the way his fingers idly swirled the whiskey in his glass. He seemed calm, composed, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was keeping something from you.

The silence stretched between you, thick with the unspoken, until In-ho’s voice broke through it.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked, his tone gentle but firm, his gaze sharp as it flicked to your face.

You hesitated, your brows knitting together as you forced a small smile and shook your head. “Nothing,” you lied, though your voice lacked conviction.

He didn’t press further, but his eyes searched yours, as if trying to read the thoughts you were so carefully keeping hidden. The weight of his scrutiny made your chest tighten, and you acted on instinct, leaning in and pressing your lips to his.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, and it carried with it the unspoken words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. His fingers, warm and strong, wrapped around yours, holding you steady as the world seemed to fall away for just a moment.

When you finally pulled back, his expression softened further, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

Your heart sank at the question, guilt prickling at the edges of your mind. “Of course,” you said, forcing another smile, though the Game Maker’s words lingered like a shadow in the back of your thoughts.

In-ho smiled faintly and raised his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, but his hand never left yours. The silence returned, though this time it felt heavier, as though the weight of your thoughts was tangible in the air between you.

You turned your gaze back to the window, the dark sea stretching endlessly ahead. Somewhere out there, on the island you were quickly approaching, the games waited to begin. But it wasn’t just the games that loomed—it was the feeling of a growing divide between you and the man sitting beside you.

And as the Game Maker’s haunting words replayed in your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder: how much did you really know about In-ho? And when the truth finally surfaced, would you still be able to call him yours?

_______

The quarters you shared with In-ho were cold when you returned, the chill of the air pressing against your skin as the soft hum of the elevator faded behind you. Your heels clicked sharply against the polished floors of the hallway, each step echoing faintly in the silence. In-ho followed close behind, his presence a steady weight at your back. Yet, while your body moved forward, your mind still remained trapped in the lingering echoes of the Game Maker’s words.

His question gnawed at you, digging deeper than you cared to admit. It looped in your thoughts like a broken record, each repetition leaving you more unsettled than the last. You didn’t want to believe there was truth to it, but the doubt had rooted itself, and no amount of rationalizing could make it go away.

Your steps faltered, the weight of your thoughts pulling you down like lead. It must have shown, because before you could recover, In-ho’s hand shot out, gripping your arm firmly and pulling you to him.

“Tell me. Now,” he demanded, his tone low but sharp as his dark eyes bore into yours. His face was mere inches from yours, the weight of his presence nearly suffocating as his chest brushed against yours.

For a moment, you stared up at him, startled by the intensity in his voice, the way his grip anchored you. Then, despite the knot tightening in your chest, a faint smile tugged at your lips.

“Well, this is familiar,” you said lightly, your voice carrying a teasing edge as you referred back to the night you met—when his grip on your wrist had been accompanied by a gun to your head instead of concern.

His expression didn’t soften. If anything, the lines of tension in his jaw deepened, and his hand fell away from your arm, letting it drop back to your side. There was no hint of amusement in his face, no trace of the man who often found quiet joy in your quips.

You sighed, the playfulness draining from your tone as you tilted your head back slightly, meeting his unrelenting gaze. “It’s the Game Maker,” you admitted finally. “He said something...”

“What did he say?” In-ho cut in, his voice sharper now, the words almost snapping out of him.

You hesitated, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek as you debated how much to reveal. But there was no use in hiding it; In-ho would press until you gave him the truth.

“He asked how much I truly knew about you,” you said carefully, the words coming slower now, each one measured. “He questioned my trust in you.”

The air between you shifted instantly. In-ho straightened, his posture rigid, and his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the flicker of movement beneath his skin. His dark eyes darkened further, and for a moment, he was utterly still—too still.

You threw your arms up in frustration, breaking the silence before it could grow heavier. “It’s stupid, I know,” you said quickly, your voice tinged with exasperation. “I shouldn’t let it get to me, but... it did.”

In-ho’s gaze never left yours, his silence unnerving as the seconds stretched on. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” you admitted, your voice softening. “I thought... I don’t know, I thought it was just a game.”

“And now?” he pressed, his tone still firm but laced with something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, unsure how to put your swirling thoughts into words. “And now, I don’t know,” you admitted, your shoulders slumping slightly. “He got into my head.”

In-ho took a step back, his hand raking through his slicked-back hair as he exhaled sharply. The tension radiating off him was palpable, the weight of it filling the space between you.

“He’s trying to divide us,” In-ho said finally, his voice steady but cold.

“That’s what he does. He finds cracks and widens them. He knows exactly where to push. Its entertainment for him.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the truth in his words but unable to completely shake the lingering doubt. “I know,” you said softly. “But that question...”

“Forget it,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through your thoughts. “You know everything you need to know about me.”

“Do I?” you asked before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out like a whisper.

He froze, his eyes narrowing slightly as they locked onto yours. The silence stretched between you again, and you immediately regretted asking.

“You do,” he said finally, his voice quieter now but no less firm.

You searched his face, looking for cracks in the mask he always wore, but there were none. Whatever secrets In-ho carried, he had buried them deep, and he wasn’t about to let you dig them up.

With a sigh, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. His lips were warm against yours, his hands finding your waist instinctively as he kissed you back. The tension between you eased, if only slightly, and for a moment, the world outside the quarters faded away.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your voice barely above a whisper. “I trust you, In-ho. Don’t let him make me doubt that.”

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, his gaze steady as he nodded. “I won’t,” he promised.

____

The VIP room you knew all too well was cloaked in dim, golden light, the shadows pooling in the corners like secrets waiting to be uncovered. The faint scent of polished wood and aged leather hung in the air, mingling with the warmth of the velvet couches arranged strategically around the room. It was quiet, the stillness almost oppressive, but it wouldn’t be for long. In less than ten minutes, the masked men—the VIPs—would arrive, and the space would come alive with laughter, conversation, and veiled threats disguised as casual remarks.

You and In-ho had worked yourselves to the bone ensuring every detail was flawless. The perfection demanded by the VIPs wasn’t just expected—it was required. Smoothing a gloved hand over the rich burgundy velvet of one of the couches, you allowed yourself a small, private smile. A memory flickered to life, unbidden—the image of your father reclining comfortably in that very spot, a drink in hand, his mask gleaming under the chandelier light. The memory warmed you, though only for a moment. You made a mental note to check on him later, to ensure he was still enjoying himself in his travels.

The sound of the door opening snapped you back to the present, and you turned to see the masked servants filing in. Their uniforms were pristine, their movements perfectly coordinated, and their masks—a blend of gold and black—reflected the room’s soft light. They waited silently for your direction, and you moved into action, gesturing toward the tables and stations.

“Ensure every glass is filled to the brim, not a drop less,” you instructed, your voice calm but firm. “And check your uniforms again—there’s no room for error tonight.”

The servants moved with precision, adjusting glasses, smoothing tablecloths, and arranging decanters of fine liquor in neat, symmetrical rows. You moved among them, inspecting every detail, every corner, ensuring nothing was out of place. Each glass glinted like crystal fire under the soft glow of the chandelier, and every surface gleamed as though it had been polished a thousand times over.

You were so engrossed in the process, so focused on achieving perfection, that you didn’t hear the faint creak of footsteps descending the grand staircase just outside the room. Nor did you register the growing presence behind you until a voice—a voice you recognized all too well—cut through the quiet like a blade.

“If it isn’t the queen herself,” the voice drawled, smooth and laced with a dangerous edge.

Your heart jolted, the sound sending a shiver down your spine and freezing you in place for half a beat. The blood in your veins turned cold, yet heat rushed to your face at the same time. Slowly, you turned, your gaze landing on the source of the voice.

Hiram.

He stood at the base of the staircase, dressed in an immaculate suit that seemed to glow under the dim light. The white fabric hugged his tall, built frame perfectly, and his familiar, disarming smile stretched across his face. His fawn-colored hair gleamed, every strand meticulously styled, but it was his piercing blue eyes that held your attention from beneath the mask. They sparkled with a dangerous kind of amusement, as though he already knew every thought running through your mind.

Behind him, the remaining VIPs entered the room, their masks gleaming in the light as they took in the space with quiet approval. Each of them exuded an aura of power and wealth, their silence more imposing than any words they might speak. And there, at the edge of the group, stood In-ho, his familiar mask hiding any hint of emotion. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture rigid, but you knew him well enough to sense the tension in the way he held himself.

“Ah, there you are,” Hiram said, stepping closer, his polished shoes barely making a sound against the floor. “You’ve outdone yourself, truly. This room is a masterpiece.” His voice was honeyed, charming, but there was a sharpness beneath it that made you uneasy.

“Thank you,” you replied evenly, forcing your voice to remain steady. You kept your expression composed, your hands clasped in front of you as he approached. “We aim to please.”

Hiram’s smile widened, his gaze flicking briefly to In-ho before returning to you. “And please, you certainly do.”

You resisted the urge to bristle under his stare, the weight of it lingering on you longer than it should have. Behind Hiram, one of the other VIPs chuckled quietly, their masked face tilted slightly toward you as though sharing in some unspoken joke.

In-ho stepped forward then, his imposing presence cutting through the tension like a knife. “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. The evening will begin shortly.”

The VIPs nodded, moving toward the velvet couches, their conversation low and indistinct as they settled into their seats. Hiram, however, lingered, his sharp blue eyes studying you as if he were trying to unravel a mystery.

“Relax,” he said softly, his voice dropping just enough so only you could hear. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on those lovely shoulders.”

You met his gaze, your own eyes narrowing slightly as you replied, “Someone has to ensure things run smoothly.”

Hiram chuckled, the sound rich and deep, as he took a deliberate step back. “Of course. But don’t forget to enjoy the fruits of your labor."

The words dripped with something you couldn’t quite place—mockery, admiration, or perhaps a mix of both. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel, joining the others on the couches.

In-ho was beside you in an instant, his hand brushing yours briefly before falling to his side. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly, his voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

You nodded, though the tightness in your chest hadn’t eased. “I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a small smile.

In-ho’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he straightened, his attention shifting back to the VIPs. The room was filling with quiet chatter and the faint clink of glasses, but your mind was elsewhere, stuck on the unnerving familiarity of Hiram’s words.

"You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world."

Perhaps, in some ways, he wasn’t wrong.

_________________

The first two games had gone off without a hitch, leaving the VIPs exceptionally entertained. Their laughter, applause, and murmurs of satisfaction still echoed faintly in your mind as you lay in bed. It had been a long, grueling day of keeping up appearances—avoiding Hiram’s pointed stares, catering to the demands of the VIPs, and maintaining your composure as the deadly spectacle unfolded before their masked faces.

Now, in the quiet sanctuary of your quarters, the exhaustion weighed heavily on you. Your freshly showered skin was cool against the soft sheets, and the faint scent of In-ho’s cologne lingered in the oversized shirt of his you’d slipped into. The fabric draped loosely over your body, the hem brushing against your thighs as you lay on your side, your back to the door.

The faint click of the door opening startled you, making your heart leap. You sat up quickly, the sheets pooling at your waist, only to relax when your eyes met In-ho’s. His dark eyes held a tired warmth, his posture slightly slouched as he closed the door behind him.

“How’d today go?” you asked softly, watching as he moved toward the bed. His black mask was gone now, leaving his sharp, handsome features fully exposed. He didn’t answer right away, instead sitting at the edge of the bed beside you.

His fingers reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before his palm rested gently against your cheek. The touch was grounding, comforting, and his thumb brushed your skin in a slow, deliberate motion.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he said, his voice low, tinged with concern.

You angled your head, your brows knitting slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he murmured, his tone dropping further as his gaze fixed on you, “is Hiram going to be a problem?”

The question caught you off guard, though it shouldn’t have. You knew In-ho had noticed Hiram’s lingering glances and overly familiar tone earlier in the day. His attention to detail rarely missed anything.

You shook your head quickly, offering a small, reassuring smile. “He’s just a flirt, nothing more,” you said lightly, though the faint tension in your voice didn’t go unnoticed.

In-ho didn’t look convinced. He sighed deeply, leaning into your shoulder and pressing his forehead against it. The weight of him was grounding, though you could feel the tension radiating from his body.

“Flirt or not,” he said, his voice muffled against your shoulder, “If he says anything to you, anything at all, you tell me," he said, his voice low but filled with unmistakable authority. “I don’t care if it seems harmless. I need to know.”

You snorted softly, your lips curving into a small smile as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. “You worry too much,” you teased, though your heart fluttered at the protective edge in his voice.

He lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours as a faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Take a shower with me,” he said suddenly, his tone lighter now but still carrying that low, intimate warmth that always seemed to pull you in.

You laughed softly, leaning back slightly and giving him a playful look. “You’re about 15 minutes too late, baby,” you said, that name rarely used by either of you, gesturing to your damp hair as proof.

His grin widened, the weariness in his expression giving way to something more mischievous. “Take another one,” he countered, his tone smooth, laced with that teasing charm he rarely let others see.

You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips as he leaned closer, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. His fingers curled gently against your skin as his forehead brushed yours, the warmth of him filling the small space between you.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmured, your voice soft but tinged with affection as your lips hovered just shy of his.

“For you?” he replied, his voice dropping to a near whisper, his breath warm against your skin. “Always.”

Before you could respond, he pressed his lips to yours in a slow kiss. It deepened quickly, his hand tightening against the nape of your neck as he pulled you closer. The stress of the day melted away in his touch, replaced by the warmth and safety you always felt in his presence.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “So? Another shower?”

You let out a breathy laugh, playfully nudging him. “Fine, but only if you carry me there,” you teased, though the sparkle in your eyes betrayed how much you loved the idea of spending just a little more time wrapped up in him.

He grinned fully now, the rare sight lighting up his face as he stood, scooping you effortlessly into his arms. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you toward the bathroom, the sound of your laughter filling the once-quiet room.

“Anything for you,” he murmured, his tone softer now, as though the words were meant only for you.

Making it through the door, In-ho carries you in the shower, slamming you against the marble wall of the shower. You moan from the pain radiating in your back and fumble for the nozzle, turning on the water. As it pours down, In-ho holds you to him.

Pulling his soaked black shirt off, you blindly throw it. "God I've missed these," In-ho says with need, cupping your breasts and squeezing. You arch into the sensation as he kisses every square inch of you.

Your breaths are cut short, "this..is this our stress relief?" You moan the question. It was pathetic, but you didn't care as the warm water dripped down your bare body. His tongue slips into your mouth, dominating with control. You break from him, "God, fuck me," you pleaded, as you removed his belt, pushing his jeans to the wet floor.

Lost in the embrace, in the all-consuming passion that bound you together, the world outside ceased to exist. Every kiss was a firebrand against your skin, every touch igniting nerves you didn’t know could spark. Time seemed to slow, the rhythm of your movements the only measure of its passing, as if the universe itself had paused to witness your union.

The warmth of his breath fanned against your neck, mingling with the heat between your bodies. His hands gripped you with a reverence that bordered on desperation, fingers pressing into your skin as though he were afraid to let go, afraid you might slip away. The steady, powerful rhythm of each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your senses heightening until every sound, every sensation, became sharper, more vivid.

The soft gasps and murmurs escaping your lips seemed to echo in the room, blending with the faint trickle of water from the showerhead above. Droplets clung to your skin, sliding slowly over the curve of your back, over the ridges of his muscles, before pooling in the space between your entwined bodies. Each droplet caught the faint golden light of the room, glistening like tiny stars before being lost in the heat of your connection.

Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him closer, and he obliged, his lips trailing along your jaw before capturing yours again in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. The taste of him, the heat of his body against yours, was intoxicating. You couldn’t get enough.

But beyond the veil of your bliss, the door to your quarters eased open, silent and deliberate, the faintest shift of air the only sign of intrusion. Footsteps, so soft they barely disturbed the stillness, crept closer, slow and calculated, each one measured to avoid detection.

In the shadows, just beyond the faint pool of golden light spilling from the bedside lamp, he stood.

Hiram’s figure was a ghost against the darkness, his white suit blending almost unnaturally into the muted glow. His sharp blue eyes gleamed, watching you with a cold, predatory focus that made the air seem heavier. His expression wasn’t one of embarrassment or even intrigue—it was something far more sinister. His lips curled into a faint smirk, his head tilting slightly as he took in the scene before him with unnerving calm, as if committing every detail to memory.

Your laughter, your whispered name on In-ho’s lips, the vulnerable intimacy you thought was private—it all played out before Hiram like a stage performance crafted solely for his amusement.

But this wasn’t idle curiosity.

As his piercing gaze flicked between you and In-ho, something darker flickered in his eyes—disorder, malice, and the unmistakable spark of opportunity. He stood motionless, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, as though savoring the power of his invisible presence, feeding off the unknowing vulnerability of the two of you.

He leaned slightly against the doorframe, his smirk widening as his thoughts grew darker. Plans began to unfurl in his mind—delicate threads of manipulation, sabotage, and ruin. He could already see the cracks he could exploit, the fault lines he could widen until everything you’d built together came crashing down.

This wasn’t just about jealousy or lust. It was about power. Hiram wasn’t simply watching—he was plotting. He would take this moment, this private, unguarded act, and twist it into a weapon. A scandal. A weakness. A game.

The soft rustle of fabric, the faint creak of a floorboard—it all went unnoticed by you as you clung to In-ho, lost in the safety and warmth of each other.

Hiram’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, his smirk hardening into something far more chilling. His blue eyes burned with quiet intent as he silently turned and slipped back into the darkness of the hallway, the door closing behind him with the faintest click.

You didn’t notice.

And that was the most unsettling part. You didn’t feel the weight of his presence, the cold void left in his wake. You didn’t hear the quiet whisper of a plan already forming.

But you would. Soon enough.

__________

The third game was well underway, the tension in the air palpable as you stood near the edge of the VIP room, surveying the space with sharp eyes. Each masked guest lounged on the velvet couches, their low murmurs punctuated by bursts of laughter or clinks of crystal glasses. On the wide screen across the room, the game unfolded with brutal precision, but your focus wasn’t on the chaos playing out there—it was on the subtle undercurrents within this room.

In-ho had left an hour ago, his presence a void you felt acutely. Before he went, he’d reminded you, in no uncertain terms, to tell him if Hiram stepped out of line. You’d nodded, trying to ignore the growing knot in your chest. Now, as you scanned the room, your eyes occasionally drifted to where he had been, wishing you could reach out and touch his mask for reassurance, to feel connected to him, even from afar.

But Hiram’s gaze was a far more suffocating presence. You could feel it, sharp and invasive, like a cold knife against your skin. It followed you relentlessly, even when you weren’t looking. His attention wasn’t subtle or casual—it was deliberate, calculated, and infuriating.

You swallowed the anger threatening to bubble over. By now, the thought of him made your blood boil, and if you were being honest with yourself, the idea of sinking a blade into his throat was becoming alarmingly tempting.

The need to escape the room became overwhelming. Grabbing an empty decanter from a nearby table, you excused yourself, slipping through the side door toward the supply closet.

The closet was dimly lit, shelves lined with bottles of every expensive liquor imaginable. The faint scent of aged whiskey and cleaning supplies hung in the air, and for a fleeting moment, you wished you weren’t working. A shot—or two—might have eased the tension twisting in your chest.

You reached for a bottle of vodka, the smooth glass cool against your gloved fingers, when a voice broke the silence.

“Thinking of taking a break?”

The words came from behind you, startling you so badly you slammed into the shelf behind you, bottles rattling ominously at the impact.

You spun around to find Hiram standing in the doorway, his white suit glowing faintly under the dim light. He let out a deep, belly laugh, his voice rich with amusement at your discomfort.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, though the gleam in his sharp blue eyes suggested otherwise.

Your pulse quickened, and you fought to keep your composure as you smoothed out your uniform. “You should get back to the game,” you said curtly, your voice steady despite the tension curling in your stomach.

Hiram shrugged nonchalantly, stepping further into the cramped space. “I’ve grown bored,” he said, his tone casual but laced with something darker. “I’d much rather spend my time with you.”

He moved closer, and instinctively, you straightened your spine, forcing yourself to stand tall. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, his voice lowering as he loomed over you.

You stiffened as your back pressed against the cold metal of the shelf. The tight quarters made it impossible to step away. “Whatever it is, I can’t accept,” you said quickly, turning to grab the bottle of vodka and making to leave.

Before you could take a step, his hand clamped down on your shoulder, his grip rough and unyielding as he spun you back around to face him.

Pain shot through your shoulder, and your heart jumped to your throat as you fought to keep the yelp threatening to escape locked behind your lips. “Please let go of me,” you said, your voice measured but trembling slightly at the edges.

Instead of releasing you, his other hand shot out, gripping your jaw tightly. His fingers dug into your skin, and in one swift motion, he ripped your mask off, letting it fall to the floor with a sharp clatter.

Your breath hitched, your wide, eyes now fully exposed to him. The faint sheen of fear in them must have pleased him because he scoffed, his lips curling into a twisted smirk.

“Don’t be so afraid,” he said mockingly, his voice dripping with condescension. His thumb brushed along your cheek, a touch that was slow and deliberate, as if savoring your discomfort.

You flinched, your body stiffening under his touch, but he didn’t pull back. If anything, he leaned closer, his warm breath ghosting over your face as his sharp blue eyes bore into yours.

“You’re even more beautiful up close,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with something predatory. His finger traced the line of your jaw, trailing down to your chin as though he were studying a prize. “A shame someone like you is wasted on someone like him.”

The implication in his words made your stomach churn, and you clenched your fists at your sides, fighting the urge to lash out.

“Hiram,” you said sharply, your voice stronger now despite the fear gripping your chest. “Let. Me. Go.”

You clenched your jaw, your hand curling into a fist at your side, trying to retain any shred of composure. “This isn’t professional,” you barked, the words coming out sharper than you intended, the slight tremor in your voice betraying your rising unease.

Hiram’s grin widened, his expression darkening as he leaned in closer. His breath was warm against your face, almost too close. “You know what isn’t professional, Y/N?” His voice dropped lower, laced with venom.

“Fucking your boss in front of a VIP. You don’t think I saw that little show? How wet you were, how you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your blood running cold as the reality of what he was saying sank in. The realization hit you like a slap across the face, and you swallowed, the bile in your throat rising. “What are you implying?” you asked, though you already knew.

His grin flashed wider, sharper now, like a predator toying with its prey. “Oh, I think you already know, sweetheart.” He leaned back, taking in your reaction with the kind of satisfaction that made your stomach turn. “So, here’s my proposition.”

You blinked, frozen in place as he reached for a bottle of whiskey on the shelf beside him, his movements slow and deliberate as he took a long swig. The harsh liquid seemed to ignite something in his eyes, the edges of his grin curling with malice.

“The Original Game Maker isn’t happy,” Hiram continued, his voice dripping with sweet, poisonous calm. “He thinks the games have gotten too soft. Too... predictable. He thinks loyalties are getting a little too murky. And we can’t have that, can we?” He stepped closer again, his eyes locked onto yours with a predatory intensity. “No, no, no. We need to shake things up.”

Your breath caught in your chest, the weight of his words settling heavily between you. You could feel the air thickening, suffocating you as his words began to sink deeper into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts like a vice.

He took another swig from the bottle, wiping his mouth casually with the back of his hand before setting it down on the shelf with a soft clink. “In my opinion, In-ho’s loyalties have drifted,” he said, his voice carrying an unsettling edge. “To you, Y/N. And while that’s... charming, I think it’s time he’s reminded of the consequences of that kind of weakness.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, the realization of what he was suggesting sending a chill through your entire body. “What are you talking about?” you whispered, but even as the words left your mouth, you already knew the answer.

Hiram’s eyes gleamed as he straightened, the playful malice in his expression growing more serious, more calculating. “So here’s whats going to happen. On behalf of the original game maker's wish,” he said, the weight of his words pressing against you like a physical force. “You will enter the games as a player. And In-ho will finally show his true colors. If he interferes with the game for you? His life will come to a tragic end. But if you allow fate to decide…” His voice trailed off, but the dark promise hung in the air, suffocating, undeniable.

The words were poison, each syllable crawling under your skin like an infection, burning through your chest. Your mind raced, trying to piece together what he was saying, what he was offering—and you hated yourself for feeling a flicker of hesitation, as if the very idea of it wasn’t completely out of reach.

Hiram’s grin deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement as he read the shock and fear in your face. “You both come out alive, or... you know the rest. Think of it as a test for In-ho. Will he be loyal to the games, or loyal to you?” His voice was thick with implication, like a contract being signed in blood.

The room felt smaller now. The air, once thick with the hum of tension, now felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in around you. You could feel the weight of Hiram’s gaze on you, each word landing like a hammer to your chest, each suggestion a chain tightening around your throat.

Hiram took a final sip from the bottle, his eyes never leaving yours as he tilted his head. “Think hard in your remaining time with him” he said softly, his voice almost a purr. “Let’s see how far you’re willing to go for him and him...for you.”

Your mind reeled. The idea of willingly stepping into the game—becoming a part of it, in it—was a nightmare, but the alternative... The alternative was more terrifying than you could bear. The question was no longer just about survival, it was about loyalty, power, betrayal. And worst of all, the deadly twist of fate that Hiram was dangling in front of you.

______

The conference room was cloaked in an overbearing darkness, the only sound the relentless ticking of the clock mounted on the wall behind you. The air was thick, weighted by a silence that felt intentional, like a predator stalking its prey. You sat at the head of the long, polished table, your gloved fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against the arm of the chair. The day was crawling toward its end, but every second felt like an eternity. All you could think about was her—y/n—waiting for you. The ache to return to her side burned like a brand, her presence the only thing that kept you grounded amidst the chaos.

But you couldn’t leave. Not yet. The Original Game Maker had summoned you here without warning, his message sparse and cryptic. No explanation. No agenda. Just an order—a command you couldn’t refuse. Not from him. The mere fact that he had decided to step out of his self-imposed obscurity and into the shadows of the games again was unsettling enough. He’d spent years distancing himself from this bloodstained spectacle, content to let others pull the strings. But now, his sudden interest in this season felt like a storm gathering on the horizon—quiet but ominous.

You shifted in your chair, stifling the urge to scoff aloud. The memory of his past actions clawed at the edges of your mind: the slaughter of 456 lives. Brutal. Senseless. A massacre that spat in the face of the games’ twisted purpose. You could still sense the blood-soaked floors, feel the echoes of screams that lingered long after the last body fell. No one had dared to replicate his methods since—how could they? It was chaos for the sake of chaos, devoid of strategy or control.

You’d told y/n that story once, not to frighten her but to warn her. To keep her as far from him as possible. The man was a powder keg, volatile and devoid of humanity. He lacked empathy. He lacked reason. And yet, here he was, demanding your presence like some dark god who had finally grown bored of his own indifference.

Your jaw tightened beneath the mask as you glanced at the door. He was late—of course, he was late—but the weight of his impending arrival pressed down on you like an iron shroud. You couldn’t ignore the unease simmering beneath your skin, a faint prickle of suspicion that refused to be silenced. Still, you reminded yourself: I am in control. I am in charge.

But it wasn’t just about you. It never was. Y/n was your equal, your partner in your blood-drenched kingdom. You trusted her implicitly, would bow to her without hesitation if she asked. She gave you purpose, kept you tethered. The thought of her—her strength, her clarity—gave you the resolve to face whatever bombardment was about to walk through that door.

And yet, as the ticking clock marked each passing second, the unease lingered.

The Original Game Maker had returned, and whatever he wanted, you knew it wasn’t good.

The door clicked shut behind his towering figure, the sound reverberating through the room like a judge’s gavel. He stood there for a moment, letting the oppressive silence weigh heavier, his presence filling the darkened space. A slow, chilling grin crept across his face, a predatory curve that set your nerves on edge. In his hands, he clutched a thick binder, pressed against his chest like a weapon he was ready to unsheathe. Without a word, he flung it onto the table with a loud thud, the pages splaying slightly from the force.

He moved toward the chair beside you, the leather groaning as he sank into it, every motion deliberate and oozing authority. “Lose the mask, In-ho,” he said, his voice a low, rasping command that carried an edge of disdain. “We’re far beyond formalities.”

You hesitated for only a moment before obeying, reaching up to remove the mask that had become a part of you, placing it carefully on the table’s cold surface. The air felt sharper against your face, the weight of his gaze cutting deeper now that your shield was gone.

“I’m not happy, In-ho.” His words were clipped, each syllable sharp enough to draw blood. He jabbed a finger toward the binder, his meaning clear.

You flipped open the cover, the faint warmth of freshly printed pages brushing against your fingertips. One by one, you turned the sheets, each page a detailed report of the previous games you had overseen. Numbers, outcomes, summaries of lives lost in your carefully constructed arenas. The data stared back at you like an accusation, but you refused to flinch.

Finally, you looked up at him, unshaken but curious. “Sir?”

He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as if you had already failed some unspoken test. “Your games are too feeble,” he spat, his lips curling into a sneer. “Too slow. The players… they aren’t drowning in fear. They aren’t desperate enough, In-ho. They aren’t pushed to the brink, clawing at each other like animals, fighting for their very existence.”

You folded your gloved hands atop the table, your voice calm but laced with steel. “I oversee and operate games with order, games that have purpose. Every death is calculated. Every sacrifice has meaning.”

He scoffed, the sound cutting through the room like a blade. “And that, In-ho, is precisely the problem.” He leaned forward now, his elbows resting on the table as his dark, piercing eyes bore into yours. “I created these games to strip humanity down to its raw, ugly core. To show the world what we truly are when the veneer of civility is ripped away. People will kill, not because they need to, but because they want to. For the thrill. For dominance. For the sake of blood itself.”

His words hung in the air, a festering poison that seeped into the room. You felt the tension coil tighter in your chest, but your expression remained unreadable.

“These aren’t just games to you,” you said slowly, the weight of realization settling like a stone in your stomach. “They’re a mirror. A reflection of your own madness.”

His grin widened, a twisted caricature of delight. “Perhaps, In-ho. But madness, after all, is the truest form of humanity.”

The room felt smaller now, the walls pressing in as his words lingered, daring you to challenge him further. But this was a game of its own, and you couldn’t afford to lose.

"Anyway," he said, his voice dripping with mock casualness, "that’s not my only problem. Flip to page 457."

Your fingers moved instinctively, even as dread clawed at the edges of your mind. The crisp sound of pages turning echoed in the silent room, the numbers blurring until you stopped at the specified page. Your breath caught, the blood in your veins turning cold as you stared at the glossy photographs staring back at you.

It was you. With her. Y/n. Captured in the most vulnerable, intimate moments of your life, taken just nights ago. Her smile, your hand tangled in her hair, the undeniable tenderness etched into both your faces—it was all there, exposed. Your pulse thundered in your ears, but outwardly, you forced your body to remain still, to not give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

The Game Maker leaned back, a predator savoring his prey. “Your loyalties are slipping,” he said, his tone eerily calm. “Although, deep down, in different circumstances, I wouldn’t blame you. She truly is lovely.” His gaze flicked to the photographs as if admiring a piece of art. “I had no issue with her presence here. Not at first. But then I saw it—this... softness. That flickering humanity in your eyes. The same brutality I once admired in you, the kind that reminded me of myself when I was younger—it’s fading.”

You leaned back in your chair, fingers curling into fists beneath the table. “Get to the point,” you said, your voice even but cold.

The Game Maker chuckled, a low, sinister sound that filled the room like smoke. “Ah, yes, the point.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his grin widening. “She’s your purpose, isn’t she? The reason you’re clawing your way back to humanity. The key to unlocking the man you used to be before your wife passed.”

Your jaw clenched at the mention of her, a sharp, invisible blade twisting deep in your chest. But you didn’t speak. You wouldn’t give him the joy of seeing how deeply his words cut.

“And you can see how that is... problematic for me, can’t you?” he continued, his voice softening, almost feigning sympathy. “Because while y/n may be important to you, these games are important to me. More so, I’d argue.” He tilted his head, studying you like a specimen under glass. “I need you to prove where your loyalty truly lies. With her? Or with the games I built you to lead.”

Your voice was steady, though each word felt like pushing against a rising tide. “How?”

The grin that spread across his face was sharp and wicked, a hunter reveling in its kill. “You’ll craft your own two day games,” he said, his tone deceptively light. “Similar to mine. You will design them yourself, and you will not interfere. No leniency. No hesitation. No mercy. Only barbarity. If you succeed—if you prove to me that the In-ho I molded hasn’t been lost—I’ll bite my tongue. I’ll let you and her continue this... whatever this is.”

He paused, his grin darkening. “But if you fail?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Then you can kiss everything you know and love goodbye. Including her.”

Your silence was the only response, though your teeth clenched so hard you thought they might crack.

The Game Maker stood, his movements languid, confident. He adjusted his coat as he moved toward the door, his boots thudding against the floor with an almost mocking rhythm. With one hand on the door, he turned back, his shadow stretching across the room.

“And, In-ho?” His voice carried a sharp edge of finality. “If you think this doesn’t hurt me, you’re wrong. I made you what you are, molded you into something extraordinary. Watching you falter now is like watching a masterpiece crack and crumble.” His eyes narrowed. “So I suggest you take my words with caution and do exactly what you’re told.”

The door closed behind him with a deafening noise, leaving you alone with the photos, the order hanging over your head like a guillotine, and the faint echo of his parting words sinking into your chest like a weight you could hardly bear.

_____________

You’d intended to march straight to In-ho’s office, fury blazing in your chest like an inferno. Hiram had crossed the line, and you were done letting his smarmy arrogance slide. You were going to tell In-ho everything, let him deal with the fool, and watch Hiram’s smirk turn to panic when he realized he wouldn’t see sunrise.

But the third game had ended, leaving the viewing room steeped in gloaming and silence, the air thick with the weight of death. The tension followed you as you ascended the winding staircase, each step bringing you closer to your quarters—and to In-ho.

Then, hands gripped your waist from behind, yanking you backward into a broad chest. The move was quick, practiced. Adrenaline surged, and before you could even think, your hand shot to your blade. With a fluid motion, you drove the weapon into your attacker’s hip, twisting it for good measure.

A sharp grunt of pain followed as the hands released you, and you spun on your heel, ready to strike again. The dim hallway lights revealed Hiram staggering back, clutching his side where blood was already staining his suit. Behind him, three of his VIP cronies loomed, their expensive outfits hiding bulky frames and concealed weapons.

You gripped the blade tighter, your other hand slipping behind your back to retrieve your second knife. “Really, Hiram?” you spat, your voice low and venomous. “You need your little gang to take down one woman? That’s just pathetic.”

Hiram straightened, his breath coming in short, pained bursts as he yanked the knife from his hip with a hiss. He tossed it to the floor with a metallic clang, his lip curling into a humorless smile. “Does In-ho not trust you enough to give you a gun? Or does he like to keep his little pet on a leash?”

The insult barely registered. You were already stepping into a defensive stance, rolling your shoulders to loosen the tension building in your muscles. The blade in your hand glinted as you twirled it with ease, keeping your focus sharp. “Whatever it is you think you’re trying to do,” you said, your tone laced with poison, “why don’t you stop wasting my time and get on with it?”

Hiram’s grin twisted into something darker as he took a step forward. The other VIPs followed his lead, spreading out to form a circle around you, their movements slow and deliberate. They were armed, you could see the outlines of holsters under their tailored suits, but none of them drew yet. No, they wanted to play with their prey first.

You pivoted slowly, keeping your head on a swivel, your eyes darting between each man as they tightened the circle. Your heart hammered in your chest, but your grip remained steady. If they thought cornering you would make you crumble, they were in for a rude awakening.

“You’re feisty,” Hiram said, his tone dripping with condescension as he gestured to his men. “But that’s going to be a problem, y/n. You see, In-ho might tolerate your little antics, but I don’t. And after tonight, you’ll wish you had kept that knife to yourself.”

“You talk too much,” you shot back, your lips curling into a defiant smirk. Your pulse roared in your ears, but outwardly, you stayed calm, shifting your weight subtly to prepare for the first strike. “All this bluster, and yet here you are, bleeding like a stuck pig. So, which one of you is going to make the first move? Or do you need to huddle and decide?”

The taunt worked. One of the VIPs lunged, his hand reaching for your arm. You ducked low, sidestepping with practiced ease and slicing at his side as you went. Blood splattered on your face, in your hair and on your suit. He let out a guttural cry, stumbling to the floor, dead, and the circle tightened as the others moved in.

The fight had begun, and you knew this wasn’t going to be clean. But you weren’t about to go down without a fight.

One down, you thought as another stepped forward to grab you. A small doubt in your mind clanged through you. It made you wonder why they hadn't used their guns to subdue you at this point, until you remembered Hiram's proposition. They weren't trying to kill you. They were trying to capture you and you'd be damned if they were to succeed.

A rough hand shot out, tangling in your hair and yanking you backward with brutal force. Pain radiated from your scalp as your body arched against the pull, and another set of hands clamped down on your arms like iron shackles, trying to restrain you.

You weren’t about to fail.

Not here.

Not now.

With a feral growl, you twisted against the grip, sinking your teeth into the thick forearm of the larger man restraining you. His flesh tore under the pressure, and the sharp, metallic tang of blood flooded your mouth. He roared in pain, his grip faltering as he stumbled back, clutching his arm. You spit the torn skin and blood back in his face, your eyes blazing as you drove a powerful kick to the side of his head. The blow landed with a sickening crack, sending him sprawling to the floor in a heap.

But there was no time to celebrate. The second man still had your arms, his grip relentless. You twisted violently, your muscles screaming with the effort, but he held firm. Desperation flared, and you did the only thing you could—threw your head back with everything you had.

Your skull connected with his nose in a sickening crunch, and his grip loosened just enough. A guttural curse escaped him as he staggered, blood pouring from his shattered nose. You turned sharply, your fist already swinging toward him, but you didn’t get the chance to finish.

A sudden, blinding pain exploded across your cheek, cutting through your focus like a blade. The force of the impact sent you crumpling to your knees, the world tilting as you gasped for breath. A searing, numbing ache spread from your face to your jaw, and you tasted blood pooling in your mouth. Spitting it onto the cold floor, you tried to steady yourself, blinking to clear the haze of pain.

When your vision sharpened, your gaze locked onto Hiram standing over you, his chest heaving with exertion, a pair of brass knuckles glinting in the dim light. Blood from his earlier wound had soaked through his suit, but it didn’t seem to slow him. He tilted his head, a breathless, wicked laugh spilling from his lips as he took in your state.

"Look at you," he sneered, flexing his fingers in the brass knuckles. "All that fire... and yet here you are. On your knees. Just where you belong."

Your jaw clenched, the copper tang of your own blood still thick in your mouth. Pain radiated from your cheek, but you refused to look defeated. Instead, you raised your head, locking eyes with him, your fury burning brighter than ever.

With that, you took a hit to the head from the bottom of his shoe, no doubt filled with steel and slipped into darkness. The final thing you heard...

Shes under.

Bringing her to you now.

______

The pain hit like a lightning strike the moment you tried to rub your eyes, a sharp, blinding agony that tore a raw scream from your throat. Your eyelids snapped open, and the world around you blurred in streaks of dim light and shadow.

"Try not to move," a worn, weathered voice suggested, calm but firm.

Your gaze darted to the side, your breath hitching as you took in the figure beside you. An elderly woman sat hunched over, her face lined with the etchings of time and hardship. In her gnarled hands, she held a water bottle and strips of frayed fabric, soaked in blood and grime. Her touch was careful but insistent as she dabbed at the stinging wound above your brow, the metallic scent of blood mixing with the sour tang of sweat.

You pushed her hand away abruptly, the surge of adrenaline drowning out the pain. Ignoring the dull, throbbing ache in your muscles, you forced yourself upright, the threadbare blanket sliding from your shoulders to the cold, unforgiving floor.

Fragments of memory surged forward, crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Hiram.

The proposition.

In-ho.

Your chest tightened as reality snapped into focus. The events blurred, but one thing was certain—you were in danger, and so was he.

Your eyes darted around, taking in the unfamiliar room. The space was cavernous, yet suffocating, the air damp and heavy with despair. Rows of narrow, metal bunk beds stretched into the shadows, their frames rusted and creaking. The dim lighting overhead cast flickering pools of orange light that barely pierced the darkness. This wasn't the player's quarters you knew—this was something else. Something worse.

The uniforms confirmed it. You looked down at yourself, the tight black fabric clinging to your legs, a stark contrast to the garish jumpsuits the players usually wore. A sleek, fitted black jacket covered your upper body, the material sturdy yet restrictive. It felt like a shroud, as if someone had stripped you of your identity and replaced it with this ominous second skin.

The cold metal of the platform under your feet sent a shiver up your spine, but rage burned hotter. Without hesitation, you leapt from the upper level, landing with a thud on the grated floor below. Your knees buckled slightly at the impact, but you straightened, the fury in your veins propelling you forward.

Your target was clear: the iron door at the far end of the dormitory. It loomed like a fortress wall, a cold, unyielding barrier between you and freedom. You surged toward it, your fists slamming against the surface with all the force you could muster.

"Hiram!" you bellowed, your voice raw and echoing through the empty dormitory. "You motherfucker, let me out!"

Your knuckles burned as you pounded the door, the metal refusing to give even the faintest hint of weakness. Desperation clawed at your throat as you turned your gaze upward, scanning the shadows until your eyes locked onto the cold, unfeeling lens of a surveillance camera.

"You hear me, Hiram? Let me out!" you roared, your voice cracking under the weight of your panic. The silence that followed was deafening, a void that only heightened your racing thoughts.

Where was In-ho? Was he all right? Did he even know what had happened? Or was he—

No. You couldn't finish the thought. Your fists fell to your sides, trembling as rage and fear churned in your chest.

The camera blinked once, its small red light a cruel reminder that someone, somewhere, was watching—and enjoying—your descent into chaos.

If Hiram and the Game Maker wanted you to play, then fine. Game on.

Your fists dropped from the iron door, bloodied and raw, but you didn't care. The sting in your knuckles, the ache in your muscles—none of it mattered now. The fear that had momentarily threatened to consume you hardened into something sharper, deadlier. It wasn't panic anymore. It was resolve.

Your chest rose and fell with measured breaths as you locked eyes with the blinking red light of the surveillance camera. You knew they were watching. You wanted them to watch. Let them see what they'd done.

The corners of your lips curled into a dangerous smirk, blood staining your teeth. "You want a player?" you growled, your voice low and venomous, dripping with challenge. "You've got one."

__________

You cursed her name under your breath, the syllables bitter as they scraped against your tongue. On the screen, she pounded on the iron door, relentless, her voice cutting through the static with raw determination. She wouldn't back down. You knew her better than that. The sound of his name spilling from her lips was a dagger in your chest. It was enough.

With a flick of your wrist, the glass of liquor left your hand, shattering against the sink with a piercing crash. You barely registered the shards as they scattered across the counter, your focus already shifting. Your movements were sharp, deliberate, as you descended the staircase, each step a promise of retribution.

He didn't hear you coming. Hiram was sprawled across his lavish couch, a smug picture of decadence. You didn't bother with pleasantries. Your gloved hand clenched his fawn-colored hair, yanking him off the cushions with a violent pull. The startled yelp he let out was satisfying, but it wasn't enough. You flung him to the floor like garbage, the thud of his body echoing through the room.

Hiram laughed—low, guttural, unhinged. The sound coiled around your nerves, igniting your fury. You drew your pistol, the weight of it steady in your grasp, and aimed it directly at his smirking face.

"Ah, ah," he rasped, blood already pooling at his split lip. "You pull that trigger, and the game maker will have her head on a silver platter." His smile widened, grotesque and mocking, and it churned your stomach.

Your boot connected with his nose before he could say another word. The sickening crunch was music to your ears. Hiram's howl was guttural, primal, as he clutched his face, blood streaming between his fingers. You crouched down beside him, your shadow engulfing his trembling frame.

The pistol pressed hard beneath his chin, the cold metal biting into his skin. His ragged breaths came in sharp, shallow bursts as his gaze darted between your eyes and the barrel.

"You fucking touch her?" Your voice was low, venomous, a deadly promise wrapped in steel.

Hiram gasped, his chest heaving. Despite the blood and pain contorting his features, he managed to smirk. "Oh, come on, In-ho. You think so little of me?"

The pistol dug deeper, forcing his head back against the floor.

"Maybe," Hiram hissed, his teeth bared. "Maybe I had my way with her before I put her under."

White-hot rage exploded in your veins. Your fist crashed into his face again, another brutal blow to his already mangled nose. His scream ripped through the room as his head snapped back, blood splattering the floor like a grotesque painting.

"Enough."

The voice thundered from above, cutting through the room like a blade. Your head snapped up, the adrenaline in your veins freezing for a moment as you caught sight of the Game Maker. He stood at the top of the staircase, his silhouette sharp against the dim light behind him, one hand lazily resting on the railing. His expression was unreadable, but his commanding presence demanded obedience.

"Get off him, In-ho," he ordered, his tone icy, yet calm. "He only obeyed orders."

Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding as you glanced down at Hiram's bloodied, quivering form. His chest rose and fell in erratic gasps, his face a grotesque mess of swelling and crimson streaks. You tightened your grip on the pistol for a fraction of a second before exhaling sharply through your nose. Slowly, you pulled the barrel away from his clammy forehead, the imprint of the muzzle leaving a faint, circular mark on his skin.

Straightening, you forced the anger to settle, though your voice betrayed the simmering fury within. "This wasn't part of the deal."

The Game Maker shrugged nonchalantly, his expression impassive as he began descending the staircase. Each step was deliberate, the sound of his polished shoes echoing through the room. "No," he admitted, tilting his head slightly. "But doesn't it make for a far more... interesting show?"

Your stomach twisted at his words, the casual sadism in his tone igniting a spark of panic deep within you. You shoved it down, burying it beneath a veneer of cold resolve. Now wasn't the time to crack.

Behind you, Hiram struggled to his knees, his blood-slick hands slipping against the floor. He barely managed to stagger upright before his legs gave out, sending him stumbling back down. A low, wicked chuckle escaped your lips as you watched him flounder, your satisfaction bubbling just beneath the surface. Serves him right.

The Game Maker reached the bottom of the staircase, his gaze sharp and assessing as he approached. His eyes flicked to Hiram briefly before landing on you, calculating and piercing.

"The question now," he said, his voice low and cutting, "is whether you did what you were told."

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as the weight of the moment pressed down on you. Without a word, you reached into your jacket, fingers brushing against the edges of the file you had kept close since last night. Pulling it free, you held it out.

The Game Maker didn't hesitate. He snatched it from your hand with a brisk motion, his eyes already scanning the contents as he flipped through the pages. The sharp rustle of paper filled the silence.

A nasty grin curled at the edges of his mouth, predatory and pleased. "Ah," he murmured, the amusement thick in his voice. "You've certainly outdone yourself, haven't you?"

His voice was fuzzy as you only thought about one thing.

You wondered how she'd survive, praying your training was enough to protect her from the gruesome scenes to come. You looked at the large men that stood in the room with her, watched her size them up as she stalked back to her bunk.

She's smart, quick, agile.

She will fight her way out.

You repeated it like an omen, unable to even consider the other probability. You couldn't interfere, couldn't help her or reach out to comfort her. She was on her own and your hands squeezed into fists as the group of you watched the guards lead parties of players into the game hall, into the first match you had created.

His voice was a distant murmur, muffled and indistinct, drowned out by the storm raging in your mind. You couldn’t focus on his words, not when your thoughts were consumed by a singular, agonizing concern.

Her.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, from the way she moved through the room with a deliberate grace, sizing up the towering men who surrounded her. The tension was palpable, her sharp, assessing gaze flicking from one to the next as if she were cataloging their weaknesses. She didn’t falter, didn’t shrink away. Instead, she stalked back to her bunk with a quiet confidence, her chin high, her steps measured.

She was smart. Quick. Agile.

She would fight her way out.

You repeated it to yourself like a prayer, clinging to the words as if they could ward off the darker possibilities clawing at the edges of your mind. She had to survive. She had to endure. Anything else was unthinkable, unbearable.

But the truth gnawed at you, an unrelenting beast. You couldn’t interfere. You couldn’t reach out, couldn’t warn her, couldn’t offer even the smallest comfort. She was alone now, completely at the mercy of the game—and of the monsters you had helped create.

Your hands curled into fists, the leather of your gloves creaking under the strain. Frustration and helplessness coiled tightly in your chest, threatening to choke you.

Around you, the others watched in grim silence as the guards began herding players into lines. The sound of heavy boots echoed through the game hall as they were marched toward their fates, toward the first deadly match. Your match.

Your gaze darted back to the screen, locking on her once more. She stood at the edge of the group now, her jaw tight, her body taut like a coiled spring. You could see it in her posture—the readiness, the determination.

Still, doubt whispered in the back of your mind, cruel and persistent. The first match was murderous, designed to break spirits and shatter bodies. It had been crafted with precision, every gruesome detail meant to test their limits. You had crafted it.

And now, as you stood there watching, you prayed—silently, desperately—that your training would be enough to see her through.

to be continued...

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #front man x reader #front man #in ho squid game #fanfic #squid game season 2 #the frontman #squid game fanfic #fan fiction #the front man x reader

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angel-bugz · 2 days ago

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Part Two | Above & Below.

18+, MDNI Word count: 786 A/N: Short part for this one :( I promise I haven't forgotten! Been sitting in the drafts for a while... thank y'all for being patient <3 Already drafting the third part tho!!

You didn’t see Simon all week after that brief, tense interaction in the elevator.

It didn’t bother you. You went through the week without giving it a second thought, your work at the tattoo parlor keeping you busy as usual. Between organizing sessions, sketching designs and tattooing clients, there was no time to spare a thought for the strange, anti-social resident.

Simon, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about you. When he had the chance to spare a thought to you, he would. He’d daydream in the cafeteria and make his bed on autopilot all the while thinking about you. Your sweet voice, trying to talk to him. He regretted not looking at you for a second longer.

The end of the week arrived quickly – thankfully, for you. Not so much for Simon. He was dreading returning to the apartments, mulling over what he could say to you. Thank God Johnny was driving; Simon would have undoubtedly crashed the car with the way he wasn’t thinking a single thought other than you.

The apartments were always strangely quiet on a Friday night. Most residents stayed in, worn out from a week of work. You were no exception. You’d just returned to the complex, your session with the last client finally wrapped up. Work bag slung over your shoulder, you leaned against the wall beside the elevator, waiting for it to descend.

And then, there he was. That hulking figure, unforgettable – the new resident you had spoken to last week.

You weren’t chatty today – not just because you were tired, but because after your last interaction, you figured words should be kept to a minimum (at least for now) with him. You gave him a silent nod ‘hi’ when he came to a stop in front of the elevator doors. He nodded in return.

You glanced around, expecting his roommate to be not far behind him if they were returning together. But he was nowhere in sight. You didn’t mention it.

The elevator doors dinged open to an empty cabin – just like last week. And once again, he let you step inside first. You both entered in silence, except this time he stood against the wall next to you. He pressed the buttons for his floor… and yours.

The doors slid closed, and the elevator started moving up. You couldn’t stand the silence, the awkward tension hanging heavy in the small space.

“Um, I don’t think I got your name, last week.” You glanced at him, your eyes flitting over his face for a moment before returning forward.

“Oh. It’s Simon.”

He just missed catching your eye, his brain cursing himself for not being quicker. Nothing else was said for a moment, until he seemed to remember to ask for your name as well.

“And you’re…?”

So you gave him your name. Looking up at him with a soft smile on your lips. He hummed, as if he didn’t care for your name. As if his heart wasn’t beating violently against his chest as his eyes locked with yours - having to will himself to break eye contact and look away.

Your gaze had wandered elsewhere. From Simon’s shoes, to his pants, your eyes stopping at the sight of ink on his wrist. The sleeve of his jumper had ridden up, exposing the faded blue tattoos peeking out and trailing up his arm, the rest hidden beneath his sleeve. You tilted your head, intrigued, trying to make sense of the design from this angle. As a tattoo artist, of course it caught your attention. You stared, unashamedly. (Obvious, much?)

“I like your tattoos.”

You inwardly cringed as the words escaped your mouth. You could barely see his sleeve tattoo, yet you liked them?

“Thanks.”

“...I’m a tattoo artist. I could, y’know, do free ones for you,” you offered sweetly, flashing Simon a smile. He raised his eyebrows, thrown off at the sudden offer.

You glanced at the elevator numbers. Fuck, almost at your floor. You didn’t wait for him to respond. Your hands fumbled through your bag, until you found your sticky notes and a pen. You scribbled your number quickly, peeled off the sheet, and held it out to Simon.

He took it without hesitation, nodding. He seemed unfazed, and you doubted he’d take you up on the offer. But his mind was reeling, wondering how the hell an angel like you had just fallen into his hands. It felt too easy. You stepped off the elevator when the doors opened on your floor. Waving Simon a small goodbye, cheeks a little flushed and that smile still tugging at your lips. He watched the doors close, then stared down at the sticky note in his hands.

Divider creds: @bernardsbendystraws

Taglist: ( ++ comment if u wanna be added :3) @sleep101 @lostintransist @callsign-selkie

#angelbugz #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #cod #ghoap #ghoap x reader #ghost cod #ghost simon riley #simon riley #okay maybe no ghoap here... next chapter definitely... >:3 #sigh

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milessunflowers · 8 hours ago

Note

Part 2 though would you be adverse to writing the media's reaction?

And maybe the other drivers learn of their relatioship and their like 'is that all it took to get you two to stop pining after each other!?!? Should have just called the guy smh'. I'd find it even funnier if perrie (is that how its spelled?) Is just done with charles pining after both of them cause he's the one charles goes to with his woe is me bullshit, feel like max would have lando as his like 'gossip about my crushes' person and he's just done with him too.

Sorry if you don't do part two's, also awesome story love it so much.

–🍑

i can absolutely do a pt 2 peach!!

max verstappen x male!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: it only took a few weeks for your relationship to make it to the public eye, mainly because your boyfriends can't stop yapping.

author's note: peach, i am kind of obsessed with this lestappen x male reader ideas because it's just like 😍 i have no words. it so funny and entertaining to me (trust there is dialogue in this one fr!). like always, feel free to continue to request!

you were hoping to keep things private for at least a couple of months. you should've known better. you did know better.

unfortunately for you, your boyfriends seemed to be allergic to shutting the fuck up. you weren't upset, though. in fact, you thought it was hilarious and adorable. however, charles and max didn't need to know that small tidbit of information.

you first heard that others knew of your relationship from pierre, who complained to you during the driver's parade.

"i can't believe you guys didn't tell me! charles was pining for you two for as long as i can remember! now he won't shut up about how much he loves you and how happy it is now that you guys are dating!" pierre whines, sending a teasing glare to the back of charles's head. charles was too busy yapping with carlos to notice.

"he told you now, did he?" you ask in return, a pinch in between your eyebrows. you had planned to tell everyone together, but your boyfriends tended to become mindless when they were chatting with the others.

"he told me the three of you barely fit on the bed since max takes up most of it, and how you make breakfast in the morning and how he gets the princess treatment!" pierre exclaims, sighing heavily. "it is ridiculous, truly."

the next time you found out others knew about your relationship was when you were on podium with lando and max.

"max here told me you three were together!" lando tells you in a whisper as max's eyes are trained on the race replays. the cool down room was almost quiet, save for max's comments here and there.

"of course he did," you remark quietly with a small eye roll.

"took you guys long enough," the younger man replies, nudging you with his papaya clad elbow, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that made you want to kick his shins. he was like your annoying little brother.

"you don't get to comment, mr. 'i am helplessly in love with my teammate but won't tell him'," you retort with a smirk as he blushes a bright red and laughs nervously.

"fair point," lando responds, dropping the subject entirely and taking up conversation with your boyfriend.

the next time another driver asked about your relationship with max and charles, it had been a surprise to you. lance, who you got on well with, gave you a knowing look after post-race interviews. you had gone directly to max and charles, striking up conversation while you all stood suspiciously close. closer than you normally did. you excused yourself when lance shot you that look.

"finally confessed?" lance asked as soon as you were right next to him. he was more subtle about it compared to pierre and lando. lance had been one of the people you were closest to, from the time you started the early formula series up to now.

lance knew all about your crushes on the other two. "that obvious?" you asks in return, grinning at your friend as he pats you on the back. you knew he was happy for you. "don't worry, stroll. you're still my best friend," you assure him, nudging him in the ribs. he grins and nudges you back.

the final time you heard of your own relationship was from none other than your number one nemesis: danica patrick. she addressed on sky sports, stating it was a rumor and making small, almost unnoticeable bacl handed comments.

hearing her agitating voice, you decided to pull both your boyfriends aside. you explained to them that they should go off the handles and let everyone know about their relationship during their next interviews.

most press rook this in stride. the gossip accounts all over tiktok and instagram were ablaze, the hottest topic being the three of you. of course, there was loads of hate but you could care less. you were happy and that's all that mattered.

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo

#f1 x male reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula one x reader #max verstappen x male reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x male reader #charles leclerc x reader

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urgardenandmine · 3 days ago

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parker's lab buddy 🕷 (pt. ii) - p. parker

summary: parker and his new bestie have a rocky second meeting genre: fluff (kinda...?) pairing: m!reader x peter parker (spider-man, hehe) word count: 1.5K part one here!

this moment was the moment many had dreamed of. the moment they all thrived to hold out to. as they flooded the room, the sound of many was almost to some dissonant, yet to others, was the sound of their comrades who they hadn’t seen in almost ages. the feeling of the luminescent lights was cold, as they had no purpose other than to shine the light towards what they all coveted in this exact moment.

the sunlight pouring through the glass panes of the room had warmed the skin of many. in the field of children, there were some who had chosen to embrace the warmth as the sun had reached its peak. to the others, they hid themselves from the glowing orb of star power, deeming it a nuisance. some had found it redundant, being tortured by the lights up above and the double team of the light from outside yet they had no choice in the matter.

as he made their way through the crowd of brash and reckless persons, he had lined up to the front of the line, ready to bear the question thrown at him by the one who had it all…

“apple or orange.” the lunch lady deadpanned.

“oh, uh, apple please.” peter had answered softly, showing off his usual kind smile. the lady sighed, grabbing the apple with her gloved hand and had placed it on his tray. peter stared down at it, nodding as he mouthed a small “thank you” before following down the line of students in the cafeteria. ned was in front, since he wanted to talk to betty. she hasn’t really given him the time of day due to this new “story” she was working on, which was who was the mysterious intruder who breaks into the school’s trash can every night.

as they left the end of the line, ned and peter had made their way to their usual table in the far back.

“i think it’s a raccoon but whatever…” ned mumbled, causing peter to chuckle softly.

“well, what if it’s a new villain?” peter teased, nudging ned as they sat down. ned then dropped his jaw, letting out a loud gasp as he began to beam with delight.

“you think so?” ned hoped, sitting closer to peter than he would’ve liked. peter scooted away as he began to slink off his backpack to place beside him, stifling a small snort.

“it’s probably a opossum or a raccoon. if it were a villain, i’d k-”

as the words left his mouth, he could feel the same sensation as from before. the hairs on his nape began to stand on end, and so did the hairs on his arm. they stood up straight, as if they themselves were on high alert. he could his feel the back of his skull tingle, as if he was in active combat now. he still had no understanding of how his “peter tingle” (™ by happy himself) worked but he knew that when it was on, he needed to do whatever it took to help himself and those around him. peter gulped, fearing his first day back at school was going to be thrown into a full-on brawl.

his eyes began to scan the cafeteria, seemingly making marks of those who seemed suspicious but it was almost useless as he knew most of the faces in the room. he saw one of the band kids who he thought was suspicious but in reality, he knew that kid was probably just hiding his newest self-made contraption in his backpack.

dismissing what he thought was danger, he brought his head down to his food. as he was going to take a bite of his so-called “burger,” he heard the doors open and he had seen the one who had been the cause of his first tingle (he really needs a new name for this whole thing).

looking at the denim colored doors opening, he had taken note of the boy who was eyeing everyone himself. the boy seemed more nervous than most students would be on their first days. he had a certain energy around him, which made peter feel somewhat uneasy. peter shifted in his seat, eyeing the other one closely. the boy had made his way down the line of food, picking the usual things everyone else would get. as he finished his selection, he made his way down the aisles of cliques and groups, he could feel that the boy was getting a bunch of stares as well but for another reason.

ned had noticed the connection of peter’s gaze towards the boy, sensing some “tension.” ned, looking over to the boy who was still walking, waved him over. peter turned to ned immediately, smacking his arm gently.

“ned! no! what are you doing?!” he hushed, causing ned to smack him back. peter, taken aback, began to smack peter back lightly. after taking a beat, the boys began to slap each other silly like two five year old kids. hearing a faint chuckle from the other side of the table. they both froze in their tracks, the brunette boy looking over to seeing his lab partner from before.

the boy looked at the two, intaking the sight of two simple teenage boys. he sat down, removing his black backpack from his shoulders as he dusted off his pants, setting down his tray with one hand as the backpack slipped off his other arm. peter coughed softly, as ned fixed his shirt and sat up right, clasping his hands in front of him as he looked at the two. the new boy was in front of peter, and peter looked down at his tray, fiddling with his water bottle. ned’s eyes darted between them, letting out a loud exhale as he then inhaled and spoke.

“hi! i’m ned and this is-”

“peter. i know.” he spoke. peter’s head lifted immediately, almost now on edge as he cleared his throat.

“how do you know my name…”

the boy eyed him, staring at him before he let out a sheepish chuckle. he scratched the back of his neck, fidgeting gently.

“um, we were lab partners…?” the boy answered, chuckling as he took a small sip of his water bottle. peter relaxed, feeling a bit embarrassed as he slouched, turned his attention to his hands to distract himself from the small mistake he just made. the boy smiled, his [l/c] lips turning upwards as he eyed the boy in front of him.

ned eyed peter, seeing him act funny. ned, thinking it was of the “hearty” nature, smiled softly as he had a plan in mind. ned had taken out his phone and had feigned a phone call, making sure it was loud enough for them both to hear.

“oh, what’s that, mom? you have my lunch at the front office? o-okay! i’ll come right away!” ned played, causing the two other boys to look at ned as he slowly got up from the table and grabbed his backpack.

“my mom packed my lunch so i should probably go get it!”

peter’s eyes darted from ned to his tray, a finger lifting to point at the food in front of him, “but you-”

“gotta go!” ned spat, before rushing out with an orange in his hand. as he darted off, the two boys stared at one another. the other boy chuckled, looking down at his food as he opened a small juice box. peter nodded, looking away as he smiled at the [h/c] boy, trying to deescalate the weird “tension.” the boy chuckled, before getting up and grabbing his juice with him and his fruit.

“i think i’m gonna go…check out the restrooms.” he informed him softly, waving shyly as he made his way towards the doors behind peter to head towards the restrooms. peter’s head followed him, seeing him leave as he then was now alone at the table. he looked around him, seeing the two empty trays as he sighed, getting up and grabbing his food to follow the new boy (which doesn’t seem weird at all, peter).

as he entered the halls, he saw it littered with some students who were hanging out with their friends. grumbling softly to himself, peter made his way down the hall to find the nearest restroom he could. having seen how the boy had excused himself, peter felt his “peter tingle” was incorrect and maybe it was something else. i mean, what harm can another teenage boy do? spread a rumor?

reaching the restroom, peter had opened the door slowly. hearing a faint voice talking, peter made sure to not be a nuisance in the restroom. as the door closed behind him, he could hear only a singular voice, the voice of the boy from before. getting closer to the stall further inside, peter “accidentally” listened in.

“yes, yes, i know. gosh, don’t worry. it’s only the first day of school.” he spoke in a soft manner. peter had a small smirk on his face. hearing the boy possibly talk to his parent or whoever seemed like he was panicking for nothing.

“trust me, parker won’t know what hit him…”

…that doesn’t sound good.

⋆｡°✩

i hope this a good continuation to my first work for y'all :p

i think i might change the trajectory of this story because i've been making this new guy very...devious

[l/c] = lip color, [h/c] = hair color (i apologize if it looks complicated TT)

#gay fanfiction #x male reader #male reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x male reader #marvel x male reader

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brummiereader · 14 hours ago

Text

Sweet Dreams, Darling (Part Two)

Summary: As the realisation of who the puddle splashing perpetrator finally sinks in, you do your up most to avoid any meaningful conversation with him until the foreseeable future. But one thing your determination hadn't bet on, was the sheer stubborness Tommy was hell-bent on showing in a bid for you to remember the summer you had spent together. But with progress comes a harrowing announcement that will change the course of your relationship, leaving two broken hearts forever pining for each other.

Warnings: Language, mutual pining, angst.

Word Count: 3.5K

[Masterlist] [Previous Part] [Trailer]

The embarrassment you felt creeping over your reddening face the moment you realised who the puddle-splashing perpetrator was, didn't take long to see you fly out the Garrison doors for cover as Tommy's daydream of a reunion fell short of what he had hoped for.

How could you have not recognised him?, you hounded yourself with the same question that had you tossing and turning all night. The memories of your summer romance that saw you awake until the early hours of the next morning.

Did he think you had forgotten? your plodding feet came to a sudden stop along the sludge-ladened paths of Small Heath as a tear for the events that followed after August 1907, crept through your lashes.

With shaky fingers you dabbed the pools of sadness from your cheeks, head rising above the scrambling hands of grief tightening around your throat.

What would he think of you if he knew?, shame suddenly rose to your skin in the name of Sean O'Connor, whose presence in your life after the sweltering summer seven years before, saw the memories you cherished with Tommy forever tainted.

Was that why you had forgotten about him? To stop yourself from dwelling on what could have been? To keep your heart safe from the predicament you found yourself in?

" Enough, Y/N. It was just a silly summer fling" you mumbled under your breath as the weight of the years you'd lived between seeing him became too heavy for you to reflect on.

But Small Heath would see you had no escape from the past you were scared to remember when you caught eye of one of its most notorious residents and catalyst to your tears on the opposite side of the road, steadily walking closer.

Eyes darting through the street of horse-led wagons, of coal-tugging men, you both sought a glimpse of the other when the bustling road dispersed and you and Tommy were left with nothing between you but a shared smile.

But as the uptick of traffic steadily recommenced, so did your racing heart when you watched Tommy step off the cemented curb, and head your way. A move that left you in so much of a panic, you seized your opportunity to dip out of sight when a large haulage van of barreled ale crossed in front of his path with a blaring horn.

"Shit" Tommy jumped out of the road onto the cobbled walkway, head bobbing over the line of vehicles to see you stood at the end of the street with locks of hair whirling in front of your eyes as you watched his attempts to swerve through the traffic.

"Y/N!" he called after you, brow knitting in frustration at the sight of your fingers slipping around the bricked house, the ends of your dress billowing around the corner out of sight in the disappearing act you had begun to perfect.

Stood with hands thrown up in defeat at your nimble knack of slipping away, Tommy bit back the sting of rejection you had shown him once again. A sting that only seemed to spur on his refusal to give up on the promise he'd made to you that fading summer evening at the fair.

For he was a man of his word, and he'd vowed never to forget. And he'd be darned if he'd let you forget too.

As the sound of your ringlet permed customers' lengthy shopping list muffled in your ear, your preoccupied thoughts of Tommy and the disappointment you felt in yourself for standing him up in the middle of the street, overtook every corner of your muddled mind.

" And a Birmingham Gazette" the elderly ladys cane pointed beside you to the knotted stack of newspapers when the marching two feet of Tommy appeared stomping past the window.

" Shit. Not again..." your eyes widened at each long determined step closing in as your fumbling fingers fiddled with the string of hemp.

" Don't worry dear, they say it'll all blow over in a week's time" the elderly lady spoke of the printed headline, and it's stark warning of an impending war she assumed was the reason for your flustered tizzy, and not the approaching blue eyes of a man who had as much determination as any bulldozing tank.

"One can only hope" you found yourself simultaneously reassuring the foolish idea that you could dodge the many questions you feared Tommy had for you as you watched him stroll into the pokey confides of the small corner shop.

"Mark my word, by summer we'll never hear of it again" she patted your hand before taking off with her woven basket of goods as your eyes darted to Tommy stood waiting with folded arms. His thoughts on your attempted escape earlier that morning, still huffing past his lips.

As the sound of the door swung shut, a silence suddenly settled between you both. Leaving you with a compelling need to busy your hands with cleaning every reachable inch of the counter in front of you. Much to the dismay of every child in Small Heath, and the array of rainbow-coloured lollipops that saw the end of your feather duster in your frantic urgency to distract yourself.

" Gazette" Tommy strode forward, sliding a penny across the wooden table as his eyes sought out the last lollipop that had survived your dusting.

Rolling the boiled ended sweet in his mouth, he casually flicked through each freshly printed page. Throat clearing with every darting eye up at your blushing cheeks as he unsuccessfully waited on you to put him out of his misery.

" You're avoiding me" he pointed the lolly accusingly your way. His patience also lacking when it came to his sweet tooth and the sherbet middle of the boiled treat he'd already cracked open.

" Am not!" your voice squeaked to an ear deafening high as Tommys eyes narrowed in, his only audible response, that of the sound of his teeth biting down with a crunch onto the disappearing confectionery.

" Is there something else you need?" you huffed at his insistence as he tossed the wooden stick from his mouth, eyes gleaming with mischief.

" Alright then" Tommy gave into the game you were adamant on playing as he settled his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers.

" What do you recommend?" he nodded with a boyish grin to the large collection of jarred sweets shelved behind you as you folded your arms in annoyance.

" Anymore and you'll put a hole in your tooth" you huffed with a flick of your chin as you pulled a dusty container of gummy treats that hadn't seen the light of day since Queen Victorias regin in front of his dubious eyes.

" Here" you scooped out a square of tarry anise he boldly tossed into his mouth without apprehension as you watched his enthusiastic chewing come to a sudden stop when its unique taste began to settle in.

"I like 'em" his stubborness lied and terribly, as his contorting face and drying throat attempted to conceal the horror his taste buds were being tormented to endure.

" On the house your, highness" you shot his rolling eyes a wink as you held a handfuls worth in a brown paper bag out for him to take, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth to stop the emerging giggle tickling at your throat.

"Plenty more where they came from" you patted the top of the dust coated lid with a merry smile at your triumphant win when Tommy made his plans for every upcoming day until the end of time known to you.

" Good. Tomorrow it is, then. And the next day, and the day after that, and after that, and would you believe it or not...the day after that" his intentions continued to ring in your ear as he waved you off with the bag of stomach turning sweets in his hand.

" Perfect" a huffy stomp of your foot came down onto the wooden floors, your narrowing eyes honing in on his parting smirk of enjoyment as the door flew shut with a gust of wind.

Pouting lips resting on the palm of your hand, your eyes darted to your failed sugary plan of action in its large glass jar that would see Tommy come to your workplace every day until next winter. Well, shit.

"Need socks" Arthur threw open his brother's door without warning as Tommy lay thumbing his brow in his bed, counting the cracks in his decaying ceiling.

" Still sulking?" Arthur sniffed as he plonked himself down beside him on the rickety metal frame that saw Tommy go flying into the air with a disgruntled huff.

" What in the bloody hell is all this, ay?" Arthur's brow furrowed together as he opened Tommy's bedside cabinet to see it stuffed full of black licorice, not an intact sock insight for his nobbly growing toes.

" Get out" Tommy shot up, slamming the drawer shut before slumping back into his bed as he searched for a cigarette to dislodge the sour mood that had overtaken him.

" Got enough there to fill every nook and cranny in this shit hole" Arthurs' joke fell short as his brother continued to wallow in self-pity with the accompanying paddy he'd been having going on for near a month.

" Shut up, Arthur" Tommy flicked the flame from the match between his fingers with a spin of his wrist as his lips pulled at the tightly coiled cylinder of tobacco.

"Right. I'm off..." Arthur tried to slip away from having to hear the details of his brother's romantic life for the umpteenth time when Tommy perked up, not giving him the choice but to sit and listen.

"Every fucking morning I'm there when she opens, and she still won't give me the time of day" he moaned about the months' worth of visits he'd made to the corner shop that had ended in disappointment for Tommy and his endeavour to win you over with his charm.

" Fickle lot, women. Don't know if you're bloody coming or going" Arthur spoke of the opposite sex as if he had an expansive dating life that didn't only consist of quickies behind the Garrison after a night of drinking.

" Here's what you've gotta do, Tom..." he began his speech on the dos and don'ts of enticing women like a farmer would his prized cattle when Tommy shot up from his bed at the awkward turn in Arthur's tangent that had derailed into the more, intimate aspect of dating.

" Yeh, thanks Arthur" Tommy cleared his throat, stubbing the fiery end of his cigarette out before his ears were left red with Arthur's unsolicited advice that would see him more worse off than he already was.

" Yeh" Arthur rose like an old man having finished his Sunday dinner as he took long strides to his brother's bedroom door away from the sibling bonding over girls, neither one of them would breathe a word of again.

"Tom?" the eldest Shelby came to a stop, adamant on giving his younger brother one last word of advice that even the likes of Tommy couldn't deny made sense compared to the merry-go-round he currently had a life-long ticket for.

" Stop being a bloody prat, and just ask her out, for all our sakes"

Sat down by the cut, you tossed the crumbs of your sandwich into the murky water to its yellow-beaked residences happily paddling about their day as you leant back onto its muddy bankside, head turned to the rays of sun emerging through the clouds overhead. That was until the whistles of an approaching blue-eyed man cut short your peaceful moment in the only patch of nature Small Heath had to offer.

" Wondered where you were. Had your little baggie all ready for you. But you didn't show up " you closed your eyes to the warmth beaming on the bony curves of your collarbone as Tommy stood precariously balanced on the brick wall behind you.

" Is that disappointment I hear in your voice, miss Y/N?" you could hear the smile peaking through his playful response as your eyes shot open to him with his arms outstretched along the stoney wall like a peacock ruffling his feathers in attempt to garner attention.

" You'll break a leg doing that one day" your eyes followed his grinning smile as he stepped one foot in front of the other before jumping over your head onto the grassy ground in front of you.

" Then I'll have you to kiss it better for me, won't I?" he shot a wink to your rolling eyes as he joined you in the muddy grass of metal bottle caps and discarded cigarettes.

"Never seen you here before. Down by lovers' lane. You waiting for your boyfriend, eh?" he leaned back with a smirk, perched elbows holding the weight of his body as his neck strained to see the peaking curves under your frilly blouse.

" Just enjoying the sights Small Heath have to offer. And clearly, so are you " you caught his wandering eyes as your head turned to see the emerging grin dimpling his freckled cheeks.

" Still haven't told me what brought you back here" he pulled himself up, crystal eyes squinting through the midday sun as he plucked a blade of grass from the muddy earth at his booted heels, rolling it between his fingers as he waited for you to tell him what had you back in Birmingham without your traveling entourage.

" Not much to say, really" you crossed your hands into your lap as you looked out at the glimmering waters rippling against the muddy banks with a heavy breath for the events you would end up listing off like your permed customer that morning, rather than fall into the emotions that came with the heavy burden of grief you had diligently kept at bay.

" Dad got black lung. Worked until he couldn't walk anymore. And when he couldn't walk anymore, he gave up. Gave in. Not sure which came first" you felt the weight of Tommy's eyes on you, heavy enough to have you dip your head down to the grassy bed below as a tear blinked through your lashes.

" Mum took my brothers to live with family after he died. I stayed back...with some help" your throat cleared itself of the details about who exactly helped you get by as you dusted the flakes of mud from your palms, when Tommy gently leaned in to give his condolences.

" Sorry about your dad, Y/N. He was good a man. Hard working" Tommy's soft-spoken words of acknowledgment for the man that would give his last tuppence to those worse off than him came with a gentle stroke of his thumb over the back of your hand.

"Thank you" your cracking voice battled with the wave of emotions scrambling up your throat as you danced your fingers over his in a moment of quiet. Only the gentle sounds of the river's water washing up against the embankments grassy enclosure to be heard.

" How did I not recognise you?" you quietly mouthed the same question you had asked yourself countless times since your disastrous reunion.

" Small Heath sewers must have fucked with your eyes, love" Tommy lightened the heavy mood with his splashing mishap. A change in topic that earned him a giggle he thought his fading memory of you would never hear again.

"But you have changed. Grown" you turned the gold band on his finger you had offered him that summer's day as Tommy's back straightened, puffing chest of pride swiftly deflated when you brutally doused his ego.

" Your fingers that is" you bounced to your feet with a playful grin, leaving him with arms up in the air in disbelief before his scrambling limbs rose to meet you.

"Where you off too?" Tommy watched you pat the strands of grass from your skirt as he adjusted his peak cap, unable to pull his eyes from your every move like the besotted teen with a heart of gold from his past he'd done his up most to keep hidden from the gritty status that came with being a part-time gangster.

" Back to work" you looked down the muddy path to the dreary day that awaited you and the repetitive small talk about the weather that came with not only being British, but working in a shop that saw every cane wielding pensioner of Small Heath plod in to buy their breakfast, lunch and tea.

" I'll be seeing you, Tommy" your footing hesitated before you leant in to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as his lips curled into a winning smile.

" Pick you up at five, then?" Tommy called out to your skipping steps as he pulled his peak cap from his head for every resident of Small Heath to see the ruby stained mark left on his cheek that had made his day.

" For what?" your voice rose above the gentle breeze of floral notes and end to the bitter February slowly defrosting the soot-clouded town.

" I'm taking you out. For something to eat that's not fucking licorice!" he was keen to share a decent meal with you and find an excuse to forgo another evening of begrudgingly making his way through the years' worth of anise he'd accumulated in the last month.

" But It's hair washing day!" the ends of your dress span around with you as you walked with one foot behind the other to the end of the path with a giggle.

" At five!" he gave you no choice in the matter as he watched you wave him off with a blowing kiss under the crowning sun until you disappeared into the bustling main street of Small Heath.

With a smile on his face, and a jump in his step. Tommy strolled along the river bank like a man without a care in the world.

But just as he'd landed on his luck, the growing tensions between nations would see you separated again by the destructive decisions of men. A decision that could forever fracture the ties of your and Tommy's time conquering romance.

"Dance with me" you pulled Tommy into the ballroom of couples being twirled in tandem with the live band playing under the dazzling crystal chandeliers.

" You've got me wrapped around your little finger. You know that?" his freckled smile beamed down at you as his hands settled on your waist, feet guiding you past the silver-plated trays of bubbling champagne, to the marble dancefloor that awaited you.

" Hm, I think it's rather me who's wrapped around your finger" you pulled his hand between you, thumbing the gifted gold band his heart refused to part with.

For five months you and Tommy had been dating. And ever the gentlemen, he'd never stepped out of line, never once pushed the unspoken boundaries that had been put in place. Instead, he took you dancing. Took you to every band playing evening just so he could hold you in his arms for the night before dropping you off at the front step of your door like he would've promised your father if sickness would've stayed at bay long enough for him to see your budding romance develop. A true gentleman indeed. A boy besotted on the cusp of twirling you into his arms to confess what he'd felt for you ever since his eyes stumbled upon you that August summer's day in 1907.

" I love you" Tommy whispered into your ear against the sounds of the buzzing trumpet-playing band. A secret spoken for only you to hear among the spinning crowd of people dancing around your halting feet.

" Tommy..." your eyes watered with a thousand words you wanted to say, a thousand ways he made you feel, but only three that could sum it up in one shared confession.

" I love you" you cupped his cheeks as you felt your body being spun into a delirious state of bliss until all dreams of your future were severed when the band suddenly came to an abrupt stop and the maître d' made his own three worded announcement that would change the course of events for not only you and Tommy but the world.

" Britain's declared war!"

*I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter in the comments below 💚*

[Next part] (coming soon!)

Tag list: @mischievouslittlecreature @peakyswritings @jbrownta @youngbananamilkshake @meadowshelby

@dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @novashelby @tiedyedghoulette @strangeobsessed @justrainandcoffee

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x female reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders series #cillian murphy

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kathlare · 1 day ago

Text

a familiar stranger

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: At the annual drivers' dinner in Abu Dhabi, Lando is caught off guard when Amelie unexpectedly returns to the scene.

Wordcount: 1.8 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

November 17th, 2024 - Yas Island, Abu Dhabi

The drivers' annual dinner in Abu Dhabi was never meant to be anything special—just a casual night where the drivers could sit down, have a meal, and share some laughs away from the prying eyes of the media and their teams. They were all used to the spotlight, but for tonight, they could relax and be themselves without the pressure.

Lando had always enjoyed these dinners, even if they were a little too formal for his liking. It was an opportunity to unwind, have a few drinks, and catch up with everyone, especially after a long, grueling season. As he arrived at the venue, the air was thick with chatter and laughter. It was a familiar sound—the kind that always seemed to echo in his mind when he thought of the drivers as a group. There was camaraderie here, shared experiences, and a sense of community that Lando could always count on.

He slid into his seat at the long table, offering a grin to Charles and Alex, who were already bantering about something—probably racing strategies or their most recent online game debacle. Lando’s eyes scanned the room, exchanging pleasantries with a few more familiar faces before he sat back and relaxed.

As the evening unfolded, the conversation flowed effortlessly, with jokes and stories bouncing between the drivers. Lando laughed along with them, nursing a drink in hand. It was easy to lose himself in the moment, surrounded by friends who had become like family over the years. For the first time in a long time, he felt a semblance of peace—a break from the whirlwind of his life.

Then the door opened, and everything changed.

He wasn’t the only one to notice. The atmosphere shifted as heads turned toward the new arrival. At first, Lando didn’t pay much attention, assuming it was just a latecomer or maybe a server bringing something in. But then he caught a glimpse of familiar blonde hair, a laugh that sent a jolt through his chest.

It couldn’t be.

Amelie.

She stood in the doorway, her face lit up in surprise as Checo jumped to his feet. Lando watched as the two embraced, Checo pulling her into a bear hug, his voice breaking as he said something Lando couldn’t quite hear. The room erupted in cheers and applause, everyone clapping at the unexpected reunion.

Lando felt his breath catch in his throat, his grip tightening around his glass as he stared at her. It was her. It had been over a year since he’d last seen her, and yet somehow, she looked both completely different and exactly the same. Her hair was now a bright, striking blonde, falling in soft waves past her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her look radiant. Her outfit was simple but effortlessly elegant—jeans paired with a black tank top and a leather jacket slung over her shoulders. But it wasn’t just her appearance. She carried herself differently. There was a lightness about her, a glow that Lando hadn’t seen before.

Fuck, she looked beautiful.

He told himself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around him, but he couldn’t. His chest tightened with a flood of emotions he hadn’t felt in months—emotions he thought he’d buried. Seeing her now, so close yet so far, it was like she was reopening a part of him he’d locked away.

Amelie made her way into the room, her laughter ringing out again as she greeted the drivers one by one. The others were on their feet, crowding around her, welcoming her back like a long-lost sister. It was no secret that she’d grown up around the sport, spending years traveling to races with her family, forming bonds with many of them. To the drivers, she was more than Checo’s sister-in-law—she was family.

Lando stayed in his seat, his mind racing. The last time he’d seen her was in May of 2021, when everything between them had fallen apart. He’d told himself it was for the best, that their lives were too different, too complicated to make things work. But now, sitting here, he wasn’t so sure.

Charles, who was sitting next to him, nudged his shoulder. —You alright, mate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.—

Lando forced a laugh, shaking his head. —Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t expect her to show up, that’s all.—

—None of us did,— Alex chimed in from across the table. —But it’s good to see her. She looks happy, doesn’t she?—

Happy. That was the word that kept echoing in Lando’s mind. She did look happy—happier than he’d ever seen her. And that realization hit him harder than he cared to admit.

He watched as Amelie finally made her way to their end of the table, her smile widening as she approached Checo. The older man’s eyes were misty as he pulled her into another hug, his voice thick with emotion.

—I can’t believe you’re here,— Checo said, his words carrying over the chatter in the room. —You didn’t tell anyone you were coming.—

—I wanted to surprise you,— Amelie replied, her voice soft but filled with warmth. —It’s been too long.—

Checo stepped back, wiping at his eyes with a laugh. —Too long? It’s been forever. Look at you... you’re all grown up now.—

Amelie rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile didn’t waver. —I’m 21, Checo. Hardly ‘all grown up.’—

The exchange brought a round of laughter from the drivers, and for a moment, Lando allowed himself to smile. She hadn’t changed that much—still quick-witted, still capable of lighting up a room without even trying.

As Amelie greeted the others, Lando felt his stomach twist. He knew it was only a matter of time before she reached him. Part of him wanted to stand up, to walk over and say something—anything—but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor.

And then, it happened.

Amelie’s gaze met his, and for a split second, the world seemed to stop. Her smile faltered, just for a moment, before she composed herself and continued down the line of drivers. She didn’t say a word to him, didn’t even acknowledge his presence beyond that brief glance. It was as if he didn’t exist.

Lando’s chest tightened, his jaw clenching as he tried to push down the sting of her indifference. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—a warm greeting, an awkward conversation, maybe even a cold shoulder—but this? This was worse.

Amelie moved on, her laugh ringing out as she embraced George, then Alex, and finally Carlos, who made some joke in Spanish that had her doubling over with laughter. The others were equally animated, everyone drawn to her like moths to a flame. She was the same Amelie he remembered, yet... not. The effortless way she carried herself, the confidence that seemed to radiate from her—it was new. It was different.

Lando sat frozen, his hands gripping the edges of his chair as he fought to keep his emotions in check. She hadn’t looked at him again, not once, as if the brief flicker of eye contact they’d shared had never happened. His mind raced with everything he wanted to say to her, everything he wanted to ask. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

—Mate, you okay?— Carlos’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. The Spaniard had returned to his seat, his dark eyes studying Lando carefully.

—Yeah,— Lando replied, his voice tight. —I’m fine.—

Carlos raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t push. Instead, his gaze flicked across the room, where Amelie was now chatting animatedly with Charles and Pierre. She looked completely at ease, her head tilting back as she laughed at something Pierre had said.

Max, seated on Lando’s other side, leaned in slightly. —You’re not fine,— he muttered under his breath, his tone more knowing than curious.

Lando shot him a glare. —Drop it, Max.—

But Max didn’t. His gaze flicked between Amelie and Lando, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. —It’s been a while, hasn’t it?—

Lando didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Max knew. He always had.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Lando. Conversations swirled around him, jokes were made, and drinks were poured, but he was only half present. His focus kept drifting back to Amelie—her laughter, the way her hands moved as she talked, the way she effortlessly drew everyone in.

He watched her from across the room, his chest tightening every time she smiled or tossed her hair over her shoulder. She was magnetic, and the fact that she seemed so completely unfazed by his presence only added to the sting.

He remembered how things used to be—the stolen moments, the whispered conversations, the way she’d look at him like he was the only person in the world. He thought he’d moved on, that he’d buried those feelings deep enough to forget. But seeing her now, so close yet so unreachable, brought everything rushing back with a force he wasn’t prepared for.

At one point, Amelie caught Max’s attention and walked over to him. Lando tensed, watching their interaction out of the corner of his eye. Max greeted her warmly, pulling her into a quick hug, but his gaze flickered toward Lando as they spoke. There was something in Max’s expression—an unspoken understanding that made Lando’s stomach churn.

Carlos, who had been quietly observing the entire evening, leaned closer to Lando. —So, are you going to talk to her, or are you just going to sit there sulking all night?—

—I’m not sulking,— Lando shot back, his voice low. —And no, I’m not going to talk to her.—

Carlos tilted his head, studying him. —She looks... different. Happier.—

Lando didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Carlos was right, and it only made the ache in his chest worse.

Across the room, Amelie was now chatting with Esteban and Mick, her smile as bright as ever. Lando felt a pang of jealousy—an irrational, stupid feeling that he had no right to. She wasn’t his. She hadn’t been his for a long time.

But that didn’t stop the memories from flooding back. The late-night drives, the quiet moments when it was just the two of them, the way her laugh used to make his heart race. He’d thought he could handle seeing her again, that he’d be fine. He was wrong.

Max returned to his seat, and for a moment, there was silence between him and Lando. Then Max spoke, his voice low enough that only Lando could hear. —You still love her, don’t you?—

Lando froze, his jaw tightening. —It doesn’t matter.—

Max raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting toward Amelie. —It’s going to matter, mate. Sooner or later.—

Lando didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew Max was right.

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s3ggsypiranha · 2 days ago

Text

mean streak (pt. 1)

synopsis to spend more time with his girlfriend, a lovesick lo'ak contracts his older brother to distract and romance you, tsireya's rough-around-the-edges, protective older sister. unfortunately for neteyam, you were determined to make this as difficult as possible.

⚝ neteyam sully x fem!metkayina reader

⚝ tags: set months after atwow, let's pretend neteyam survived ahahahahaha 😐 neteyam & reader are both kids (think 15 - 16ish), sibling stuff > romance in this ch, KING ROXTO 4 president, lo'ak simping for our girl 'reya, everyone's so introspective up in here, mean/irreverent reader, mild swearing. earth 2 neteyam girlies, it's 2025, are we still alive?

⚝ wc: 2.2k | a/n: i'm so happy to hyperfixate on avatar again yayuhhh. i'm gonna be so fr i don't have a timeframe for when the next parts come out but we will finish one day 👹 shit gets corny asf and ooc real fast but if you like that, do be seated, buckle up and enjoy the ride pookies <3

(ps. don't repost, im absolutely fine w reblogs)

Love sucked at Lo’ak’s mind, all mosquito-like. He sat at the edge of the festivities on a patch of sand littered with trees he claimed as his own once the crowd died down, which, much to his displeasure, amplified the growing noise of his encroaching thoughts.

This barely plausible, esoteric thing worked for his dad, somehow, who stood by Neytiri, his eternal partner in crime. The very image of unconventional romance. A picture-perfect painting the boy couldn’t help but adore and, as befitting a lovestruck teenager, regard as such a high example of how it could be. Love.

His eyes landed on her and he racked his brain for an answer to the age-old question. How to get the girl? It seemed almost impossible.

Tsireya dawdled by the fire, donning a pearly white grin to those fortunate enough to be graced by her presence. Tsireya, Tsireya, Tsireya. Her name was a dreamlike symphony echoing through his whole being. Some suitor or other wished her a 'most auspicious name day' followed up by a mother of pearl-laden monstrosity of sorts he deduced meant to be a present. What a meathead.

Lo'ak flinched at the feel of hands squeezing at his shoulders as if harbouring the secret location of Eywa's hidden treasure.

"Baby bro!"

He mustered a tight-lipped scrunch. Neteyam grimaced at this lack of reaction but, determined to flip his brother's mood, shrugged it off and chose to invade enemy territory.

"Alright, move over, skxawng," he plopped himself down next to his now ponderous sibling, making himself at home and taking extra care to sigh obnoxiously. Neteyam grinned at him, shit-eatingly so.

Lo'ak blinked, unimpressed, and his eyes assumed their initial position. In his periphery, his older brother tilted his head with an expression Lo'ak thought similar to that which Norm reserved for examining weird petri dishes in the lab.

"OK, I'll bite. What is wrong with you?"

Receiving so much as a shrug and a grunt, Neteyam followed his brother's line of vision. Ah...

He chuckled, "trouble with the missus?"

"Dude-"

"Just saying, you're beginning to look like a palulukan in heat."

"Man, I swear-"

Neteyam raised pacifying hands.

"Looks like this is more serious than I thought. So, the way I see it, you ought to tell big bro what is running through that head of yours.” He tapped Lo'ak's temple in emphasis, which his little brother returned with a murderous side-eye.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Lo'ak's ears twitched in indecision.

"Okay..." he caved and gathered the right words. "So, I like... Tsireya."

Neteyam held onto his brother's shoulder in faux shock, "No?!"

"C'mon, do you wanna listen or not!"

"Sorry, sorry, floor's yours."

Lo'ak rolled his eyes, "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted." Neteyam clutched his chest in exaggerated pain.

"I like Tsireya, like really like her. And I think she likes me back."

"That's great, bro, can you get to the part where you're having a problem?"

"I'm getting there," Feeling courageous enough to turn fully, Lo'ak faced his brother. "We've been hanging out a lot and I feel like we've really got something. I mean, she sees into me, I see into her."

Neteyam smiled, "Uh-oh, 'but' incoming?"

"But there's a bit of an issue." Lo'ak motioned his head subtly to Tsireya's spot by the fire. "Don't look now but-"

Neteyam looked at the two girls sitting across from them. There you were in all your imposing glory, fiddling with the ends of your sister's curls as you allowed her to drone. He let his sights rest a little longer but, possessing some eerie sixth-sense, you picked up on unwanted eyes locked onto your face, turquoise hues smelting his golden gaze.

He looked up at the stars, a tree, then his brother. Whew.

"Do you see what I mean?"

"Huh?"

Lo'ak snapped him back to reality. "Hello? The sister?"

"Ah, the sister."

"She's freaking everywhere," Lo'ak leaned back in resignation, "I can't even get in two seconds with Tsireya before she goes bat-shit."

Neteyam gave him an amused shake of the head.

"Oh, this is funny to you? I'm being personally victimized by Tsireya's sister and you're laughing?"

"I dunno what to tell you, man. She's um-" Neteyam shivered animatedly as he watched you slap Ao'nung on the arm provoked by something he'd said. "She's terrifying. But don't take it personally," he patted his little brother on the back.

"Gee, thanks, that's really helpful," Lo'ak wormed away the reassuring touch.

"Dude, this is a well-known fact. Ask anyone," Neteyam surveyed the general vicinity and whistled for Roxto. The boy in question pointed to himself in confirmation and approached, juggling fruit in his hands.

"Hey, guys. Can I tempt you to some yovo? It's really goo-"

"That's nice, Roxto," Neteyam interrupted. "Hey, so, what do you think of you know?" He gestured to your spot.

Roxto paled, looking around him before asking in a hushed tone, "Is this some kind of a test?"

"Exactly," Neteyam nudged his brother.

"You know something, up until tonight, I have never seen a na'vi eat that much fish," Roxto noted. The three observed the manner in which you, for lack of a better word, horked down your umpteenth piece of roasted seafood.

"I don't know if I should be scared or amazed. Maybe both," Roxto began to back away cautiously from the two brothers.

"Great," Lo'ak sighed, "so it's public opinion that my girlfriend's sister's a piece of work." He raised his head helplessly to the heavens, on the brink of surrendering his frail soul to Eywa's loving arms.

"I just wish there was some way to ward off the guard dog," Lo'ak stabbed at the sand with an incensed finger. Neteyam could only watch as his brother despaired. He'd never seen him in a lovesick slump quite like this.

Lo'ak willed his neurons to fire. He's the son of Toruk Makto, for Eywa's sake, he could be intelligent when he needed to be. How the hell do I crack this? You were a well-rounded individual. Smart and attractive, not a troll by definition, as per mentioned by his father in distant bedtime tales of sky folk. He could think of a million names belonging to suitors falling at the feet of the Metkayinan tsakarem across Awa'atlu. Sure, you could be abrasive. The mean streak you wore like a badge was old news within the village.

He watched Tonowari ruffle your hair in the distance. You loved your family. Tsireya idolized you. He recalled how she admired your 'way of moving through the world.' And he thought, yeah, you could call it that. Moving through the world. You always did seem to be at odds with everything, taking solace in your own company at the end of each day. What was wrong with you? Didn't you have any hobbies? You didn't seem to have a life outside of keeping your siblings in line.

Wait a minute. He looked at his brother, then shifted his eyes back to you, his brother, then you.

It dawned on him. Shit, he was a genius.

"'Teyam, I feel bad for her."

"For the guard dog? Why?"

"Ever noticed any friends? Boyfriend? Pet?"

"The answer would be no, big brother,” Lo'ak scratched his head innocently. “It's simple. She's got no life so she compensates by keeping her siblings on a leash."

“Huh.”

Neteyam raised a brow and wondered deep down if he acted like this. More often than not, it felt like every day revolved around keeping everybody's asses in check.

"Maybe her life wouldn't be so damn boring if she had something to look forward to every now and again."

Neteyam took the bait, "What are you getting at, smart guy?"

Lo'ak, rather uncharacteristically, smiled sweetly, emulating little Tuk whenever she pressed Kiri for playtime. Four-fingered hands touched fingertips as he proposed, "How would you like to do me a favour?"

This wasn't gonna be good.

"I'm thinking you hang around Tsireya’s sister, woo her a little bit, get the mighty warrior some actio-"

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, I'm not saying mate with her, just do your signature sweet-talk, take up some of her time..."

"You don't understand what you're asking," Neteyam laughed incredulously, "I took a bullet for that girl and all I got was a skxawng instead of a nice ‘thank you.’'"

"I mean," his brother shrugged, "it was pretty stupid."

"I almost died!" he squawked.

"Past is past, man, and today, you're my only hope," Lo'ak implored, glassy-eyed, "it's rough out here!"

"Eh... not my problem, pipsqueak."

"I'll do your chores for a month."

"Yeah? I've got a feeling you won't-"

"Two months!" Lo'ak closed his eyes. It was worth it, he thought, overstimulating on thoughts of Tsireya's bubbly laughter to outweigh the prospect of having to scoop up ikran shit for the next few eclipses. He opened an eye to see Neteyam turning to leave. "And a week in advance!"

That piqued his brother's interest.

"...keep talking."

"All I ask is that you keep her preoccupied," Neteyam sat down. Lo'ak took this as a sign that he reeled him in, "and that can look however you want it to look like. Romance her, befriend her, I don't care. Just, please, would you buy me a little time?"

Neteyam heaved a sigh. "Even if I wanted to help you,” he rubbed his face, “this is just plain wrong and, not to mention, stupid."

What was Lo'ak thinking? His brother started to sound uncannily like their dad, a true reflection of young Jake carving his heart out as an offering to the olo'eyktan's daughter. Albeit being a walking safety-hazard, you were a real person with real feelings not built for tampering with. Anybody deserved better than that. You deserved better than that and, besides, Neteyam would not be taking his chances against Tonowari should things go south. Not today. No, sir.

"Okay... I guess you're right," Lo'ak nodded.

"I am?"

"Sure, man," Lo'ak stood up, "which is why I'll ask my good friend Roxto to do it-"

"Boy, sit back down," Neteyam yanked him by the tail.

"Y-ouch, bro, totally uncalled for-" Lo'ak planted himself on the ground, tail keeping a world of distance away from his brother's hands.

"You ready to talk terms?"

Neteyam allowed himself one last look at you, your scowl, your confronting stance made more menacing by an air of defiance, and your... hair. You had nice hair, okay? He was prepared to die on that hill. You were not somebody to be messed with. Woe betide those daring enough to disturb the terrifying tranquility you constructed to a tee. How you tirelessly subverted expectation after expectation as your mother's successor, he would never fully comprehend, as previously born into clan royalty himself. But it was something he respected, bordering on admired, about you. And this was a fact Neteyam was wary to admit to for some strange reason. He couldn't pinpoint if he tried, always running through his mind too fast for his liking. It was confusing, consuming even. When it came to thinking of you, he was always left in shambles.

Which is why he couldn't have prepared himself for the chilling clarity that accompanied his next answer.

"Fine."

Surely, something was in the air. Something, just something must have puppeteered him into complying because he was so sure the moral high ground would have won this fight today.

"That's the spirit!" Lo'ak whooped in delight, transporting Neteyam back to the moment Norm allowed them chocolate for the first time.

"But I want a fortnight in advance.”

Neteyam watched Lo'ak descend into space, making the necessary calculations in his mind, "Unless, of course, you change your mind-"

"You have yourself a deal."

They shook on it, comically, and Neteyam leaned in to whisper lowly, "And if I ever feel like she's gonna get hurt, well, I'm obligated to tell the truth."

"I'm obligated to tell the truth- whatever, man," Lo'ak pushed his shoulder, "Also, ever heard of this thing called a bath? I'm catching a stench..."

"Hey, if I were you, I'd be a little nicer to your salvation," Neteyam mussed up his brother's braids.

"Mind-" Lo'ak slapped his hand away, fixing his prized locs, "the hair."

"Go and get me some water, little brother," he casually tossed him a bowl. Neteyam straightened his spine, flexing intertwined fingers in a stretch, "Let's see how the mighty warrior gets business done around here."

Lo'ak scoffed, muttering a quaint dumbass under his breath as he watched his older brother break into a saunter, moreso a moonwalk, in your direction.

With bated breath, Neteyam slid next to you on the boulder you occupied. Your eyes widened at the intrusion, pupils dangerously teetering to your right where he was.

He mustered his most gentlemanly greeting. Chivalry itself shivered at this display of charisma.

“Hey.”

You shifted to the left.

"What do you want?"

Neteyam felt small before your violent scrutiny and he smiled an antsy smile.

"Uhm, I was just wondering if you ever wanted to-"

"No."

"You didn’t even let me finish-"

You raised a finger.

"So, you're saying there's no chance we could-"

You wagged it.

"Uh-uh."

Neteyam hung his head, "are you sure though-"

"For the last time, tree boy," you smiled sadistically, professing a loud, “NO.”

You sent him away with a regal wave of your hand.

"Okay… good talk," Neteyam left your side, in a slumpier manner than when he joined it.

"Hey, buddy. I saw you out there," Lo'ak winced, rushing to his aid with a bowl of water, "Not too shabby for a first try, eh, mighty warrior?”

"I don't want to talk about it."

Neteyam drank the pity water, replaying the moment in his head.

“Yeah...” Lo'ak clapped the frowning, despondent thing that was once his brother on the back.

"I've got some notes."

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam sully x reader #atwow x reader #avatar x reader #neteyam #neteyam sully #atwow #avatar

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farfaras · 1 day ago

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I think I got an ex but I forgot him.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Ao3 link.

“Do you really think this is necessary?” Asked Jonathan. “I mean, in what context would we even do this?”

‘This’ being kissing.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I'm a PDA fanatic, Jon. And most people in the party know this. They saw me with Nancy.”

Jon seemed to be debating this. “That's… a point.”

“What's wrong with kissing me? Kissing is not that big of a deal. It's good with anyone.” Steve sighed, he didn't understand why this was an argument.

“Okay,” Jon put his hands up. “Say we kiss and it's normal and not weird, even when we used to not like each other not long ago.” Steve motioned for him to continue. “I say we establish a limit of kisses per day.” That sounds fair.

“How many?” Steve asked.

“How about, say four?” Jonathan proposed.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Like four times? Or just four kisses? Be specific here.” Steve needed confirmation, and he was hoping it was times, because who counts kisses?

“Four times. Sure, Steve. Whatever.” Jon managed to read his mind somehow.

“Okay then, kiss me.” Steve said.

“Now?” He seemed hesitant.

“That's the whole reason I came over today, we were gonna practice our displays of affection.” Steve explained. He called Jonathan in the morning. Talked about how his hand holding during the coming out was great and those cheek kisses were cute and all, but they needed a bigger repertoire.

“Just thought we were gonna start smaller.” Jon muttered, kinda sassy like a kid uttering something under his breath so his mom doesn't hear.

Steve laughed. “Like what?”

“I don't know.” Jon was lost in thought for a moment. “Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “We do movie nights sometimes.”

“Okay. What does that have to do with anything?” Steve asked. People really needed to learn to explain themselves better.

“We can practice how we'd act there. You know, during the movie. How would we sit?” Jon finally explained his line of reasoning.

“Huh.” They could do that. “Ideas?”

“Well, we could do a simple arms around the shoulder.” Jon said.

“Boring!” Steve sing-songed. “That's not me at all. Doesn't even feel like something I would do.”

“It seems exactly like something I would do though.” Jonathan said. “What would you do then?”

“Making out, kissing necks, I don't know!”

Jon's eyes widened. “While other people are there? No, you wouldn't.”

“While they're sitting on my lap even.” Steve wiggled his eyebrows.

“Huh, maybe that's it.”

Steve’s face was back to confusion. “What?”

“The middle ground.” Jon continued. Steve just gave him his best please explain what you're saying eyes. “An arm around shoulders is too boring for you, and making out seems too much for me. So maybe being on someone's lap is the compromise.”

“Without making out.” Steve just wanted to confirm he was understanding.

Jon gave him a flat and unimpressed stare. “Yes, Steve. Without making out.”

“Okay, I knew you were smart, Byers.”

“I thought it was,” Jon was using air quotes now, “‘that's babe to you.’”

Steve lowered his voice. “I can call you babe” he also fucking winked.

“Save it for the show.”

Steve got up and sat on a chair near Jonathan's desk. “Okay, come here then.”

“Did we just assume I'm the one who's gonna sit on your lap?” Jon raised his eyebrows.

“Oh my god, if you wanted to feel my ass on you, all you had to do was ask.” Steve used a fake put upon voice so Jon'd know he was just teasing. He stood up and waited for him to sit.

Jon just stared at him, then burst out laughing. “Okay, we can try your way first.”

Steve sat back again on the chair. Jonathan didn't seem like he knew what to do next, he was just standing in front of him. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”

“I don't think I've ever been this close to a guy before.” Jon pondered.

“Jesus christ,” Steve rolled his eyes. “We've definitely been this close before, maybe not while being friendly, but we've been close.”

“Right.” Jon turned around and sat down. Steve’s hands moved, his right hand on Jon's waist and the other grasped one of Jon's hands, after trailing on his arm.

“Put your arm around me, Jon.” Steve said and Jon listened.

After he did that, they were able to be face to face. “This is not so weird, is it?” Jonathan said.

“Nah. Actually ‘s kinda nice.” Their faces were close, so Steve backed up a little to send a smile Jonathan's way. “Can we kiss now?”

Jon just rolled his eyes at him and giggled. “You're persistent, Harrington.”

Steve just shrugged. “We're going to have to do it eventually.”

“Fine.” Jonathan sighed, looking at his ceiling. So resigned.

“You're acting like it's such a chore, should I be offended?” Steve quizzed. He wasn't actually offended, he thought it was funny. And also hoped Jon wasn't uncomfortable or anything.

“I'm just teasing. It really isn't a chore to kiss an attractive guy at all.” Jon put their intertwined hands on his lap.

“I knew you thought I was hot.” Steve got closer.

“I never told you because I know you're full of yourself and self absorbed, of course.” Steve mocked offense to that. “But we're friends now, so. I like you even if you're full of yourself and self absorbed.”

“Aw, I like you too Jonny boy.” Steve cooed.

“Please don't call me that.” Jon cringed.

“Do you prefer sweetie pie?” Steve rubbed their noses together to maximize the cheesiness.

“I thought we were gonna kiss.” Jon pulled back.

“Oh, now you wanna be kissing.” Steve teased. Jon gave him one of his many flat stares, Steve was getting used to them. “Okay! I'm gonna kiss you now.”

Steve moved the hand that was resting on Jon's waist to put it under his jaw, while Jonathan put his hand on the back of Steve's neck. They were still holding hands, it seemed like a natural thing a couple would do, right? Anyway, Steve guided him until their breaths were mingling, Jon just seemed to be waiting on him. So Steve closed the gap between them.

The kiss was innocent, chaste and close mouthed, lasted a couple seconds and then they were parting. Steve made a face, he communicated through his expression that they could do better, so he went back in. This time his lips were slightly parted, and he thumbed Jon's jaw so he'd do the same. That was moderately successful, but Steve felt like it wasn't enough. He put his fingers on Jon's chin so he could lead him to a more open mouth kiss. The way his tongue entered Jon's mouth was languid and deliberate in his exploration.

Jon made a pleased sound, it vibrated through him and it was like a reflex, the sound of someone being kissed and liking it just made him act on instinct now.

He started trailing kisses on Jon's jaw, then the neck. He let go of Jon's hand, which Jon just used that freedom to sink it in his hair. While Steve rested his on Jon's thigh, trailing a little higher than anticipated. Steve went back to kissing Jonathan. It punched out a tiny whimper out of him, maybe Steve surprised him a bit. This kiss was still slow, like the last one. The difference is that Jon was giving him tongue now, too. They weren't fighting for dominance whatsoever, it still felt like Steve was leading. He felt himself getting a little hot under the collar, and they were running out of breath so he backed off.

Jon's eyes were still closed. “Wow,” he opened his eyes. “That was way better that I thought it was gonna be.”

Huh? “You thought I'd be a bad kisser?!” Steve exclaimed. Even though he was thinking the exact same thing, for different reasons though. Jonathan was into dudes, and Steve considered himself to be a good kisser so it shouldn't be a bad experience for Jon at all! However Steve wasn't into dudes (right?), so it was a surprise that he didn't think this experience was at all bad. It was even pleasant. Could straight guys enjoy kissing a guy? It was just kissing after all.

“I didn't say that!” Jon huffed. “I just thought you'd be more awkward about kissing a guy, that was not awkward at all.”

“It wasn't. I wasn't.”

“It was actually kinda nice.” Jon stated.

“Oh, come on.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Just kinda?” They were still in the same position, Jon's hands had moved to his shoulders. But Steve still had his hands on Jon's waist and thigh. Since Jon's head was above his, it was easy to flutter his eyelashes for him.

Jonathan just laughed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, it was very nice.” He gave in.

Steve impulsively gave him a quick peck and moved them to sit up. “Okay, let's try that again but now I get to sit on your lap.”

Jonathan looked confused, kinda whiplashed, but complied and sat down. Steve, instead of just sitting like a normal person, actually straddled Jon's lap like a crazed little guy. Jonathan, in a turn of events, blushed and didn't even know where to put his hands. Steve easily placed his on Jon's neck.

“This is not what we agreed on.” He wouldn't look Steve in the eyes.

“I just wanted to see if I could fluster you,” Steve lied. “I see now that I could, now back to the original programming.” How anyone didn't realize how much of a dork Steve was, was still a mystery to him. He mirrored Jon's position now. His hands still on Jon's neck. “You can touch me, I'm not gonna bite.” Jonathan shot him a look with suspicion laced in it. “Okay, maybe if you want me to.” Steve joked. He was almost sure it was a joke, anyway.

Jonathan hugged his middle. It was cozy, sitting like this. “Now what?” He asked.

Steve shrugged. “Wanna make out? It was fun.”

Jonathan looked at him like he was crazy. “For fun? You'd do that just for fun?”

“Got anything better to do?”

Jon thought about that for about five seconds before he was shrugging and shaking his head no.

As Steve was driving home, after a make out session with none other than Jonathan fucking Byers (they made out for like 20 minutes before Will actually walked in on them, the horror, which actually just helped them gain credibility for this fake dating spiel), he started to contemplate a possibility that maybe and just maybe a straight guy wouldn't have done what he did today.

And listen, kissing has always been one of Steve's favorite things to do. So he thought that no matter who it was it'd be good, or at least okay. But it wasn't just okay. It wasn't even just good. It was hot, and it was sensual, and if they kept going or changed positions he's almost positive that he'd have ended up with a problem.

So now he was confused. When he got home he needed to call Robin. Wait, what was he gonna tell her?

“You what?!” She yelled. Robin was pacing around the room. “You're an absolute moron. Oh my god, you're a moron and you're my moron.”

“You gotta understand! I- I panicked completely and you of all people should understand!” He tried to justify himself. Steve was just digging his own hole at this point.

He wasn't going to tell Robin about him fake dating Jonathan. He wasn't! But then he called her and she didn't even let him talk, said she was bored on their day off and invited herself over. Next thing he knew, he was spilling his guts all over the living room with Robin as his witness.

He really can't keep secrets from her.

“If you ignored him, he would've left you alone eventually!” She was talking about Dustin.

“You don't know that!” His voice was high. “Besides you didn't see the look on his face when he told Jon and me that our relationship might help someone who's struggling with their sexuality!” He still remembered that stupid and concerned face. “He was so concerned as a friend and he wanted to support them but didn't know how!”

“Oh god, does he know about me? Am I that obvious?” Robin paled.

“He was trying to set you up with me, he doesn't know about you.”

“Then… who…? Oh.” She calmed down and inhaled quickly just a second later. “I've had some suspicion about that kid for a while.”

“Yeah, well. Apparently Dustin too.”

“His heart's in the right place.” Robin sat down next to him on the couch.

“This isn't even what I wanted to talk to you about.” He complained.

“There's more to this absurdity?”

“So, Jon and I were practicing our kissing,”

“Of course you were.” She said.

“Shut up.” He fixed her a, hopefully, stern look. “We actually ended up making out for about 20 minutes, my suggestion by the way, and I found myself,” He should've thought about his words sooner.

“What?” Robin asked. She seemed patient with him, a ridiculous change of pace from a minute ago.

“Jon is a guy, and I enjoyed making out with him.”

Silence.

“Would you, do you think,” Steve needed to think before he spoke. “Do you think you'd enjoy kissing a guy?”

Robin made a disgusted face. “I would most definitely not enjoy kissing a guy.”

“Okay, but see, I always thought that kissing is just kissing and it would be good with anyone.” Steve explained his point of view, even though it was starting to sound like he was weird for it.

“Even before you knew what it was to kiss a guy?” She asked slowly.

“I mean, yeah, I've thought about guys I'd kiss before.” He responded.

“I've never seen a guy I'd be willing to kiss, Steve. Never even considered it.” She was shaking her head. Her eyes were so inquisitive, and Steve was starting to feel like he was under a microscope. “Maybe think more about that.”

He nodded.

“You want to watch a movie?” He needed a distraction.

“Always.” He really loved her.

The movie nights they had weren't strictly planned on a calendar, but they had them at least once a month it seemed like. Tonight was one of those. Steve liked having all of his friends at his house, it was comforting.

Tonight he wasn't even sure what they were watching, it was Lucas’ turn to pick a movie and he must have gone and rented it at family video while he wasn't working ‘cause he didn't remember Lucas renting anything.

The first people to arrive were obviously Robin and Eddie. They usually hung out a bit before the actual movie night, sometimes they stayed the night too. They let themselves in as always and sat down with him.

“Hey guys, want something to drink?” He offered.

“No, thanks, if I want anything I'll get it later.” Robin replied.

“You got coke, Stevie?” Eddie stood up to rummage his fridge.

“Yeah, it must be somewhere in there.” He followed Eddie into the kitchen. “Thought you'd want a beer.”

Eddie emerged with his drink in hand. He shrugged. “Night's still young.”

Steve smiled. “It isn't even night yet.”

“Exactly.”

Once everyone was there, all the kids and Jonathan too, they settled in to watch the movie.

Normally, Steve was in between Robin and Eddie for movie nights. However now that Jonathan and him were “together” they put their plan in action. Before, when they practiced their PDA, they decided that Steve was the one that would sit on Jon's lap. They just felt more comfortable that way, maybe because they spent more time that way but now that was irrelevant. They wouldn't change plans right at that moment.

So Jonathan sat on an individual couch and Steve followed. Right next to them was the couch he normally sat on with Eddie and Robin. He saw Robin visibly pout when she realized she wouldn't be able to sleep on his shoulder when she inevitably grew bored of the film. She gave herself a whole five seconds to mourn her bestie and then she schooled her expression and melted on the couch.

He was so amused with Robin's reaction that he hadn't noticed Eddie's. He actually looked mad. His brows were furrowed, his eyes didn't look happy at all. And his arms were crossed like he couldn't even believe what he was seeing. When he realized that Steve had caught his eye, he looked away and tried to relax. Emphasis on tried.

Steve really wanted to believe that Eddie's reaction was because he was gonna miss Steve being next to him and Robin, and not because of the nature of the relationship that Jon and Steve were portraying. He liked cuddling with Eddie and Robin during movie nights. They're his best friends, and he liked to think they enjoyed that time with him too. So a reaction to that change wasn't totally unwarranted, he just hoped that was the whole reason for it.

At some point during the movie, Jonathan and Steve did share a kiss. It was brief, nothing serious. But right after it happened, Steve heard someone standing up, and he turned to see Eddie leaving to enter the kitchen. He, of course, followed him.

Eddie was just standing in front of the sink.

Steve cleared his throat to announce himself. Eddie soon pretended to be looking for something in the fridge.

“What was that?” Steve asked.

Eddie looked back at him, finally. “What was what?” He closed the fridge, with his hands empty ‘cause he wasn't looking for anything really.

“Is there something you want to tell me Eddie?” He really, really didn't want something to be there.

Eddie crossed his arms. “What are you even implying?” His tone wasn't entirely defensive, it was also hesitant.

“You just, walked out right after,” Steve sighed. “Do you have a problem with me and Jon? I know I already asked you the other day but, you really are acting weird and it's making me nervous because you're one of my best friends and if you do have a problem it's gonna be so-” Steve didn't get to finish because Eddie was right in front of him suddenly and his hands were on his shoulders.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie used the tone of voice he used when he calmed Steve down from a nightmare. “You, you think I'm homophobic?” Eddie sounded pained.

For some reason, Steve realized he was misty eyed. He shook his head. “I would never think that about you, but the way you're acting…”

Eddie crushed him, he was hugging him so tight and Steve will always hug Eddie back.

Eddie stepped back. “I'm not homophobic. Quite um, the opposite actually.”

Steve did not understand subtlety, why did everyone forget that? “I don't- what?”

Eddie smiled fondly at him. He looked down, seemed to be finding courage to say something. He looked back up determined. “I'm gay, Steve.”

“Oh.” Steve nodded. “Thank you for telling me, you know for, trusting me.”

“I trust you the most, sweetheart.” They hugged again, it was longer this time.

When they separated, the look of confusion that was so common on Steve these days came back in full force. “Then why have you been acting so weird lately?” Steve asked.

Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it. He repeated that one, two or three other times. “I- you know, I was totally just,”

“Yeah?”

Eddie shrugged. “I guess I was jealous?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Steve thought that Eddie didn't seem completely sure about what he was saying.

“I'm lonely, okay?! I'm single and you parade around with your new boyfriend, which I should just be happy that you can because let's be honest, where could you guys act like this? Nowhere else!” Eddie was rambling now, but Steve understood what he was trying to say, mostly. “It's just, hard. You know?”

“I'm sorry.” Steve found himself saying.

“Eh. What are you gonna do?” Eddie seemed genuinely sad. Steve hated seeing him like this. He squeezed Steve’s shoulder and went back to the living room.

Steve just stood there for a really long time contemplating what just happened. He had another friend who was into guys. Eddie liked guys. Steve maybe also could like guys. Maybe. Did he? And why did this news leave him so shook? He felt like he could float but also like his stomach had a weight to it that had never been there before. And- god now there was a flutter.

Steve was so fucked.

Taglist below.

This is actually the last time I use the taglist (that is over a year old btw). So if you want to keep reading you can either follow the tag "I think I got an ex but I forgot him" or "mer writes sometimes". Thank you for reading!

Tag list.

@iliedaboutthechocolates @my2amgaythoughts @frostbitesoul @kaylakenobi @octopus-in-cripsis @leethegay @yourebuckingkiddingme @marvel-ous-m @messrs-weasley @thevidaren @princessdave @gleek4twd @ntwolf69 @lololol-1234 @fruitmix @thelady-mary @duckyreads @tauntedperfume @pyrohonk @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @raisedbylibrarians @flwerkitty @goodolefashionedloverboi @clumsiluni @lexyvey @martinskis-lydias @gay-stranger-things @gregre369 @woven-of-stingers @addelyin @suddenlyinlove @random-thoughts-004 @trashcanniballecter @weirdasshomo @i-have-three-feelings @finalmoondragon @fancyorangepeels @infinitetrashbag @tartarusfairy @cattywompus1 @eddielives1986 @daleyeahson @simplycodey @satan-is-obsessed @paintsplatteredandimperfect @thefailcollection @alohastitch0626 @r0binscript @ledleaf @evix-syne666 @robin-is-sleepy @unhealthobsesions @estrellami-1 @catlovesfandoms @hellomynameismoo @stardust-era @omgshesinsane @emma-elsa-0000 @bye-zai @contraclockwork @beckkthewreck @newtstabber @aceflavouredyougurt @mistlafey @justalittleobsessedhere @chaoskiro @vhelt @u-a-wizard-jamie @callas-shitshow @pineapplecrispy

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marvelwitchergilmore · 23 hours ago

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Friendship In Escape

Summary: Steve Rogers x fe!Reader -> After escaping a party, you meet Steve Rogers. It's in a simple conversation, you and him find common ground and from that a friendship grows. Question is, will either of you ever find the courage to act of the underlying feelings?

Disclaimer: This is a LONG one. Spoilers ahead for most of the main Captain America/Avengers films from The Avengers. Also, there's probably a lot of plot holes in this fic so we're just gonna ignore them. Slow, slow burn. Angst-y moments. Found family, fluff, taking care of each other. Some swearing. Reader helps Steve adjust to the modern world. Lots of hugging. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes but we're gonna ignore them, too (it's late and I'm pretty sure my brain is fried). Hope you enjoy it <3 Not proof read.

The party had been humming to life for an hour or more before the honorable host finally showed his face. Dawned in a big name branded suit, Tony Stark stood at the top of the stairs, calling for people to start the party.

There was meant to be music, laughter, too many drinks and a fight he’ll be able to tell a story about at the next party. And you were sure, by the end of the night, he’d get his wish.

This party in particular had been the third you’d been dragged along to in the space of a month. It hadn’t changed since you were a child.

Posh names belonging to posh people with deep pockets and, when the time called for it, had long arms, too. The amount of money that was gathered from parties like this were worth the events being held.

But never once had you felt comfortable.

It wasn’t the shoes or the dress. In fact, getting ready was the best part of the night. But being dragged to the same people, with the same stories, being told about the same single people in their family, their sons, nephews, cousins. Being told to stand and take a picture with a smile that will let everyone know how fun the parties are.

But they weren’t.

For others they were. But for you? You had more fun spending time alone in the libraries at University, studying, answering company emails and working, mostly, from behind the curtain.

If you could have done that, you would have avoided the parties all together. Relationships with other businesses were already solidified and had been for almost fifty years.

So, after the fourth hour of walking around the gala room, standing and being forced to listen to the same conversations that you’d heard your whole life, listening to people be more interested in what Tony Stark had placed around his hosting room, and being introduced to another twenty something with a multi-billion dollar company behind his family’s name, but no integrity, you found your escape.

“Darling, where are you going?” Your mother asked as you handed her your drink.

“Just to the bathroom.”

She gave you a smile. “Hurry back. Sandra told me she’s bringing her cousin. Special invite from Mr Stark himself.”

You forced your millionth smile of the night and nodded. “Will do.”

As you took the stairs up towards the upper floors and bathrooms, you looked down over the edge of the balcony. They were preoccupied, listening to somebody’s story.

Rather than taking a right, you took a left, bumping into a waitress.

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Can I help you with something?”

You looked around you. “Just promise you didn’t see me. I need a break.”

The waitress just smiled. “There’s some rooms that haven't been decorated yet. Just take a right at the end of the hall.”

You looked down the hall, looked back and smiled at her. The first genuine smile of the evening.

“Thank you.”

She shrugged. “This is my fifth party helping the host. We all need a break every once in a while.”

You thanked her again before walking down the hall. The minute you turned the corner, the party seemed like it was miles away. Every once in a while, you heard a roar of laughter but it never got any louder than that.

With a sigh of relief, you decided to explore the different rooms. Some had tarp over the entrances, the insides not being suitable to survive at least an hour in. From holes in the floors to fresh paint fumes and drying plaster.

But then one at the very end of the hall had a door. So, taking your chance, you opened it.

“Oh!”

Inside stood a man dressed in a woolen style suit, his tie loose around his neck. He looked as if he’d been pacing and deep in thought before you’d opened the door.

“I-” You looked around you, fearful you were about to get into trouble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone- Sorry.”

“Trying to escape the party, too?”

You stopped trying to close the door and looked at him. You couldn’t put your finger on it; maybe it was the way he stood, maybe it was the tone in his voice or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but you saw something trustworthy in him.

An unlikely friend in a place where you had none.

“What gave it away?”

He smiled, softly. “You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.”

You stepped inside. “Thank you.”

“I- I’m Steve, by the way.” He held out his hand and you shook it.

“Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

For the second time that evening, you gave a genuine smile. “Likewise. So, what are you hiding from? A match-making mother, or a business minded father?”

“Neither.” Steve laughed a little.

You walked further into the room before finding a spot with less sawdust on the ground. You’d been on your feet for a long time. You found the perfect spot against a wall between two windows.

“Wow,” you brushed what sawdust you could with your feet before turning around and tucking the skirt of your dress down. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He chuckled. “Not a big one.”

You shrugged, stretching your legs out and crossing them at your ankles. You patted the ground beside you. “My parents want me to socialise. I’d say talking with you qualifies as that. I’ve got time.”

Steve smiled as he watched you, finally agreeing to sit beside you.

And for the first time in almost a month, you weren’t bored.

Talking and listening to Steve didn’t make you so bored out of your mind you would have rather ran a cross country race. Talking with Steve was the first time you felt comfortable at one of these fancy galas.

You’d come to learn that he was, in fact, the man they’d dug out of the ice. That he was the soldier lost to time, being forced into a new century without any idea how to deal with it.

“I know a little of what that’s like,” you admitted to him. “To feel lost. I’ve been attending different parties like this since I was a kid. And never once have I felt comfortable attending them. I can talk to everyone in the room and feel completely loney, but I can sit on my own in a quiet place like this and…feel comfortable and be myself.”

“I had that once.” Steve told you. “I’d say back home, but I’m still in the same country. To be honest, I don’t know what anything is outside of this room.”

Then an idea popped into your head. “I could help.”

“How?”

You shrugged. “I could help you adjust. I’m no therapist but I know how most things work in the 21st century. Movies, media, books. You said they gave you a document packet?”

Steve nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a folded over thick document.

“With all the stores and street names, I don’t recognise anything anymore.”

Opening it up, Steve handed it to you. It had an address, some pictures, different appointments and different wifi codes.

“I know where this is.”

“You do?” Steve seemed surprised. They’d given him the address three days ago with no instruction on how to find it. They just told him something about Google Maps. Whatever a Google was.

You nodded. “It looks kinda old.”

Steve shrugged. “‘Guess it’s their way of giving me some familiarity.”

You shook your head. “When do you move in?”

“End of the week.”

“I’ve got a meeting in the morning, but I can take the rest of the day – help you move in, if you’d like.”

Steve looked at you. “You’d really do that for me?”

You handed his document back and nodded. “I would. Just because you were given an image for them to control, doesn’t mean that they should take advantage of the person you are behind it all.”

“That’s really kind of you, ma’am.”

You smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

For an hour more, you and Steve just talked. Filled with quiet laughter and genuine smiles, you and Steve found an unlikely friendship in each other that evening.

A friendship that would only grow stronger and stronger over the years.

At the end of that week, you met Steve outside the SI building before walking with him towards the underground and pointing out different landmarks for him to recognise. A university campus, a museum, a deli store that served the best sandwiches. You explained about the times for the trains that headed towards the different states. Finally, walking down the different streets, Steve started to recognise a few different places. New businesses stood in their places, but the bricks around them were the same.

“Pretty sure I got beat up in that alley.”

You followed Steve’s eye-line before looking back at him. “Bet your mom was beside herself with the amount of times you came home with a black eye.”

Steve held a reminiscent smile on his face as he looked at his shoes. “Just a kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb enough to run away from the fight.”

You watched Steve for a moment; something in his tone told you those weren’t just his words.

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

You took Steve’s hand, leading him down the street before you both arrived at the apartment block. A couple of younger kids were playing out in the street, kicking a football around until they scored it round the corner of the building, one of their mother’s yelling to play in the back.

A guy with a coffee cart served passers by heading back from their lunch break, on the corner.

Unlocking the front door, you and Steve walked up the first few flights of stairs before finally reaching his new home.

As Steve opened up the door and walked inside, he was met with a living space that probably hadn’t had someone live there…maybe ever. The furniture seemed old, the kitchen table was rusting a little at the bottom of the legs and the curtains had seen better days.

A few boxes had been stacked by the entrance way with different labels scribbled on them.

You rifled through them. “Bed sheets, books, clothes.”

You took a note of the size label. “You know, I think one of my friends might have some clothes you’d like. She runs a clothing company that does everything from a vintage style to modern day. I’m sure she’d love to let you rifle through her products; see if there’s anything you’d like to take off her hands.”

You turned around but Steve hadn’t been listening. Instead, he’d been focusing on the case files that were strewn across the kitchen table.

Standing beside him, keeping your eye on his reactions, you looked down at the table before you came across a picture. You had to take a breath.

Steve had told you a little about his friends from the war. The Howling Commandos.

“Is that them?”

Steve nodded.

It took Steve a while to get used to his new apartment, but with your help, he found it becoming a home. You helped him change the bedsheets and work out his washing machine before putting your phone number into his phone.

“Think of it like a telegram,” you told him. “But rather than waiting weeks to hear back, it’s almost instantly.”

In the weeks that followed, you met Steve at his apartment every few days. On the weekends, you showed him around some of the thrift stores where he’d found a new kitchen table and some dishes to use in the kitchen.

One of your friends – the same friend that ran a clothing company – had delivered some new curtains. They were plain, but they were better than the ones Steve had been left with.

Meanwhile, Steve found an old gym where he could spend his evenings and, with your help, had figured out the basics of a phone and computer.

The one Shield had given him was far too high tech, even for you. So, you had brought Steve one of your old ones. It was still pretty modern, but it was a lot simpler to use than the Stark Industries issued one.

Then he got pulled into helping Shield with a threat that, to him, would have been best left in the ocean.

News reports came in thick and fast during the attack on New York. You hadn’t heard from Steve during it, until you nearly ran into him in the middle of the street as mechanical…whatever the hell they were, were flying through the sky.

“Why are you still in the city?! Everyone needs to get out.”

You nodded. “I know, but people needed help.” You looked down at his shield. “You know how to use that?”

Steve nodded.

“Can you break a lock with it?”

Steve followed you as you ran down an alley before disappearing around the corner and to an employee entrance. Neither you or Steve could tell what had welded a lock shut, but considering some kind of blue weapon lay not too far out in the middle of the street with similar residue being left of the door, you could only gather it had been some alien technology.

It took a few tries but the lock finally busted open and a bunch of parents with their kids came flooding out of the doors. As you and Steve started directing people to safety out of the city, you saw the way the kids looked up at Steve.

The whole image of Captain America had been controlled by the government, making him an image away from Steve Rogers. But nothing could control the way those kids looked up at Steve as their hero.

A comic book hero that existed in real life.

“Ma’am, is that everyone?” Steve asked one of the women that left the room.

She seemed distressed as she looked around. “I-I think so.” Then she ran off with the others.

Something in your gut told you to check the rest of the room, and Steve followed you inside.

“Go! Help the others! I can look after myself.”

“But-”

“Steve.” You looked at him. “Go. They need you.”

It took him a minute but he took your word for it and ran back out of the door. Meanwhile, you checked under every table and desk before something caught your eye at the side of one of the cabinets.

A kid, no older than six.

“Hey, honey.”

“Mommy was meant to pick me up.”

You looked around, hearing something hit a building nearby.

“I’ll help you look for her. Can I pick you up?” The kid nodded. “I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. Come on, let's go and find your mom.”

After three hours of destruction over the city, and countless injuries being collected by people, it wasn’t until a mom came running through the crowds of EMTs and doctors, screaming out for her child that you and Sophie, sitting in the back of an ambulance, looked up.

And Sophie called out.

Jumping from the bench, Sophie looked outside and saw her mom running through the crowd. You watched as they collided and sank to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why aren’t you with the rest of your class? Where are they?”

“Hey,” you said, walking behind Sophie. “They got separated when trying to clear the city.”

“Did you save her?”

“I got her out-” Suddenly, the mom crushed you with a hug.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I-” The tears continued to flow from her eyes.

“It’s alright. All that matters is that she’s safe.”

“Thank you so much.”

Hours later, you had finally made it back home, had showered and switched your TV on. The news had been following updates and different people’s theories of what had happened.

Then a knock came to your door.

Upon opening it, you were greeted with a fresher looking Steve Rogers.

“Shouldn’t you be with a medic?”

Steve smiled, “Shouldn’t you? Between the pair of us, I’m the one who has a serum running through their veins.”

You looked in his hand. “Is that a pizza?”

Steve nodded. “Didn’t know which kind you’d like, so I got the classic. Figured you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Inviting him inside, Steve laid it on the coffee table.

“Shouldn’t you be helping The Avengers or something?”

“Avengers?” Steve looked at you with a curious look.

You just pointed at the screen. “Oh, right. Yeah, we’ve all decided to take a break. But Shield tells me they’ve finally found me a job.”

“That’s something to celebrate.”

Steve shrugged. “Kinda hard to celebrate when an entire city almost got levelled to the ground.”

You understood. “I’m gonna head back tomorrow and see if they need any help.”

“Can I come with you?”

“You don’t have to ask, Steve.”

He smiled, if a little sheepishly.

For the rest of the evening, you and Steve shared a pizza and talked until neither of you wanted to say anything else.

So, you picked out a film and placed it into the DVD player. And you and Steve just sat and watched it.

As the months passed, you and Steve slipped into a familiar routine. He got better at texting, but you’d come to find he preferred to call. And during the days he was at the training facility in Washington and devoid of signal, he’d write you letters.

And you wrote them back.

He’d also started keeping a list, you’d noticed, of things you’d say in passing or you’d tell him to listen to or watch.

On the quiet afternoons you spent together, Steve would open up more. He told you more about the 40s and being in the army. He told you more about his childhood and his best friend, Bucky.

You’d surprised him one afternoon by taking him to the Smithsonian. They had a new exhibit put up – one pillar being dedicated to Bucky and his friendship with Steve.

In one of his final letters, he’d told you of a man he’d basically been trolling on his morning runs. You’d come to find out his name and you smiled.

Outside of you and the members of his team, Sam Wilson was the first friend Steve had made.

However, you didn’t get to meet him in person until you got a call from him, under Steve’s contact. Of course, the minute the headline had flashed on your screen, you’d tried to get into contact with him. He’d fallen, or rather, jumped, from an elevator and fallen a hundred feet or more to the ground. His own work seemed to be after him.

So, when you were told he’d fallen, once more, from one of the jets and had been in surgery, you rushed to him.

Entering his room, Natasha had been the one to take you to his room after two nurses read your name on his file but wouldn’t let you through.

“He’s alive, as you can see.”

“If I get a call like this again, telling me you’re dead, I’ll kill you myself.” You warned Steve before you walked to his side. The bastard had the audacity to chuckle.

“I promise. If I’m gonna die, I’ll ask your permission first.”

From behind you, you heard a voice smile. “I like her.”

“Y/n, this is Sam. Sam, this is Y/n.”

From that day on, the movie and pizza nights came to include both Sam and Natasha. However, unbeknownst to you and Steve, the movie nights also came to include the rest of the team.

Natasha had been trained to read people. And she’d never read anyone easier than you and Steve.

And her information soon became Clint’s information which soon became everyone’s information when he accidentally let it slip to the others.

Tony had been planning a party. Rather, he wanted to throw one and Pepper had come up with a list of people to invite. And when she read out your name, Steve had looked up but Clint had spoken first.

“Is that Steve’s girl?”

They all looked around at each other before looking at Steve. He had a girl?

Steve faltered. “Yes, well, no. She’s my friend. We’re friends but-”

Tony turned to Pepper. “Invite Steve’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. And she doesn’t really like big parties so-”

“Invite her anyway. I can’t believe Clint knows about her before we do.” Then he turned to Natasha. “I suppose you already knew.”

She just nodded.

And that was just the start of it.

A few nights later, Steve had given you a heads up which you appreciated but it did put you on edge a little. But all in all, it was…fun.

It was the first time you enjoyed yourself at a party and didn’t hate every minute of it.

Firstly, the attire was fancy but not gala fancy. It was a celebration of Hydra finally being overthrown from Shield.

You arrived in your heels that didn’t hurt your feet so much, wide legged trousers and a graphic t-shirt.

“Now, who is that?”

At the bar, Rhodey, Thor, Tony and Maria all stood watching as you entered the room, clearly looking for someone. Tony and Rhodey had met most of the building at the party. Maria had met them all – at the very least, she had a file on them all.

But not on you.

From behind the bar, Natasha leaned over. “That’s Steve’s girl.”

From the bar they watched as Sam noticed you first and called you over. You looked relieved at seeing a familiar face. Even more relieved at seeing Steve. Tony watched as Steve noticed you, too.

The game of pool Steve had been winning at suddenly took a dip as his aim went off kilter, his attention immediately going to you.

“Steve has a woman?” Thor asked, the other just nodded. “Well, we must meet her.”

However, as they all went to walk towards the pool table, Maria reached her hand out. “You boys swarm her, Steve will make sure you never get to speak to her again. I will go.”

And so she did.

The others watched on as Steve introduced you to Maria, every protective instinct a man got when introducing his girlfriend to the rest of his family going up. And somehow, with simple ease, Maria had gained a small part of your friendship and led you towards the second bar.

Meanwhile, Steve watched as you walked away, the heart in his eyes never leaving. Not even when Sam nudged him and they got back to the game.

Throughout the night, Steve kept his eye on you.

He almost broke the sound barrier by how quickly he turned up at your side when you were dragged into the conversation circle with most of them.

“So, tell me.” Tony said, sitting beside you. “How did you meet our fellow Captain?”

“Tony.” Steve warned, though no true malice could be traced in his voice.

You smiled. “It’s okay. We actually met at one of your parties.”

Tony sat back. “Really?”

You nodded. “Some fancy gala a few years back.”

Conversation between yourself and the rest of the group seemed to take a natural flow until eventually, all your nerves had subsided.

But that didn’t stop you from needing a break by the end. Between talking with Natasha, Maria and Thor for most of the night, and beating Sam at a few rounds of pool – something Steve found incredibly entertaining,

Tony had backed Sam on his idea that you were cheating. Nobody won that many rounds of pool one after the other. So, as the others gathered and watched the game, Steve stepped forward and he covered your eyes.

For a moment you looked up at him and smirked, and he smiled back with a light shrug of his shoulders.

“Yes, thank you, Cap.” Sam said. “See. This will prove that she’s cheat-”

As you hit the white cue ball, everyone watched and was left speechless as every ball suddenly found its home in the pockets, leaving you with an automatic victory.

Opening your eyes once more and standing up, you looked at the pool table with a proud look before looking at Sam. You’d never seen him as shocked. Looking at Steve, he seemed shocked but also proud.

“Still think I’m cheating?”

Tony just looked at you. “She’s a witch. She had to be. Were you cursed as a child? Born to some Vampire in Europe or something?”

Steve chuckled, as did you.

“Come on, Tony. Accept your defeat.”

As the hours passed, eventually you found yourself outside on the balcony, taking a breather from the party.

“Figured you’d find some place quiet.”

You stood back up, holding onto the balcony bar. “Hey.”

Steve smiled. “Hey. You okay? They can be a bit much.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that. Just needed a minute. You know, this is the first time I’ve enjoyed myself at one of these?”

Steve looked up at the building before looking back at you with a smile on his face. “It is better when people aren’t trying to show you off.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for escaping the last one and finding me in that room.”

It was in that moment that you realised the last time you’d gone to any kind of gala or party of the same scale was the first time you’d met Steve.

You smiled fondly at the memory. “Thanks for not being mad when I opened the door.”

“I could never be mad at you.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got a good judge of character.”

You felt yourself chuckle before you looked out across the rest of the city before a cold wind blew through making you shiver.

“Here,” Steve shrugged off his jacket but before you could tell him you were fine, he placed it over your shoulders.

It smelt of him.

“Thanks.”

Steve just nodded with a smile watching as you placed your arms through the holes and wrapped it a little tighter around yourself before you looked out at the rest of the city with him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is something going on between Maria and Sam?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “She’ll eat him alive.”

“He might be into that.”

Steve laughed and closed his eyes in disgust. “What makes you ask?”

You shrugged. “Just something I’ve noticed. He looks at her like she hung the moon. Though, of course, that’s when she’s not looking. When she is, it's like I’m back at school rehearsing for Much Ado About Nothing.”

Steve’s joy widened. “You were in a play?”

You laughed. “I wasn’t any good. I was only put on stage because my folks donated so much money to the school. All I wanted was to work with Tech.”

Steve chuckled. “I’d pay good money to see that. But, I get what you mean about Sam and Maria. Who knows? If the timing is right…”

Steve looked at you and you felt something bigger was being hidden behind his words. Part of you certainly held out hope that there was.

“We should probably get back inside.”

An hour later, most people had gone home so it was left with just Steve, yourself, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Maria, Tony, Rhodey and Thor.

Still wearing Steve’s jacket, you were sitting in the middle of the sofa, your legs curled towards your chest. After he stood up, Steve came back and handed you a beer before he nudged your legs allowing him room to sit down before he pulled them across his lap.

It was the standard procedure for you and him to sit on a sofa together. Mainly because his sofa in his old apartment had been small enough to do so.

Despite changing apartments and the sofa, it was just something that stuck.

The others took silent note of it as the debate continued between Thor and Clint over his hammer.

By the time everyone was trying to lift it, Steve became one of the last. Sharing a look with you before looking at Thor, Steve stood up and tried to lift it.

You watched as it squeaked on the table for a moment, but moved no further. However, your knowing grin – despite it never truly lifting from the table – caused you to look at Thor.

He looked panic stricken.

But Steve stood back and held his hands up.

“Or…you’re all not worthy.”

“It’s still a trick!”

In the moments that followed, everyone turned to their own conversations; including you and Steve.

But Clint and Natasha kept their eyes on you and Steve. Your legs over his lap, wearing his jacket, his focus solely on you, his hand rubbing lightly against the bottom of your leg that was exposed under your wide-legged trousers, your ever loving gaze on his that matched yours, light and soft smiles on your faces.

“Ten bucks says they’ll be married in two years.” Clint whispered up to Natasha.

“Deal.”

Something that Clint didn’t know, that Natasha did, was that you and Steve were fucking oblivious.

They’d all be lucky if it happened in two years.

Quite frankly, it should have happened two years ago.

Suddenly, a high pitched noise rippled through the room.

“Of course you’re not all worthy…”

Your eyes landed on an oil leaking…zombie robot?

His voice was deep and menacing and nothing about any of it felt comforting.

“Steve?”

“Stark?”

“Jarvis?”

In a single turn of events you’d gone from laughing and joking with each other to suddenly defending yourself against a robot who claimed he’d killed someone.

A swarm of them flew in through broken glass panels and Steve kicked up a table before any of them could hit either of you.

You landed on the floor beside him, a little winded.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’m okay. Go, go, go. I’ll be fine.”

Steve helped you up before running off in the other direction. It was a whirlwind of blasts, bullets and shattered glass.

At one point, one had you cornered as Tony unhooked another. And for a moment, you thought you’d be sent flying out of the window and out into the open before Steve took hold of it, throwing it back towards Thor before Clint threw him his shield.

And it all ended as Thor sent his hammer flying through Ultron.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Banner.” Tony called him over before they headed towards their lab.

Meanwhile, Steve turned around before heading straight towards you and holding you in his arms, almost lifting you from the ground.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, letting the scent of him, his clothes, his jacket, calm you.

“Yeah. Thanks for saving my life.”

Steve truly breathed for the first time since the high pitched noise had rang through the room. With a hand at the back of your head, he pressed a kiss to your temple and he closed his eyes.

“Come on, let's go and find the others.”

However, as he took your hand, you pulled him back. “Steve.”

“Right, you-you’ll want to go home-”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. You’ve got glass in your arm.”

“Oh.”

“Does Tony have tweezers in his lab?”

Steve nodded. “I think so.”

Less than five minutes later, you sat Steve in one of the chairs, Bruce handing you and Maria a set of tweezers each.

Staring with his arm, you plucked out the small fragments of glass before his skin healed over them, before holding his palm up to face you. Meanwhile, they began discussing the extinction of The Avengers and the possibility of nuclear codes getting out to the rest of the world.

Then rage got passed around the room.

By the time morning rolled around, Steve drove you back home.

“Whatever happens…” You looked at Steve, a small voice in the back of your head begging for him to be imprinted in your memory as if he hadn’t already. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Steve nodded. “I promise. You’re the only one that can kill me, remember?”

You felt yourself laugh. At least he remembered.

Looking at him again, you hugged him. “I mean it, Steve. Please be safe.”

He hugged you back, the feeling of him strong enough for you to still feel hours later.

“I promise.”

Each day you didn’t hear from him was a little more worrisome than the last. And then when the media reported Shield helping evacuate people from a floating country…all you could do was hope Steve wasn’t one of the casualties.

“Maybe I’ll take a leaf out of Barton’s book.”

“The simple life?”

“You’ll get there one day. Maybe you could get there with Y/n?”

Steve couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about it once or twice. You and him. Together. More than friends. A part of him did think you felt it too. The same spark. Familiarity. The same love.

“If something was gonna happen, it would have happened by now.” Steve told him. “Besides, I think the guy that wanted all that went into the ice seventy five years ago.”

Tony shrugged. “Don’t count on it. That guy is still there somewhere. See you ‘round, Rogers.”

As Tony drove away, Steve took in the building in front of him. And despite the acceptance he felt of being home, the idea of you and him…he figured that would always be with him.

Even if it never happened.

That night, Steve turned up outside your apartment with the next movie on his list and a case of soda. However, when you didn’t answer, he went in search of you.

Opening the door to the roof, he looked around before spotting you in the very corner, sitting on the table of the picnic bench.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Looking around, you gave a sigh of relief at seeing him. He dropped the case on the table before you reached for him.

“Thank god you’re okay.”

“How long have you been up here?”

“Since Nat called me and told me you’d landed. I couldn’t sit in my apartment anymore so…I came up here. Last time I looked out at the city was before everything went to hell.”

Steve looked out at the city himself before looking back at you. “We’re not out of the woods yet. Ross is probably about to reign hellfire down on…everyone.”

“What about the girl?”

“Wanda?”

You nodded.

“I don’t know. She went through a lot, losing her home and her brother in one fowl sweep.”

“You should train her.”

“What?”

“Train her,” you repeated. “You’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be in a war, to sign up to be experimented on. She’s gonna need someone who actually understands some of what she’s going through.”

Steve agreed with you. You had a point.

“Tony can have a lot of influence and his heart can be in the right place but he doesn’t always remember that people didn’t have his childhood or his life.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

You agreed with Steve. “He has. But he’s never lost a brother, or his life to somebody’s cause. She’s gonna need help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The rest of the evening was spent talking over what had happened, what Steve had thought when the earth quite literally started to lift from beneath him, what had happened with Banner and Nat and then you gave him your news.

Bucky had been spotted.

The next time you saw Steve was at Agent Peggy Carter’s funeral. You sat at the back for most of it, watching as Steve helped carry the coffin and as people gave their eulogies.

You didn't know much about Peggy Carter personally, though you could remember learning about her in school. The founder of Shield, working alongside Captain America in her early career. And from meeting Steve, you’d come to know more about her. As well as how deeply both she and Steve were in love.

You’d seen the clips at the museum, and with Steve beside you, it gave them a whole other meaning. And even though Steve living through the ice and landing himself in the 21st century had given you one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had, part of you felt angry for him.

Angry at the fact he missed out on his chance with Peggy and that she had to live a life where, as far as anyone knew, Steve was dead.

A soldier and a love story left stranded in time.

You could remember when Steve had first visited Peggy, again.

And now he had to say goodbye, again.

“It was a beautiful service.”

Steve looked up and down the aisle to where you were walking towards him. He felt the breath get knocked out of him. Or maybe back into him.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use a friendly face?”

A silent conversation then took place between you and Steve. Silent conversations weren’t unusual between you. A thousand words could be said in a look, but you’d both understand.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen after I leave here-”

“No, I know. I know.” You understood completely. After he walked out of the church, Nat would be leaving without him.

“Today’s been a lot. Tomorrow’s gonna be a lot.” You looked back at Steve. “Right now can just be…right now. You’ve lost someone, Steve. Right now you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You don’t have to be Captain America right now.” Your gaze turned to Peggy’s picture. “I might not have met her, but I know you and I both know she would be telling you, you don’t have to be Captain America right now. At this moment, you’re just Steve: World War Two veteran who has just lost a great love in their life and deserves a moment to breathe.”

Steve gave you a weak smile, his emotions building up in his chest. “Thank you.”

Stepping forward, you wrapped Steve in a comforting hug and for the next twenty minutes, you both stayed inside the church.

There he told you the smaller facts about Peggy – the ones he’d learnt when she was with him and his Howling Commandos.

But then the time came to leave.

Walking down the different streets, hearing time tick away, you and Steve soaked up what time you could before everything was about to go to shit.

And on a bench beside the River Thames, you and Steve said your goodbyes. Both of you knew something was going to go wrong. What that was exactly, neither of you could put your finger on it. But something was going to happen.

It was only a matter of time.

“Here.”

“What’s this?”

Steve read the piece of paper. It was a set of coordinates.

“I own a house. It’s in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Europe. If anything happens, Ross can’t touch you. The house had been in my family’s name for generations but one of my great aunt’s left it to me. It’s yours to use.”

“Y/n-”

“Take it, Steve. Nobody knows it exists so they won’t find you. It’s run down but there should be running water.”

Steve finally accepted it. “Thank you. You know, if Tony ever finds out about this, he’s gonna believe that you are a witch from a vampire family.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I am, you just don’t know it.”

Steve shrugged, pocketing the paper safely.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

You took his hand. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

You tried your best to avoid the tears, but they were trying their hardest anyway.

“Just promise me one thing, Steve.”

Steve nodded, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Be safe?”

You nodded. “Be safe.”

Your eyes locking with his, Steve decided to take a risk. There was a chance he might never be able to see you again. Whatever was going to happen, the first person they’d put a tail on would be you.

He kissed you.

With your hand on his lapel, you held him closer. It was short and bittersweet, but the memory of him and his kiss would forever be seared into your brain.

And for a few moments, you just held onto each other, fearful of opening your eyes and accepting that one of you would have to walk away.

With his finger, Steve gently brushed the stray hair from your face away and behind your ear before kissing you quickly for a second time.

“One of us has to say goodbye.”

“I know,” you sniffed. “I know.”

“If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it's that you walked into that room when you did. You were the first person to treat me like one and to help me. Thank you for wanting to escape that party.”

You laughed through the tears. “You never have to thank me for that. It’s crazy to think I almost didn’t go.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

Looking at each other for one final time, you leaned in and kissed him. You prayed that his hand by your waist would leave a brand – a different pain to carry with you than the one in your heart.

Feeling yourself stand, the kiss broke away and you were the first to say goodbye.

Walking down the stone pavement, you looked behind you before you turned a corner, only to find Steve had already gone. Between the bustling people, the bench you’d both just been sitting at was exactly that.

A bench.

Going home, you tried to find a way to keep yourself busy but no matter where you looked, everything reminded you of him. The movies you’d watched with him, the ones you didn’t. The pizza’s shared, and soda spilt, the curtain, bedsheets, books, clothes, pictures.

You had some of his artwork in your house. Some of them people, most of landscapes – people and places you’d seen together.

And in an album under your bed, you had his letters.

Each one in its original envelope on one page and the pictures he’d drawn of the skyline from wherever he’d been.

Some evenings, you’d reread his letters – still able to hear his voice.

Then the headlines started to roll in.

Captain America was a fugitive and had broken his team out of a high secure facility.

And for almost two years a hunt was put on for him. You were interviewed every couple of months with the same questions.

Did you know where he was? Had he contacted you? What information did he share with you?

Just because you’d given him a set of coordinates didn’t mean he’d use them. The last time you’d heard from Steve was in London and the only information he’d shared with you that day was about Peggy Carter and some of the old stories of when he was first in London in the 40s.

In the meantime, your parents had convinced you to attend different dinner parties, charity shows, fundraisers and galas, all the while helping you find a date.

Most of the people your mother had first introduced you to years ago, they were recently married. But the single ones she’d found; you dated some, though it never went any further than a sixth date – usually the date after your parents invited them to attend dinner.

But no matter the fancy meal, or the conversation, or the man; none of them could beat a pizza, soda, a movie and…

Steve.

None of them could beat Steve.

But that all changed one afternoon when you were gardening.

Living in the city had reminded you too much of Steve, and with the constant reminders of the memories and new threats and superheroes popping up, you decided to find somewhere nice to live.

Someplace…simple.

So, buying a house outside of the city with a few acres of land, you started renovating. Any business meetings you had could be done online which meant you had more time to fix your new home up.

The smell of plaster, paint and sawdust filled your home for most of the days until finally things started to come together. New windows and locks were installed, the faulty taps were fixed and finally the entire place was given a new lease of life.

And just as you were half way through with fixing your garden; planting some flowers and digging patches for a small allotment, a car pulled up outside your drive.

On your knees in the dirt, it took a moment for your eyes to focus on the person climbing out of the car in the distance.

They were tall, broad and had a beard.

However, the closer they got, memories started to kick in. The walk, the frame…

You stood up and walked closer until you stopped again, feeling the breath being knocked out of you.

“Oh, my god…”

He watched as you stopped in your tracks, your brain confirming who he was. Then you started running. Across the grass and onto the gravel path, you collided with Steve.

“This is you, I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Steve shook his head and he held onto you, the essence of you filling his senses.

“No, you’re not dreaming.”

You leaned back and looked at him before hugging him again.

Finally, Steve set you back onto your feet and his hands remained at your waist.

“Why are you back? Last I heard…”

“The team and I are keeping our distance for a few days. Nat’s headed to Ohio and Sam is trying to see his sister. It’s the best way to avoid Ross.”

You nodded, checking him over. He didn’t seem like he was dying.

With a hand on his cheek, you smiled a little, pointing out the obvious. “You grew a beard.”

Steve smiled a little. “Helps me blend in.”

You looked into his eyes and smiled. “It suits you.”

Holding gently onto your wrist, Steve turned his head and kissed your palm and for a second you closed your eyes, leaning into him.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Placing your hand over his heart, Steve seemed to bear into your soul. “So am I.”

What followed was two hours of conversation around where he’d been and what he’d been doing since he left, and what you had been doing.

Then he started to help. Painting the porch on the back of the house as you continued planting in the back garden, you spent time together.

Time that was all too precious knowing he was on a clock.

“Where did you learn to cook?” You asked Steve as you helped him chop up veg.

With a smile on his face, Steve continued to prepare dinner. “I have a contact in Scotland. Their aunt runs a cafe and needed a few extra hands in the kitchen.”

As you helped Steve prepare dinner, you listened to the stories he’d gathered over his time away. Scotland, Spain, Germany, Italy, England, Poland, Norway, and many others.

Once dinner was finished, you started to clean up. But from the table, Steve looked at you standing by the sink in front of the window.

You’d never left his thoughts.

Sat on that bench in London, he watched you walk away and for a moment, he remained where he was. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see you again – not without heavy restrictions.

He wanted you so desperately to turn around, but if you did, he would have followed you. He would have stood up and ran after you.

So he left.

He left before you could look around, he left before he would stop fighting himself and follow you.

And each day he woke up, for the few moments in the morning where he would forget what had happened, where he would forget the world he’d been found in, he thought about you. He thought about calling you or writing you a letter. He thought about seeing you when he’d roll over in bed. But each time…

You weren’t there.

You weren’t with him.

You were at your home, thousands of miles from him.

And he had no way of talking to you.

Walking across the kitchen floor to you, he placed a hand on your waist before reaching across to the window cill.

“What are you doing?” You smiled.

Looking at you and turning up the dial, Steve smiled. “Come with me.”

Taking the cloth from your hand, Steve dropped it back into the bowl of soapy water and took your hand in his. Then, pulling you into the middle of the kitchen with him, you both started to slow dance.

“What’s this for?”

Steve shrugged, holding your hand over his heart once again. “I don’t know how long I’ve got with you. Figured we could spend it not washing up.”

You felt yourself smile. “I think I like that.”

It was soft and slow. Swaying with the beat until the radio turned static, you and Steve remained in each other's arms.

“Can you stay the night?”

Steve nodded.

“Good.”

The night soon settled over your home, the stars slowly emerging from behind the clouds. With your porch taking on a blue hue in its own shadow, you and Steve sat side by side on your porch swing.

Your hair still a little damp from your shower, Steve continued to run his fingers through it. And with your head on his chest, you let his heart beat calm you. For a moment, Steve turned his nose into your hair and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

After a few moments, he didn’t say anything. Not that you would have heard anything considering your body was begging for sleep.

Carefully standing, Steve slipped one of his arms around your back and one under your legs before carrying you inside. He tucked you under your bed covers before making his rounds, locking up the doors and windows. Finally, he got in beside you.

For years, he’d dreamed of it.

Being with you, by your side, a domestic and loving day before laying beside you knowing he would be waking up beside you every morning.

And Steve smiled as in your sleep you moved closer to him, your arms wrapping across his middle.

You couldn’t remember when you’d gone from the porch to your bed, but you could remember Steve. Feeling his arms around you, his heartbeat under your cheek, his lips on yours…

“Hey,”

Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed by your legs, fully dressed.

“Hey, what time is it?”

Steve kept his eyes on you. “A little after four.”

You gave a groan and closed your eyes again. Steve chuckled. Reaching out, he gently swept the hair from your eyes, your head turning towards him. With his hand on your cheek, he felt your smile.

It was your turn to hold onto him and kiss his palm.

And just as the knowing sadness started to grow, Steve still smiled, leaning forward and kissed you.

You would never get bored of his kiss.

Peppering it out, you held onto his face before your hands slipped around his back and you held him closer.

With a sigh, Steve held you closer to him, trying to imprint the feeling of you in his arms.

Trying your best to ignore the growing tears, you spoke.

“Just promise me you’ll be safe?”

Steve chuckled a little. “You know you’re the only one who's allowed to kill me. But I promise.”

“Good.”

Holding on a little tighter, you silently begged for more time with him. But the clock was ticking.

From above, there was deep rumbling.

“You better go,” you told Steve.

It took him a moment before he let go and with one final kiss, it was his turn to say goodbye.

Hearing his boots walk across the floor of your bedroom, down the hallway, through the living room and towards your front door.

You heard his pause for a moment and in that moment, you wondered what he would do if you called out for him.

But he couldn’t stay any longer.

People needed him.

The world needed him.

Hearing your front door click open, Steve’s footsteps trailed off as it closed once more until eventually the only sound that was left was the ever quieting sound of a rumbling jet engine.

Six months later, half of the world disappeared.

With a snap of Thanos’ fingers, Steve watched as half of his team, his family, disappeared. And upon returning back to the Avengers’ compound, you were his first call.

Only, you never answered.

“Go.” Natasha told him.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Making a break for it, Steve ran down into the garage before hopping on his bike. He’d made it to yours in half the time.

Pulling up, he started calling out for you. His voice filled with desperation and fear, he ran up to your front door.

It was unlocked.

He almost tripped inside as he tried the door, the hinges getting stuck.

“Y/N!”

He raced around your home; checking the kitchen, living room, pantry, washing room, office, bathroom, and the bedrooms before finally reaching yours.

The bedding was strewn a little, the soft lines of the fitted sheet folded into where you would have been laying. The pain in Steve’s chest seemed to grow heavier by the minute.

You weren’t here.

One hand on his hip, another covering his mouth, Steve turned around in a slow circle. Tears pricking at his eyes, his mind had gone from running a thousand miles a minute to…being completely overrun by pain.

He had nearly a thousand chances to be with you, to share a life with you that he’d always dreamed of – all before everything went to hell.

But it was too late.

You were gone.

Just like half of the world, you were gone.

Gripping onto the cold metal of your bed frame, Steve tried to steady himself.

You were gone.

Somewhere behind him, he heard a click.

His entire body stilled.

Slowly turning around he found…

No one.

Somewhere down the hall, a door closed.

As quietly as he could, Steve walked from your bedroom and down the hallway. The noises started to compile together.

Shoes shuffling, a bag being thrown onto a counter, a bucket handle rattling against itself.

From a corner, Steve saw an apron thrown across the back of a kitchen chair. A tap started to pour before someone switched it off.

Then someone started to hum.

You started to hum.

Fully stepping into the kitchen doorway, Steve felt the entire life get knocked back into him.

Then you turned around.

He scared the shit out of you.

The bucket slipping out of your hand, it knocked against your sink, the water spilling down the drain.

Just as it did, you recognised him.

Rushing forward, Steve enveloped you into his arms, your feet lifting from the ground.

“You’re alive,” you breathed.

“I thought you were gone.” Steve mumbled into your shoulder, holding onto you tighter.

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“He won.”

Steve set you back down on your feet and for the first time in almost seven months, you finally got a good look at him. He looked tired, worn. Beaten.

“We almost did it, but he won.”

“Whose left?”

Steve tried his best to name those who were left.

“We think Tony’s gone but we can’t be sure.”

The tears were falling from Steve’s cheeks as he told you. Wiping them away, you pulled him back into a hug.

“I tried calling you but when you didn’t answer…” You could feel Steve’s entire body shaking under you. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer. Steve, honey, you need to sit down. Let me get you some water.”

As you sat him down, Steve watched as you moved around your kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, running the tap until it was cold before handing it to him.

“I’ll make you some food. When did you last eat? You should call Nat.”

“Right.”

After calling and updating Nat, Steve hung up the phone. And for the next few hours, Steve talked you through everything he could; right up to him running through your door.

In the months that followed, a transition started to take place. People had to get used to a world where half of the people they loved were gone.

And somewhere between Steve finding you in your kitchen and Tony and Pepper having their daughter, yourself and Steve finally came together.

Properly.

This time there were no goodbye kisses and fear of never seeing each other again. That biggest fear had been and gone.

What you were left with was…acceptance.

Acceptance that you had both almost completely lost each other for good. There was no point in avoiding feelings, or being scared of what might happen.

You both had a chance at a life together.

So you both took it.

From then on your home with Steve became interchangeable between the Avengers compound and your house. Saving her from the lifetime supply of peanut butter sandwiches, you dragged Natasha when you could to your home with Steve and made her a decent meal.

Being out in the open also gave her a breath of fresh air away from the training facility walls that never changed colour.

And eventually things…settled.

People found a new way of life, coming back each year to celebrate those who were lost. And then new life was brought into the mix.

Not too long after Pepper had given birth to Morgan, you were faced with a positive pregnancy test result yourself.

And Natasha was your first call.

“What’s going on? I have an extra gun in the car if we need it.”

You showed it to her. “What does that show?”

“Holy shit, you’re pregnant.”

A small whimper left your lips as you handed her the test stick and started pacing around your bathroom.

“Are…are we not happy about that?”

You whimpered again as you paced up and down. “I-I don’t know. We-we haven’t planned anything. I mean, we’ve talked about it a few times but what if something goes wrong? Are you sure it was positive?”

Natasha looked back at it. “Well, it’s got a plus sign so-”

“It’s the third I’ve taken this week. The other two came up invalid but that one was like a bright flashing light.”

Reaching for you by the shoulders, Natasha sat you down. “Okay, first off, breathe.”

You did so.

And then some more.

“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna go and get you another box of tests. Proper ones, not these things. And you’re gonna call Steve.”

“He’ll probably pass out. Why do you think I called you?”

Natasha laughed. “Just call him. I’ll be right back.”

And she was.

Walking back inside, she called out and Steve called back.

Three minutes later, you were all huddled in the bathroom waiting for the result to finally show.

“What if it’s a false positive? If it’s positive-positive, will I be able to carry the baby?”

Crouching down in front of you, Steve held your hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together. Okay?”

You took a breath and nodded. Leaning up, Steve kissed you and you kissed him back.

You’d been having conversations about starting a family together for a while, but neither of you had started planning it just yet. Mostly because you hadn’t gotten around to it. And you didn’t know if you could even carry Steve’s kid. For all either of you knew, the serum would carry onto your child.

Natasha looked at her phone.

“It’s time.”

With a shaky breath, you and Steve stood. However, you paused as you reached for the test.

“Count me down.”

Steve chuckled softly, counting back from three.

After one, you turned it over.

Pregnant 3+ weeks

You felt yourself smile and laugh a little before showing Steve.

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

Taking the test from your hands, Steve took one look at it before the water-works started.

Nine months later, inside the Avengers compound, Natasha was walking with you.

“Once they started arguing over what the manual said, I made a break for it.”

Tony had surprised you and Steve at your home and after an hour, Steve had wrangled him in to help build the crib. It was the final thing that needed to be built and since Steve had banned you from lifting heavy things since you had elected to ignore your midwife and pushed the crib from the living room and into the nursery. You couldn’t help.

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“Well, I might be biassed but Natasha is a really good name.”

You laughed a little. “I’ll think about it.”

Natasha smiled, holding onto your hand as she helped you down one of the narrower steps.

However, halfway around the building, you stopped.

“Everything okay?”

You nodded. “Just a bit of cramp.”

But it wasn’t just cramp.

Barely a second later, you felt water trail down your leg until there was a louder splash against the tiles.

“Oh, shit.”

You looked down. “Oh, my god.”

“Okay, okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded, taking hold of her hand as she walked you down the hall.

“Steve’s old room is just down the hall. Once we get you there-”

“Call him.”

“I know, I will.”

“No, call him now. Please.”

Twenty minutes later, Tony’s car was kicking gravel up and onto the windshield. Steve ran inside, nearly taking out a few employees on the way.

Almost fifteen hours later, a healthy baby girl was delivered.

With her in Steve’s arms, bundled in a fresh baby blanket, everyone stood around the bed.

“Only took you a decade.”

Steve chuckled, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his daughter. And neither could you.

And for almost four years, it was blissful.

As your daughter grew up, Steve told her stories and showed her pictures of the 40s. Even at the age of three, she seemed wise beyond her years.

Then one night, everything changed.

Recently, she hadn’t been sleeping. So, lay in bed with you whilst Steve was still at work, you told her a few bedtime stories but when Steve came in an hour or so later, he found her still awake.

“You should be asleep,” he whispered to her.

“I tried. Mommy fell asleep, though.”

Steve looked over and smiled. “Come on, let your mom sleep.”

Picking his daughter up, Steve carried her down the hall, leaving his jacket on the bed beside you. Making sure to close the door behind him, Steve started to talk to his daughter.

Their conversation eventually turned to someone from Steve’s past.

“Daddy, whose that?”

Steve looked at the photo. It was him and Bucky during his army days, though both were out of uniform and in civilian clothing. There weren't many pictures of Bucky in normal clothes.

“That’s Uncle Buck.”

“But he’s not in green.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re right, he’s not. That was when we were in London. Pinky, one of the Howling Commandos, decided to take us on a tour of London.”

“Wow.”

She was awe-struck.

“Does he know I was born?”

Steve felt a pang in his chest. “Maybe. I don’t know if he can hear me, but I’ve told him.”

“Would he like me?”

Steve smiled. “He’d love you.”

Kissing her temple, Steve sat down in one of the chairs. “Try and get some sleep.”

Steve himself must have fallen asleep because next thing he knew, you were waking him up. Your daughter was still fast asleep, he carried her to bed before you led him down the hall and he collapsed onto your shared bed.

The next time he woke up that morning, everything you both knew was about to change.

Time Travel.

There was a chance everyone could be brought back.

And after a long conversation, one that was overheard by your daughter who had been playing in the back garden with the family dog, Steve accepted what he had to do.

“You and Aunty Nat will have pictures again.”

Handing Steve a slightly mud scattered, crinkled, crayon drawing; your daughter had drawn a picture with everyone on it.

Herself, you, the dog, Steve, Nat, Bucky, Sam with his wings, Clint with his bow and arrow, Thor and his hammer, Tony, Bruce…the stick men with different items, standing on a green field with a corner sun, continued on and on.

It was that night you kissed Steve and he said what could have been his final goodbye to your daughter. She held onto him tightly, telling him she loved him. The only thing that carried him on his feet was the thought of going through what Scott was.

In the time he got stuck, he thought his daughter was gone.

Steve would have done anything to get his daughter back.

And it didn’t take much for him to remember the pain that washed through and over him when he thought he lost you.

Scott, like many others, had lost someone they loved. So had Steve. But he hadn’t lost you, though he thought he did.

People needed their families back.

And that’s what they got.

At the cost of Tony’s life.

After everything had settled, you drove as fast as you could to find Steve. And you found him far outside of the Avengers compound, crouched on the floor.

“Steve!? Steve!”

Looking up, he spotted you amongst the grey smoke. A shining light in the darkness.

Running as fast as you could, you eventually reached him.

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to know if you were okay. Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice was quiet. “He’s gone.”

“Gone? Who’s gone?”

Steve’s voice broke. “T-tony. Tony’s gone.”

“Oh, my god.”

As Steve hugged you, you held him as tightly as you could. He asked about your daughter.

“She’s with my dad back home. She’s safe. She just needs a cuddle from her dad.”

Steve nodded. “I think I need one from her, too.”

Two weeks later, Steve brought Bucky and Sam home.

“Honey, come here.” Your daughter ran to her dad’s side. “Sam, Buck. I’d like you to meet Aurora. Rory, honey, this is Sam and Bucky.”

Sam knelt down and shook her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, miss.”

Meanwhile, Bucky was in pure shock. Slowly, he knelt beside Sam and Bucky felt his life flash before his eyes.

“Steve…she looks like your mom.”

As Rory studied Bucky, she decided to hug him. Sam smiled and so did you and Steve. And eventually Bucky hugged her back, frightened he might break her.

“Can I show them my room?”

The consensus was yes and whilst Sam was dragged towards her bedroom, Rory shouting for you to follow, Bucky and Steve followed behind.

Inside her room, her walls were covered in different pictures she’d drawn of the different stories Steve had told her. Of course, most of them were stick men, but the message was still clear.

A week later, a funeral was held for Tony and the Stones had to be returned.

Standing beside Bucky as Steve stood on the platform, Aurora stood and waited in between both of you.

And in what was a few seconds later, Steve returned with Natasha by his side.

Aurora gasped and bolted forward.

“Aunty Nat!”

“Careful, kiddo.” Steve warned just before Aurora collided with her, but Natasha shook her head.

“It’s okay.”

Lifting her into her arms, she hugged her tightly.

“You’re back.”

Natasha smiled. “Thanks to your dad.”

Looking at her dad, she smiled before hugging Natasha again.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Natasha nodded and carried Rory back towards you before everyone started running over. Meanwhile, you watched as Steve walked over to Sam.

Ten minutes later, your daughter bolted from the crowd and towards her dad who was finally out of his protection suit.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Seeing you again, Steve kissed you before kissing Rory’s cheek.

“Everything okay?”

Steve watched as Fury made his way over to Sam, and he smiled.

“Everything’s good.”

Kissing you again, Steve smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For walking into that room when you did.” Steve told you. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to do something about it.”

You shook your head, looking from him to your daughter and back to him. “It happened when it was meant to.”

Steve smiled before he kissed you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tony was right; Steve found the life with you he’d always wanted, even if it did take him a decade to do something about it.

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