#the longest part was trying to figure out what size the apartment lots are

[eternalbuckley]

Together. — aemond targaryen

SUMMARY: Aemond and you still love each other even if you weren't together anymore. So what happens if you're hanging out with your shared group friends and he invites you to a drink in his apartment? You might end up tangled with each other in his bed and talk about your feelings the next morning.

word count: 5,658

genre: slight angst with fluff, smut with plot | afab!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings/tropes: modern au, 18+ MDNI!! NSFW (this part is divided with dividers so you can skip the actual smut part if you want), p in v sex, no use of protection (wrap it up folks thanks), cunnilingus, creampie (again, use protection), descriptions of alcohol use, mention of tipsy reader and aemond, slight cursing, use of they pronoun once, english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if I forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: it's my first time writing p in v smut, so please bear with me, i'm still trying to figure it out! this entire fanfic turned out to be the longest piece i've ever written lmao.i hope you'll enjoy it <3 reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and highly welcomed!

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know!

18+ MDNI divider by cafekitsune

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The breakup between Aemond and you was mutually decided. Both of you were quite busy with your jobs and barely had time for each other anymore, which ended in a lot of arguments. Many of them were based on miscommunication or if anyone of you felt like the other one wasn’t giving them enough attention and love. This was the reason why you both mutually decided to break up after you’ve been together for a few years, both of you thinking it was the best decision during this time.

You still loved and cared for each other, but it wasn’t the right time to be with each other, as each one of you had a stressful period of your life, and the constant arguments outweighed most of the soft moments between you. You tried to be each other’s support, but it ended up in the opposite way during this time. It was clear, to everyone who knew you, that you two were still longing for each other over the months since you broke up. You tried dating other people in hopes you could fill the void that has been there ever since you parted ways, but it didn’t work out for either of you.

Aemond and you shared the same group of friends, or at least shared a few friends that hang out together every two to three weeks. Two times you and Aemond invited the people you were seeing to hang out with your friends. Meaning you and him would see each other as well. This didn’t work out quite well because the people you were seeing noticed how you and Aemond constantly looked in each other’s direction. They quickly realized that neither Aemond nor you stopped loving one another or knew that you still had some sort of feelings for the other one, even if you both tried to ignore or deny it, you knew the truth.

Your friends noticed this longing dynamic between you two ever since you told them that you decided to part ways for now. No one could say that they didn’t see the longing stares both of you had whenever the other one wasn’t looking, or the gentle touches you had on each other from time to time that were just lingering quite too long for friends.

Many times, Aemond would ask his sister, Helaena, who was one of your closest friends, if you had already found someone else or how you were doing. Especially if he noticed that you seemed off one day you and your friends hung out, he’d immediately try to find a moment to get to text or talk to Helaena alone and ask her about it. If she was able to tell him something, she would give him a few details. And you would do the same if you noticed something different about him and asked Helaena most of the time. Sometimes you would go to Aegon, in hopes that he hopefully might know something. It would depend on the situation. It was hard to ignore or deny that you two still deeply cared about each other.

Both of you were currently hanging out with your friends again, sitting next to Helaena and having your legs over hers as you laughed with her. Watching the boys as they turned on the fire of the campfire. Aemond sat opposite from you and Helaena and tried not to look over at you too much and to focus more on the conversation he had with one of your friends. It was a cozy and quiet night; everyone was having a good time. Helaena excused herself for a moment to get herself another drink as you took a swig from your own bottle. You noticed how she slightly nodded in Aemond’s direction as she went back into the kitchen of the house. A few seconds later, you saw how he slowly walked over to you.

“Can I sit down?” He asked with a soft tone in his voice and motioned to the seat next to you. You looked up to him and nodded, slightly scooting to the side to make more room for him to sit down. Your arms brushed against one another as he sat down next to you, sending a slight shiver down your spine, but you tried to play it down and didn’t pay attention to it.

You took another swig from your bottle, even if it was almost empty. You could have gotten up to get another bottle, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment with Aemond. You haven’t really had any conversations with him in the past few weeks, only having your eyes on each other. It was quite a comfortable atmosphere between you, as you watched the fire and listened to its crackles, but he had his eyes on you, admiring you as the fire cast a beautiful light on your face. He reached out and removed something from your hair, causing you to look at him for a moment, slightly confused. But in the short moment his fingers brushed over your hair sent a warmth through your body.

“It was just a tiny bug,” he tried to keep his voice low. Your lips turned into a small smile, “Thank you.”

Neither of you really knew what to say, you wanted to have a conversation with him, but you didn’t quite know what you could talk about. You could have asked him about his life, what he was up to at the moment, but you weren’t sure if he was even ready to talk about it.

As you wanted to ask something he got pulled away by Aegon. “Sorry, my lady,” he had his hands on Aemond’s shoulders and grinned, “I need my brother for a moment! He will be back at your service in a moment,” he giggled, clearly drunk as he dragged Aemond away.

You sighed with a smile on your lips and didn’t stop him, sometimes it was hilarious when Aegon was drunk. Occasionally, you wished things were different, but it was what you and Aemond had decided, so you must stick with it. You slowly nodded to yourself and got into the house to get another bottle, joining Helaena and completely missing the way Aemond longingly looked over to you as his brother talked his ear off.

A few hours later, you were talking with Helaena again, sitting together with Aemond on a bench in front of the campfire. He sat next to you, and you felt the warmth of the flames and his body, it was a pleasant feeling that filled you. His arm was resting behind you on the backrest of the bench you were sitting on. Helaena left you and Aemond alone for a moment after she had finished her story.

When she left, he slightly leaned into you and whispered into your ear, his voice casual. “Would you mind joining me for a drink back in my apartment?” He was nervous about how you would react. He already expected that you would refuse him, but he raised his eyebrows for a short moment as you accepted his invitation. Aemond cleared his throat and nodded, happy that you said yes.

A few minutes later you and him said your goodbyes to your friends. Helaena had a smirk on her lips as she hugged you. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do with my partner, babe,” she teased you and whispered into your ear.

He was slightly nervous as he led you to his car and opened the passenger side for you. You occasionally looked at each other during the drive to his apartment but didn’t really talk with each other, perhaps both of you were too nervous?

One drink turned into two, and two into three. Both of you were slightly tipsy by now and were talking with each other as if nothing had ever happened. You sat next to each other on his couch, and he had one arm on the backrest, resting behind your head. Your legs were slightly bent in his direction. You noticed the way he looked down at them sometimes, and you wished he’d just grab them, but both of you knew that neither of you would dare to cross the line without completely knowing if the other one wanted it too. But you both wanted it deeply. The conversation died down between you a few minutes ago, you’ve just looked at each other. The air had already been thick before, but it was getting worse in that very moment. You found yourself looking down on his lips, and he did too. Both of you leaned into each other but stopped when you were only a few movements away from each other’s faces. Should you really give in to what you’ve wanted ever since you broke up all these months ago or not?

You felt his breath on your face and just wanted to give in, you wanted to feel his lips on yours so badly. You could swear you stopped breathing when he carefully brushed your hair out of your face and cupped your cheek, you leaned into his touch and held his gaze.

“Aemond…” You dared to break the silence with a shaky whisper. You craved his touch, as much as he craved yours. Your lips were parted as your gaze went down to his lips.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want it,” he looked up from your lips into your eyes to find any hesitance, but he saw the way your pupils dilated as he held your gaze again. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered eagerly and hummed as he immediately captured your lips in a passionate and desperate kiss. Both of your tensed shoulders relaxed eventually,

His hand still cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb, your hand found his cheeks immediately and pulled him into you, while his other arm, which was resting on the backrest of his couch, wrapped around your waist to pull you into his lap. You straddled him and deepened the kiss as both of you opened your mouth to feel each other’s tongue, completely losing yourselves in the kiss. It’s what you’ve both been craving, and neither of you wanted to stop the moment. You didn’t want to think of the possible outcome or how it would change the current dynamic between you two, maybe you would find your way back to each other or it wouldn’t change a thing. Maybe it would just stay at making out with each other, but both of you wanted and needed more.

He missed to feel your skin against his, the way your curves felt when he traced them. The way you’d always react to his touch, arching your back whenever his hand found its way between your thighs. The way you always reacted to his kisses, whether it was a more heated or soft and slow kiss. You loved each of them, and so did he. Aemond loved the way your hands felt on his skin, the way you’d always end up tracing his arms, hands or face whenever you cuddled or were next to each other. He appreciated and missed these moments with you. It may only have been a few months since you two broke up, but the more intimate moments between you had been missing way before you eventually parted ways.

Both of you slowly pulled away from each other, faces still close as you spoke against his lips. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You whispered, your voice slightly raspy from the lack of air in your lungs. Both of his hands had found their way to your hips and gently circled his fingers on your clothed skin, squeezing your skin.

He nodded. “I… I just need you, darling. I’m sure,” his voice was low and raspy as well. His good eye filled with desire as you looked at him and kissed him again. “Me too,” you whispered between kisses.

Aemond lifted you by gripping down on your thighs and placed you underneath him on the couch. He pulled away from you with a cheeky smile and kneeled in front of you as he pulled you on the edge of his couch. His hands roamed over your thighs to the button of your pants. Aemond looked up to you, slightly asking if he could continue. You nodded and didn’t break eye contact with him as he slowly opened the button of your pants and motioned for you to lift your hips so he could pull off your pants. His gaze never left yours, and he noticed the way you had your lower lip between your teeth as you lifted your hips eagerly, knowing what would follow. His fingers gently traced over your now exposed skin. His lips found the skin of your hip bone, which was still covered only seconds ago. His eye closed for a moment to capture this moment in his mind.

He pressed open kisses on your covered and uncovered skin, “I missed this so much,” he mumbled as he firmly but also gently gripped down your thighs while looking up at you again, silently asking if he could part your legs. You slightly sat up and parted them, causing him to smirk and move between them. His hands brushed over the flesh of your thighs and caressed them as he slowly moved them up to brush over your panties. Your breath hitched as he brushed over your still-clothed heat.

“Please, Aemond,” you whimpered as he teased your clothed clit with his finger while a smirk was on his lips. You hated how desperate you were for him, but you finally needed to feel him again. In every way you could have him. “Don’t tease me now.”

“Very well,” he hooked his fingers with the fabric of your panties on your hips and slowly pulled them down. You lifted your hips again, so it was easier for him to take your panties off.

A soft hum left his lips as soon as he tossed your panties away and saw your already glistening heat. He leaned down and pressed more kisses on the area of your heat, but not where you needed him. It frustrated you, and that made him chuckle. He always used to love to tease you, but he knew it wasn’t the perfect time for that right now, as it only tortured him as well. He couldn’t wait any longer and just wanted to get his mouth on you, his growing bulge in his pants could wait for a few moments. He wanted to give you the pleasure first. A moan left your lips as soon as he pressed his lips on your clit and made eye contact with you again. Aemond took a long drag through your slit with his tongue, your mouth stayed slightly open. He groaned into you as you grabbed one of his hands that were still on your thighs and held on to him as he devoured your cunt. He missed those pretty sounds that left your lips, especially how you tasted. For a short moment his mind went completely blank.

He started sucking on your clit and licked through your folds, causing you to tighten your grip on his hand, nails digging into his skin and your moans to get louder. He flicked his tongue in long and slower licks and changed the technique every so often to a faster and shorter pace. Completely devouring everything he could get from you. You didn’t even think about keeping it quiet, as it was overwhelming to feel his tongue on you. All the build-up tension over the past months is finally being relieved. Who would be better than him? No one.

You felt the all too well-known knot in your stomach, signalling that you were close to your climax. Aemond knew you were close as he noticed the way your panting increased, and your head fell back against the backrest of his couch. You cried out for more and wrapped one of your legs over his shoulder, which caused him to moan into you.

“Fuck– Aemond, I’m close! I…” Your grip on his hand tightened even more, if that was even possible, your back arched, and eyes closed as you focused on the building pleasure in your stomach.

“Don’t hold yourself back, darling. Come all over my face,” he panted against your cunt and got his mouth back on your swollen clit to sloppily circle his tongue around it, savouring each second while being between your thighs. Your mind turned blank as he continued to pleasure you, he still knew how to take care of you perfectly.

A strangled moan left your lips as you came on his tongue a few moments later, your legs slightly shaking as he fucked you with his tongue through your orgasm. Aemond could swear he almost lost his mind as he heard your moan and tasted you on his tongue, his hips humping into his couch. A soft chuckle left your lips as you exhaled and looked down at him. He was still kneeling between your legs, and his chin was glistening with your arousal and some of his spit. After you gained some strength again, you leaned forward and kissed him while your hands were on his cheeks, moaning as you tasted yourself.

“You did so well for me,” he praised you with a whisper as he pulled away from the kiss. “Can I take you to my bed or do you–“

“Please,” you nodded eagerly with a hushed voice, “Please do, Aemond.”

He gently picked you up, his hands digging into the skin of your thighs and placed open kisses on your exposed neck as he carried you into his bedroom, kicking the door as you were inside to close it behind him. He carefully placed you on his bed and hovered over you as he continued to kiss your neck and jaw. Your hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled on it, he moved his head away from your neck so you could pull off his shirt. You tossed it somewhere into his room, not caring about where it landed and traced his chest tenderly. He captured your lips in a kiss, his hips slightly buckling against you as you wrapped your legs around his hips to pull him closer to you. You took off the rest of your clothes from each other in a few motions, leaving both of you naked as you straddled his lap. His hands roamed over your thighs, caressing them as you leaned down to leave kisses on his chest while feeling his length underneath you.

He sharply inhaled as you wrapped one hand around his aching cock and stroked him a few times which already left him gripping down on your thighs, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. You smirked because of his reaction, you understood how he felt and eventually positioned his tip at your entrance and slowly sank down on his length, feeling how he stretched your walls. A low, needy moan escaped both of your lips, your hands on his chest, holding him down on his mattress, and his were holding you by your hips. You waited a few moments before you started to roll your hips, finding a pleasant rhythm for both of you. Aemond was completely at your mercy, it took him his entire strength not to come immediately. The sounds you made and how your hands roamed over his torso only added more levels to the pleasure he felt because of you. His body shivered, and his heartbeat increased. He felt you clenching around him and groaned with a hitched sound.

“Fuck you feel so good, darling,” he moaned. Your gazes met again, and you wished you could stay like this for eternity. His face was flushed, his back slightly arched, and his mouth agape as he didn’t hold back any sounds anymore.

This only reminded you of the beginning of your relationship, he barely voiced any hints of his pleasure and barely made any sounds whenever you slept with each other, but over the time, he let his walls down and started to be more vocal. This meant the time you were apart didn’t change that factor about him, and you loved it even more. You slightly leaned forward, feeling him deeper inside of you and grabbed his hands to intertwine your fingers, the slightly changed position adding more pleasure to both of you.

You continued to roll your hips and to hold eye contact with him, moaning his name repeatedly. After a while, you pulled him up against you, a soft gasp leaving your mouth as you captured his lips in a heated, passionate kiss, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stopped moving for a short moment, enjoying the close and intimate moment between you as you kissed each other. He lifted you from his cock in a quick movement, both of you whimpering at the loss of each other. He rolled on top of you and gently placed you underneath him, your legs on either side of his while he slowly slid into you again and captured your lips in a kiss again. A soft gasp left your lips, and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He held him up with one arm while the other held you by your hip and thrust into you with a steady, slow pace. He swallowed your moans as he continued kissing you. You gripped on his biceps, leaving crescent marks in his skin and had your eyes shut.

He fastened his pace as he felt you clenching around him.  “I can’t get enough of you, darling,” his voice hitched as his climax neared, “I don’t think I can go much longer.”

Skin slapping against each other, and moans filled the room. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and placed sloppy kisses on there as his hips snapped against yours. You knew he was getting close to his climax as his movements were getting sloppier. He tried to hold on, wanting to get you close for a second time the night, but it only left him whimpering against your lips as he kissed them.

“You can come inside me, Aemond,” you panted, your eyelids half-lidded as you met his gaze. “Are… Are you sure?” His breath hitched in his throat. He groaned after you nodded and lifted his head, so he could look at you as he thrusts into you once more before you felt his seed filling you up, his cock twitching inside of you.

He had a satisfied expression and moved one hand between your bodies, his thumb rubbing on your clit to get you over the edge as well while he continued to thrust into you. A cry left your mouth, and you pulled his face close to yours.

“Come for me, angel,” he exhaled.

You clenched around him, which caused him to whimper from feeling slightly overstimulated as you came shortly after him all over his cock, your legs shaking and moaning. He continued to pound into you in a slow pace to help you ride out your climax. Both of you tried to catch your breaths from the pleasure you both just felt after months of not feeling it both of you fucked out. With a low whimper, he slowly pulled out of you, and collapsed on top of you, your arms wrapped around him. Both of your bodies were covered in sweat and were heated up, your chests heaving. His face was in the crook of your neck, your fingers gently tracing his back, which caused him to get goosebumps. He occasionally placed soft kisses on your neck while he gently traced the sides of your body. After a while, he got up and helped you to get up, holding you as your legs slightly gave up for a short moment.

“Do you want me to help you clean up?” Aemond asked, a tender tone in his voice, but you shook your head. “You can wait in your bed for me,” you smiled at him affectionally, which he happily returned. He was happy that you would be staying over the night. He gave you his shirt so you could go to the toilet after he made sure you were able to stand. When you came back, he already laid in his bed and waited for you to join him. He pulled the blanket over you and him.

Neither of you said anything and just enjoyed the moment while it lasted, even if it meant you wouldn’t speak about it the next morning and act like you just didn’t have your best sex in a long while. Both of you wrapped your arms around each other as you slowly drifted off to sleep. You and I finally had a good sleep after months again, laying arm in arm felt right. And it was right, was it?

A soft hum left your lips as you slowly woke up the next morning, feeling completely comfortable but slightly sore. Your eyes immediately opened and widened as you realized where you were and what you did last night with Aemond. Your back was turned towards him with his arm loosely over your waist. You let out a quiet sigh and slowly wiggled yourself out of his grip, trying not to wake him up. After you successfully got out of his bed without waking him up, you noticed that you were wearing his shirt. As you picked up your shirt, you quietly left his bedroom and got dressed after you picked up your panties and pants that were in his living room. You put his shirt on the backrest of his couch as memories from last night flooded your mind. The pleasure you felt, god it was so fucking good. You missed him and how well he always treated you and exactly knew how to get you over the edge quickly, but what if he regretted it? You didn’t want to face him or the situation, you were afraid of what could happen when he would wake up.

You deeply inhaled and made your way to the door to put your shoes back on, took your handbag and were ready to leave without saying goodbye. But you sighed as you grabbed the door handle.

What if this night was a sign for both of you? What if that was the sign that you were ready to be with each other again?

You cursed yourself, took off your shoes again and left your handbag on the floor next to them. You were willing to see what could and would happen as soon as he would wake up. You decided to wait until he did, waiting on his couch. Saying you weren’t nervous would be a lie. While you waited, you paced his living room a few times, thinking about what you could possibly say to him.

You nervously waited almost an hour until you heard noises from his bedroom. He woke up with a low groan and stretched his body, the events from last night filling his mind immediately. He sighed as he opened his eyes, rubbed his good eye and noticed that the side you slept on was already empty. He immediately sat up, and his eye roamed the room, he noticed that your shirt wasn’t on the floor anymore. ‘They already left…’ He thought and groaned as he cursed himself for having possibly ruined the only chance to get back together with you. He wanted to make things right and give you the love you deserved, not like this immediately.

What if the events of last night chased you away from him even further? What if there was no chance left anymore with you?

You fiddled with your fingers and immediately looked up from them as you saw him walking out of his bedroom. He yawned and rubbed his good eye again. Maybe he hasn’t noticed you yet? But as soon as his eye focused on you, he stopped in his tracks. “I… I thought you had already left.”

“I… Well, I was about to leave but…” You stood up from his couch, “But I don’t think this would have been my best option.”

 “Oh… I…” He slowly nodded, considering what to say, and walked into his kitchen, which was connected to his living room. You nervously fiddled with your fingers and followed his movements with your eyes but didn’t move the rest of your body. “I’m glad you didn’t leave,” he mumbled as he made himself a coffee, but you heard him, and a small smile formed on your lips.

“Do you want one as well?” He pointed to his coffee mug, but you shook your head and thanked him for the offer. He poured the coffee into his mug after it was done brewing and then walked up to you.

Both of you sat down next to each other, but there was a tiny distance between you. Neither of you said anything for a moment until he broke the tense silence between you. “Do you… Want to talk about last night?” He spoke softly, the nervousness in his voice was noticeable.

You nodded and turned your gaze in his direction, turning your body towards him, “I think we should.” Aemond inhaled and nodded as well, unsure what to say for a moment before he continued. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” you paused for a moment, “Not at all.” His shoulders relaxed immediately, “Neither do I.”

“Can I be honest with you?” You asked, a hint of nervousness in your voice again. After he nodded, you continued, “I… Uhm… I miss you. I miss us. I know we decided to part ways because of all the things that were going on back then but… I never stopped thinking about you or the time we shared. And last night… Maybe it was a sign? And maybe it was what we needed to realize that we’re ready to be with each other again.”

Aemond didn’t respond immediately, he was quite stunned, but he felt the same and agreed with you completely. He noticed how you continued to fiddle with your fingers and put down his coffee mug to gently lean to you and grab your hands to distract you. The contact calmed you down a little bit. You looked down at your hands as he brushed over the top of your hands with his thumbs. He still knew what calms you down, and you appreciated it a lot.

“I feel the same, darling,” he whispered softly, “I tried to move on, but it was impossible. There was always something missing in my life without you. I couldn’t stop looking at you whenever we hung out with our friends, and I…” He paused, “I still love you. I never stopped loving you, and when I woke up and thought you had already left, I was angry with myself for possibly having ruined any chances with you. You’re… You’re simply the best thing that has happened to me, and I don’t want to lose you entirely.”

You squeezed his hand and looked at him, “Nothing is ruined. I… I never stopped loving you either, Aemond.” You loved him, you always have. Many nights, you’ve found yourself thinking about the rest of your life with him together. How you’d grow old with him, maybe living somewhere peaceful. Together. Maybe you’d have a dog or more than one? Maybe a cat? Or any other animals you could take care of together. Both of you even had thought about adopting a dog or cat together when you were still together. You two already had different name ideas, one of them being Vhagar.

He smiled and scooted closer to you to lean his forehead against yours while he still held your hands tightly and gently. Maybe you were able to have a chance again. “Do you want to give us… Maybe another chance? I… I can’t continue living like this anymore. Every night, I think about you before I fall asleep, and you’re the first thought in the morning when I wake up. Wishing you were in my arms like you always used to. I just… Miss it,” he admitted quietly. His vulnerability was noticeable.

“I’d like to try again,” you smiled while tears built up in your eyes, completely out of happiness. You’ve been hoping for this moment for so long, and now you were sitting here together. Where it all started first because the first kiss you had with him before you were a couple happened in this apartment, on his couch in the same place you sat on currently.

Both of you smiled and fondly looked at one another before you eventually finally leaned in and captured his lips in a slow and tender kiss. He continued to brush his thumb over your hand and hummed into the kiss with a smile. He was truly happy. He pulled you into a hug after you pulled away from each other, stroking your head as he put his on top of yours. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his waist. It was everything you needed, and maybe the break between you was needed to find each other again with a better mindset.

“I missed this,” you whispered after a while. “I missed this too. I missed you,” he admitted and kissed the top of your head. You finally had him back, he was your safe space, and you were his. And you both won’t let the other one go again. No matter what, you’d be able to get through everything together.

[tryingtograspctrl]

GLASS (PART TWO) : SAM WILSON X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER

SUMMARY - You move from your small town in Louisiana all the way to New york and land yourself a job as the Avenger’s personal chef, just when you think you’ve built a comfy life outside of your sister she finds her way in again and manages to turn your world upside down

Part one: here

Your first day was pretty odd to say the least.

When you arrived at the tower the next morning getting in was easier than you thought, apparently Tony had already informed Jarvis of who you were so getting past security was no problem.

What was strange though was that nobody was there, Jarvis had informed you that the team had been assigned to a mission just last night and wouldn't be back for at least a day or two so you had the place to yourself until then.

You got settled into your room unpacking your things which was a pretty quick process considering you didn’t have a lot of things, you couldn't fit much into your old apartment.

You roamed around the tower in awe while simultaneously trying not to get lost, everything looked like it was straight out of some sort of futuristic movie. You were careful not to touch anything because you were sure it all costed way more than you could afford if you broke something.

You stopped your tour when you eventually landed in the kitchen, your new work space.

You had a tradition every time you stepped into a new kitchen, to cook or bake something. Just to get a feel for the space, to test out your flow in it. Almost like putting on a new pair of shoes, you have to walk around in them, mold them to your feet.

So that's exactly what you did, you spent majority of the day baking different assortments of desserts and breads and by the time you were finished the sun was beginning to set and you had enough baked goods to feed the entire city.

You decided to call it a night early, spent from the transition from your old place to the tower, plus all the baking.

You sunk into the soft sheets and instantly drifted off.

Time skip

The next morning you awoke to pure silence, something you definitely weren't used to back at your old place.

You got up and decided to get ready for the day, you didn't have any plans other than lounging around the tower and exploring some more but you figured you could at least make yourself look presentable. Doing your morning ritual before putting on a t-shirt and a pair of simple jeans.

You headed down to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee only to see that it was already filled with 5 other people, their torn suits littered with dirt, dried blood and god knows what other substances, clear exhaustion written all over their faces but nonetheless they were stuffing their mouths with all the treats you prepared the night before.

"Good morning." You smiled awkwardly as all their eyes fell on you.

"Hey kid, did you make all of this? God it's delicious." Tony complimented mouth full of food.

"Yeah, got a little carried away last night." You laughed.

"No complaints here, like he said it's delicious." Steve walked over to you holding his hand out for you to shake.

It was covered in grime but you shook it anyways, too estatic to care. Captain America gave your food his stamp of approval and that's all that matters.

"Thank you." You smiled shyly at him.

"Of course, it’s nice to meet you..." He trailed off signaling that he wanted your name.

"Y/n." You answered.

"Y/n." His smile widened.

"That's Bucky, Natasha and Sam." He pointed behind him at the three of them.

They each gave a small wave and as your eyes drifted between them you found yourself lingering on Sam the longest.

He gave you a small wink and you quickly looked away as your face heated up.

"It was nice to meet you all, i'm gonna go do some reading." You hurried off to the library.

"What do you guys think?" Tony turned to all of them, a satisfied expression on his face.

"She's cute and she can cook, what more could we ask for?" Natasha shrugged.

"Agreed." Sam nodded.

Bucky just gave a thumbs up, too busy throwing back blueberry muffins to speak.

"Good cause i plan on keeping her around." Tony grinned.

Everyone went off to their respective rooms to clean up and rest while you got comfy in one of the recliner's in the library room, nose deep in a random book you plucked off one of the shelves.

Later in the day you decided to start prepping some things for dinner, you figured everyone would want a nice meal after the night they had.

Once you got to the kitchen you were surprised to see that nearly all of the items you baked the day before were gone, nothing but crumbs and in the empty dishes.

You laughed to yourself as you pulled out the ingredients for a beef stew. You wanted to make something warm and filling, a great contrast to the chilly weather just outside the tower.

Once you began to cook you were pretty much in your zone, your hands on autopilot chopping vegetables and searing meat.

You were so focused on the task in front of you that you didn't hear the footsteps approaching, jumping slightly when a voice spoke from behind you.

"Praline candy, man i haven't had these in a long time." Sam plucked one of the treat bags from the glass bowl sat in the middle of the dining table.

"Oh? You a fan of them?" You turned around to face him, his eyes already on you.

"Practically grew up on them." He smiled at you.

"Me too, i used to always keep some around my apartment, they remind me of home." You smiled too.

"Oh yeah? Where you from?" He asked curiously.

"Baton rouge." You answered turning back toward the pot on the stove to give it a stir.

"That's funny, i'm from Delacroix." He perked up.

"Wow, just a skip and a hop away from me." You raised a brow in surprise.

"Small world." He chuckled.

The two of you made small talk as you finished up dinner, sharing stories from childhood and life before joining the team.

"Is it almost done? It smells amazing and i'm starving." He asked.

"Not quite, but here you can taste test a little of it, tell me what you think." You placed some in a small bowl for him.

He didn't hesitate to stuff the food into his mouth, despite your warnings of it being hot.

"That's the best thing i've had since i've been here." He closed his eyes savoring the taste.

"Oh come on, there's so much great food out here i'm sure you've had something better." You brushed him off.

"Nope, nothing beats a home cooked meal and i've had a few of those out here too but yours has to be the best, honest." He looked serious.

"Well i'm glad you like it, if you think that's good then everything else i make will blow you out of the water." You smiled shyly, ducking your head.

"Bring it on." He smiled brightly.

A/N - heyyyy i know it's been a minute but i'm finally getting back to this series, a lot of you really liked the first part and i always planned to continue this but i just couldn't figure out what direction i wanted the story to go in. I had a sudden burst of inspo today so ive been writing up a storm these past few hours. I’ll be back with a part three soon!🌻

Part three : here

[cafecourage]

The Tree of Legacy - Chapter 1

Prologue - Next Chapter

Throughout life there has always been a gentle breeze that followed me. It was always leading me forward towards discoveries. It would often lead me to adventure and into trouble with my parents. However, the forest seems to be like a second home. More often than not the forest hides secrets for me to find. History of a time long past the Calamity that plagued the land 500 years ago. There was so much to discover even with the limited time I was given there was no way I could do everything.

Which is why when I awaken in a black void deprived of most senses. I was more than just worried. The gentle wind that ran past me did nothing to calm my nerves, it was leading me to somewhere but my body couldn’t follow. Everything felt so heavy. Despite having gone through this process time and time again, this part always lasts the longest. But I learned to not fight the dream.

After a minute I was able to open my eyes. I was on the soft ground and surrounding me was a vast forest of teal bioluminescent plants and lighting bugs. A small green fairy came into view. Slowly I lifted my still heavy arm to have the fairy land on my hand.

This was new.

The wind picked up trying to pull me to my feet. I didn’t like this dream. But from experience, I begrudgingly knew I had to go through the motions if I wanted to wake up.

A sigh left my body as I stayed on the forest floor for a moment longer before finally getting up. The fairy flew around my body before nuzzling me. I awkwardly held my hand near it to return the hug. She let go of me so I could follow where the wind was pulling me along.

Soon the Sky-view temple slowly came into view among the foliage. I wasn’t sure how I knew of this temple's name and with how many times I’ve been here there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that's what it was called. The Skyview Temple, echoed the dream around it, it was a forest type theme dungeon not that hard but not too easy. Stepping up the quartz staircase the door was already open and the wind was welcoming me inside.

The temple itself only had one floor, but it makes up for it with the huge size of its rooms. The beginning was contested by a small network of gloomy passages where luminescent plants and fungi grew. And a lot of its internal structure was like the outside, broken apart and in ruins. The puzzles themselves were simple enough to figure out. Mostly because I had to go through this dream ever since I turned 10. This was the only dream I have even had.

‘But why does it seem like something was different?’

I looked next to me where the fairy was as I thought this. One change to a plot line can lead into the butterfly effect. That concept was the very foundation of the theory on why Hyrule’s history got mixed up before the Hero of Wilds. The fairy noticed me stare and chimes in confusion. I just smiled and continued forward focusing on the task at hand. This last room houses a large chasm I have to crossover by walking across vines. Taking a deep breath like always settling nerves. I stepped onto the vine.

Taking it one step at a time.

Taking caution to look forward and not down if I could help it.

Making sure I kept a level head.

I was so close. Almost to the end.

‘Chime~!’

A breath caught in my throat as I flinched and lost balance. I was so close.

Reaching out I dug my fingers into the stone. Pain shot through my fingers into my arm. The wind slowed me down. Looking up I didn’t manage to fall that far.

Maybe 12 inches. Probably more. Most likely a lot more.

Not so bad. A lie to calm my brain down.

This is fine. It was not.

Climbing up had me thanking the goddesses for not letting me fall all the way to the bottom.

When I got to the top I flopped over onto my back. Finally letting out a sigh. The fairy fluttered over and let out a sad twinkle as to say sorry. I just ignored it and focused on catching myself. Thoughts swirled inside my head none which I could actually understand despite the one thinking it.

Butterfly effect huh?

If this was the thing that will stay consent in this dream now, I wouldn’t be too mad. I could learn not to flinch so much.

But that wasn’t the end of the temple. No, there was still the last room.

And Him...

I didn’t want to see him again. But there was little I could do in this situation. It was ether go to him or risk him coming to me. The latter I fear more.

Getting up from the ground once more for this dream, I went to the last door crouch down and lift it open. Letting the fairy go first and having the door close shut behind me.

The sound of the rushing waterfalls greeted me as I walked into the open-air room. Despite it being a spring there were trees growing in the deep dark waters. Pillars lined the walk away that ended a few feet away from the giant goddess statue towards the back which was framed in the middle of two grand waterfalls. In front of the statue was a man with his back turns towards me. A man that I have always seen in my dreams. I didn’t know his name, but he was blond and dressed in a green tunic, cream pants, brown boots, as well as a red scarf and golden shoulder armor. He had an authoritative aura to him. I couldn’t ever hear what he had to say to me but his posture and spirit alone put me on edge.

I paused mid step halfway on the path.

He wasn’t alone.

Why wasn’t he alone?

I look around. On each side of the man, facing me hovering above the spring, were nine other people, each with similar features. Yet, unique enough to tell them apart.

I knew these people. I had seen them before, in the corner of my eyes growing up. How are they here?

They’ve watched me grow as a person. Confusion always coming across their faces as they watched me coward away from them. They were supposed to be hallucinations.

Dreams from my teenage years never had them in it, only the man in the red scarf. Panic started to rise in my chest.

I didn’t know how, but I knew them. I somehow knew them more deeply than I can comprehend. Why they are here in front of me.

The wind hit me with so much force that I finally stumbled forward to the edge of the platform. For once the wind was pushing me towards something I did not want.

Questions of why, and how weren’t coming out.

Words failing.

I couldn’t breathe.

I wanted to wake up.

I can’t do this.

The man with the red scarf finally turned around. The platform beneath me was beginning to crumble causing me to lose my footing. His blue eyes piercing into my soul as I finally fell head first into the watery depths.

Darkness engulfing my vision.

Then I hear it.

A booming voice.

A voice that demands attention, authority, respect finally broke through to me after 15 years.

“So, you’ve finally decided to connect with my spirit?”

Link hits the wood floor gasping for air. That was not the start he wanted for today, but it was what he got. A special type of dread started to stir in his gut. Call it a sixth sense or just straight anxiety he wouldn’t really know. Link stayed on the floor of his bedroom fully aware that something will go wrong that day.

The man’s words echoed in Links ears.

Who was he? What spirit was Link supposed to be connecting with? Its not like he wasn’t already forced to see 11 other separate ghosts that he now realized weren’t hallucinations. He wasn’t the goddess chosen hero if that was what that one was implying. That person was already found. There weren’t any other people that had connecting spirits ether. Unless this was a new thing that Link didn't come across yet.

His head started to hurt.

He doesn’t really want to push his luck with Hylia today.

Deciding to stay on the floor for a few more minutes, Link tries to ground himself back in reality. He feels the sun on his face, it must have been warm out today. The dark oak floor was starting to warm up the room. The soft chatters of the morning started to rise in volume helping drown out the dread. Link started to make a mental list in his head of everything he had to do that day. There wasn’t necessarily much to do, however the two things he had on his plate this day were really big things.

One was his normal lecture that was starting in an hour and a half, it was a History of Hyrule’s Heroes coarse. In reality Link let’s his students have full control of the class and what they want to learn. Then almost immediately after he finishes up, he needs to meet Zelda at castle towns train station and head to the Serenne Station in the Tabantha Frontier to go take photos of the Forgotten Temple. There was something that was bothering Zelda about the old ruins and since Claus was out not coming back until later that night. So, the only other crazy person to go with her was Link.

With one last sigh. Link gets up from the floor and stretch’s his now sore back and neck. It was time to start the day.

It wasn’t that much of a walk to get to the Academy. Castle Town in itself wasn’t that big but it was still a bustling city, it was the main capital of Hyrule after all. Travelers and adventures alike come here for its history and legends while there are debates on which legends where real and which were made up is still up in the air.

One thing is certain.

When Hyrule is threaten a hero will rise up and defend the kingdom. The most recent Hero was 500 years ago. The Hero of the Wild sealed away the calamity known as Ganon away finally with his princess Zelda.

[gallerycclist]

Anyone want to know how many lots are in the Sims 4?

Cause I just spent like a half-hour making a spreadsheet for my plan for a Night Vale sims game (I’m considering bulldozing all/most current lots to make room for Night Vale locations).

I’m pretty sure the only world I don’t have is whatever’s added with Realm of Magic (which I’m hoping to get soon).

[hispipsqueak]

Burned

Enji Todoroki x F!Reader - NSFW

A/N: So @cozykozume​ wanted me to name this “Cooling Down the Fire Daddy” so there’s that. Anyways, in case you didn’t know, I LOVE Enji Todoroki....like an extraordinary amount. Which is hilarious, because I started the series hating him but I digress. So here’s one of my favorite things I’ve written and also one of the longest posts because I just...I am just so soft for this man. <3 Pip

WC: 4.5K

TW: unprotected sex, feelings, slight size kink, oral (f receiving), drunk sex, slight angst if you squint, slight authority kink (good girl etc.)

H/N = Hero Name

When you stepped into the meeting that morning you weren't sure what to expect.

"Welcome back!" Midnight's cheery voice cut through the air, her eyes bright. You smiled at her as the rest of your colleagues responded with a variation of greetings and welcome's. You had been on a six month long mission across the globe and arrived back yesterday. Though you were slightly jetlagged, you were ready to throw yourself back in the grind of hero work.

As you took your seat your eyes roamed to the largest figure in the room. Endeavor had stayed silent, his eyes trained on the brief documents in front of him. Hell, you weren't even sure if he had noticed you had returned. Your heart sank slightly.

What did you expect? It had been six months, six long, confusing months since that night of booze and desire. Six months since you had felt his large hands wrapped around your body, his lips pressed against your neck hungrily as you grinded against him.

Fuck. You cut another glance at him. His eyes were narrowed as he read over the papers in front of him and his face was in it's permanent scowl. If he noticed you at all, he was doing a good job hiding it. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by Hawks swaggering in the room. 

"Hey h/n! Long time, no see! How was the mission?" He called out, pulling you into a friendly hug. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Enji shift. 

"Great. Managed to bust the kingpin and shut the entire operation down. Glad to be back though". You smiled back at the winged hero. He nodded, before taking his seat right next to the flame hero.

"Mornin' Endeavor!" his cheery voice rang out.

Enji grumbled a greeting, his eyes not looking up

Eraserhead cleared his throat from the head of the table.

"Let's get started."

You couldn't help zoning out as the dark haired hero discussed the current mission. You forced your eyes to stare at the file in front of you and not the man across from you. You were so focused, you almost didn't hear your name.

"H/N, you will be working with Endeavor."

Your eyes widened, and your head snapped up. You finally dared to look at Enji who's expression hadn't changed. As Eraser concluded the meeting, you steeled your nerves and walked to the flame hero.

"Endeavor, I-"

He cut you off. 

"Train. I will not be dragged down by you because you haven't sparred properly in six months." 

Your demeanor steeled. 

“I wasn’t just partying it up over there. I was working.”

If he cared, it didn’t register on his face. His turquoise eyes were fixed at the spot above you instead of meeting yours. Without another word, he turned to leave. You felt your face grow hot. Determined to not show emotion, you pursed your lips, grabbing your things to head back to your apartment.

---

“Endeavor, you lucky dog.”

Endeavor looked up from the paperwork on his desk with a bored expression.

“What are you talking about Hawks?” His voice was tinged with annoyance as he looked back down to the documents from the intel team.

“Stop pretending you aren’t thrilled to be working with H/N. She’s the BEST, and between you and me, she’s definitely one of the most beautiful heroes.” The blonde faux-whispered, tossing back his head in a chuckle.  Endeavor fixed him with an aggravated stare.

“I have no desire to work with H/N. She has been on a mission for 6 months, so we are at a disadvantage anyway, since I doubt she was actually working all of that time. Especially since her behavior is comparable to yours.”

Hawks cocked a bushy brow.

“Deny it all you want, big guy. Your body language is different when you’re around her. You should ask her out. I’m sure she’d say yes. Some girls like the mean and broody type.”

Smoke emitted from the corner of Endeavor’s desk, where his hand rested. Clearing his throat, he attempted to put it out, but not before the annoying bird hero noticed.

With a smirk, Hawks headed towards the door. 

“Don’t screw this up, Endeavor!”

----

What Hawks didn’t know is Enji had already screwed this up. Before you left, six long months ago, you and Endeavor were on relatively friendly terms. Well as friendly as one can be with the hotheaded flame hero. It was you that convinced him to go out that night with the other pro-heroes. And when the night ended, he had walked you home.

Surprisingly, he could be a gentleman when he wanted to be.

The walk home had been quiet, though you and Enji both had a bit to drink. Emboldened by the alcohol, you finally had turned to him.

“Enji, why do you try to push us away?”

Your boldness surprised him. It wasn’t a surprise he could come off a bit stoic, at best. Yet no one, especially newer heroes, called him out on this behavior. It was just “how he was”. Before he could stop himself he blurted out,

“I don’t wish to hurt people anymore.”

His face heated up and you could see a crimson blush rising up towards his ears. In that moment, you could see a glimpse of Enji, not Endeavor.

This wasn’t to say Enji wasn’t attractive. Yet, him exposing himself, allowing vulnerability? That made your heart jump in your chest. Turning away, you thought about what he meant. You knew his family had been estranged from him, his kids not a frequent presence in his life. You had seen a few gossip magazines detailing how his kids often avoided their childhood home, and you had read about Rei’s hospitalization. You imagined how lonely he must feel, though if there was truth to any of those rumors, you could see why they would be wary.

“This is your home, yes?” 

His voice broke your train of thought. You looked up and realized all too soon the two of you were outside your door. Your hand rested on the door handle and you imagined him sitting in a quiet living room, a house empty.

“Would you like to come in for a bit?” Your voice was squeaky and unsure and you were surprised when he grunted in affirmation. 

Wordlessly he followed you into the apartment. Somehow, without speaking, you could both feel it. The loneliness that bonded you, the freedom of being vulnerable in the dark blanket of the night, these moments allowing you to breathe and just be without expectation and titles. Because here, you weren’t pro-heroes, you were yourselves, seeking the tiny bits of comfort the other could provide. 

As you entered the apartment, the silence between you intensified. Your stomach was buzzing with nerves and as you looked up at him, you could feel the anticipation of who would break first. His hands found your hips and pulled you towards him, and soon his lips were on yours. He tasted like the scotch he had been drinking, warm and rich. His hands were hot where they met your skin, and you pressed closer in his embrace. Rough stubble scratched at your skin and you kissed him deeper, desperately wanting to let him in and lose yourself in him at the same time.

Your back pressed against the wall, and his fingers grazed the bottom of your shirt. Breathlessly you finally broke apart. Looking in each other's eyes, you unbuttoned your shirt, fingers trembling in anticipation. He took this as his cue to pull off his own, and you admired his strong muscles, littered with scars. You could feel his eyes roam your body as you undid the last button, leaving you in a simple bra and pants. His hands, hands that could throw buildings and fight villains, were gentle against your skin, slowly running over your belly to the edge of your bra. When you didn’t protest, he tugged at the clasps, letting it fall off your shoulders to the floor.

He pressed hungry kisses to your shoulder, slowly working his way down. His touches were gentle, as if you would break if he wasn’t careful and his mind raced, wanting to explore every inch of you. A soft moan escaped your lips as he nipped at your neck. Enji’s body tensed, and his grip tightened as he kissed lower, desperate to hear more of your sweet noises. 

His pants were painfully tight now, and you seemed to understand, because he could feel your small fingers working the latch on his belt, tugging his slacks down and exposing the tent in his boxers. He let out a low groan as your fingers wrapped around his clothed cock. Enji was a lot bigger than anyone in general, though he never really thought about it until now, when your hand was struggling to wrap completely around his thick member. 

 Maneuvering his hands from your hips, he cupped your breasts, pressing aching kisses to them. He sucked bruises into your skin, and bit back a groan as your fingers found their way under his waistband. Enji wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up, and you nodded to the general area of the bedroom. Nudging the door open, he gently rested you on the bed. Sliding your pants over your hips, leaving you exposed, a thin pair of black panties being the only barrier between the redhead and your sex.

His hands gripped your things, parting you open and he placed a soft kiss on your belly. He worked his way lower, hooking his fingers under your waistband and dragging the material over your curves before tossing it off the bed. Tracing over your soft mound with his finger, he pushed open the lips of your cunt. Like a man starved, he buried his face in your pussy, his tongue devouring your slick.

Your hands gripped his red hair and he groaned into you. Pulling your legs over his shoulders, he fucked you on his tongue, before sucking your throbbing clit between his lips. Eyes rolling back, your breathy moans filled the apartment. You felt yourself climbing higher and higher, so close to euphoria as you grinded on his face.

“Fuck...delicious.” He growled into your cunt. His fingers gripped your thighs, almost painfully and the vibrations of his voice pushed you over the edge. Your thighs squeezed around his head and your back arched off the soft bed as you cried out his name. He continued his assault on your cunt, slurping down your juices as your fingers tugged his locks, gasping at the overstimulation. Still, Enji continued to drown himself in you, your sweet taste like nectar of the gods. He wanted so much more of you, to stay here for hours, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense as you came again, your body trembling from the impact.

Pulling away, he kissed your lips, the taste of you on his tongue. Your tongues entwined, as your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the muscles of his upper back flex. Too soon and yet not fast enough he broke away, positioning himself between your legs, his massive frame towering over you. His hands rested on the bed on opposite sides of your face as he looked down at your body. Your lips were puffy from his kiss, parted slightly. Your eyes were glassy, half-lidded and hungry for more. You met his gaze and inhaled, giving him the slightest nod. He lined his cock up with your entrance, gently pushing the head in. You gasped at the stretch, and after a moment rocked your hips, spurring him to continue. Easing his cock in, he gritted his teeth at how tight your cunt wrapped around him. His hands moved to your hips as he pulled himself out of you, leaving the tip in before thrusting back into you.

Gripping your hips, he bounced you on his cock easily. Moans fell from your mouth, stuttering each time he bottomed out in you. One hand left your hip and gripped the headboard as his heavy balls smacked against your ass. Enji groaned as your legs wrapped around his waist, forcing him deeper. The headboard creaked under his force as he pounded into you, your moans of his name spurring him on, making him want to give you all of him. Your small hand ran over his chest, the dark hair soft under your fingers as you dug your nails in his skin. You felt overwhelmingly full, his thick cock filling every crevice inside you.

Enji’s fiery eyes roamed  your body, watching as your breasts bounced with each thrust. He could practically see the bulge in your belly from his cock and as lewd as the scene was, there was something so beautiful about you in the throes of passion. His name dripped from your lips like a mantra and he could feel the desire, the want that you carried, begging him to give you everything he had. Your fingers danced across his muscles, a touch so intimate. A touch he hadn’t felt in years.

With a crack, the wooden headboard began to splinter as Enji unloaded into you with a shout. Your body felt heavy as he shot white ropes of cum deep inside you, some spilling out around his cock and onto your sheets. With a final groan, he stilled, slowly sliding his softening cock out of you and collapsing next to you on the bed.

It was silent, except for the sounds of both of you breathing hard, your chests rising and falling in tandem. Enji could hear his heart thumping wildly and he turned to look at you. Your eyes were closed, breathing labored but slow and you sleepily turned towards him, laying your head on his massive bicep. 

The next morning, he was gone. The only evidence that the night had even happened was the crack that ran across your headboard and the glass of water on your night stand. Enji avoided you during hero meetings, always somehow on a busy patrol when you called, his assistant taking your message, yet again until you gave up trying.

When the months-long mission was offered to you, you accepted it without hesitation. Enji didn’t attempt to say goodbye.

-----

Now, Enji was torn. 

There was no getting out of this. He thought about reaching out to Eraserhead to ask about working alone, though he knew the sleepy hero would ask questions he didn’t want to get into. Enji furrowed his brow as he swung again at the punching bag in front of him, taken to training in his private outdoor home gym rather than the regular hero gyms to avoid you, though you hadn’t made any more attempts to speak to him.

He jabbed at the bag. This was ridiculous. He was a pro-hero. Allowing this to interfere with his work made him weak, and Endeavor was not weak. 

He wasn’t weak.

Enji threw a few more punches, shaking the sweat off as he reached for the bottle of water behind him. 

“Enji.”

He stiffened.

“Enji Todoroki, I don’t know why you are ignoring me or what I did to you, but we need to talk about what happened.” Your voice was clear, stronger than it was the day of the meeting.

He took a swig from his water bottle, biding his time. Finally turning around, he faced you. You were in a simple t-shirt and track pants, probably coming from a workout yourself. Your eyes were ablaze, demanding to get answers. Enji felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he compared the image of you now, to the image of you from that night.

“I have nothing to say. We will work on this mission, and be civil to each other. That’s all.” Enji attempted to push past you and you turned on your heel.

“You know what? Fine. You want to pretend you didn’t feel anything that night? That meant nothing to you whatsoever? Was it just to hook up, get your dick wet and leave? Because you didn’t need me for that.” Your tone was angry but Enji could hear the hurt in your statements. Facing you, he glared down.

“What do you want from me? To be your boyfriend? I’m not that man. Try Hawks, he’s into that sort of nonsense. I don’t need or want this trouble in my life anymore.” Enji’s voice was hard, the tone he used for villains or the press. You searched his face, seeking the man from that night. Enji, not Endeavor.

You thought over his words. “Enji...what are you so afraid of?”

The tone of your voice shifted. Softer, easier. He remembered how he felt when you begged for him, when you showed your desire for him through each touch and kiss. He finally looked into your eyes, eyes so full of earnest curiosity. Why couldn’t you just make this easy? He swallowed hard.

Fat droplets of water splashed onto his arms, and no sooner did he notice that the sky opened up, sheets of rain pouring over the two of you. Without thinking, he gripped your hand tugging you to the house. Even though it wasn’t a far journey, you were both soaked, and he could see you shivering. Grabbing a towel from the linen closet, he wrapped it around your shoulders. You murmured a thanks, standing awkwardly in his doorway.

He reached for your hand, leading you to the laundry room. Your hands were small in his and he tried to not focus on his heartbeat that pounded in his ears. 

“Wait here.” He grunted, leaving to grab clothes for both of you. He grabbed one of his, then thought better and dug around for anything Fuyumi or Rei may have left. No luck. He sighed, returning to the room where you were sitting on top of the washer.

Thrusting the clothes into your hands, he left to give you some privacy to change as he pulled on his clothes. A few minutes later he heard you giggling. You stepped out, drowning in his way too big shirt. The shirt extended nearly to your knees. The sweatpants he gave you were sliding off your hips and he glimpsed your thighs as you attempted to pull them up. Shrugging, you let them fall to the floor, your legs exposed.

“Sorry, but I don’t think they will stay on. Luckily, your shirt hides everything important.” You said, looking down. Enji mentally disagreed, since any inch of skin he could see would be burned into his brain forever.

Tossing both your clothes into the washer, he set the timer and then it was silent. You spoke first.

“I thought I did something wrong.”

Enji turned to you, Your gaze was fixed on the washing machine, though your eyes looked distant. You continued.

“I thought maybe you thought it was a drunken mistake.”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

You turned. Enji’s cerulean eyes were downcast at the laminate flooring. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

“I’m not good at this. I’m not stupid, I know the rumors about my family that people say. They aren’t all lies. I did fuck it up. I did a lot of bad, terrible things and pushed them away. Rei, and the kids...they didn’t deserve any of the pain I caused them.”

His shoulders sagged, the weight of his past overtaking him. “I did, I do love them. But I understand why they had to leave.” He sat on the small couch in the corner.

Enji felt your hand cover his, your thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“Enji...doing shitty things doesn’t make you a shitty person. You can’t punish yourself forever.” Your voice was soft, soothing. Enji finally met your eyes.

“I’ve already fucked that up. I fucked this up. I don’t want to hurt people I care about anymore. It’s easier this way.”

You wrapped your arms around him. The two of you made quite a sight, the smaller figure cradling the large man. You stood in front of him and he let himself relax into you, his head resting on your chest. He could smell your scent, warm and comforting, even under his shirt. Your fingers grazed his hair, holding him to you. Enji thought of the nights where he lay in bed, allowing himself to imagine your body next to him. 

He was tired of being strong.

“Enji...I can’t say everything will be perfect. But punishing yourself before it starts isn’t going to do anything but cause more pain.”

He could feel your heartbeat, a steady rhythm that matched his breathing. He was aware of his hands around your body, your soft strokes in his hair. He thought about how it would feel to have your touches, hold you in his arms every day, every night.

Enji allowed himself to fall.

He raised his head, his lips meeting yours. With each kiss he silently told you his hopes, his fears, and his apologies. In turn, you gave him comfort and acceptance. He pulled you onto his lap, so you were straddling him, kissing you hard to make up for the months of missed opportunities. 

You kissed for what felt like forever, never wanting to stop. His hands slid down your back and across your thighs, going under your shirt. 

“You look so good in this. Wanna see this more often.” He whispered, a smirk on his face. You giggled and he had the desire to hear all of your beautiful sounds. In time, he reminded himself.

“Enji, are you flirting with me?” You teased and he pulled you close in another kiss. His hands wandered across your soft skin and he could feel the hardened peaks of your nipples through the thin cotton of the shirt. He kissed down your jaw, and your fingers grasped at his hair, causing him to groan into your neck.

“You tease me so much, Y/N.” He growled out as you grinded on his lap. You could feel his cock stir through his joggers, and you felt yourself growing wetter on his lap. He pulled your shirt up to your waist, exposing your thin panties to him. He could feel your arousal through the fabric and ran his thumb down the dark spot over your cunt. You let out a soft whimper and his eyes blazed with hunger.

 Pulling your shirt above your tits, he took one in his mouth, sucking harshly. He grazed your nipple with his teeth, causing your back to arch. He switched sides, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Your hips rocked against his bulge, more prominent now and he pulled away from your chest.

“I want you Enji.” Your voice was soft and seductive, and Enji felt your words go straight to his cock. Picking you up, he carried you to his room. The lights were dim and you didn’t have time to look around before he dropped you on the bed, pushing your legs apart and lapping at your cunt through your drenched panties.

“Already so excited, sweet girl. Taste so good for me.” Enji murmured into your pussy, pressing kisses and bites to your thighs. You whined, attempting to push down your panties and he laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. 

“So eager, aren’t you?” 

You pouted at him. “It’s been too long and I’ve missed you so much.”

Enji was grateful for the dark room hiding the blush that spread across his face. He busied himself by dragging your panties down at an agonizingly slow pace, taking the time to admire your legs, his fingers skimming the skin causing shivers to go down your spine. Enji turned to take in the scene. Your body, draped across the sheets, mouth parted, eyes full of want staring up at him, silently begging for him. He had pictured this many times, many sleepless nights, but the reality was so much better.

“So beautiful.”  HIs voice was quiet, and his heart thumped wildly. He was nervous, even though he had already been with you once before. This time felt so raw, so much more real. He wanted to be with you in every way he could, in any way you would let him and he could tell you wanted the same.

As he pulled off his shirt, your hands slid into the waistband of his pants, grazing over the head of his throbbing cock. He groaned as your fingers slid over the sensitive head, smearing precum down the shaft. You pushed down the rest of his clothes and he kneeled between your legs. Both of you were quiet, and you could feel the excitement in the air of doing this, being with each other completely. It was vulnerable, it was scary, but he trusted you to be there when he fell. And in turn, you trusted him to be yours.

Pushing into you, your breath hitched. He felt your body clamp down on him, and he slowed, easing his way in. Your nails dug into the skin of his biceps and you gasped as he bottomed out in you.

Pressing his forehead to yours, he searched your eyes for discomfort. Instead you gazed at him with complete adoration, bright eyes completely infatuated.

“You’re perfect, Enji.” Your voice was quiet and breathy, but clear. In response he pressed a harsh kiss to your mouth, trying to explain every emotion he felt, words he couldn’t say just yet. As you kissed, he rocked into you, his thick cock dragging against your walls. Your soft moans were swallowed by his kisses, and the stinging marks left on his arms only drove him crazier. He fucked into you faster, feeling your tight cunt squeezing around him, wanting so badly to stay inside you forever.

Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and the room was filled with your sweet sounds, interspersed with his praises.

“Taking me so well. Such a good girl. Fuck, so beautiful.” Enji gasped out, his high imminent. Each thrust had you seeing stars and you felt like your body was floating. Moving his hands from the sheets, he slid over your clit, teasing your body. You clenched around him.

“Fuck, right there,don’t stop!” You gasped out, grasping at the bedsheets, your back arching off to meet his thrusts. Enji complied, his rhythm speeding up as he toyed with your clit and you cried out, your body squeezing his cock like a vice. You gushed around his cock, and he fucked into you faster, feeling his body heat up. With a groan he slammed into you, holding you down as he spilled into you. His hips stuttered as he filled you with every drop, and soon the room was filled with panting as both of you struggled to catch your breath.

Easing out of you, he grabbed a towel, cleaning you up before collapsing next to you. You were both quiet and you were reminded of the time before. Nervous, you turned to him and made eye contact.

“Are you staying this time?” Your voice was small and Enji saw your fingers threading the sheets, nervously.

“It’s my house.” He responded seriously. Caught off guard, you burst into laughter. He watched you amused. You looked gorgeous and he would never get used to the sound of your laughter filling the house that had been quiet for too long.

Catching your breath, you turned back to him.

“What I mean is...do you want to do this? Together?”

Enji looked at the bed that was no longer empty, felt the life and warmth that filled the house, exuding from you just being there and entwined his hand with yours.

“Yes.”

[outofsstyles]

a/n: This is by far THE MOST requested fic I’ve ever had and (a year later) it’s finally here!! First of all, sorry that it took me so long but when I first wrote Wildest Dreams I never intended on it having a follow up, but the amount of love I got from it was so overwhelming that I decided to put this together for you all :) I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about it, considering the amount of requests I’ve had the past year, I know there’s gonna be a lot of expectations and I wanted to do something a bit different so it’s not too predictable lol. So yeah, as always, feedback is very much welcomed!! If you enjoy please reblog it to support my writing, it would mean the world to me <3

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

concept: It’s Evan’s birthday and he decides to do something a bit different.

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

                                               ~*~ ~*~  ~*~

In the last two steps, you have to use your leg to support the box as it starts to slowly slip down your fingers. This serves as a reminder to start exercising again now that the midterm is over — meaning that you should finally give in to Nia’s pleas to join her in the free week of Pilates classes she got when signing in at the gym, “Exercising is one of the best ways to relieve stress!” She would argue, to which you’d simply reply with something along the lines of: “So does binging another trashy reality tv show!”

Thankfully, no one seems to notice your struggle, sparing you the embarrassment of listening to their teases due to your difficulty in carrying one of the smallest boxes of the bunch. Nate barely glances at you once you finally reach the car to hand him the box, only shooting the longest smile you’ve ever seen coming from him—which somehow still manages to be probably the quickest when compared to any other regular person. His girlfriend, who stands with hands on her hips, entirely held his attention. Nia’s purple strands of hair poke out of her half-bun in every direction and her bottom lip has found its permanent spot between her teeth as her eyes fixate on the vehicle in front of her, barely blinking.

“Everything alright, Ni?” You prompt, trying to even your breathing. “Forgot something? There’s still time to check.”

“It’s not that.” She mumbles, shaking her head to break out of her thoughts. “My keyboard doesn’t fit.” Nia nods at the instrument lying on top of the car’s ceiling.

“Oh,” You say, frowning your lips as you take in her stressed figure. Clearing your throat, you attempt to blurt out a joke, “Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t move it and stay right here in our little flat with creaky doors.”

She breathes out a sharp laugh, finally looking at you as she drops her arms. “Don’t start.” She warns, “You promised; no crying today.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at holding back the tears.” You give her a soft smile, pulling her smaller frame into a hug. The sudden reality of your best friend and roommate leaving you hitting you at once. “Gonna miss you, Ni.”

You feel her sigh into your shoulder, arms circling around your middle. “I’ll be ten minutes away.”

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

The two of you sway in silence for a moment, and you watch from over her shoulder as Nate attempts to awkwardly pick up the keyboard, almost dropping it on the sidewalk in the process. He grunts, the instrument tilting in his arms, and you giggle as you hear Nia sigh once more. Tightening your arms around her, you release each other as she turns to check on her boyfriend who holds the instrument as you would a newborn — except this one is half his size and hard as a wood plank.

He glances between the both of you, helpless. “Uh, where does this go?”

“You can put it with the other big boxes upstairs, babe. We’ll take them Sunday.” Nia says, moving to close the trunk. She looks back at him, calling back in a sing-like voice before he disappears inside, “Thank you!”

You lean back against the car, a playful pout plumping your bottom lip. “Am I only seeing you again on Sunday, then?”

“Nope, I’ll pick you up for Evan’s birthday — did you forget about it already?”

You have. “Of course not. It’s on — tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow?” Nia gasps, eyes widening. “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Friday.”

You nod slowly, just as shocked as she is about how quickly the past couple of weeks have flown by. Between piles of book reports and stress-tear-stained essays during midterms week, you also had to find some time to help Nia with packing boxes while searching for a new roommate for yourself. If you managed a five-hour sleep on these past days, that would have been a well-rested night. So you can’t really blame yourself for forgetting about Evan’s birthday when Nia herself had it slipping through her mind.

“This is an emergency,” Nia says, eyes focusing on a point beyond you and, you feel like, if you listen close enough, you can hear the engines inside her head working. “I’ll have come here earlier so you can help me with my outfit.”

You chuckle. “What even is the theme this year?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Nia says in a huff. “But, on the bright side, I don’t think this year he’ll do anything too crazy — he was too busy these last couple months with that short film I told you about, remember?”

“Evan doing something low key? That’s a first.” You raise your eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.” Nia shrugs, picking at her nails. “I’m only saying because he mentioned once he was only inviting, like, twenty people.”

Now, this is a surprise. “I’m glad I made the cut, then.”

It’s not a secret to anyone who’s ever had any kind of interaction with Evan that he’s fond of the dramatics of life — his bright-colored outfits with mismatching patterns being the first example that comes to mind — and that reflects as well in his events. Especially when it comes to his birthday.

To be fair, you’ve only actually been to two birthday parties of his so far — considering the invitation usually finds you because he’s close to Nia and sees you as some sort of extension of her. Nevertheless, they were both impactful enough that left a clear impression of how much he enjoys celebrating himself. Last year in particular you remember quite well. It was what he called “Evaney” themed; being a mix of himself and his favorite artist: Britney Spears. And, while you and Nia showed up as one of at least fifteen different variations of the Baby One More Time schoolgirl outfit, Evan pulled a perfect match of the Oops! I Did It Again red bodysuit that he got one of his fashion student friends to tailor for him, as well as freshly dyed beach blonde hair to suit it. He even went as far as photoshopping pictures of himself on Britney’s body and had them printed on posters hung on every single room of the house. There were even custom-made cups and napkins with them — two of them that Nia stole at the end of the party still sit somewhere in your kitchen to this day.

Another particular thing you remember quite clearly was that there were enough people crowded in his living room to fill up your entire apartment, as you recall. And that’s about how a typical event at his home is like — even on his friendsmas dinner there were much more than just twenty people eating turkey out of disposable hot pink plates. So, Nia’s information leaves you wondering what he could have in mind for tomorrow with such a limited list of people.

Before you can voice your wonders to her, though, Nate pushes through the entrance door again. You can tell he, much like you minutes ago, is trying to cover his heavy breathing. “I left it on top of those big boxes with a bunch of books in ‘em.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, baby.” Nia grins, wrapping an arm around his middle. “By the way, we just remembered Evan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow already?” Nate asks, and you hold back a giggle at the way his face scrunches in discontent. He hates going to Evan’s to a point that’s nearly comical. “Fuck’s sake.”

“And I think I’ll come here early so we can get ready together.” Nia nods towards you.

Nate grunts. “Do I have to go this time?” 

“Of course, darling.” She rises to her tiptoes to pinch his cheek, to which he brushes it off.

Nate looks at you, and you only send him a tight smile in solidarity. The two of you share similar experiences with Evan, considering the only reason either of you even gets invited is that because you’re close to Nia, and she’s close to Evan. Although you like Evan, even if you’re not that close with him, you can still put on your social mask for a couple of hours and have fun at his parties. Nate, on the other hand, is likely the least sociable person you’ve ever met, and it’s obvious how uncomfortable he gets every time. 

Nia seems to sense how tense he gets as well, because she steps in front of her boyfriend, finding his eyes with her doe-like ones. “I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He sighs, “Of course I’ll go with you.” He looks up at you. “Maybe this time we can actually count how many faces of his we can see from the couch.”

This time you don’t hold back a giggle. “I have a feeling we’ll have an easier time this year.”

“Hope so.” Nate taps on Nia’s back. "Let's go, then? Is everything you need in the trunk?”

“Yup.” She answers, circling the car and opening the door to the passenger’s side. Before entering, she gives you one last look. “Do you want me to bring anything for you tomorrow?”

“I’m good.”

“‘kay!” She enters, closing the door behind her in a click and leaning over Nate to wave at you from his window. “See you tomorrow! Don’t cry too hard tonight!”

“I won’t!” You wave back.

Watching as the car pulls back, before driving away and disappearing around the corner, there’s a light breeze that raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of your arms. You cross them under your chest, leaning back into the wall of your building, not quite ready to go back to your empty home yet. The seconds blend into minutes and you stand there The promise you made to Nia not even a minute ago already pooling in your eye, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway, you let it tickle its way down your cheek.

A rougher gust of wind hits you and, this time, you turn to go inside.

                                              ~*~ ~*~  ~*~

The days are still not long enough so that the sun can shine proudly at seven in the afternoon, but as spring just about rounds the corner there’s still a golden glow as the rays provide one last warmth before disappearing on the horizon. And that’s how the sky greets you once you step out of your building to make your way towards Evan’s house for his birthday.

As planned, Nia arrived at yours with plenty of time so the two of you could help each other get ready, a bag filled with clothes she’s just taken to Nate’s yesterday under her arm for you to help her choose. “I’m thinking something monochromatic tonight.” She said as she walked in, making you jump in your spot on the couch as you didn’t hear her using the spare key. “I’m just not sure what color.” 

She ended up choosing red. There was an old box of red hair dye you found lost inside the bathroom cabinet after Nia left — along with two different brands of shaving cream, although those belonging to Nate — and, after presenting it to her, she decided to go all for it, taking it as a sign. Nate showed up just about an hour after his girlfriend, still in his work attire and barely batting an eye at Nia’s new hair color as she blew dried it. The only comment leaving his mouth being, “You look like a tomato,” before kissing her forehead and excusing himself for a nap while the two of you finished getting ready.

What neither of you realized was that Nia’s last-minute decision took more time than you predicted, giving you barely enough time to get dressed. To her, that wasn’t exactly an inconvenience considering she had an outfit ready to match any color she wanted — in this case, was a red-dyed denim two-piece. and a matching jacket that ended up discarded after she noticed it covered her newest shoulder tattoo (though you tried to argue she could just have Nate carry it so she could wear it considering she eventually would get cold at some point). To you, however, was more of a stressful task, seeing you hadn’t taken in mind to think of an outfit beforehand. So you ended up just going with the safest option that didn’t give you a lot of room to overthink, choosing to finish your makeup on the way so Evan wouldn’t have any of your heads on a plate for being late.

You’ve found that applying mascara on a moving vehicle is not the easiest task, as Nia holds your elbow to help you keep steady while talking nonstop with the driver about a topic you stopped paying any mind to about ten minutes ago.

“I’m loving our black and red moment, by the way.” She turns to you, loosening her hold as you finish the last coat. “You look like one of those hot businesswomen with your teenage daughter who likes to dress like an animated character.”

You laugh at her comparison, only now noticing the discrepancy between both your outfits. Without even realizing it, you also ended up going for the monochromatic look. Except unlike Nia’s, yours completely lacks any color. “That’s actually the best comparison you could make.”

“I know — You can take a left right here — Here, I have lip gloss.” Nia fetches a small tube from her jacket (that she ended up taking, after all), presenting it to you.

“Do you not have lipstick?”

“Are you not planning on smudging it later?” Nia wiggles her eyebrows, teasing. The hint behind her words makes you roll your eyes, snatching the lip gloss from her hand without bothering to give her an answer. There was about a month or so, just before winter rolled around, that Nia felt as if she had a mission to get you with someone. You suspect, knowing too well how her mind works, that she must’ve felt some sort of guilt for what happened during her film project last year. It was clear that her attempts came from a place of good heart, but this doesn’t mean that it made them any less annoying. However, after her plans to move in with Nate became more concrete, her cupid persona seemed to have disappeared, or so you’d thought. But now that there’s nothing else filling her mind anymore, it looks like she’s back at it, and you can’t help but snort. “What? I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot of things, most of them are incorrect.” You say, “I’m not smudging anything tonight. Not on a party with twenty people, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t say that before — right there! The big house on the corner!” Nia leans over the console, signaling to the driver where to park. It’s so sudden that you notice how he jumps just slightly from his seat, chuckling to yourself at how Nate snaps his eyes at her. 

The front of Evan’s Victorian home is unusually quiet once you step out onto the sidewalk. So much so that, if it weren’t for the lined cars parked along the street and filling his driveway, you would’ve thought you’d typed in the wrong address. 

The discrepancy is clear to you when compared to other gatherings Evan hosts in his house, but especially for his birthday. Last year, you could hear Toxic blasting from his place from the moment you turned on his street, and a small crowd gathered on his front yard — most of which you recall being comprised of people plastered out of their minds, particularly one semi-naked man who was using one lamppost as a strip pole while swinging a stuffed snake

That’s more or less the standard one could expect when invited to a party at Evan’s. So, to find the street as silent as any regular day is, to an understanding, odd. 

“Are you sure it’s the right date?” You ask as the metal creak of the front gate mends with gushes of wind whistling through the air.

“Yup,” Nia says simply, walking in front of you. “You can hear the music inside, shush.”

You come quiet, listening in, and, surely, you can hear the faint keys of a piano coming from the other side of the stone walls, but it only brings up more questions to your head than answers. Evan seems like the last person on Earth who would listen to classical music. Deciding not to voice your question this time, you follow short behind Nia, kicking some loose stones on the gravel path leading to the front door.

There’s no need for more than a single knock for it to open almost immediately, revealing a lace-clad Evan downing the last bits of his wine. Without the barrier you can hear the music more clearly, the keys of the piano meshing in a peculiar way, not like anything you’ve ever heard in a classical song— at least not ten years ago when you tried to learn piano for a year before giving up.

“Look at my favorite people!” Evan says with his purple-stained lips, pulling Nia for a hug with the arm that’s not holding the door open while pointing at a spot behind her. “Did you greet Jonathan when you passed him? It’s his birthday as well.”

He points to a spot where a gnome statue sits in the dry grass, face painted in clown makeup. Nate’s voice comes from behind you, “Christ.” 

“Nate!” Evan chirps, going straight for the man standing with a sharp smile and throwing his arms around him. “You know you’re my favorite grumpy, right?”

Nate only taps on the shorter man’s back, quickly moving to Nia’s side as soon as he’s free from the embrace. With that, Evan turns to you, hands finding your elbows as he takes you in, “And what have you been up to, bug? It's been ages.”

“You know… Books and… Stuff.” You chuckle, brushing it off. “Happy birthday, E.”

“Thank you!” He claps his hands together. “Now, c’mon, let’s get all of you started.”

Following him inside, you’re met with a glittery box standing right next to the entrance; rolls of tape seal it shut, and a hand-sized hole has been cut on top of the lid. You try to peek at what could be inside, but strings of colorful crepe paper are stuck to the hole, making it harder to know its contents.

Evan picks up the box, holding it to his side. “So, I need each of you to grab a piece of paper inside the box. There will be a number in it but for now just hold on, drink, and chat while waiting for further instructions.” His voice lowers at the end to give his words more of a mystery behind them.

Nate tenses in front of you and you have to keep yourself from chuckling at his desperate gaze moving from the box to his girlfriend as he moves uncomfortably on his feet. Nia, however, only gives him a pat on his back, barely looking at her boyfriend as she does a little dance in excitement. “Oh, this feels fun.” She says, quickly reaching her hand inside the box and retrieving a piece of paper. “Mysterious, but fun. What do you have in mind, sir?”

“Nothing too crazy this year, darling, you can relax — We’re all too tired.” He moves the box towards Nate, who reluctantly reaches inside. “Just something to mesh people together that won’t give me too much of a headache to clean tomorrow.”

“Smart.” You say, peeking at the box as it’s presented to you before reaching for a paper inside, quickly reading the number eight written on it before folding the piece between your fingers.

“Nice! As always, drinks in the kitchen. We’re starting in ten minutes!” Evan claps, hushing the three of you further inside.

Surprisingly, this time around there are no posters of his face in sight as you follow Nia and Nate to the kitchen. There’s a mild mash of voices coming from the living room — where the sound of the piano is the loudest, and you wonder if he got an actual piano or if it’s just a Bluetooth speaker —, but it’s not nearly as loud as you’re used to from past times. The lighting has been lowered to a buttery yellow; you realize once you enter the kitchen that feels too bright to your eyes in contrast to the hallway.

“Is there any alcohol?” You wonder out loud, and Nia glances at you with her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “What? I’m just asking ‘cause everyone is unusually quiet.”

“There’s wine and — what are these guys right here?” She picks up one out of four plastic jars sitting on the kitchen island, reading the label stuck to it out loud, “Strawberry Mary — ooh, this looks fun.”

You reach for the other three to check their contents, but all have names similar to the one Nia now fills her cup with — fruity, yet mysterious: Lana Banana, Jenny Berry Mix, and Pineapple Suzan. “Did he come up with these?” You chuckle, reaching for the berry mix.

“It was probably Adam,” Nia says, and you frown. “That bartender guy? The one with the pet snakes.”

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

The room comes quiet as you serve yourself, and only after you glance up you realize a tension lingering in the air. Nate stands awkwardly in a corner, eyes fixed on Nia as he moves his head around subtly. Glancing between the two of them, you notice how their expressions change as they keep their eyes locked, not a single word being uttered out loud. To you, it almost feels as if they are reading each other’s minds, and the heat of their silent argument becoming clear once Nate huffs, shaking his head. 

Nia clears her throat, seemingly uncomfortable, shooting you a knowing look. It’s only when she gives you a toothless smile that you realize the silent question behind it. “Uhm, I’m going to check if there are any sweets outside.”

Beelining towards the doorway, you quickly make your way out of the room. The hallway is empty and, from where you stand awkwardly in the middle of it, you can tell Evan’s left his spot by the front door, meaning he’s likely gone to the living room where the rest of the guests are. You can hear them chatting, although like you previously pointed, the voices are much more controlled than what you’re used to, and that makes you oddly flustered by the thought of walking in alone. 

Considering the limited amount of invitations this year, the chances of you knowing anyone are slim and, to add to your sudden nervousness, most of the people from Evan’s closest circle of friends are — like himself — inexplicably intimidating. This is mostly because it feels like this unspoken competition that everyone has settled with each other, to subtly brag about your success whilst simultaneously pretending to be impressed about the other’s accomplishments. And for you specifically, considering you’re not part of this artist clique that they lock themselves into, it feels particularly tiresome to be part of those interactions. 

So, you opt to wait for Nia, pretending to admire one peculiar painting hanging on a wall opposite to where the doorway leading to the living room stands. Every so often, you catch yourself glancing over your shoulder one way or the other, either towards the kitchen to check if your friends are joining you, or to the doorway where the rest of the guests are in. At one point, the voices get louder, joining in a laugh before tangling together in a mess of noise you can’t make sense of. It’s after a minute that you hear footsteps coming from the living room, making you freeze on your spot, carefully turning your back to whoever’s about to catch you avoiding the party, and focusing on the piece you’ve been staring at for the past five minutes.

The painting you first thought was just random strokes of earth tones abstractly put together you now realize it’s a man and it doesn’t take you more than a second or two to recognize Evan’s side profile in a peach shade. Your hand claps on top of your mouth as you fight the urge to laugh. The sound comes out muffled, but it stops as you hear the footsteps falter as they turn into the hallway. Keeping you back to them, you listen as the wooden floor creaks as whoever was approaching makes their way back. You peek to catch sight of who it might be, but all you make out is the shadow of mustard corduroys turning the corner.

As if on cue, Nia and Nate finally appear from the kitchen, thankfully neither appearing to be sour after the talk in the kitchen. 

“Finally.” You say, still feeling giggly from your finding. “Nate, you have to check this-”

“Okay! Let’s start, then. Do we have everyone in the living room?” Evan’s voice interrupts you as he calls out. Nia guides you along with her to the living room. And, as soon as the three of you enter, Evan nods at you, before continuing, “Now that all the bunnies are trapped, we shall begin!” He laughs, clapping his hands together before motioning vaguely to everyone. “Before I explain what I have planned, I want to pair you all. So, I’ll call out the numbers that each of you picked when you arrived, so everyone can find their pair.”

You frown, confuse yet curious about what Evan’s up to as he calls out the numbers. Now that you stop to glance around the room, you note how there are more people than you’d expected. It’s still not nearly as many as previous parties of his, but it still feels like the room is nicely filled, maybe just a dozen people above twenty. And amongst them, there’s quite a few you recognize as they pair up together — like Georgia, the first one to be called, whom you spent a good half of the New Year’s party with, or Taylor, who gets paired with Nia (you remember him particularly from a film festival that Nia had been part of — he produced and directed a short film comparing the second wave of feminism to the wildlife in the Amazon Rainforest, and Nia couldn’t stop complaining about how bad it was for the entire week after). 

It’s when Evan jokes with someone on the other side of the room, however, that you see him.

He’s tucked in a corner, right next to the bookshelves, arms crossed under his chest in a way that makes his tattoos pop out of his biceps, something you notice even standing on the opposite end of the room. His smile is subtle as he watches the scene in front of him, but it’s still enough for a dimple to poke at one side of his face -- it’s barely there, but you’ve seen it up close enough times that you notice those details. His hand holds a drink, but you pay no mind to it because what calls your attention is the mustard corduroy hugging his hips, the same one you watched run from you not only five minutes ago.

He laughs, and you avert your eyes, mouth still hung open. You wonder if anyone will notice if you leave.

But, as though he could read your mind, Evan calls the number written on that sits crumbled inside the pocket of your jacket. “Where are my number eights?”

You step forward and, like a magnet, your eyes glue on Harry as he raises his hand. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you have to fight against an urge to shut your eyes tightly as the regret of having left your room at all tonight becomes almost overwhelming. All you expected for the night was to forget about book reports and endless essays piled up on your computer, to relax, maybe drink a bit more than you should while watching Evan’s friends dancing with a taxidermy beaver or something of sorts (that was on his friendsmas party two years ago). Instead, here you are on what feels like the first day of class dynamic your teacher has imposed to make everyone interact with each other. And, suddenly, the long pages of (insert boring book) don’t seem that bad right now.

And to make matters worse (because the universe just likes to add a little more spice to your tragedies) of all people standing in this living room you just had to be paired with the one with whom you had a fling-like relationship six months ago.

It’s awkward before he even approaches you, the tension making you fidget in your spot anxiously, barely being able to shoot a tight smile his way. 

The last time you saw Harry was through the rearview mirror of a car, standing on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy with his tail between his legs. Though you admit you let your dramatics take away when you turned away from him to leave, the feeling behind it was genuine. You were upset. He had led you on, after all, made you think he wanted to have something more just to ignore you for months and, later, appear with a redhead under his arms and call her his girlfriend. So, yes, it wasn’t the best note to leave on.

But despite how you left the last encounter, the spark of nervousness that shoots through your stomachs right now doesn’t come exactly because of his presence, but more so for the awkward nature of this encounter. At the time it happened, you avoided any activity that had the slight possibility of seeing him again like the plague. You were hurt, and you were mad — though the second part was more directed at yourself than at him. But that was six months ago. After all, as much as you felt enchanted by him and as much as those two weeks you spent together were nice, that’s all that it was: two weeks. Yes, you were sad and, yes, maybe you shed a tear or two while watching Love, Rosie with Nia afterward, but that passed as quickly as it came.

That is, until now.

“Your hair is shorter” This Is all you blurt out when he stands in front of you again.

“It is, yeah.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. The strands that last time you saw him, curled around his jawline, now peek just under his earlobe. “Did it myself, actually.”

“Really?” You take a big gulp from your drink, gaze going anywhere but meeting his own. “Found yourself another talent.”

“Another?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean, besides acting.” You grin, holding the cup to your lips and sparing him a glance. “Suppose after your debut you’ve gotten yourself busy with casting calls”

“Of course” Harry laughs. Now that you’re closer you have a better look at his dimples as they pop out, as well as the constellation of freckles hugging his nose, and the mole right under his lips. You avert your eyes again. “I’m set to be the next Bond, in fact”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, grinning at the brim of your cup. “I can see it.”

He turns to you, “Can you?” You peek at him. "Why is that?”

This is exactly what you were afraid of all those months ago after last seeing him. The entire reason you ran from any possibility of seeing him again afterward. You can still remember clearly how much of a flirt he is, even when he doesn’t mean to be. It’s not a secret that Harry’s a charming man. His words are like honey, and when he uses them just right, you know is enough to have you melting. And it doesn’t help how well you seem to click together. Even now, you still feel it by your impulse to flirt back, to look him in the eye, and get just close enough to feel the scent of his cologne. Do all that just to turn away in the last second. Tease him the same way he did you. But you don’t do any of that, of course, because you’re as petty as you are bitter. So, instead, you click your tongue. “Don’t get too comfortable, Harry, bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that.”

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

This time you turn fully at him, brows shooting up not in defiance, but surprise. “Yikes.” You say before you’re able to hold back.

“Yikes.” Harry still holds a smile when he repeats it, head falling as he lets out a — nervous? — laugh.

A question pops into your head. One that lingered in your mind for a good while now, but comes back a bit louder now that you have the information that his relationship was short-lasted after all. It’s a short one, but one that requires a long answer, you suppose. What happened? You think. But you don’t dare to voice it, you don’t want to have this conversation with him. Whatever the explanation is, it’s not going to change anything. So you just avert your gaze back to Evan, who now calls for everyone’s attention again.

“I know you’re all dying to know what this is all about. So, I’m going to explain it all.” And with that introduction, Evan dives into a monologue you only pay half mind to. It’s hard for you to focus on the words rapidly leaving his mouth as you can feel Harry glancing at you every so often from the corner of your eye. You listen in to Evan describing himself as a feisty kid and mention his love for drama, and then you feel the ghost of Harry’s arm bumping against yours as he sways on his feet. You try to pay attention to the story being told of the events leading up to this birthday party, and then you have to hold yourself back from meeting Harry’s eyes once you feel them at the side of your face once again. He makes a comment under his breath that you don’t quite catch, and you’re about to question him before Evan’s voice comes in an even higher pitch. “I wanted tonight to be exactly that: chaotic. I didn’t want anything to quite make sense, and I didn’t want to think much, if I’m honest, last year of film school is taking a big chunk of my functioning neurons and m’dad’s whiskey collection is taking the rest of them.”

There’s a collective laugh that takes place and, once again, Harry’s eyes peeking at you. “Everyone can relax, it’s not one of those murder mystery parties, as I’ve heard some people guess — for fuck’s sake as if I have the time and patience to plan something like that.” He says with a sip directly from a wine bottle you just now realize he’s been holding. “It’s a scavenger hunt, you have a partner and an envelope with clues. Each pair will find something related to moi and after it’s all done, we’ll eat burgers and talk about me for the rest of the night.” 

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

Evan claps his free hand on his wrist, hushing everyone. “So off you go, c’mon! I’ll be hungry in an hour.”

“This is gonna be…” You start. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

“Well, let’s try to do this as quickly as possible, then.” 

 The side of his lips quirks up. “On a rush?”

“This is not exactly a comfortable position to be. I think you get it.” You say, fidgeting on your feet. You wait for a second for him to say something so you can start the activity, but he doesn’t and you realize there’s a piece missing. “Do you have an envelope?”

Harry nods, reaching for his pocket where the envelope sits folded in half. He swiftly opens it, taking out a card.

 “Well?” You prompt, “Read us the first clue, Bond.”

There’s a smile that Harry fights against at the nickname and you’re not sure due to the dim light, but you think there’s a hint of a rosy tone on the apple of his cheeks. “An activity that grows lives and ruins manicures.” He reads out loud, pausing for a moment before laughing to himself. “I know this one.”

“Grows lives?” You frown. “As in, a pregnancy?”

Harry shakes his head, leading the way towards the corridor. “As in, gardening.”

“That’s a very weird way to put it.” You say, following him. “Does he garden?”

He walks into the kitchen, greeting two people you don’t recognize who are searching for something — their clue, you assume — inside the cabinets. “No, but his sister does. There’s a greenhouse in the back.”

You simply hum in response, muttering a quick thank you as he opens the door for you that leads to the back garden. The greenhouse is not unfamiliar to you from the outside, there have been a good amount of summer gatherings in his back garden for you to know of its existence. But you’ve thought nothing more about it. If you’re honest, you never really paid much attention to it. If anything, you assumed he used it as storage at most, never taking Evan as someone who enjoyed gardening. Though now you know you were right, you've also learned that his sister lives with him and you wonder why he’s never mentioned it before.

The curiosity inside of you wants to question Harry about it, to ask him what else he knows you don’t. When you think about it, there’s a lot you want to ask him about. Not just regarding Evan, but also regarding him. You wonder what he’s been up in the past six months if he ended up adopting the kitten he’d told you about back when you were still filming or if he read any of the book recommendations you wrote on his notes app one particular night the two of you chatted for longer than the moon could hold itself up in the sky. The part of you that begs for you to say something on the short walk is so strong you have to physically bite your tongue to be able to hold back.

You don’t have to hold for long, however, as Harry takes it upon himself to say, “So,” He starts, clearing his throat, “How- uh- how are you doing?”

Somehow, his words click something inside of your mind. They remind you of why you shouldn’t let that curious part of you win. The sole purpose of it not falling for his charm. You shake your head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He frowns, his steps faltering for a second.

“Small talk.” You answer, focused on your goal. “We’ll just solve this thing as quickly as possible so I can go back home and finish my Euphoria marathon.”

“Right.” Harry nods once, and you can’t help but notice the way his lips quirk down, the frown not leaving his face. You can’t lie and say it doesn’t make your stomach drop the slightest bit to see you’ve upset him, but you have to remind yourself how much he’s upset you, too. 

It’s protecting yourself, you think. After tonight, you don’t have to see him ever again.

Inside the greenhouse, you’re greeted with a mix of scents you’re not prepared for before stepping in. The space is compact, with a single corridor narrowed with garden beds on each side. Dozens of branches and leaves tickle you as you walk in, most of them belonging to different flowers that, despite the chilly weather that still lingers outside, are already blooming. It’s a blend of colors, bright reds, and ocean blues, soft purple petals kissing pink and yellow ones. 

“We should look for gloves.” Harry’s voice startles you, chuckling as you jump a bit.

“Huh?” 

“Gloves.” He says. “I think whatever we’re looking for has to do with the gloves, ‘cause he mentioned manicure.”

“That makes sense.” You look around. Many gardening tools are piling under the tables that hold the garden beds; watering cans and empty pots. You look between bags of fertilizer and drawers filled with shovels. There’s so much stuff to look through that, at one point, you sit back on your calves, glancing around, lost.

You hear Harry leafing through as you’re doing, feeling his legs brushing against your back as he passes by and you stop, watching him from your spot on the floor. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he scans through the walls before he opens another drawer. That’s when his gaze falls, catching yours. You quickly turn away, pretending to go through another pile of empty pots and blocking the sound of a chuckle coming from his spot.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clicking of ceramics and the opening and closing of wooden drawers. That is until you hear from Harry, “A-ha!”

You look up again, seeing him move to the back where few pairs of gloves hang on the wall — so obvious yet still hidden between raincoats and summer hats. “Right under our noses.” You say, getting up.

Harry searches inside the gloves, tongue trapped between his teeth. “Bingo!” He says, pulling out two tiny bottles from inside one pair.

“What is it?”

“Liquor.” He grins, peeking at you from under his lashes before ripping a piece of paper attached to it. “It says ‘one for each, now get to clue number two.’” He holds up one bottle, offering it to you, to which you take it. “It’s chocolate flavored.”

“Of course it would be a drinking game.” You open it, feeling the artificial chocolate scent braid with the alcohol. “Christ.”

“Don’t smell it, or it’ll be worse,” Harry says, downing his with one quick tilt of his head. “‘S not that bad, actually.”

You mimic his action, letting the drink swiftly burn its way down your throat. Unlike Harry, you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the taste. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Harry only giggles in response, taking the empty bottle from you and placing it back inside the gloves, along with his own. 

And then again, silence. You turn to the flowers to find some comfort.

A family of tulips glances back at you, their petals in a full red, it’s the kind of beauty you’re scared to ruin if you touch, so you just rest your hand on the wood. “They’re beautiful.” You only notice you say it out loud when Harry hums back in agreement.

“They are.” He says quietly but somehow feels loud by how close he is. “Tulips are my favorites.”

You stop, brows raising incredulously at him. “No, they’re not.”

“What?”

Cursing the universe for playing with you like this, you can’t help but laugh at the situation. “It’s just- they’re my favorites, too.” You look at him. “My nan used to plant them when I was little.”

“That’s sweet.” He says, smiling and you nod. “The red ones represent true love.” He points. “And the purple ones represent royalty.”

You blink at him. “Do you just look up tulip facts in your free time?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, basically.” He looks down at you, and you can’t help but notice how the greenery around brings out the shade of his eyes. “I worked at a flower shop for a tick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “For eight months. My favorite part was writing on the store board every morning.” His face lights up as he recalls his experience. “I used to write silly stuff like, ‘one day I’d like to meet tulips.’ The old ladies loved it.”

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

Because you’re sweet, you want to answer, because when I think I won’t get charmed by you again, you hit me with tulip puns. Your lip finds its spot between your teeth, you’d be damned to give him the satisfaction of hearing you tell him that, so, instead, you shrug. “Because.” You can tell he wants to dig more by the way his lip twitch up, teasing a smile, but you just nod towards the door before turning away from him and heading out. 

There’s a distinct change of temperature when you step outside, and it’s only when you do that you notice the greenhouse was heated. Thankfully, the night is not too windy as it would get a week or two ago when winter was still insisting on making itself present, but it’s still chilly so that it makes you hug your jacket closer to your body. Harry also notices the difference, as you hear him wince as he steps out from behind you — unlike you, he’s not wearing anything to protect his arms from the cold, which only makes it harder for you to not ogle the tattoos hugging his skin.

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

Harry reaches for the card again, taking it from its spot on his pocket before reading the second clue. “‘Not feeling too creative to write this one, it’s on the third tree on oak.’”

“I mean, at least we don’t have to think too much on this one.” You say, “Oak Street is the one to the left, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Can’t believe he’s making us go out on the streets.”

You start to make your way back towards the house. “Too tired for a stroll?”

“‘S cold,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Here, there’s a side gate.”

He guides you through a gravel path to where the black gate stands, hidden between bushes and branches. Strings of fern hug the bricked fence and the surrounding grass is high enough that it tickles your calves through your tights, making you believe this path has probably been left unused for at least a couple of months now. This information brings out an extra worry for you, as you take a better look at it, noticing how the gate is closed shut to the fence.“Is it open?” You wonder out loud.

“Shit, I don’t think it is.” Harry huffs under his breath. “But, I mean, we could easily jump it.”

You stop, turning to glance at him as the suggestion leaves his lips. He stands there, hands on his hips, examining the gate, tongue poking out as he frowns. After a second, he meets your eyes. “What? It’s not that tall.”

“I suppose.” You say, looking back at the fence that ends just below your shoulder length. It would be easy enough for you to climb it with a boost, however, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Oh,” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside-” He turns back.

“Wait,” You stop him, not sure if it’s the slight amount of alcohol in your system already making you more adventurous, you train your gaze at the gate, analyzing it again, before looking back at him. Squinting your eyes, “You have to close your eyes.”

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not that high.” You shrug. “But I need your help.”

“Of course.” He moves next to the brick wall, kneeling before it and nodding towards you. “C’mon, step up.”

Hesitantly, you glance at his thigh stretching his trousers, a sudden wave of insecurity hitting you. “Are you sure you can lift me?”

Harry simply puts his hand out in a silent request for you to hold. “Of course.”

“No peeking.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, chin meeting his chest as he looks down. And then you take his hand, feeling his fingers lock in a firm hold as he helps you use him for support. You hesitate again before using his thigh as a step, “Wait, I’m gonna ruin your trousers.” You worry, but Harry only shakes his head, still keeping it facing the ground, the strands of his hair falling above his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he doesn't feel you stepping in still, he encourages you with a squeeze in your hand. 

You attempt to do as quickly as possible with your dress clinging to your legs, tightening your hold to Harry’s hand to step on his thigh. Once you let it go, you can still feel it lingering behind your back as you use your arms to boost yourself up the wall, sitting on it for a moment before jumping to the other side with a huff.

“Can I open them?” You hear Harry’s voice calls from the other side, and you smile, nodding even though he can’t see it.

“Yes!”

And then his face appears as he stands up in a jump, grinning at you. “See? Easy Peasy.”

“I feel like a teen sneaking out.” You say, and you instantly give another meaning to your words as Harry boosts himself up. This time, you certainly don’t hold yourself back from staring at the way his muscles flex at the movement, the tattoos on his arms stretching, and his shirt rolling up. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, barely taking five seconds until he’s jumping in front of you.

“That was fun.” He puffs, patting his trousers lightly.

“So, how are we finding the tree?” You ask, taking a quick glance to where his hands brush on the fabric of his trousers. “Should we read the clue again?”

“I know which one he’s talking about,” Harry says, nodding to the left before beginning his stride in that direction. You follow him, trusting his words as the two of you turn the corner where Evan’s house is located. 

The street in question is much calmer than the one you were just in, with no cars coming or going from the residences — that stand much closer to one another, you notice, giving the whole street more of a narrow feeling to it --, which is not exactly odd, but certainly is a contrast with the main street that Evan’s home faces, that one being more lively with people either coming home or leaving it to enjoy their Friday night. The sudden lack of background noise makes the walk to your destination a tad awkward, as none of you make an effort to strike a conversation. Instead, you resort to silently observing the surrounding area as you walk alongside Harry, noticing how the trees here bend over the sidewalk, their naked branches slowly but surely growing back the leaves they lost months ago — it makes you wonder how beautiful this must look during the peak of springtime, their full branches blending together, making a ceiling of flowers.

“Here.” Harry stops abruptly, making you almost bump into his shoulder, as you were too busy with the scenery you’ve made in your own head. “‘S this one.”

“I thought it said the third one.” You frown, looking back and noticing the way you’ve passed way more than just three.

“This one is the third.” He says, motioning to a small birdhouse stuck to its trunk with a number ‘3’ painted to the front in blue. “It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Harry chuckles to himself. “Now I get why the bastard wanted me to have this card.”

You look closer at the tree, trying to see if there’s something attached to it besides the birdhouse, but there’s nothing. Before you can question it, Harry opens the front of the tiny house, retrieving two tiny bottles from inside of it, similar to the ones you found in the greenhouse.  “Oh, no.” You say, laughing. “Did he just put liquor inside a stranger’s birdhouse?”

Harry shakes his head, “This is not a stranger’s birdhouse.”

“Huh?” You frown, glancing back to the house where you stand in front of, its front completely dark, showing that no one must be at home. You point to it over your shoulder. “Do you know who lives here?”

“Yeah,” He starts, offering you one bottle. “I do.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, glancing back and forth from the house to the man standing in front of you, an amusing grin growing on his face. “You live here?” You ask, “This is your birdhouse?”

“It is, yeah. In fact, I was the one who built it.” He gives the birdhouse a small pat.

You can’t help but let your mouth hang open for a second. “That’s-” You pause, not sure which word to use. Impressive? Amazing? Hot? “That’s nice.”

Harry smiles, and the two of you stand there for a moment, admiring his work in silence. You suck your bottom lip in, keeping yourself from inquiring further. 

Being presented with how little you know about Harry only peaks at your curiosity at what had happened last year in your brief experience with him. When you were with him it felt as if you’d known him for months rather than weeks, but looking back at it now, you wonder if your infatuation fooled you into thinking the two of you were close. Maybe that’s why you were so upset at the premiere after all because all that did was prove to you how much you didn’t know him at all. No matter how many sleepless nights you spent together sharing bits of your lives, it wasn’t enough for you to get to know him.

It’s only when a car turns into the street that you break away from your thoughts, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “We should take this back to Evan’s.” You say. “I’m not sure how it would look from an outsider’s point of view to see us downing these tiny bottles in the middle of the street.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Should we read the last clue while we’re at it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

He reaches for the card inside his pocket, presenting it to you. “You do the honors this time.”

You take the card, brushing your thumb over the words before stopping for a second to read them out loud, “You’ll find your prize behind the words of buried legends.” You snort. “That’s so corny.”

“Words of buried legends,” Harry repeats, letting out a hum. “Bet he was feeling quite poetic when he wrote this one.”

“Maybe because it has to do with poems.” You peek at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow. “‘Words of buried legends’? like dead poets and stuff?” Upon reading it again to make sure, you mumble, “He really made this card especially for you, huh?”

“Makes sense.” Harry agrees before nudging you playfully with his arm. “Look at you with your literary mind!”

“Could’ve used some better wording but I’ll let it pass.” You giggle, shrugging as you hand him back the card. As you do so, you notice there’s something written on the other side. “What’s in the back?”

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

“In the back of the card, something’s written on it.” You nod towards his hand as he’s about to pocket the card again. 

Harry turns it around, reading it with a chuckle. “Ice breakers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Your mouth drops open in amusement. “Well? Go on, then. Break the ice.”

Harry makes a show of clearing his throat before reading the question as an announcement, “What celebrity do you think you could pull on your best day?”

“Is this the actual question?” You squint your eyes at him and he turns the card to allow you to read it as well. Surely, the same question reads right on top of it and, as you take a glance at the ones below it, they’re not that much better. You shake your head, “God, I have no idea.”

“I know mine.”

“You didn’t give a single thought on that one.” You say. “This should be good.”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Jennifer Aniston?” You stop on your tracks, raising your brows at him. “You know she was married to Brad Pitt, right?”

“Ouch.” Harry makes the theatrics of putting a hand on his heart, head falling dramatically to the side. “Right where it hurts.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad-looking, but he’s Brad Pitt.” You emphasize with a laugh, pushing him playfully as you keep walking. “Like he is the male beauty standard. Personified.”

The front of Evan’s feels more vivid than it was when you first walked in hours ago, the lights inside seeming lighter and the curtains having been pulled back, showing people wandering around on the inside. You walk past another pair crouched in front of the bushes that line next to the front gate that creaks as you open it.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s hear yours, then, sweetheart.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.” Your nose scrunches and your face grows hot, but you attempt to shake it off, stopping to think of the question. “Huh, on my best day? I think… I don’t know, maybe Drake?”

“Oh, no!” Harry’s hands cover his face as he shakes his head into them. “I feel like that’s the most basic answer anyone could ever give to this question.”

You gasp. “Did you just call me basic?”

Harry holds the front door open for you and, before he’s able to give you an answer, you bump right into Nia. She instantly blurts out your name, as if she’s been expecting you to appear. “I’ve been looking for you!” She says, sparing Harry a glance over your shoulder before pulling you slightly to the side. “Do you think we could talk for a second?”

“Sure.” You hold out the word, looking at Harry before focusing on your friend again. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing happened. Just—” Nia starts, locking your arms as she guides you back outside, pulling you to a corner a few steps away from the front door. “How are you? How's it going?”

“I’m fine. Why?” Your brows knit together at her interference and you wonder if it has anything to do with her conversation with Nate.

“I’m talking about-” She looks over her shoulder, clearly checking if anyone is listening in. Even after making sure that there’s no one there, she still lowers her voice. “When I saw he was your pair, I wanted to rescue you right away, but fucking Taylor pulled me with him and I didn’t get the chance.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Is it too awkward?” She keeps her inquiry, holding your hand close to her chest. “We could ask them to switch so we can do the rest together, I’m sure Evan’s too plastered to notice.”

“Nia, I-” You smile as you come to realize that she pulled you aside just to check if you’re uncomfortable, having witnessed first-hand your whines and cries over Harry last year. “It’s okay, really. It’s not that bad, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Nia blinks, taken aback. “I- What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reassure her with a squeeze on her hand. “We’re just chatting, it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay.” She nods and nods, before falling serious again. “But if anything happens you just have to scream for me and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay.” You say, pulling her for a brief hug. “Thanks, Ni.”

The two of you return inside just as Taylor brings up his brother’s hair sculpture collection that’s being exhibited at a local gallery — a subject you already have been the victim of hearing for about an hour during New Year’s and, by Harry’s face, he seems as helpless as you did back then. Nia doesn’t waste a second before pulling her pair away, “Let’s go, pal, those clues won’t solve themselves,” she shoots you a look over her shoulder, pushing Taylor towards the living room and you chuckle.

“He really is one of a kind, that man,” Harry says with a sigh before meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just lady talk.” You brush aside. “Let’s find those poets, shall we?”

“We shall.” Harry smiles, looking around for a second before guiding you down the hallway, turning just before entering the kitchen where a staircase. This is a way that — like the greenhouse — you’ve never been to. Still, Harry navigates so casually as if it were his own home and, to some degree, you suppose it is. You follow him up the first flight of steps, stopping just before turning into the next one where a door you never really noticed before stands. Harry rests his hand on the handle, turning to you before saying, “There’s an office hidden right here.”

You watch as he opens it, motioning for you to walk in first. And, indeed, the inside of it is an office, just a bit smaller than the living room on the opposite side of the house. Two bookcases that go from the floor to the ceiling mostly covered the wall, only leaving a single space in the middle for a dark wooden cabinet. In front of it, an L-shaped desk takes up the middle of the room, most of it is filled with files and paper stacks, as well as two computers lying asleep. For a moment, you just stand by the doorway, admiring this room you’ve never known of its existence, your eyes quickly sweeping through the bookshelves completely packed with dark cover books of all sorts. “Do you think this is where it could be?”

“Probably, yeah.” Harry nods, turning on the lights. “I don’t know where else he could have any poetry hidden.”

You move towards one bookshelf, the one closest to the door, reaching to brush your finger through the spines perfectly lined. “But look at the size of these, we’ll take forever to find anything in here.”

“Those big ones are mostly law books, I think,” Harry says, opening cabinets at the other side of the room, right next to where a white couch stands. He turns to look at you, “His sister’s a lawyer, this is her office.” Harry says, “But Evan’s got a corner right here where he keeps some of his stuff— like books of sorts. It’s the only place I could think of.”

You hum, not knowing exactly what to respond to this information.

“You can go through the ones on that side, it could be there as well.” Harry nods towards a cabinet right next to the door where you came from, and you nod.

The first two cabinets are of no luck, both being mostly filled with boxes full of children’s books and old toys — some of them mixed with more stacks of paper, but those, instead of having long texts, have drawings of all kinds from what you could gather in a glance, from child-like scribbles to actual sketches. You can hear Harry going through drawers on the other side of the room and, upon closing another empty cabinet, you peek at him, watching his broad back flexing under his shirt as he moves around. Averting your eyes as swiftly as you looked, it’s still enough to bring warmth to your cheeks.

Finally, you open the cabinet at the very bottom of the shelf. On the top, there are piles of DVDs, most being different variations of Barbie movies, but, right at the bottom, you find books. You don’t stop to check their genre at first, simply moving them away until you stumble upon a small box, the top of it marked with the word ‘prize’. “Found it!” You call back, taking the box away from the pile before setting the books back in place again. “Under Rupi Kaur? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s very alive.”

“Don’t tell Evan that,” Harry says as he crouches next to you, taking the box from your hands. Inside, there are, as expected, two tiny bottles like the ones you found before but, what calls both your attention, is a small bag of sweets lying in the middle. Harry takes it, “Oh, those are nice.”

He hands it to you and you open it, quickly shoving a jelly candy into your mouth before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So…” Harry starts, peeking over his shoulder, “Do you want to go back there?”

You glance at him, his eyes hovering above yours, lips twitching up just barely. “Uh… Maybe not right now.” You answer, “Unless you feel like sharing our Jellies with other people.”

Harry only laughs, shaking his head as he sits back and you do so too, right next to him. He reaches for his pocket, presenting another tiny bottle, the one you found inside his birdhouse, “We still got these.” 

“Right!” You fetch your own out of the pocket of your jacket.

Harry opens his, holding it up towards you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

Both of you down your drinks, the liquid tasting bitter, like medicine on your tongue, the only reminder of alcohol being the burn as it slides down your throat. You rest your head back on the cabinet behind you as the two of you fall into silence once more. A part of your mind is already beginning to swim around the space inside your head, and you decide to not take the last drink just yet, laying it next to your leg. Though you’ve only had the equivalent of two shots, you realize the long break you’ve had from drinking for the past couple of months -- which wasn’t exactly an intentional choice, but more like the result of your lack of free time -- is showing itself to have been enough to make you more of a lightweight. 

And even though the night so far has been strikingly surprising in terms of how comfortable you felt being around Harry again, it doesn’t mean the questions you’ve been carrying since last year have gotten any quieter. They’ve only gotten louder. More persistent, even. The curiosity you feel to know what happened is almost suffocating now. And you’d be damned if you let a drunken mind stop you from having this conversation.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only watching the back of his head bobbing along with the music -- still the piano -- that comes faintly from behind the closed door. Your lips part, feeling the question form right at the tip of your tongue, but not knowing how to voice the words. Will it be awkward? You think so, but what if it ruins the night? Tonight, that’s been so oddly refreshing. A night that only served to remind you how you became so infatuated with him in the first place.

But you know you won’t be able to let go of this ich inside your head unless you bring it up. And you want to, you do, but as you take too long to think of the right way to do so, Harry decides to break the silence, murmuring next to you, “That’s a good one.”

Your brows knit together, trying to make out any trace of familiarity within the song that’s playing, but you don't find any, which only leaves you even more confused.  “Do you like classical?”

“Love,” Harry says simply, his eyes closed as he moves his head with the piano keys. “Especially this one. One of the greatest works from one of the greatest contemporary composers: Billie Eilish.”

Your lips fall open, “Shut up. Is she playing this?”

Harry laughs, a full one, that brings a grin to poke at your lips. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, no. It’s a version of her song — listen in.” He points to his ear, nodding with the melody as he sings along, “So you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy.”

You shake your head incredulously, “Of course he’s playing classical versions of pop songs!” 

“Did you really think Evan had a taste for Chopin or Debussy?” Harry asks both dimples poking on his cheeks.

“I think at this point I’d believe anything you tell me about him.”

Both of you laugh, the air surrounding you light and warm, before falling quiet again. This time, however, you simply stare at each other for a beat. You watch his eyes, with their almost hypnotizing jade shade, glancing between your own. He rolls his lip between his teeth, nibbling at it. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the details on his face only feel like a reminder of your doubts. Like the nostalgia you feel with a bittersweet memory.

“Should we-“ You stop, the words falling from your lips before you can think about them. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You half expect Harry to frown, to play dumb, and question you the meaning behind your words. For a second, you even expect him to shake his head, to get up and leave the room. And, for some reason, you kinda want him to do so. To finally break the mask of the nice, sweet guy he’s been putting on all night and allow himself to play the role of cold prick you put him on for the past months. 

But he doesn’t do it. He only gives you a short smile. “I was thinking about how to bring it up.” Harry’s gaze falls to his lap for a beat as he scratches his nose. “We should, yeah.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him. This is it. The moment to ask what you’ve been waiting for for six months now. You decide not to think much anymore, allowing the question to roll freely, “I don’t really know how to word this better but- pardon my French- what the fuck happened?”

Harry chuckles, but not an amused one. It’s more of a dry, nervous laugh. “How cliche is it if I tell you I was really fucking stupid?”

“Pretty cliche.” You say, “But also pretty true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He looks up, eyes meeting yours again, his own softening upon seeing you. “I really am.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile a little, “But I think I deserve an explanation.”

“You do.” He speaks quietly before clearing his throat. For a second, he doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sharp breath, focusing on his fingers that play with the hem of his trousers. “I- Uhm- I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not very good at letting people down.”

“A bit, I guess.” You try to humor, but your tone doesn’t show it. You sound quiet, hurt.

He peeks up at you, and continues, “Jess- the girl you met at the premiere- she’s lovely and all, but- how do I say this- we were never really supposed to be together.” Harry sighs, “I didn’t like her like that.”

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

“A couple of months before we met- before Evan even mentioned the film project to me, one of my mates kept insisting that I should meet his sister.” He pauses, “That was Jess.”

“I figured.”

Harry nods, “As I said, she’s a lovely girl, really nice, but we just- didn’t click like that, you know?” You hum in agreement, ignoring a small twist in your stomach when he repeats the endearment term. “But I guess she really wanted to try it, and, for months, I just kept pushing and pushing, cause I thought maybe with time I could bring myself to feel the same way.” And then again, another humorless laugh, “But- spoiler alert- I couldn’t and I should’ve just told her that.”

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you decide against saying anything. It’s clear as you watch him explain that the entire situation for him felt more complicated than you’d ever considered. Not once did you think about the possibility of him being caught in a twist of his own decisions, and not once did you regard his feelings with the whole situation. In your bubble of gloominess, all you could think of was how he played you and used you for a bit before moving on to the next girl that fell for his sweet talk. 

Looking at him now, however, his head low and brows set on a permanent crease, lips frowning down, you can feel the internal conflict pooling out of his pores. You’re not sure if it’s exactly a look of remorse that he gives you, but it sure seems close to it.

Harry huffs in what feels like frustration as he keeps recalling the events, “But all my mates kept taking the piss, pushing me to ask her out and then, in the middle of it, I met you.” He finally smiles a bit, and you have to look down to hide the warmth that spreads on your cheeks, “And we-uh-” He shrugs, “I mean, we clicked, didn’t we?”

“I think so.” You say, just above a whisper.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, holding your gaze with his own. “And when I was with you I let myself forget about that, forget about the pressure to be with someone else, I guess.” His lips fall again, eyes meeting his lap, “But when we came back, there wasn’t much running away from it anymore. The night we got back I met that friend of mine and, I’m not sure if he said anything to Jess, but she asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“I said yes.” He repeats, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have, but I said yes.”

“So you just dated her? Even if you didn’t like her like that?” You say, trying to understand his thought process. Even if his words tug at your heartstrings -- which you try to not think about right now -- you still can’t help but feel a bit for the other girl.

“I thought I could- I don’t know, I thought with time maybe I could-” He stumbles around with his speech, before finally letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what was going through my head, to be honest. I was a prick.”

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.” 

You fall quiet, hoping he takes your silence as an agreement. When he doesn’t offer anything else, you speak up again, “Did it work, though?” He frowns, and you clarify, “Letting time force feelings into you?”

“I found very quickly how hard it is to develop feelings for someone when there’s someone else on your mind.” He says, and you bite back a smile that wants to spread on your lips.

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

“I know.” He agrees, “And I wish I could’ve realized that earlier, before even bringing you into this mess.” Harry reaches for your wrist, which lies on top of your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For that I really am sorry.”

“I know you are.” You reassure, turning your hand to find his, squeezing it back. “And what happened to Jess?”

“She was rightfully upset when I told her.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, moving the rings on your fingers around just slightly, and it’s almost enough to distract you from his voice. “We broke up a day after the premiere.”

“Ouch.”

“But it’s fine now, she’s got a boyfriend now who actually cares for her the way she deserves,” Harry says.

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

You look down at your hands locked in your lap, squeezing his one more time before letting it go with a sigh.  “You really made a big mess, huh?”

He chuckles, a guilty smile poking on his face, “I did.”

You nod, finally reaching for the tiny bottle left forgotten next to you, opening it. This time you only take a sip, but it’s still enough to end half of the liquid inside. You click your tongue, “I’m glad we talked, though.” You look up at Harry again, who’s already watching you, giving a small tap on his thigh. “It’s nice to have closure, you know? To give it a conclusion and wrap with a nice little bow.”

Harry rolls his lip inside his mouth, “Is this a conclusion, then?”

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

“I guess it could be.” He shrugs one shoulder, leaning closer to you just barely, eyes trained in yours. “But I’m hoping that, after today, maybe we could start over?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose at him as you shake your head. “Not a start over, no.” You poke his side, “You’re not getting away that easy.”

“You’re right.” He says, still not budging as he frowns his lips. “But I wish it didn’t have to be an ending as well.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nods, you can tell his eyes hold a shyness that wasn’t here a minute ago, but at the same time -- as paradoxically as it seems -- there’s a boldness as well, one you’re more familiar with. “Maybe we could chat again. This time with fewer ice breaker cards and more bags of sweets.”

You smile, rubbing your chin as you pretend to ponder about his suggestion. “That does sound very promising.”

“I really do think we clicked.” He drops his playful tone as if wanting to make sure you feel the sincerity behind his words. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“I know.” You say, “And I think so, too.”

His smirk grows, and he doesn’t offer anything else to say, but you can tell he’s holding something back. With the silence, you suddenly become too aware of the way your arms brush together, and how his knee bumps against yours. You notice how his eyes fall a bit from yours, so quickly you could’ve imagined it, but you choose to not think so. If you lean forward, you know he will too, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re not letting yourself make the first move.

Surely, you’re aware these thoughts are a direct result of the alcohol sweeping through your mind, testing how much of your pride you’re willing to ignore. There’s no questioning of the wall that you built all those months ago after walking out of this very house with this very man on your tail blurring out apologies. It still stands, tall and strong, and you're not letting sweet words mixed with a drink or two pull it down. Not that easily. But at this moment, looking at his stupidly beautiful face with his stupidly beautiful eyes so close to you, you feel like maybe you could peek through a window, or open up a door — just a creek, just to have a sample of what it would feel like if you were to pull it down.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asks again, this time more quietly, this time his question has a different implication than it did before.

You're quick to shake your head, voice quiet, “Not yet.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and you raise your brows, silently daring him to ask what he’s been holding. You see his hand moving from the corner of your eyes, but you don’t break your gaze from his, not even when you feel his fingertips moving so gently against your cheekbone, brushing your hair away from your face. Harry leans closer, again just barely, and again, you stay still, only smiling softly in encouragement. Now, you’re stuck in your own silent conversation; both seeking the same thing but not making the move to achieve it -- either for pride or apprehension. 

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Harry whispers finally, eyes moving down again, this time slowly, making sure that his intentions are clear.

“Do it, then.” You tease.

Harry breathes out a laugh, his hand caressing its way down to your jaw. He rubs his thumb against your cheek, a feathery touch, taking another second to look at you before pulling you in. Your eyes fall closed, as you focus on your senses, and allow yourself to peek from that window, or creek that door open just a bit, to have just this moment to remember when you first got lost in his touch. 

First, it’s the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid bow, making your hold your own breath in anticipation. Then, the tip of his nose, gentle against your own, and you can’t help but lean in a bit more when you feel the ghost of his lips on yours. But he pulls back, just so slightly, hoping to have you reach for him again. Except you don’t, knowing what he’s trying to do.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look him in the eye. “You don’t get to tease me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “That’s fair.”

This time, there’s no teasing. Still, he goes in just as slowly as he did the first time around, curving his lips around your bottom one so softly it almost makes you lean in again. His kiss is cloud-like in a way that makes you a bit dizzy and when he presses his lips harder, you have to refrain from letting out a dreamy sigh -- still too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip in a silent request, that you pull away completely.

It’s your turn to smirk now, licking your lips before announcing, “I think we should go back now.”

[edie-baby]

baby girls - chapter two | lando norris

Chapter Two: Perhaps

summary: What's the best way to tell the guy you like that you have a kid? Well, lying about it and making him think you're cheating isn't the best tactic, Mila's about to find that out the hard way.

word count: 1650

warnings: swearing, absentee father (the asshole ex has evolved)

last chapter

Dreaming of a perfect man while on a perfect vacation in the perfect scenery was, well, perfect. Until the dream ended, and Mila was forced back into reality by the wails of her daughter coming from the next room, the heartbreaking sound kicked Mila’s motherly instincts into high gear, her sleep-addled brain coming into a laser sharp focus within a split second.

“Hey baby girl, what’s going on?” Mila spoke, scooping Mahri into her arms with practiced ease. Mahri’s sobs quieted almost instantaneously, her tears still tracking down her face with a vengeance. Mila tried wiping the tears away, but they were replaced just as quickly.

“It’s okay, just breathe bubs. Whatever’s making you upset, we can fix. It’s all good.” Mila whispered, bouncing Mahri around the room as it had calmed her down when she was just a baby.

“I want Daddy.” Mahri cried, and Mila could have collapsed at the weight of the words the toddler had said. There was a large hole in both of their lives in the exact shape and size of Mahri’s father. Once high school sweethearts, now sworn enemies.

As much as Mila tried to block out all thoughts and feelings related to Mahri’s dad, she couldn’t blame the kid for missing a man Mila herself found missing sometimes. Matyas was Mila’s first love, her boyfriend since 8th grade, and her best friend since kindergarten. They had grown up side by side, acknowledging they had crushes on each other in their second year of high school, and having a baby together by the second last.

Matyas and Mila, contrary to most’s predictions, had stayed together through her pregnancy, and even for a while after Mahri was born. Matyas would bring all of Mila’s schoolwork home and help her work through assessments while she was pregnant, and once Mahri was born, they alternated taking days off school to babysit when members of their family couldn’t.

But something Mila had never admitted to others was that Matyas was an asshole, only kicking into higher gear once they had both finished school. Mila had an acceptance letter for university and a part time job lined up, whilst Matyas hadn’t even bothered looking, preferring to use the excuse of ‘I have a child’ to stop him from venturing into the adult world. Despite this, cooking, cleaning, and looking after the baby was Mila’s job, obviously because she was the woman, the mother.

When Mila finally decided to end her toxic relationship with her lifelong best friend, she was villainized for it. Her parents and friends blamed her for tearing her own family apart, whilst her older siblings were more than supportive, having accidentally witnessed Matyas’ less than desirable traits. Up until about six months ago, Matyas would visit regularly, taking Mahri for her swimming classes, and playing with her at the park, occasionally taking her for the day to save Mila some money on daycare.

However, much like any tale of a teenager, Matyas was single and lonely, and a barrier to being in a relationship was the fact that he had become a father at seventeen. It wasn’t exactly a big check mark next to his name, so when he had told Mila he needed to move on, find someone special, she didn’t anticipate that meant moving on from his daughter. Six months with no contact was the longest Mahri had ever gone without seeing her father, and it was the longest Mila had ever gone without seeing him. Mila didn’t have the heart to tell Mahri, who looked at Matyas as though he hung the stars, that her father wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Yet as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, Mahri’s cries for her dad became all the more heartbreaking.

“I know, baby girl. But he’s on holiday, remember? He’s having lots of fun in Limbo.” Mila lied, continuing to rock her daughter in her arms, heart feeling heavy as stone at the blatant lies she was forced to tell her daughter just because her ex-boyfriend was a coward.

“I want a new daddy.” Mahri whispered, giving up on keeping her head up, preferring to let it fall heavily onto her mum’s shoulder. Mila couldn’t help but chuckle silently, the unfiltered, mumbled by age, words that her daughter came out with sometimes were what kept Mila going. With a few more bounces, Mila was sure her daughter had fallen back into a deep slumber and moved to lay her back in the small bed, covered with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals.

Mahri’s words echoed in Mila’s head, and as she reached for her phone to send yet another unanswered text to Matyas, Lando’s face appeared on her screen, an incoming FaceTime call that was as daunting as it was exciting. Mila looked over her shoulder, listening for any movement from Mahri before she answered the call, setting her phone against the toaster on the kitchen counter as she began brewing some coffee. It was nearing five in the morning, and knowing she would be usually waking up in an hour and a half meant it was going to be a caffeine fueled day.

“Hey baby boy.” Mila spoke a moment after the call had connected, looking down at the phone to see Lando’s tired face, snuggled up in bed with a small smile on his face. His smile only growing when he heard the fond nickname fall from Mila’s lips.

“Hi love. Why are you making coffee? It’s so late.” Lando mumbled, squinting to get a better look at what Mila was doing in front of him. His eyes devoured her figure, a large tshirt covering the tops of her thighs, and from what he could see, or lack thereof, she wasn’t wearing pants.

“Actually, it’s early. It’s a bit past five at the moment.” Mila replied, giggling at the way Lando seemed entranced by the view of her bare skin, smiling fondly when he snapped out of the trance at the sound of her joy.

“What the fuck are you doing up so early?” Lando almost shrieked, the volume of it causing Mila to startle forward, pressing incessantly at the buttons on her phone to lower the sound, checking over her shoulder paranoid that the gorgeous Brit had woken her barely sleeping baby.

“Oh, sorry. Do you have someone over?” Lando mumbled, looking crestfallen as he recognised the anxious look on Mila’s face. He couldn’t have been so naive to think that a woman as gorgeous as her wouldn’t have company on a Friday night - Saturday morning for her - and it had been about four days since they had spoken, he should have known.

“Uh, kind of. But no, but yes. Fuck.” Mila cursed, trying to find the right way to tell Lando that, yes, indeed she was worried he had woken someone up, but no, it wasn’t the kind of someone he was thinking of. She watched as Lando gulped, his mind spiralling with images of Mila with someone else, and although he had seen it in Austria, it hurt to know that their week together hadn’t meant as much to her as it did him.

“That’s alright. I’ll, um, let you get back to that, I guess. I’m sorry I called.” Lando muttered, moving to end the call when Mila panicked, the thought of hurting the man she was falling in love with had overridden her fears of him freaking out over the fact that she came with a lot more baggage than initially thought.

“I’ll call you later, baby boy, I promise. I want to talk to you, now just isn’t really a good time. I’m sorry.” Mila’s voice was trembling, she could see Lando’s want to get out of the conversation and never speak to her again, and it was the very last thing she wanted.

“It’s fine, you have your own life. We’ll talk soon. Bye.” Lando finished, his voice curt and clipped, but Mila could very clearly see the hurt hidden beneath the thin veil. She felt a piece of her heart break at the sight, knowing she was not only lying to him, but also causing him pain whilst she did so made her question whether it was really worth it hiding the little ball of energy in the next room.

Before Mila could reply, the call cut out, and she was left staring at the photo of herself, Victoria, and the twitch quartet on her lockscreen, something she had changed to remind herself of the amazing week she spent with some new lifelong friends.

Mila unlocked her phone, desperate to get away from the look she and Lando gave each other, preferring to admire her home screen, a photo from hers and Mahri’s most recent adventure to the park, Mahri laughing her ass off at Mila, who was very scaredly looking at the flock of geese running toward them while she took the photo.

Of course she had to give birth to a sadist, and if she was honest, she’d take that over the obvious masochistic trait she had been born with. The conversation with Lando replayed in her mind a million times, part of her wondering why she couldn’t just own the fuck up and tell him she had a kid. It wasn’t like she was telling him she wanted kids with him, or that he already had a kid, fuck if he didn’t want to, she probably wouldn’t introduce him to Mahri for years.

Yes, Mahri was her number one priority, but she couldn’t live her entire life for her child. She was nineteen, a gorgeous woman, and she deserved to be loved. Perhaps she could live her life with her child, and perhaps with someone else too.

But after today? She wasn’t sure she’d get the chance to even try.

[outerbankspreferences]

I don’t know why you love me - Rafe Cameron

Word Count: 3080

WARNINGS: I went into a bit of detail with his drug problem. If that makes you uncomfortable it’s all italicized so you can skip that part and you shouldn’t be confused.

REQUEST:  Could you write an imagine where Rafe's long time girlfriend says that she sees herself marrying him to Sarah and Rafe overhears. He is super damaged thanks to Ward so he doesn't believe it really and starts to distance himself. A sweet ending please?

MASTERLIST

It was a Sunday afternoon in the Outer banks. Things had calmed down a lot. You were over at the Cameron household helping Sarah make decision on her engagement party. John B had finally popped the question to Sarah with your help. You helped him make sure the ring was the right size and helped narrow down spots. You were so happy for the two of them. You and Sarah had grown close over the years of dating Rafe. She was always there to support you when things got hard with his withdrawal in the beginning. She was your shoulder to cry on when you didn’t want to break in front of him. 

“Rose wants to know who were inviting. Apparently, she wants to have it at the country club.” Sarah sighed slamming her head down on the table. John B had just walked through the door. “Oh god, what did I just walk into.” He asked wondering if he should try and dip out.

 “Your fiancé is trying to narrow down the guest list. Who do you want to invite John B?” You ask him to look through the list you already started. It only had Sarah’s family and extended family. “If you don’t want to have it there Sarah you don’t have to. It’s your engagement party not hers.” You look at her.

 “I know but I don’t know where I want to have it, and we can’t wait to long.” She told you as John B came over rubbing her back trying to be comforting. “If you want to babe, we can look at some places tomorrow. Take your mind off the planning for a bit.” John B suggested trying to be helpful. Honestly, he knew nothing about planning a party and just left it up to you guys. If it were up to him, they would be partying on the beach like old times. “That’s a great idea, did you put the pool cover back on when you were done? I don’t want dad getting pissed again. I listened to him complain about it for like a week.” Sarah asked him. “I did not cover the pool, because your brother is still in there swimming and I didn’t want to drown him this time.” You all laugh. John B and Rafe’s friendship had always been rocky but has gotten better in the last couple of years. He even asked his permission to marry Sarah which you thought was adorable when Rafe told.

 Rafe was no longer swimming he got out of the pool and was putting the cover on it. He had started to collect the things from outside. You guys hung out there all the time because your apartment didn’t have a pool and the beaches were always crowded this time of year. He was walking towards the door when he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard his name.

 “I can’t wait to plan all this stuff with Rafe.” You say more to yourself but both Sarah and John B hearing you. “Did he propose to you?” Sarah almost yells out loud. “Say it louder Sarah, I don’t think they heard you across the street.” John B scolds her. “No, he hasn’t proposed. I wish he would though. After everything we’ve been through, I’m ready for the next part of our life. I just don’t want to freak him out.” You say gushing to Sarah all about the plans you wanted to have with Rafe.

 Rafe couldn’t believe this. He thought he was the luckiest man on earth when you agreed to go out with him. He was still recovering from his addiction, but you were there for him. You knew about his drug addiction, everyone on the island knew about it. You never brought it up to him though. You knew he would tell you when he was ready to let you into that part of him.

 ~FLASHBACK~

It wasn’t until Sarah called you one day saying that Rafe was in the hospital. You’d never driven faster in your life. When you got there, he was thrashing around screaming. You asked Ward what happened, and he told it that he must have gotten a bad cut of drugs. He had been clean for a while and you couldn’t understand what would cause him to relapse, as far as you knew things were going great, you guys just started talk about getting a place together.

 “I don’t understand what would cause him to relapse?” You ask looking at Ward. He shrugged his shoulders, it looked like he could careless about his son. “I don’t know, that’s what addicts to Y/N, they relapse. You should have thought about this before you started dating him. He’s not worth it. You’ve got so much going for you, don’t let him hold you back.” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Rafe was in danger and he didn’t even care. “He wouldn’t be damaged if it weren’t for you Ward. You broke him. All he ever wanted to do was make you proud. You pushed him to this. What kind of father pushes their son over the edge like this? He needs help because of you. I will not leave him the way you did, because where I come from you don’t give on family like that.” You tell him in front of everybody in the waiting room. You knew it wasn’t your place to say these things, but you were so upset. You tried to walk away when Ward grabbed your arm, “you don’t understand what its like Y/N, on this side of island we have a reputation to uphold.” You look him dead in the eyes. “Clearly you want the wrong reputation.”

 You sat by Rafe’s bed all night holding his hand. The nurses gave him some medications to calm him down and finally took the restraints off. He looked so peaceful sleeping, you wondered what he was dreaming of. The doctor had come in to talk to you about what happened. He explained everything that had happened and that they found traces of LSD in the coke he took. It was a new mix on the island, and if it had been a while since Rafe last used his body probably wasn’t used to it.

 Rafe finally woke up looking around, taking in his surroundings. That’s when he saw you in the chair next to him. You had a blanket covering you with a book in your lap. He couldn’t remember what happened. He only remembered the fight he got in with Ward. He just lost it. Ward was telling him that he wasn’t good enough for you. That Rafe needed to get his life together. He told him that he was holding you back, and you deserved more then a low life drug addict like him. He cursed himself for changing his emergency contact to you when he broke his arm last summer. He moved his hand, and it woke you up. You eyes flutter open adjusting to the brightness of the room. You smiled at him.

 “Hey handsome, how are you feeling?” Even after everything you just watched he was still the most handsome person ever. You were quiet waiting for his answer. “I have a headache, what happened?” He asked you. He was confused and groggy from the medications they gave him. His voice was hoarse from all the screaming. “You had a bad reaction to some drugs you took. They were laced with LSD, Sarah called me, and I got here as soon as I could. It was bad Rafe, you were scream and thrashing around, but it’s okay now. The doctors took care of you they gave you some meds to help counter act the drugs in your system.” You explained to him.

 Just then the doctor comes in. “Mr. Cameron, glad to see your back in order son, how are you feeling?” He looks through Rafe’s chart. “It’s just Rafe, Mr. Cameron is my father, and I feel tired, I have a headache too.” Rafe told the doctor you got up to leave, but he grabbed your hand. “I’m not going far love; I’m just giving you guys some privacy.” You put your hand on top of his. “I know, I just want you to stay please.” He looked at you with scared eyes. You couldn’t imagine how overwhelming this was on him. You sat back down, and the doctor continued talking. “I have looked into some rehabs on the mainland Rafe. You’re still young, you can turn this around. I have a friend who runs one for men your age. I can get you in if you want.” He looked at the both of you. Rafe looked at you as if looking for confirmation. “You need help Rafe, they can give you the help you need. I’ll help you as much as you want but I’m not a professional.” You tell him your honest opinion. You would support him with whatever he chose. “If I go to rehab when do I leave?” He asked the doctor. “I can get you on the ferry in the morning. The sooner the better. You’re normally there eight weeks but you can stay longer if you need.” The doctor looked at the two of you.

 Rafe agreed to go to rehab with your support. It was the longest eight weeks of your lives. You stayed in a hotel over on the island paid for by the Cameron’s to make sure you could be there for him. It broke you to watch him go through withdrawal. He was sick all the time, but the treatment center worked, and he got clean. You guys ended up getting an apartment together afterwards and Rafe kept up with his required therapy.

 Looking back on it, Rafe couldn’t believe you stayed with him. He didn’t know if anyone else would have. So, when he overheard you talking to Sarah about getting married to him, he couldn’t believe you. All those times Ward told him he wasn’t good enough for anyone he believed him. He figured you were just staying with until you found someone better.

 Rafe was distant the whole way home. He didn’t say much in the truck, but you just figured he was tired from being outside all day. When you guys got back to the apartment, he went straight to take a shower. You knock on the door, “Babe you want me to join, I could use a shower too, I smell like chlorine and it’s giving me headache.” When you go to turn the knob its locked. “I won’t be long Y/N, you can shower after me.” He responded through the door. You heard the shower running, it was weird he said that he loved showering with you. He always said he loved the intimacy of it.

 This behavior continued on and off for weeks leading up to the engagement party. Rafe was always making excuses that he busy, he was with Topper, he had something to do with his dad, Wheezie needed to be picked up. It got to the point that you guys only talked at night and even then, things were different. He would cuddle you, but it wasn’t the same. You thought maybe it was the engagement party, he hated getting together with extended family because his father always brought up the business.

 It was finally the night of the engagement party, it was going to be a nice dinner, and photos then back to the Cameron home for an after party. You had picked Rafe’s suit up from the dry cleaners along with your dress. You were wearing a simple form fitting dress. You didn’t want to outshine Sarah on what was supposed to be her night. You were finishing the last bit of your makeup hollering out to Rafe. “Alright babe, I’m all ready to go.” You walk out of the bathroom putting your earrings in. Rafe was sitting on the couch flipping through his phone. He looked up at you and normally he would tell you how beautiful you looked but he just stood up heading to the door.

 The drive was quiet, music playing softly in the background. Rafe didn’t look over at you once. It was making you insecure, did you wear the wrong thing? Did you go overboard? Was it the wrong suit? You guys made small conversation the rest of the way. When you got to the restaurant you sat next to Wheezie, and Rafe sat next to John B. They talked all night but Rafe didn’t say anything to you. When you tried to put your hand on his thigh, he moved it off. You didn’t understand what had gotten into him.

 The pictures didn’t go any better. They did some family ones and then just some of John B and Sarah you took that as your opportunity to pull Rafe a side and mention something. “Is everything okay Rafe?” You ask as soon as you guys are way from listening ears. He gave you a confused look. “Everything’s fine.” He replied not saying anything after. “Oh really because you’ve been distant for weeks. You’ve barely said two things to me all day, did I do something?” You ask concern lacing your voice. You looked in his eye searching for any kind of emotion. “Look can we not make this about us Y/N, its Sarah and John B’s night. We can talk about it later.” He snapped at you. He walked away not saying another thing about it.

 Once you guys got to the party you went your separate ways. You were talking to Kie and Sarah laughing about something they said. You looked around for Rafe and didn’t see him anywhere. “Where’s Rafe Y/N? I haven’t seen him all night.” Kie asked looking at you. You looked around, “your guess is as good as mine. He’s been distant the last couple of weeks, I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” You explain to the girls. They both agreed it was weird for him to be acting that way.

 The DJ started playing some slower songs. Kie went off with Pope dancing and Sarah left with John B. You scanned the room looking for Rafe. You feel someone’s hand on the small of your back and it causes you to jump. You turn around and it’s just him, “sorry didn’t mean to scare you.” He laughs a little. You lean into his touch. “That’s okay, are you enjoying yourself?” You ask him. “Yeah, it’s not that bad of a party.” It was the stupid small talk again.

 That’s when the DJ started playing your guys song. “Rafe it’s our song, let’s go dance to it.” You grab his hand pulling him out to the dance floor before he could protest. You wrapped his arms around your waist, yours going around his neck. He kept distance from you though. You had finally had it.

 “For Christ sakes Rafe, what is going on with you. You’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Did I do something? I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you not attracted to me anymore, is there someone else?” You start to ramble on. Rafe couldn’t believe you thought you were the problem. “It’s not you Y/N its me.” Rafe cut you off. “Well, that’s just great Rafe. Real cliché of you.” You said to him walking away. You walk onto the porch with him following. You prepared yourself for what you were about to hear.

 “Just tell me Rafe? Is there someone else?” You ask him looking down tears forming in your eyes. “What? No, there’s no one else.” He said to you nonchalantly. “Then what is it?” You ask, ready to break. Rafe took a deep breath. “I overheard you talking to Sarah. When you told her that you were ready for the next step. You told her you wanted to marry me, and I don’t know why. For the life of me, after everything I’ve put you through, I can’t understand why you love me. I don’t know why you want to throw your life away on a count of me.”

 He wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was looking out onto the water. Watching the moon bounce of the waves trying to calm himself. You walk up behind him placing a hand on his back. “I love you Rafe, that’s why I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” You turn his head so he’s looking at you. He had had to see you meant every word you were about to say.

 “I love that you remember my coffee order, even though I change it every week. I love that you make sure my shows are recorded when I forgot them. I love that bring me coffee when I’m working. I love the look in your eye when you just wake up in the morning. I love the sound of your voice when you tired and hung over. I love spending lazy days in bed with you. I love all these things and more. I’ve grown to love your faults, and your positives Rafe Cameron. And I’m sorry if I freaked you out with what I said to Sarah, but I’ve never loved someone like I love you. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. But then I look into your beautiful blue eyes and I’m not scared anymore, because I know when I have you, I can do anything.” You told him with tears in your eyes. He was almost crying too; he took you into a bone crushing hug. You guys stayed like that for while just swaying to the music softly playing the background.

 He finally pulled away you. Looking into his eyes you could tell he had cried a little. When he spoke, it was a whisper even though you were the only two out there. “I love you too Y/N. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t want anyone else.” He kissed you with all the passion he had in him. You kissed him back with just as much emotion. “Okay, but I want to elope because I can’t plan another party.” You tell him after pulling apart. He laughed looking at you, “Deal.”

TAG:  angelreyesgirl100

[s4ijoh]

the theory of love. matsukawa issei

MATSUKAWA ISSEI X GN! READER

GENRE: soulmate au; (implicit) college au; fluff; crack-ish?

WORD COUNT: 2.2k+

WARNINGS: (minor mention of) nudity

in which you have a beauty mark in each eyelid…

what an odd place to kiss someone for the first time.

you wonder. all different types of sweet yet awkward scenarios on how this meeting with your soulmate would play out begin to surface — more precisely, on how this first kiss with them would play out. out of all places...

why would they kiss your eyelids?

these are certainly not the answers you should be looking to answer during class, you reckon, yet, betrayed by your own inner voice who, against your own will decides to take the reins of your mind, you find yourself drifting away from reality and diving deep into your own head, swimming in thoughts of soulbound lovers and silly first kisses.

a giggle threatens to slip past your lips yet it dies in your throat before it has the chance to escape. it is hard to know when to stop the train of thought before it derails and, as always, the same old question comes back to haunt you.

what is taking them so long?

the question could be worse, you reckon, much worse. when you were just a child, barely old enough to understand the theory regarding love and soulmates, you remember hearing these frightening stories about people who were deemed loveless. they were bound to spend their entire lifetime wandering the face of earth in an infinite yet fruitless quest to find their other half. how cruel, you mused, for the universe to deprive someone of love.

you also recall, at the age of twelve, now old enough to decipher those were not just some bedtime tales, feeling terrified upon the realization that you could be one of the so called loveless ones. were you? although it’s not exactly one of your most treasured memories, it is still fairly vivid in the back of your head — your eyes urgently roaming every inch of skin on your body in a desperate attempt to dismiss that possibility, only for the answer to be mockingly hidden out of your sight.

for the longest time, your pitiful self dwelled on the reality that you weren’t worthy of love only for your faith to be restored when recently, whilst doing your make up, you found the two tiniest, barely perceptible dots laying on each of your eyelids, the symbol of hope itself adorning your skin — the evidence that you were not alone in this world and that some deity from above had blessed you with someone to share your love with.

although in retrospect, the scenario turned out to be a lot more optimistic than what you had first expected and for that you should be thrilled, with each passing day, the hollow in your chest grows darker as you have spent the last six years yearning for the day you’ll cross paths with your soulmate.

your heart longs for its missing piece and unfortunately there is no map to lead you to it.

what if you only meet them by the time you’re too old, too tired to have any love left to give?

it certainly gets lonely when you’re left dealing with the hole on your heart meanwhile everyone around you seems to have found their other half by now. just today, yet another girl in your friend group found her perfect match — or so she thinks, its easy to mistake some random boy for your soulmate when your beauty mark is located on your cheek.

at least you can rely on the fact that the placement of your beauty marks doesn’t leave much room for mistake, thats a given. maybe you weren’t that unfortunate, after all.

“movie night at my place tonight?” you tilt your head up to be met with issei’s figure towering over you. as you slowly bounce back to reality, you shift your eyes to the clock ticking on the wall. you figure you were too lost in thought to hear the lecturer call it a wrap.

“makki’s out of town so you can crash in his bed”

you met issei and takahiro at the beginning of this semester and it turned out that there was more to the two quiet laid back dudes who always sat in the back of the class than what first meets the eye. the chronic bored expressions they wear on their faces at all times are quite deceptive for they are anything but tedious and just happen to be quite easygoing and match your level of sarcasm. the three of you clicked almost instantly. movie nights on friday were a regular but a sleepover? now, that's a first.

(mainly because, besides the two beds on their shared room who were almost a size too small to fit their gigantic limbs, the next best surface on their apartment to sleep on would be the floor itself.)

“just admit that you’re afraid to sleep alone in your room, issei” you begin to gather your things but not without taking a peek at him through the corner of your eye to check the look of amusement growing on his face.

issei keeps his collected demeanor, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance while smiling down at you in a relaxed manner “if you start snoring the same way you always do halfway into a movie, it might actually be scarier to sleep in the same room with you”

you scoff at his merciless comeback although unamused. you knew better than to expect him to give in to your teasing remarks without a fight

“it’s always the guys who can’t even afford a couch who think they’re funny, huh?”

to be fair, you were aware they had just moved in together at the beginning of this semester and the house decor was still a work in progress.

he lets out a lighthearted laugh at your comeback, accepting his defeat and you follow suit, smiling brightly and softening your features “you’re lucky we don’t have one or else you’d be sleeping there tonight”

issei pats your head softly before he adjusts the strap of the backpack hanging off his shoulder and begins to walk away, turning on his heel when he is a few steps away from you, remembering he has to let you know the details for tonight.

when he turns his back on you and disappears into the distance a smile creeps its way into your lips almost instinctively. (what a lost cause. look at you so oblivious to how your heartbeat seems to echo a little louder inside your ribcage or how your heart rate seems to increase it’s tempo whenever you are around issei. you're not a naive little child anymore; you should’ve understood the theory of how love works by now.)

some days on campus are busier than others and you have learned it's easier to daydream your way through boring lectures and classes for time seems to go by faster yet there is no better way to unwind than to spend a friday night on the comfort of issei’s and makki’s tiny cozy apartment watching lame cartoon movies in the tiny screen of a computer. it’s part of your routine now and you find it's also easier to go through an intense week of work when you have these weekly movie sessions with them (him) to look forward to.

issei walks through the door and into the room, grabbing a blanket out of makki’s bed before taking a seat next to you on his bed so you can share the bowl of sweet and salty popcorn he just popped in the microwave. you notice his feet peeking from under the blanket at the end of the bed whereas he's busy searching for a movie to watch on the computer that’s sitting on his lap — you make a mental note to gift him a bigger blanket on christmas since it is just around the corner.

you manage to convince issei to watch the grinch “to get into the christmas spirit” however, as soon as he presses play, your thoughts start drifting away. it has recently come to your knowledge that issei, just like you, still hasn’t found his soulmate — although he seems to be handling the situation a lot more smoothly than you. ever since the day you became aware of it, there’s this question that has been persistently lingering in the back of your head yet you have been hesitating to ask. you are unsure whether it is too early in your friendship to put your nose into more intimate affairs but then you remember it’s just issei, the worst he could do would be to mock you for your nosiness.

“issei,” he hums in acknowledgment while munching on the small pile of popcorn on the palm of his hand with his eyes still glued to the screen. “where is your beauty mark?”

the inquisitive look on your face morphs into one of confusion when he takes a glance at you with mischief gleaming in his eyes. why is he smirking? he pauses the movie, tilting his head back to shove the handful of popcorn into his mouth and placing the computer on the mattress before he stands up, your frown only intensifying upon the sight of him undoing his belt.

“issei!” you exclaim through a fit of laughter at the realization that he just pulled his pants down to reveal his bare ass to your once expectant eyes, your expression contorting to one of terror as you screw your eyes wide shut at his inadequate (yet all too familiar) antics. and here you stood thinking you had predicted what the worst case scenario could possibly be.

the wicked chuckle that erupts from his chest echoes through the dark room and you can hear him fastening his belt back on signaling it is safe for you to stop hiding behind your hands (not before you sneak a peek through your fingers though, just to make sure.)

“my soulmate will have to kiss my ass so I know they’re the real deal” the bed dips as he slumps, in a slouchy manner, on the mattress next to you, taking a glance to notice your eyes widening when he hears the gasp of disbelief that escapes your lips following his words.

“its a joke. you would’ve known that if you had looked” he chuckles still talking in that nonchalant tone of his whilst putting the movie back on.

“yeah. i figured, asshole.” you try to play it cool, brushing off the sound of your heart palpitating furiously against your chest.

half way into the movie and a bowl of sweet and salty popcorn later, your head starts to feel heavy on issei’s shoulder. he glances down at you only for his suspicions to be proven right — you have fallen asleep; just like he knew you would. he takes notice of the way you scrunch up your face, wrinkles starting to form in the corner of your eyes as you force them shut. the brightness of the screen is probably bothering you.

whilst issei wouldn’t trade his sweet bed for the world, given your tired state (and clearly out of courtesy), he can’t find it in him to disturb you so he decides to let you crash in his bed, he will take makki’s for the night.

“‘m going to turn this off” he closes the computer shut while whispering the words in a weary voice as drowsiness has creeped it’s way into his system as well.

“mhm, night” you yawn weakly while lifting your head from his shoulder with your eyes still closed as you manage to give him a clumsy goodnight kiss that lands on his ear before you move to a lying position and pull the blankets over your body, falling into a quiet slumber almost instantly.

his eyes widen in surprise.

did you just kiss him?

during the span of your friendship, neither of you have been the affectionate type sticking to a few sporadic hugs, which were rare nonetheless, yet he is not opposed to this new display of affection. he figures you must get clingier when you’re tired and it might have slipped out of impulse. now that he notices, this is the first time he remembers you kissing him and there is this foreign feeling flaring in the pit of his stomach at the possibility you might kiss him again. he lifts his weight out of bed and suddenly he’s paralized staring at the empty wall ahead of him. wait...

did you just kiss him… on his ear?

the world stops. his feet, although hesitant, are moving on their own as he feels a sudden magnetic pull to you and finds himself gravitating towards your sleeping figure lying on his bed. he crouches down next to you, silently admiring your features with mellow eyes and although his heart is a bit unsteady in his chest, he is overtaken with an inexplicable sense of tranquility. his heart can rest now, you finally found him.

that night you could’ve sworn you felt his lips lingering on your eyelids.

[a/n]: ayooo, just to let you all know that i finally made a google docs where you can sign up for my general taglist (even tho i post like once every two months but its wtvrrrrr, its wtvrr)

the amount of times i started writing this fic and deleted everything just to start all over again because i hated every single word of it… I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING NICE FOR MATTSUN !!1!!!😡 but ngl it was kinda worth the time because im sorta proud of it!

this is the v v v first time im writing for him, hopefully the characterization isnt off… n hopefully you enjoy!!!! ;)))

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part One

Nessian Modern AU

Summary: Nesta Archeron isn't good with change. When her car breaks down in the middle of a storm and her sister sends one of her friends to pick her up, Nesta thinks there could be nothing worse than having to spend the night with a total stranger. Until she suddenly finds herself without an apartment. Despite only a night of knowing Nesta, Cassian is quick to offer her a room in his cabin free of charge, and Nesta, broke and without many social contacts, has no choice but to accept.

A/N: This fic is loosely inspired by @lady-therion 's fic Close Quarters. I couldn't stop thinking about Nesta and Cassian sitting in front of a fire, slowly getting to know each other, so this fic is a whole lot of that :) There's no strict plot structure to this so I'm not sure how long it's gonna be, but expect warm and fuzzy content in the beginning. Enjoy!

Masterlist

***

Cassian is in bed when he gets the text.

Feyre: hey i know it's late but i need you to do a huuuge favor for me

Feyre: i really hope you're not asleep yet

Cassian furrows his brows in concern, immediately thumbing back a text.

Cass: what's wrong?

Feyre takes a long minute to type back; wind howls and rain thrashes against his window while he waits. A long message finally appears.

Feyre: you know the shortcut through the woods off of main st? my sister's car broke down there and there's no 24/7 towing around. im all the way in velaris and won't be able to get there for another two hours, but i dont want her waiting in the woods in the middle of the night like murder bait. she's too proud to ask for help, but if you could go and pick her up that would mean a lot to me, please.

At the last sentence, Cassian immediately knows which sister Feyre is talking about. He glances out his window and curses under his breath. It's storming hell outside, and Nesta Archeron is sitting in a broken car in the middle of the woods somewhere.

He's already grabbed his keys and stuffed his feet into shoes when he realizes he never answered Feyre's text. He types out a short on my way and heads out the front door of the cabin, assaulted by rain and wind before he's even fully outside.

Cassian follows the location Feyre sends him, what should be a five minute drive taking almost fifteen in the storm.

Cassian has interacted with the oldest Archeron sister maybe twice in his three years of knowing Feyre. Once for an initial family meeting, where she gave a terse hello upon introduction to Cassian and his friends, before ignoring everybody for the rest of the dinner, and another time when he accidentally bumped into her as she was leaving Feyre's apartment. He remembers apologizing profusely, only to be given a weird look before she turned and left.

In summary, Cassian knows enough about Nesta to know that this won't be the most fun task he's ever been given. Still, he isn’t about to leave any woman rotting on the side of an empty road at this hour, in this weather.

There’s so much rain that he almost misses the car. His headlights catch on a lump of metal, and he slowly brings the truck to a stop. Throwing the gear in park, Cassian flips his hood over his head and runs out into the rain.

She’s already waiting for him when he reaches the car, standing in the freezing rain in nothing but a drenched sweater and jeans.

His first real words to Nesta Archeron come out surprisingly easy: “What the hell are you doing here?” he yells over the torrent.

“Making sure you could see me,” she shouts back. “You drive like a blind dog!”

Whatever Cassian says back gets lost in the rain, but soon he's ushering Nesta over to his truck and slamming the passenger door shut behind her. He returns to the driver's seat, Nesta audibly shuddering beside him.

He flips the air vents blowing hot air towards her. “You should’ve stayed in the car.”

Even soaked and freezing, Nesta summons up the energy to glare. “So you could run me over with your truck? No, thanks.”

“That’s an overreaction.”

Nesta doesn’t bother to reply. Silence fills the truck for a couple of minutes as Cassian tries to maneuver them out of the small backroad, carefully turning back for his cabin. There’s no way he can get Nesta back to her place tonight, and he suspects his phone notifications are already full of flash flood warnings.

Finally, he says, “I’m Cassian, by the way.”

Nesta looks at him like he’s stupid. “I know who you are.”

That takes him a little by surprise, but he only murmurs, “Okay, then.” He wonders how much Feyre told her sister about how this was going to go.

“We’re getting my car picked up first thing tomorrow,” Nesta says into the silence, “and Feyre will take me home so you don’t have to bother yourself.”

“It’s not a bother,” he responds a little too quickly. She only gives him another weird look, like she’s judging him to hell and back, and Cassian decides to quit speaking forever.

By the grace of some higher power, the drive back is faster than the drive to. The pounding of rain only gets heavier as Cassian pulls up to the house, until it becomes an unmistakable thunk. Nesta’s eyes shoot to the roof of the car. “What’s that,” she says sharply. Everything she says is sharp; he wonders if she does it consciously or not.

Another thunk hits the car, this time the windshield. Cassian sighs deeply at the ice assaulting the truck from all sides. “Hail,” he says, resigned with this whole night.

He and Nesta end up making another mad dash to the door, trying not to get hit by increasingly larger chunks of ice as they go. Nesta has a backpack that she holds close to her chest instead of using for protection from the hail, as if it’s a baby.

Once safely inside the cabin, she doesn’t let go of her grip on her bag as she looks around his home. “Nice place,” she breathes, eyeing the exposed wooden beams and towering glass windows. An iron-wrought chandelier lights up the main living area they’re in, lightning occasionally casting twisted shadows across the walls.

Cassian almost apologizes for it, before deciding that apologizing for having too nice of a house is one of those things that would earn him another weird look from Nesta. “Bathrooms are that way,” he says instead, pointing down the main hall. “I can get you some dry clothes…”

She’s already nodding sharply and heading for the bathroom, leaving Cassian to stand awkwardly in the entryway, soaked to the bone in the same sweats he was about to go to sleep in just an hour ago.

Upstairs, after changing into blissfully dry clothes, it takes Cassian a good five minutes to decide which of his shirts will work best for Nesta’s slim figure.

When he finally returns downstairs with sweats four times Nesta’s size, she snatches them out of his hands without a word and slams the bathroom door shut on his face. He stands there a moment longer, nods resolutely, and heads for the kitchen to whip up a hot beverage. Cassian has a feeling he won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

A couple of minutes later, Nesta appears in the kitchen doorway, looking hesitant and absolutely dwarfed in Cassian’s gray sweats. Somehow, she’s made the pants work, likely by rolling them up a hundred times.

Cassian’s eyes widen for a moment, realizing this is the longest look he’s gotten at Nesta since… well, since he first met her.

He remembers thinking she was stunning at that initial dinner at Feyre’s house all those years ago, but damn, he must have forgotten just how much. Because even messy and rumpled, Cassian can’t stop staring at her.

Nesta breaks the silence first. “Is that hot chocolate?” The hard edge has mostly left her voice, like the warm clothes have soothed her frayed nerves from the car ride.

“Um.” Cassian glances down at the steaming mug in his hands. “Yeah. You want some?” he offers before he can check himself.

Nesta further surprises him by nodding, tucking her sweater paws under her armpits. The position would look vulnerable and reserved on most people, but on her it’s just another fortification to her stiff demeanor. Cassian slides his mug over the marble island to her before starting on another drink for himself.

Feeling an urge to fill the silence while he works, Cassian babbles, “The guest rooms are upstairs. You can have your choice, but the master bedroom is mine, obviously.” He pours melted chocolate into a mug and grabs for cinnamon.

Nesta watches him move with her unnerving hawk eyes and nods slowly, taking careful sips from her mug. “I think I’m going to stay up and study for my midterms,” she finally responds. “You mind if I use your fancy living room?”

Cassian almost smiles at that. “The whole house is fancy,” he says. “But yeah, go for it.”

He’s surprised at how nice this feels. Not that having Feyre’s scary older sister over isn’t weird for him, but… having another presence in the cabin, especially at this late hour— it’s warm where Cassian’s nights are usually cold.

***

It’s past two in the morning when Nesta finally glances up from her laptop screen, eyes bleary and unable to take in another word of theoretical law. She’s rubbing her hands down her face when a sudden clap of thunder booms outside the cabin windows, making her nearly fall off the couch. “Christ,” she swears, unconsciously curling into herself.

“Scared of thunder?”

Nesta internalizes her surprise at the unexpected voice and glances up to see Cassian coming down the stairs, looking as awake as he did when he went to bed over an hour ago. Nesta becomes terribly aware of the state she’s in and has to fight to maintain her composure.

She peeled off Cassian’s oversized sweatpants as soon as he went upstairs, not having been able to take a step without almost tripping, and made up for the coldness of her bare legs by dragging the fur throw off the back of his leather couch and using it as a blanket.

“That's usually for decoration, you know.” Cassian gestures at the thick fur.

Embarrassment claws up her throat, for coming into this strange man’s house and taking his nice things and using them incorrectly. Her first instinct is to apologize, but the only thing she hates more than embarrassment is the word sorry. “I thought you were asleep,” she says instead.

Cassian only shakes his head as he takes a seat on the far end of the couch. “Sleep and I aren't friends tonight. I was thinking about watching a movie, but if you're still studying—”

Nesta quickly shuts her laptop, shaking her head. “I was just about to go upstairs,” she says, packing her things into her backpack. Despite the day she’s had and how heavy her eyelids are, she knows she won’t be able to sleep with the sporadic thunder still booming. She wants to ask Cassian if he has noise-canceling earplugs, but the last thing she wants is to inconvenience him further.

The fur throw slips off her as she stands, revealing her bare legs. She might be wearing the largest, least sexy sweater of all time, so she doesn’t know why she suddenly feels naked in front of Cassian. Risking a glance at the man himself, he only takes his eyes off the TV remote in his hand to say, “You can leave the pants behind if you don’t need them.”

Right. She neatly folded his sweats as soon as she took them off earlier, and now they sit patiently on the coffee table.

“It gets a little drafty at night,” Cassian adds, “but I stocked your room with blankets. It’s the second door on the left; I hope you don’t mind that I chose for you.”

Nesta distantly remembers him saying she could have her pick of bedroom. “I don’t care,” she says honestly. “But— thanks.” She clasps her bag to her chest and shuffles towards the stairs, only stopping at the foot of them when she remembers not to be rude. “Goodnight,” she calls out awkwardly, trying not to race up the stairs as she hears him say goodnight back.

Cassian’s cabin is without a doubt gorgeous, but Nesta still feels a little shock of surprise when she finds her designated room. Decked out with a four-poster bed and floor-to-ceiling windows, it’s nicer than any place Nesta’s ever stayed in before.

A bright flash of lightning fills the room, and Nesta’s shoulders immediately bunch up to her ears— the preparation doesn’t make the ensuing clap of thunder any less heart-thumping. Withholding a weary sigh, she moves to draw the thick curtains over the windows, hoping to add a barrier between herself and the storm. It’s going to be a long night.

***

The next morning, Nesta dials Feyre’s number for the third time, growing more irritated by the second. It’s eight a.m., but Feyre is supposed to be picking Nesta up before noon so she can take her car in and return home to her shitty basement apartment.

Finally, the line clicks. “Hello?” a groggy voice drawls over the phone.

“When are you coming?” Nesta demands.

“Uh, what?” Feyre still sounds like she’s waking up. Nesta could hiss.

“You promised you’d be here first thing today, Feyre. I can’t hang around at your friend’s place all day. I want to wear my own clothes and use my own toothbrush.”

“Oh, that,” Feyre says. “Listen, can you just have Cassian take you home?”

“Feyre—”

“I know you hate interacting with strangers, but he’s one of my best friends. It’s a two-hour drive up to the mountains, Nesta,” she speaks as if she’s trying to reason with a kindergartener.

Frustration boils up in Nesta, feelings that she’s in too much disbelief to put words to right now. Her jaw works, and all she ends up spitting is, “You promised.”

“You’re being dramatic. I’m going back to sleep now, call me when you get home safe.” Over the line, Nesta can hear mumbling— probably Feyre’s boyfriend waking up.

Nesta has to hang up before she says something she’ll be made to regret. Her fingers are bone-white around her phone, and she releases a restrained shriek before flinging her phone at the bed.

Still pissed but just a little mollified after the release of energy, Nesta takes a deep breath and heads downstairs to get breakfast.

Cassian is in the kitchen when she enters, sipping from a cup of coffee and watching another one brew in the coffee maker. His eyes are ringed with tired circles, proving he got about as much sleep as Nesta did the night before, but he seems content. She doesn’t miss his quick glance at her still-bare legs before his eyes flick up to her. “Good morning,” he offers with a quiet smile.

Nesta didn’t know Cassian was capable of such quietness— it’s a stark difference from how he is with Feyre and his friends, and maybe the nicest surprise she’s received since this shitty weekend began.

She cuts straight to it. “Feyre’s not coming,” she says, trying to gauge how he’ll react to this new inconvenience. “She told me to let you take me home.”

“I know,” is all Cassian says. His brow furrows when he sees her obvious disappointment. “She called me last night. Didn’t she tell you?”

Nesta’s hands curl under the long sleeves of Cassian’s sweatshirt, but she only shakes her head once. She’s distantly aware that she’s overreacting about a simple car ride, but nothing can take away her discomfort at asking favors from people she barely knows.

Not knowing how to continue the conversation, she says stiffly, “I want to wear my own clothes again.” Is that a good addition to the discussion? She genuinely can’t remember the last time she interacted with a man for non-work related purposes.

Cassian’s eyes light up and he sets down his coffee. “That reminds me, I put your clothes through the laundry this morning. They might still be warm from the dryer.”

Nesta wants to sag in relief at the first good news she’s gotten all morning. She follows Cassian’s directions to the laundry room and almost hugs her neatly folded clothes. While she changes into her clothes from the night before, she makes a list of today’s activities in her head:

1) Eat breakfast. Keep it quick and keep interactions with Cassian to a minimum, but don’t seem ungrateful.

2) Drive to her ancient rustbucket of a car. Make sure it’s okay after the hail and call the towing company.

3) Let Cassian drop her home.

4) Return to her room and not leave for a week.

Nesta sighs as her blue sweater settles around her frame. Only four tasks; it’s achievable enough.

Her first task is relatively easy. She wishes Cassian wouldn’t talk so much, because sometimes she doesn’t know what to say in return, but she also finds that she likes what she has to say. His opinion on the horror movie he watched last night doesn’t make her want to crawl out of the nearest window.

Cassian keeps breakfast short and gets them in the car by nine. It’s only after they’ve dialed a tow truck and Cassian kindly withholds judgment at Nesta’s faded blue lump of metal she calls a car that she gets the call.

It’s from her tenant, or rather, the nice elderly lady who lets Nesta live in her basement-turned-apartment.

“Lorene?” Nesta answers, confused.

“Oh, hun,” the woman answers, and from the sympathy in her voice, Nesta tenses up. “I headed downstairs this morning to check for mold and the rain...the whole basement’s flooded. There must have been a leak or something wrong with the entrance door, but I tried to grab as many of your things before I left.”

Nesta closes her eyes. Presses a forceful hand to her chest and tries to take calming breaths. “O-okay,” she says. “What does that mean, what do I do next?”

Cassian gives her a concerned look from where he leans against his truck. She ignores him.

“I’m getting the basement cleaned out and fixed as soon as I can, but the water damage looks pretty bad. The floors are probably gonna have to be replaced, and I don't know if insurance will cover this.”

She thinks of all her books and valuables in that apartment, taken out by the storm last night.

“You're going to have to find a new place to stay, hun. Most likely for a while.”

Nesta is on the verge of full-out panicking, but the last thing she needs is to have a breakdown in front of Feyre’s best friend. She clenches her fist so hard it hurts, and the bite of her nails takes away the sharp edge of her panic.

She breathes deep, but finally says, “I can do that.” She doesn't know if she can.

After a few more apologies from Lorene, Nesta finally hangs up, only to turn and brace her hands against the roof of her car.

“Everything alright?” Cassian asks slowly.

She needs a place to stay. Her mind works rapidly, going through the short, short list of people she might be able to ask for a bed to sleep on. Coming up empty, she moves on to the next option: motels.

Does she even have the money—?

“Nesta?” Cassian repeats. “What's going on?”

“I’m fine,” she says out loud, still not facing him. “I just need to break the bank a little and find a new place to stay, but it’ll be fine.”

“Find a new place to stay? What do you mean?” A light hand touches her elbow, and she whirls around in alarm. Cassian holds his hands up in placation. “Sorry, sorry,” he says.

Red-hot embarrassment creeps up Nesta’s cheeks. She’s losing it in front of this completely nice stranger—

She reins herself in, tries to remember things like common sense and social etiquette. “It’s okay,” she breathes out. “It’s really nothing. My apartment got flooded during the storm and I need to find a place to stay, and I’m upset, but I’ll get over it.” She nods resolutely, like the grown adult she is. Like she can afford to fix her car and pay for lodging at the same time.

Cassian considers her silently for a long moment, and Nesta thinks he must still be freaked out by her near-breakdown, when he finally says, “Well, you can always stay at my place.”

Her eyes might pop out of her head. “What? No. No.”

“Why not?” He turns hesitant. “Unless you have somewhere else to stay?”

Nesta’s silence is answer enough. She sees his gaze flip from questioning to determined and rushes to change his mind. “I won’t do that to you— I hate asking for favors and I hate making people go out of their way for me even more.” She sounds so forceful it comes off as harsh, which is all the better for convincing Cassian not to make her stay at his cabin.

“I have a feeling you hate a lot of things, Nesta.” He doesn’t back down. “You’re Feyre’s sister; the least I can offer you is free lodging.” After a moment, he adds, “Please.”

Nesta wants to laugh; he’s pleading with her to let her invade his home life. All because she’s Feyre’s sister. The reasoning leaves a bitter taste in her throat, but she doesn’t have the energy to argue with it. Not as the tow truck finally appears at the end of the road, driving up towards them. Cassian only looks at her. Decide now, he says silently.

Nesta exhales deeply through her nose. “Fine,” she grits. So much for getting through the day with her sanity unscathed.

***

Part Two

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla

[obae-me]

Hiii! May I please request headcanons of the brothers with a MC who has hydrophobia? Thanks sweetie 💖

I wanted to do a little bit of research into it before I even posted it, and I really hope I’m not getting Aquaphobia and Hydrophobia confused. This was something new for me so I’m sorry if it’s not the best. I hope this has enough of what you want, thank you so so much for submitting! 💜

Lucifer

He already knew this about MC, so he’d try to keep them away from large bodies of water as much as he could. Luckily in the Devildom there weren’t many. Not around RAD anyway. He knows about the large lake beside Diavolo’s castle, but there’s not too many times MC would be there.

The time did come eventually. Lucifer and MC had been invited to his castle to talk more about the program. Diavolo had taken them both outside since it seemed much more pleasant than his ‘stuffy castle’. Of course he had taken them both right near that open body of water. 

This would be the first time Lucifer got to see how serious this was. It was one thing to know about and another to see it in action. He was aware of MC right beside him, starting to tremble, their hands fidgeting. Their skin has lost some of its color.

MC had never looked like this in front of him before, not even when any of him or his brothers were in demon form. They had always been too brave for their own good, a trait he had both found annoying yet endearing. He put a supportive hand on their shoulder, and as soon as the conversation was over, he led them away from the lake.

“MC, MC, breathe. You’re right here with me.” 

He covered their shoulders with his coat and stayed with them until MC caught their breath. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. He’d have to take extra precautions to make sure they never looked like that again.

He’d ask MC to join him in his study when they got home so they could talk about it. He couldn’t make another careless mistake like this again, for their sake. 

Mammon

He is as clueless as always, but he never ever means to hurt MC intentionally. He just thought it would be fun to take them to the RAD swimming pool after hours. After all he had taken a dare earlier that day, and if he got away with it, he’d earn some serious cash. 

He read their body language as “I’m nervous to be here after hours, what if Lucifer find out” instead of “I’m terrified to be by this huge demon-sized pool” so he tries shoving them in for fun.

MC absolutely shrieked. They grabbed onto him with a death grip, shaking like a leaf about to be blown off a tree due to violent winds. So, in shorter words, intensely.

Mammon was stunned for the longest time, trying to come up with all sorts of answers in his head to why they screamed like that? Was it something he did? Did MC see something? Did they not know how to swim or something?

“Hey, hey, human it was just a joke, huh, I didn’t mean nothing by it.”

He held them close and led them outside, leaving his fun plans and money behind to take them home. He won’t soon be forgetting the piercing sound of the scream they made.

Once MC calmed down back in the House of Lamentation, they explained the ins and outs of their phobia to Mammon. Of all the things...he didn’t really think of the possibility that humans could be afraid of water.

“Dummy, why didn't you say that before?! Man now I do feel kinda like a scumbag.” 

Will become very protective now anytime too much water is involved, sticking by MC’s side constantly. Not like he doesn’t already do this already. 

Levi

He first noticed MC acting strange the first time they were in his room, and took strange steps to be as far away from his gigantic fish tank at all times. If they stayed in his room, they would make fervent glances over at it, looking more timid than usual. 

He didn’t think much of it, since MC was new and he knew nothing about normal demons much less normal humans. He noted it as quirky and forgot about it...till he tried taking MC to the beach. Their reaction was much more severe, not even getting anywhere near close to the water’s edge, almost being even to afraid to look at the vastness of it. 

When MC finally confided in him, he couldn’t help but feel as if this was somehow part of his fault. 

“Was it the gigantic sea monster I released?”

“It has nothing to do with you, Levi, I’ve had this fear for a long time.”

Levi loves water, he feels most home at it, he even sleeps in a bathtub for Diavolo’s sake. He’s always secretly waited to share that love with MC. If they’re scared though...he won’t force them. 

He’ll compare this to a scenario in a video game, just like MC has not been coded to swim. There will be some sort of barrier for them around water. This helps him understand this a bit easier. 

If MC is too uncomfortable to be around his fish tank, whenever he feels like it, he’ll bring his whole setup into their room. 

Satan

He made an educated guess that MC had this fear. He may or may not have been able to see some information about them by breaking into Lucifer’s study. Since it wasn’t often that MC came across too much water in the Devildom, he didn’t chalk it up to too big of an issue. 

He did however, reread one of his books containing all sorts of different phobias and fears, so he could at least try to be knowledgeable about it. 

One particular day, MC came home much too late. Apparently, they had made a point to take a much longer route home, just so they wouldn’t have to come across the dark and deep foreboding pond that was settled on one of the paths home.  

He admitted he may have underestimated how much of a problem this actually was.

He’ll give MC all sorts of different routes to take, ones that would do well to avoid any ponds or rivers. It was probably for the best anyway, this was the Devildom after all, and rarely were the waters free of anything that could potentially harm MC.  

He doesn’t really like water either, he’s not afraid of it like MC is, but he’ll stay away when he can. He feels more of a connection to MC because of this and will make sure he has a list of activities they both can enjoy together away on dry land.

If he feels like it’s impeding their life, he’ll try to help them overcome it.

Asmo

He was completely unaware until he got invited to a special After-RAD beach party. With MC as his plus-one, he dragged them out to mingle. 

MC doesn’t bother wearing a swimsuit, for obvious reasons, but he takes that clue in an entirely different direction. “Oh are you going to swim au-natural? So bold~”

He’s very in tune the body so he knows how it looks when it’s pleased, and how it looks when it’s distressed. 

So at the party he notices that MC’s chest is rising and falling much more than normal. Social jitters? He keeps a careful eye on them while he goes to town on the flirting. When he comes back around to MC, he sees more symptoms, the sweaty palms, the fluttering eyes, and their breathing is much more shallow now. 

Once he finds out he doesn’t stop smothering MC with attention. “Why didn’t you tell me dear? It’s okay, we don’t need the beach to have fun, we’ll leave right away, there will plenty of other parties. All the people here are lame anyway.” 

He’ll take MC back home to treat them to a spa night, something much more relaxing than that awful party. He’ll massage their shoulders, telling MC how tense they were after being there. “Poor sweet darling.” 

MC can have a spa day with Asmo whenever they want, it’s so much more fun than parties, if they were the one he was working on at least. 

Don’t worry because MC can be afraid of water all they want, but there are still plenty of ways to get wet~

Beel

He was told much later than he would’ve preferred. Having a phobia like this seemed like something MC would’ve shared with him almost immediately. He only figured it out after they shared it with him after he asked MC to watch him work out.

He wanted to change up his routine a bit, and decided to swim that day in the gym swimming pool. With MC there, he would be able to push himself further under their support. 

However, because he was so immersed in his workout, he didn’t realize MC was in the middle of a panic attack. He looked up from the water just in time to watch MC sprint out of the pool area obviously flustered. He followed them immediately, worried it was something he did. 

When he found them, they were gasping for air, tears streaking down their face. Beel wasted no time embracing them in a hug, petting their head and telling them to breathe in and out, to focus on his voice. 

Once MC could speak, they apologized, briefly explaining their fear to him. Had he known, Beel wouldn’t have even gotten them anywhere near the pool. 

He’ll fully support them, whether anyone says that their phobia is rational or not, it’s still something that terrifies them, and he doesn’t want them to feel like that ever, if he can help it. 

Belphie

He still doesn’t know a lot about MC, since...you know. He doesn’t expect MC to tell him anything either because...well...

Found it out firsthand when he invited MC out to one of his favorite napping spots. A nice little place apart from the Devildom danger. Under a lovely weeping tree right near a wide river. This spot was perfect since the rapids rushing by canceled out the normal sounds of everyday demon life. Except it didn’t drown out MC’s fear.

He had fallen asleep as soon as they got to their destination, meaning that he left MC alone to their panic. They felt alone, ridiculous, and by the time Belphie opened his eyes to check on them, they were already in a ball, shivering. 

The Demon of Sloth had hardly moved so fast to get to their side, giving them his special pillow to squeeze. When MC told him about it in choppy words, he let out a long sigh. He felt dumb. 

“Let’s get you home then, you look exhausted.” Those were the only words he said, but he made up for it in his actions. He never once let go of them on their walk back to the House of Lamentation. He let them sleep in his bed since it was state of the art, he claimed. 

MC never did discover that after they fell asleep, Belphie headed straight to Lucifer to chew him out for not telling him. Lucifer knew practically everything about MC, save for what Diavolo wouldn’t share. After he had said his piece, he went back to his shared bedroom to cuddle with them, making sure they were okay before he fell asleep this time. 

Gee, he hates how MC keeps him restless. 

[softinkshadows]

Shingeki no Kyojin Demon AU (Part 1) (x female reader)

You’re a young graduate working long hours at a bistro and doing food deliveries. Little did you expect your life to get entangled with the leading figures of the largest conglomerates in the world. Or a thousand-year-old demon clan war.

Part 1 / ?

---

“Tch,” Levi tuts in distaste as his gaze wanders across the empty pantry shelves. “There’s no tea, Erwin. You have a 50 million-dollar home, but no damn tea.” He shuts the sleek cabinet doors brusquely, giving a side-eye at the blond reclining on a lush sofa in the living room. Behind him, large down-to-floor Fleetwood doors open into an expansive backyard, where the soft lights of the infinity pool and the pool house stand out against the night sky and the rolling hills of Paradis beyond. 

“There’s no coffee either,” a loud voice calls from the corridor, “Just rows and rows of expensive alcohol. Talk about an upgrade... Ahhhh and I’m getting hungry too...” Levi turns to see Hange return from the wine cellar, looking equal parts fascinated and frustrated with the home. 

“Sorry about that. I only just moved in proper, so I only have the essentials - Miche, glad you could make it,” Erwin breaks of mid-sentence and nods to greet the brown-haired man entering the living room. 

“I saw off Nanaba with the rest outside. For a meeting this late at night... this must be something big, Erwin,��� Miche glances around the room, his body tense with concern.

“I’m afraid it is. We need to get used to more meetings like this. It seems they are moving again,” Erwin leans forward, tenting his fingers. Levi moves to sit on a nearby couch, his brows furrowed and arms crossed, clearly annoyed. “If we’re going to be up all night, we’re going to need tea.”

Hange sighs in acknowledgement, before running out onto the patio, yelling. “Moblit!! We need tea, coffee and decent hot food. Anything that can deliver at this hour, and fast!” As she rounds back into the house, the scurrying of footsteps and the softer response of “Ryoukai! (trans: Roger!)” is heard immediately.

---

“Change the channel will ya!” your uncle shouts from the kitchen as the blare of heavy metal rock screams from the old, wall-mounted television.

“Just a minute!” you yell back over the din, serving a customer’s plate of fish and chips before walking back to the bistro counter, scrambling for the remote. The screeching music stops as the screen switches to the standard Paradis News Channel, and you heave a sigh of relief. It is already close to midnight, and the bistro is occupied with only a handful of regulars who work the night shift nearby. But as the niece of Bruno’s Bistro, a cosy establishment and hidden gem of the Trost district, you had a reputation to uphold; there is no way you’d put your customers through that noise at this hour. 

A hand pushes a small plate of tacos towards you on the counter. “Supper,” says your uncle cheerily, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel round his neck, his eyes shining with quiet affection. He brings a second plate round for himself, tucking in straightaway, and you do the same. You know that even after all these years, he feels sorry. That he blames himself when you threw away the prospect of working a cushy, corporate job after graduation to help him run his bistro, toiling long hours till three in the morning every day. But you are happy to. It was your uncle Bruno who took you in as a child and looked after you since your parents’ untimely death many years ago. His wife had passed on earlier from an illness, and he was alone. So were you. And for the longest time, all you had was each other.  The main phone rings loudly from the kitchen, and Bruno walks over to answer it. You can’t make out the conversation, but you suppose it’s one of the bistro’s food suppliers.

“This is Ilse Langnar, and this is Paradis Nightly News. Today, Mitras Holdings announced a joint venture with SNK Group to develop the world’s largest shopping district in downtown of Paradis city. This marks Mitras’ third large scale project in Paradis, after the restoration of the Reiss chapel and the commissioning of a cutting-edge renewable energy plant in the eastern district. We hear more from its chairman on their string of successes -” You look up from your food at the flickering image on the television, as a stoic, charismatic man with blue eyes addresses a crowd of reporters on a podium. “What a different life,” you mutter to yourself, before turning your attention back to the tacos. The newscaster drones on. “In other news, Liberio Corp’s shares increased another 10% this week, cementing its standing as the most influential conglomerat-”

“Y/n!” Bruno’s voice interrupts suddenly, slamming the phone receiver down. “We got orders! Lots of them!”

“What? At this time?” You hurry and shove the last of the tacos into your mouth, wiping your hands of crumbs, before gathering your senses.

“We got half a dozen chicken and beef pastries each, 1 strong black, 1 mocha, 1 latte, 4 flat whites and 2 cups of our best tea. And it’s delivery,” recites Bruno. Your quick mind and experience from working through the busiest shifts already has you committing all the orders to memory and preparing the drinks on cue. Minutes later, you’re packing the orders neatly into the back of your motorbike, and strapping on your helmet.

You peer at the slip of paper with the delivery address scribbled over with Bruno’s messy handwriting.40 Ehrmich Drive... Damn. Isn’t that the wealthiest district in all of Paradis, just north of downtown? you wonder to yourself. Didn’t know rich people pulled all-nighters. Whoever was on the phone did promise to tip lavishly if you could deliver within the hour. Without hesitating, you step on the gas pedal.

You find yourself winding through the lanes of Ehrmich Drive, only passing by an intimidating front gate every two hundred meters or so. The houses here are huge. And so far apart that it is rather dark, save for the sporadic streetlights here and there. You come to a stop at a long steel gate, on the side of which the number 40 is engraved into the limestone wall. “Where’s the damn doorbell,” you mutter, looking around wildly but to no avail. You catch sight of some security cameras and wave to get its attention, but nothing happens. You groan. The person who called didn’t leave a contact number.  Here goes nothing, you think, resigning yourself to fate. You try the steel gate, and realize it slides open easily. So much for security. 

It’s a walk before you even reach the main house, a chic two-storeyed mansion sprawling across this vast acre of land. You are aware of your place when you catch sight of several luxury cars parked along the driveway, each looking more expensive than the last. You look back at your faded, worn sneakers on the gravel, feeling extremely out of place. Strangely, what appears to be a mammoth-sized glass front door doesn’t budge. Please just make my job easier, you grumble to yourself in frustration. Contemplating leaving the food on the hood of one of the cars, your turn back when you are drawn to sounds of distant conversation from around the patio. 

“In any case, the purebloods are moving in on Paradis,” you hear a familiar low, smooth voice. “They are certain that they’ll find what they’ve been looking for.”

Your mind whirls a little. Pureblood? What is that? Some kind of dog? 

Another deep voice chimes in. “Is this the reason for the venture with SNK? I thought we were supposed to be killing off -” Then silence. Killing?

Just as you are about to reach the corner, someone steps in front of you so fast you barely have any time to register. A man with cropped dark hair and even darker eyes blocks your way, dressed in a fitted black suit and a slightly unbuttoned white dress shirt. He’s a little shorter than you, but something about the intensity of his eyes, his stance with one hand resting on the wall and the other casually tucked into his pocket makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You feel your chest tighten, you mind blanking out as an indescribable fear washes over you -suddenly you’re thirteen again, running through the dark streets, breathless, desperate, running away from something - what? - and then cold, cold all over, feeling the shadows encroaching, creeping across your skin and reaching deep to clutch at your heart, squeezing the light out of you- You snap back to the present and feel yourself trembling, shrinking under his gaze. Your mouth runs dry and you struggle to form words, your feet frozen to the spot. Suddenly, the man takes a sharp intake of breath, his hand against the wall now balled into a fist, as if trying to maintain some semblance of control. His eyes narrow, scrutinising you.

“Who the fucking hell are-” he stops himself, glancing at the bag of drinks and food you’re holding. Then he yells, furious.  “Moblit!” 

Within seconds, a panicky-looking brunette appears from the side. “Take her through the front,” the black-haired man ordered.  You’re mindlessly ushered through the main door, which you realize is in fact unlocked. It seemed impossibly heavy earlier, yet the brunette in front of you swings it wide open with apparent ease. He leads you through the entry way into a informal dining area, passing by the living room along the way. You can feel a frightening atmosphere emanating from that direction, heightened by a pervasive and uncomfortable silence hanging throughout the house. Were you intruding upon something just now? You lift your gaze briefly, and what you see causes your back to stiffen, the hairs on your neck standing on end.  The shorter, dark-eyed man from moments ago leans against the open doorway leading out to the patio. On a couch nearby, a woman with dark brown ponytail and glasses looks over her shoulder, while next to her sits a man with light brown hair and emerald eyes. In the centre of the room, in a crisp blue dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sits a man whose presence seems to be the electrifying point around which everything else seems rotate. Blond hair and icy blue eyes. It takes a second for you to realize who he is. And another to realize they are all looking dead straight at you. The next few minutes are a haze. The suffocating, overwhelming sensation returns, and you avert your eyes and set the delivery down on the table before your legs give out. The man called Moblit quickly hands you a fifty, apologizing and thanking you at the same time, before he sees you off. You heart thuds wildly in your chest. You can’t think, and you only vaguely feel your limbs clumsily half-running, making their way back down the driveway, across the wide lawn, past the gate and back onto your bike. It’s only then that you finally catch a breath. You hastily step on the gas pedal and take off into the early hours of the morning, still feeling the sharp and penetrating gazes burning into your back all the way home.  ---- Notes: This is my first attempt at a long running narrative, after falling so deep with snk recently. The canon status of many characters break my heart, and I wanted to write them into a world where they aren’t dying or dead. Not sure where this chapter will lead, but I have some mechanics of the world thought out, with hopefully more demon/power smut things coming in the later chapters. Please bear with my trashy trashy writing

[headcanonthings]

Bakoda + Propsal

This is gonna be a bit long so buckle up!

This is tangentially connected to my Zukka Proposal post mostly using the same type of background to establish engagement practices

Background: the Southern Water Tribe doesn’t use betrothal necklaces after the start of the Hundred Year War; instead it becomes tradition to propose with a specially made item that can be used in everyday life ie Sokka uses a hand carved dagger/hunting knife to propose to Zuko

Hakoda and Bato have always been close and there were whispers about their relationship as there’s always been a current of will-they-won’t-they to their friendship but nothing really happens

It really falls away once Kya joins their village and it’s practically love at first sight between her and Hakoda

There’s a little jealousy on Bato’s side at first that is a mix of feeling like he’s losing his best friend and the love of his life but as he gets to know Kya and sees how happy the two are together he becomes genuinely happy and supportive of the relationship

Kya and Bato’s friendship really clicks into place where they find themselves commiserating over how they can love a guy who makes such terrible jokes

Bato is not the sit around and pine type so he does have a couple romantic relationships with others; Bato is a naturally guarded person and it can take a lot to get past his walls and many don’t want to put in the effort (a lot know about assume that he’ll never love them because of Hakoda so they barely try)

Bato’s longest romantic relationship ends up being a casual on-again-off-again relationship with another warrior who lost their true love to a fire nation raid; the two have an understanding where they recognize their not each other’s first choices but they still have their own kind of love and when they try they can be pretty happy and content together

Bato and his guy (let’s call him Yuka) are on again when Kya is killed and Hakoda falls into a deep depression; Yuka can see how it tears at Bato trying to decide where he needs to be so he sits Bato down and basically say “he needs you more than I do.”

Bato helps to lift Hakoda out of his grief and take some of the pressure off of Kanna by helping out with Sokka and Katara

Bato is pretty content to slip fully back into the right hand/best friend/Uncle Bato role and it doesn’t ever really cross his mind to ask for more

Hakoda throw a lot of his energy into taking care of the village and then taking care of his men while being active soldiers in the war so romantic relationships are literally the last thing on his mind

UNTIL Bato gets injured and he has to make the awful, gut wrenching, heart breaking decision to leave his best friend behind

As they sail away from the convent and Hakoda contemplates that he may never see Bato again it forces all the feelings he’s been unwittingly suppressing to the forefront and he promises himself that when, not id because he can’t lose him too, when he sees Bato again he’ll tell him that he’s in love with him

Surprisingly to Hakoda he actually follows through with that when Bato makes it to the rendezvous point and as they settle down from the impromptu celebration to welcome Bato back Hakoda confesses his love and Bato easily returns the confession

it might not be the best time to confess or try for something but they’re at war and a best time doesn’t really exist but they’ve been best friends forever and they both recognize that they’ve been walking a think line for literal decades and no one will really fault them with finding a little bit have happiness in the messed up world

Turning their platonic relationship into a romantic one is honestly barely noticeable to the others; maybe they sit just that little bit closer and their looks a little more lovesick but they’re careful to keep the PDA to a minimum one part because they want to keep a little separation/be professional and one part because Bato really isn’t the demonstrative type

They make it work all the way up to the Day of Black Sun and then they’re captured by the Fire Nation and it hurts so much more than the first time to be separated again

Then the twelve year old avatar and his gang of teenage friends, including Sokka and Katara, bring down the Fire Lord and basically end the war

Zuko becomes Fire Lord and like the first thing he does even before his official coronation is to release all POWS and have someone bring the Black Sun prisoners to the palace as his personal guests

As Hakoda watches this 17 year old boy get crowned the leader of his nation and declare that he will be working with the returned Avatar to bring peace it really settles in that Hakoda can actually think about his future and plan past tomorrow he realizes that everything he imagines doesn’t always include his kids (because he can already recognize that after all this it’ll be hard for them to stay at home when there’s so much they can still help with) but does always include Bato by his side)

He doesn’t propose right away as there’s a lot to take care of they both need to adjust to not being at war anymore and being back home but he does start to introduce the idea of full commitment and the possibility of marriage and they have a lot of long conversations about if and maybe when they’d be ready for it

A year or two post war Hokkaido feels they’re in a good place and while he’s seen how the tribe has started to accept some of the traditions the Northern Tribe has reintroduced he’s not a big fan of necklaces himself

He’s been raised without it, he’s been the Southern Chief for a long time, and he liked the idea of keeping their newer traditions because it’s a sign of how they adapted and survived

It takes a few months for him to figure out what to make for Bato before deciding that he would create a jar for Bato’s burn lotion/salve

Kanna helps him with creating the ceramic pot; getting it to the right shape and size and supervising as he creates the design

He very carefully etches in a design that speaks to moments in their lives; little wolf cubs to show their childhood together; a canoe & iceberg from when they went ice dodging having been apart of each other’s crew; larger boats set to resemble a fleet for their time at war; and finally their home newly built with the help of Katara and Sokka

He finishes the whole thing a few weeks before the Winter Solstice and with the Northern Tribe they have reintroduced the Glacier Spirits Festival and Hakoda wants to make this special for Bato

So after he gives his official closing night speech he drags Bato off to a private spot where they can see still see the lights and presents his gift already filled with the special fire nation recipe salve Bato likes (courtesy of Zuko) and asks Bato to Marry him

Bato doesn’t cry, he’s not the type, he laughs instead and quickly pulls out from his under his cloak a battle club

The bone has been carefully treated to shine bright white and instead of the traditional blue orb a dazzling green stone (undeniably imported from the Earth kingdom), the hilt is wrapped in leather that is dyed a light sky blue color Hakoda has always been fond of; instead of carved the design has been painted on, one side resembling the lush sun filled green forests that had been a common sight in the earth kingdom that had also continuously amazed them both the other side reflects their village as they had known it with the full moon shining bright above

“The one time I planned to make the first move and you still beat me to it”

“...Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Koda, that’s a yes!”

Hakoda definitely sheds some happy tears as he wraps his arms around his fiancé

[spartanguard]

untitled monster loving fic (1/?)

Summary: A mysterious event ten years ago left a number of people in Boston with unusual abilities and physical attributes...whether they like them or not. Killian Jones is one of them; so is Emma Swan. Are these things curses, or blessings? Will finding each other help them decide?

rated (eventual) M | 2.4k | AO3 coming at some point

A/N: So full credit for this idea goes to @thesschesthair and her ramblings on The Deep while watching The Boys. And since it’s spooky season, and monster f***ing is a thing, ideas started spinning and....this happened. I’m not sure where exactly it’s gonna go and ngl, I definitely borrowed a plot point from Static Shock, but...it’s here. (And there will eventually be some monster loving for real.)

The door rattled in the frame as Killian Jones slammed it shut; frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t shattered it, flimsy as it was. He’d probably do it yet one of these days, but not tonight—not when he was already making a beeline for the bathroom. He needed to get out of these stifling clothes once and for all.

Granted, all clothes did that to him, so this wasn’t a new occurrence, or born of any particular stress or lengthy day. He supposed he should be used to it after all these years, but not yet. 

He tossed his jacket...somewhere, probably the sagging sofa, on his way across the flat, and kicked his shoes off equally haphazardly. There was no door for him to open to get into the restroom, and muscle memory told him where the switch was, filling the tiny space with dingy light. Only three of the four sockets above the vanity worked, and he’d been meaning to replace another burnt out bulb for...well, months. But less light meant it was harder to see the cracks in the ancient tile.

The one nice thing—the only nice thing—about this place was the tub; he probably could have afforded a slightly (very slightly) nicer apartment, but they only had stall showers, and he needed the tub. The squeaky knobs and the thud in the pipes as hot water poured out the faucet were familiar sounds. 

He almost forgot to put the stopper in the drain, but managed to get it in there before losing too much; hot water was a precious commodity, considering the water heater was older than him. He wiped his hand dry on his threadbare jeans, wondering in passing why he bothered, but forgetting it.

Like he did every night, he took stock of himself in the age-spotted mirror. He supposed he was still what would be considered attractive, even if he mostly kept to himself nowadays. Dark hair, blue eyes, a bit of stubble; lean, muscular frame. The front he gave the world still looked like the man Milah fell in love with, before...everything. The shadows under his eyes and the weight of painful memories resting on his shoulders were more recent acquisitions, though.

His tshirt was mostly clean and in decent shape; like most of his clothes, he bought it second hand and it was a couple sizes too big. It had to be. He couldn’t stand the feel of anything touching his upper body—but at the same time, couldn’t be bare. Wouldn’t dare.

He wanted to tear it off, but first had to work off the mechanism that held his prosthetic left hand on. His fingers methodically knew what to do, even if the bit of webbing between them hindered his dexterity to some extent. Once it was off, he carefully set it on the counter—the only possession of his he treated with any sort of care—and then reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up over his head.

For the first time all day, he found relief, and was able to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes at the sensation of finally breathing freely—partly to revel in it, and partly to avoid looking in the mirror. But then another breath made him twinge, recalling the hit he took to his side while working on the docks earlier, and he had to inspect it. 

Sure enough, there was a bruise—right on top of one of his gills. 

No wonder it stung when he breathed.

God, but he hated to look at them—they perhaps weren’t as monstrous as they were right after the accident, but they were far from pretty. Deep slits arced on either side of his abdomen, the longest one sitting just above his waist and running parallel to his rib cage; subsequently smaller ones followed up his sides, ending just below his pecs. There were times he laughed at how well they framed his body hair, but those were few and far between. Scar tissue surrounded them from where the skin had healed when it first split, and he could feel the stiff skin move with every breath. It...fluttered, almost, rippling along with his muscles and lungs. 

He shuddered at the sight and turned away, continuing to strip until he was naked. The tub was full, so he shut off the flow and stepped in. He sighed again as he sank down into the warm water; it was a balm on his aching muscles. He sometimes wondered if that was another side effect—after the accident, after everything, they’d gotten a lot denser, it seemed, and he was certainly stronger, his muscles more defined. But it also meant that he was always tired, always sore, always in some sort of pain, and he only knew of two ways to deal with it. He didn’t have the cash for rum right now, so a hot bath would have to do.

Unnecessarily, he took another deep breath, and slipped below the surface of the water. His lungs quickly adapted to the change, and he was hyper aware of the constant movement coming from his gills as they worked. He exhaled and started to breathe normally—at least, as normally as was possible underwater.

He couldn’t drown, but maybe his demons could, just for a bit.

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

Emma Swan would never understand why the landlord kept locking the door to the roof; she’d just pick it again later. Besides, she was the only one that ever went up there, and unless the dude wanted to install a camera and evict her, she’d keep going. 

She had planned on taking a long, hot bath when she got home, but some asshole had used up all the hot water. It was probably just as well; she kind of didn’t feel like dealing with the inevitable mess. That’s why she had her dollar-store spray bottle, right?

It had been dumb of her not to bring it up here, though; she could already feel the itch forming between her shoulder blades, making her shift uncomfortably beneath her leather jacket. It was definitely time to get that off. (The July heat certainly didn’t help in that regard, but she could bear the discomfort; she could stand that easier than the alternative.)

She easily slipped off the red leather and let it fall on the cracked concrete of the roof, leaving her in a well-worn long-sleeved tee; it was the only way to make sure that puting the jacket on was as easy as taking it off. Plus, an extra layer helped keep things under wraps. Just one of the many things she’d learned about her situation in the last 10 years. 

(“Situation” seemed like the best term for it. Someone might call it a blessing; some might prefer curse. Honestly, it was more of an annoyance, so she figured it was best to use as neutral a term as possible.)

This was the part she both loved and hated: taking off her shirt. She knew it’d feel good to remove it, but it always hurt in motion. Oh well—like ripping off a bandaid. Quickly, trying to ignore the thousands of pricking and tugging points across her back and arms, she pulled it up over her head and let it fall on top of her jacket.

Now down to just a cami, she rolled her shoulders back and flapped her arms a few times. Yeah, flapped; what else was she supposed to call it when they were covered in feathers?

The biggest ones extended from her triceps and forearms, with smaller ones covering her skin from shoulder to wrist and between her shoulder blades. The tiniest ones blended in with her natural peach fuzz; the rest varied in size from a few inches to a couple feet and layered on top of each other like...well, like a bird’s wing.

She had wings, okay? But not like the kind you’d see on an angel in a Christmas pageant—freaking swan wings where she’d once had normal human arms. Even her hands vaguely resembled talons, but thankfully, it was easy to pass off her thick, dark nails as a really good gel manicure.

A few feathers drifted to the ground as she stretched, and she stared at them in annoyance, trying to determine if they were indicative of an oncoming molt or just incidental. She was incredibly close to catching a high-paying skip; she didn’t have time to be laid out with a molt for a week.

(Those were the weeks she did label it a curse. Last year, it had overlapped with her period. To make a long story short, she was now banned from ordering at the pizza place down the street due to some things she may have said to the teenaged delivery driver.)

She shook her arms again, watching in disdain as a few more feathers came loose, confirming her fears; damn. She did not need this right now. 

A breeze blew in from the harbor, ruffling her feathers. Some foreign bird instinct leaned into it, holding her arms out behind her to brace against it. For a minute, she let herself forget about everything—her finances, her schedule, her ever-present loneliness, the constant weight of whatever this was—and let her feathers float on the wind like they were meant to.

Fuck it. She needed to fly. 

Quickly, she undid her ponytail and threw her hair back up in a messy bun as she took long strides to the edge of the roof. There, she unlodged a loose brick, revealing a small hidden compartment below containing a white mask. It wasn’t anything fancy—the kind you could get from a party store any time of the year—but it did the job, so she slipped it on. It was best to hide your identity when you were one of the local cryptids, she figured.

(Maybe, one of these days, she’d meet another one; she somehow hadn’t in 10 years, but they had to be out there. They had to.)

Without any further hesitation, she stepped up onto the ledge, spread her arms wide, and jumped.

There was always a bit of fear that it wouldn’t work this time, that the pavement would meet her hollow bones and crush them—but then she caught an updraft and rode it up over the next building.

For at least a few hours, she could pretend to get away from everything, before the inevitable weight of her baggage brought her back down to the ground.

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

Ten years prior

The explosion came from nowhere. Not that most explosions ever gave warning, and if it was going to happen anywhere, a seemingly abandoned waterfront warehouse was as likely a place as any.

The official report said it was a gas explosion; that was true enough. 

Two fatalities were listed: the building owner, one Mr. Gold, who was inside when the blast hit; and his wife, Milah, who was just outside.

[She’d asked Killian to meet her there—he didn’t fully know why, but she’d asked, and he was at her beck and call. He didn’t care that she was married; he loved her, and she loved him.

She was scared; it was visible in her darting eyes and hunched-over position. But she immediately relaxed when he rounded the corner of the building and ran to him, immediately wrapping her arms around him.

Frantically, she started to say something about her husband—that he was inside, she was worried about him and her son, and she wanted to go somewhere—anywhere—when suddenly there was a deafening sound, a wall of heat, an acrid stench, and Killian was in the water, fire at the end of his left arm and in his lungs and Milah—where was she?

It took far too long to break the surface of the harbor, only to be greeted by a scene from a war film—and the undoubtable form of Milah’s lifeless body, under smoldering debris where the building had once stood.]

The number of casualties was unknown; only one person went to the hospital, due to losing their hand in the explosion. 

There were more people in the area, within the radius of the damage, but most fled as quickly as they could.

[Emma still wasn’t sure why Neal had wanted to wander down by the docks; most of his deals went down in other parts of town, but she didn’t think too hard on the change of venue. The salty brine of the ocean was and oddly refreshing scent, compared to the typical smog and gas of the parts of the city they usually haunted.

It was kind of romantic; they were walking hand in hand, snacking on the Pop-Tarts they’d just nabbed from the corner store. She’d had a pretty intense craving for them lately and he’d been all too happy to oblige.

They took a turn down what looked like a row of warehouses in varying amounts of use; he seemed to know where he was going so she followed, taking note when he was starting to slow. She was about to ask what they were doing, but then a deafening roar screamed from the building across the street, immediately drowning them in dust and debris, and something that smelled like gas, but also not?

It didn’t matter; they needed to get out of there. They immediately sprinted off in the direction they came, not stopping until they were sufficiently out of breath. They didn’t dare linger in case the police wanted to talk to them. No thanks.

But, ugh, she’d dropped her Pop-Tart.] 

The smell of the gas lingered—though it was only labeled as such because none of the experts could place it. It was more than natural gas, more of a chemical note to it—but it didn’t match any other known chemicals. Gas was easier to explain, so that’s what they went with.

Besides, that was the only thing that got hot enough to completely disintegrate human remains; what other reason was there to explain why they couldn’t find Mr. Gold’s body among the melted, charred remnants of the building?

The site was razed, but never rebuilt. But urban legend quickly grew to talk of a mysterious figure rising out of the shadows there, said to be his ghost.

(Or possibly something worse.)

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

thanks for reading! I know this is weird so let me know if you’d rather not be tagged: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa  @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @killian-whump @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​ @therealstartraveller776​

[jeonqukie]

OUT OF LOVE / 01.

SYNOPSIS / After leaving a toxic and gruesome relationship with your former partner, your best friend is there to help pick up the broken pieces.

FEATURING / Jeon Jungkook.

GENRES / Jungkook being the biggest gamer & best best friend ever, lots of angst and secret feelings, lots of fluff especially from our soft bunny, and eventual smut.

WARNINGS / This part may contain some pretty self-deprecating commentary and there will be mature language used throughout the series.

WORD COUNT / 2k.

NOTES / I was studying for my psych exam, but I figured writing a quick jk drabble was more important than trying to pass this class. Enjoy! Feedback is very much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

© All rights reserved to jeonqukie. All or portions of my work may not be reproduced, distributed, modified, or used in any way whatsoever without my permission.

It hurt so much.

It hurt him so much to see you like this.

It has been two months; two months of you crying to him about your idiot boyfriend. For two months, you and your boyfriend had been getting into many arguments about virtually anything. 

If Jungkook can recall correctly, last week, you got into an argument with Eunwoo because he totally forgot to pay the Internet company your monthly bill.

He remembers the way you stormed into his apartment with your laptop, angrily typing in your password as you throw your bag at his couch and you slip a pair of earbuds into your ears.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He initiated the conversation late that evening. His bottle of beer had been half full and he was on a group call with his friends on Discord, ready to play the Overwatch the entire evening playing. 

Instead of talking it out that evening, you mention how you needed a stable internet connection to turn in your paper before the deadline.

You were dead silent that evening.

Often times, he would be at his computer desk playing video games and he’d turn back around to check up on you. That evening, you had been furiously typing away on your computer with knitted brows. This time, he sees that you had made yourself comfortable on his bed underneath his blankets.

Winning the first round of his game, he cheers along with his friends through the voice call, but it comes to an abrupt end when he turns around to see you had fallen fast asleep on his bed. A very weak grin forms on his visage and his heart throbs hard agains his chest when he carefully pulls the cover further up your body and he examines the screen of your laptop. He sees you have successfully turned in your paper that evening and he shuts the computer off, setting it on the nightstand.

However, his heart shatters when you sniffle, cuddling into his fluffy pillows. Fresh tears spill out of your closed eyes and he is hesitant to wipe them away afraid he may wake you up — afraid he may disturb what little peace you were getting that evening, so he lets the tears fall on your cheeks.

He’ll wipe them away later, he thought.

However, this time was different.

You had been planning on breaking up with Eunwoo for quite a while now because you were fed up. You were very much aware of the toxicity of your relationship; you two were not good for each other at all. But you wanted to make sure you covered your bases.

Since you lived with your boyfriend, you knew you two would fight about the apartment, so you started looking into different apartments around the area. You had been saving up enough money for a deposit and emergency cases.

Ready to have the conversation wit him, he beats you to it a week early.

It stung when he broke up with you. But shouldn’t you have been happy? This is what you had been planning for the past two weeks. You were talking to many leasing managers to find a one bedroom unit and you were meeting with a manager the following morning to settle upon the necessary documents and deposit to secure your spot in the apartment.

So why were you so crushed when he broke up with you?

After some intense arguments back and forth, in one hour, you decide to stop. You two were not going to get into an agreement at whose fault was it, who was going to keep what, and who was right and who was wrong. You remembered very vividly how your ex-boyfriend announced he was tired and that he was going to bed.

Obviously not wanting to spend the night on the same bed as him and not wanting to spend the night on your couch, just the mere idea of being in the same space as him was something you didn’t want to endure.

Almost immediately, you searched for a bag and you packed yourself a pair of pajamas and an outfit for the following morning to meet with the leasing manager close by. All of your grooming and hygienic necessities all stuffed inside the bag, you wasted no time to head out of your former abode.

It wasn’t the biggest of surprise for Jungkook to see you knocking on his front door. However, it never failed to break his heart when he sees you with the puffiest and reddest of eyes. You clutched onto your bag as tears began flowing out of your glassy eyes and the way his eyes soften at your appearance, he invited you in.

But you practically body him when you drop your bag inside his own home and you swing your arms on his neck, searching for the comfort you desired — the comfort you needed. All you needed was a best friend’s hug.

So you wailed your heart’s content that evening while Jungkook carried you over to his living room couch. A series of insecurities come spilling out of your mouth. You were at your most vulnerable and you confessed that you hadn’t even broken up with him. Instead, he had been the one who sealed the deal.

Jungkook could feel the anger boil in his blood, but you were in so much pain and all he wanted to do was pick up all of your pieces and fix you. You were so weak and fragile, so vulnerable to all of the demons of the world and you didn’t deserve it.

After an hour of consoling you, you had fallen asleep on his arms and he carries you over to his bed. He lays you downs gently, pulling the soft covers on you and he offers you his pillow, hoping that you would cuddle into it while he goes grab your bag and clean up the living room. He looks inside the bag you had packed and sees your pajamas and he realizes that you are more likely uncomfortable in your jeans and t-shirt.

When he walks inside his room, he would hate to wake you up to change into a pair of pajamas. But he wants to make you as comfortable as possible — as serene as possible.

“YN,” Hushed whispers fill the room and you refuse to open your eyes. “I saw you brought some pajamas, did you want to change into them?”

You nodded with the smallest of pouts, so you decide to sit up from where you laid. He snatches the delicate pieces of clothing inside your bag; an over-sized t-shirt along with a pair of pajama shorts. “I’ll leave the room. Feel free to leave your clothes by the bed and I’ll wash ‘em up.”

Leaving the room momentarily, Jungkook fetches a tall glass of cold water. It should have given you enough time to change out of your clothes and as he knocks on his door, your small voice can be heard from the other side of the room implying you were decent enough for him.

You had folded your clothes at the end of the bed and you were already retaking yourself underneath Jungkook’s bed and he sits opposite of you only to offer you the glass of water.

“Drink this before you go to bed.” You remained seated up and you gulp down nearly half of the glass. You place the glass on his nightstand and you notice Jungkook grabbing a large blanket he has inside his closet and you suddenly feel conscious of your sudden overzealousness to make yourself comfortable at his own home.

“I can sleep on the couch, Jungkook-ah.” You already peel the comforters off of your body and he is already shaking his head.

“Take my bed.” He insists and you are just as stubborn as he is, so you get up from his bed and you are shaking your head, taking the blankets off of his arms.

“YN, you need proper sleep. You have been telling me you have not gotten any actual sleep the last two months and you deserve one good night’s sleep.” He looks at you sternly and you feel so small in comparison to him. However, you were not satisfied with his response. You still didn’t want him to sleep in his own living room when he had a bed big enough to sleep two people.

“Sleep next to me.” You say so boldly. Though you had been best friends with Jungkook for the longest time and there were times you have slept on the same bed together, you two have never made the conscious decision of sharing the same bed together. His stern appearance is decimated with complete fluster. “W — what I mean to say is that you have a bed big enough for two people and I promise I’m not a fussy sleeper. We’ll make a barrier or something.”

You are already setting up a barrier of the plethora of pillows Jungkook had on his bed, leaving the both of you with one pillow each. “You can take the comforters while I take this.” You are already clutching onto the extra blankets he had and you are making yourself comfortable in your side of his bed already.

“Alright, fine, but I’m only agreeing because I’m sure you’re deadbeat tired right now.” Jungkook sighs in defeat and he is walking towards his side of the bed. When you tuck yourself into bed, your eyes widen when you see Jungkook peeling the black t-shirt off of his torso and he reveals his slim waistline along with his tattooed biceps.

“Wh — whoa, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m… getting ready for bed?”

“You sleep shirtless?” You question him and he looks at you confusingly as to why it was such a taboo decision to make.

“You know I sleep shirtless.” You were left speechless as you stare at his muscular physique. However, you find yourself snapping back to reality and you nod once.

“Right, whatever.” You swallow hard and turn to the other side, facing away from him. When he sees the blush creeping on your cheeks, he smiles mischievously in response to you looking away from him and he turns the lights off on the lamp off of his nightstand.

He slips himself underneath the comforters and you feel the weight being shifted towards his side of the bed where he lays comfortably, his own body facing away from you. “Goodnight, YN.”

“Night, Jungkook-ah.” You yawn as you lay comfortably in silence and, for the first time in two months, you revel in the complete silence, finally getting some sleep.

When Jungkook hears your steady breathing, he finally finds his peace as well when he closes his eyes shut to hear your soft sighs leaving your mouth.

“Kookie,” The nickname leaves your lips and, in his half-conscious state, he hums lowly in response. “Thank you… for this.” A small sniffle echoes in the room and, suddenly, his eyes flutter open once more. “I’m so fucking hopeless, but I promise I’ll —“

In an instant, Jungkook shifts his body to face your back.

Fuck the barrier, he thinks to himself.

Eliminating the plethora of pillows in his way, he pulls your frame closer to his and he slithers his bare arms around your waist. “Stop.” He demands and he nuzzles his face into your hair as he clutches your crying body. “Stop thinking right now, okay? Fuck him. Fuck everything about him. You’re… perfect and you don’t deserve this, okay? If you want to cry, you can cry, but don’t ever think you’re hopeless.”

He feels your head nod up and down and you continue to sob once again. All your thoughts continue to cloud your mind, but thankfully, Jungkook spend the rest of the evening holding you close, reassuring you that you had done nothing wrong and no one in this world deserved this kind of treatment.

When your strangled sobs have come to a gradual halt, Jungkook doesn’t peel his arm off of your frame. Instead, he breathes a sigh of relief when he feels your body rise steadily and heave a deep exhale.

He chuckles at the sight of your leg involuntarily kick and soft snores begin echoing his room. Now, his eyes flutter close, relieved you have found your peace — a universe far from reality.

↪ Please stay tuned for the next part!

[utterlyinevitable]

Stuck

Part 1: Was It | Part 2: Decisions

Word Count: 3.1k Warning: angst, a few curse words, toxic relationship and slightly nsfw at the end.   Summary: Ethan and Becca have a lot to figure out. Just because she agreed to move in with him doesn’t mean she will or that their problems have magically vanished. 

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon and @aylamwrites​. I’m sorry in advance, it’s probably not what you were expecting 🙈 I hated writing this for the LONGEST time but now I’m kinda proud ? 

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Just because Becca accepted his cohabitation proposal doesn’t mean all their problems will simply vanish. 

Ethan Ramsey was never one to stick around - he never believed in love or running a mutually beneficial relationship past it’s course. Becca knew from the start he wasn’t going to be one to settle down and have that picket fenced family she’d always dreamed of. That didn’t stop her from wanting it and wishing he would change his mind as their relationship blossomed. She accepted their dissolution when she left that faithless evening, but three days later those piercing blue eyes brought her back in and locked the door behind them. 

Against all the reasons to go, she stayed. 

Rebecca Lao was moving into Ethan Ramsey’s bachelor pad. Even with the small disappointments every step of the way he never really let her down when it mattered. 

Rebecca Lao was moving into Ethan Ramsey’s bachelor pad. Even with the small disappointments every step of the way he never really let her down when it mattered. 

He always does what’s best for me. 

She moved most of her things into Ethan’s two bedroom luxury condo. The little detrimental voices in the back of her mind made sure to keep a fail-safe. Becca didn’t tell him she was holding onto her room until the end of contract in case things went south between them once more. If there ever was a day she needed a break she had four open arms waiting for her, and Ethan would be none the wiser. The distinguished diagnostician wasn’t asking her to share the bills, he was asking to share all facets of his life with her. And that at least made the charade easier. 

The first few weeks were going well. 

Then work got in the way. 

The couple fought like hell in the middle of his large glass office once all the other members of the team had left for the day. They tried to keep a modicum of civility but he yelled, she screamed, they both said things they shouldn’t have and she stormed off to her place without another word. Becca hadn’t gone back to the apartment they shared in Back Bay for two nights.  

This was a mistake, she thought. 

She should have known moving in together wouldn’t solve their problems. It was a bandage on the dam ready to burst open. This was it. This argument was the last straw. Ethan shattered any sort of illusion she had with a few poorly chosen words. He opened the door to his heart but left Becca waiting in the foyer. 

What was there to love about Ethan Ramsey? 

She ran over all the reasons to leave him behind again, and again and again: the vexatious fights, never growing family, work always coming first... But the good crept up on her - The looks, the reassuring talks, snuggling as they researched cases late into the evenings, the way he simultaneously calmed every muscle in her body and set every one of her nerves ablaze. All that she felt for the prudent man - loving him, hating him, wanting him - were all tangled together like a ball of twine. She couldn’t have the sweet moments without all the complications. 

She couldn’t have Ethan without utter heartbreak. 

Standing out front of the swanky apartment complex she let out a languid sigh. She left him. She got to be the one to run away, again. Now here she was. As if she was a puppy on a leash, no matter how far she ran she’d always be brought back to him. She was tied to Ethan Ramsey in more ways than one could fathom. 

I’m stuck with him… 

Becca wandered into his apartment mid-morning to grab a couple of things before heading to brunch with Bryce and Kyra. She didn’t expect Ethan to be home.

Ethan sat on his couch slouched over a few files, trying and failing to absorb its contents. He was still occupying the spot he’d found himself in when he realized Becca never returned home yesterday morning. Their fight was ingrained in his mind - he regretted every word falling spitefully out of his gob. How could he have called her a liability? She didn’t deserve his tirade. 

Though, he thought she was smart enough to separate demanding Dr. Ramsey from her Ethan. 

It was a mistake, he kept telling himself, as if that small prayer would admonish it all. 

Their professional relationship had seeped into their personal lives and the implications were all that Ethan feared from the start. It was disastrous. A promise of doing better - putting her first - all thrown away with a few hollow insults. 

Becca tried to shuffle in as quietly as possible but Ethan was astute. His head whipped around as soon as her keys scraped against the lock. His heart raced a bit quicker and the pit in his stomach eased knowing she’s home and safe. With the longest click of the door, Becca creeped into the naturally lit threshold on the tips of her sneaker-clad toes. Ethan watched with bated breaths and she closed the heavy wooden door behind her, he didn’t dare move. Her actions were speaking volumes. She rested her forehead against the door, briefly letting out a sigh. Becca was turning on her heels to continue her stealth mission until... 

Their eyes met. 

Becca jumped in surprise and a wave of guilt washed over her for letting them get this far. 

Ethan’s somber blues implored her. This time she didn’t look like a crying wreck with blood shot eyes, deep purple bags and loose fitting clothes. Becca was wearing high-waisted shorts with a grey t-shirt and white mary-jane sneakers, all subtly accentuating her womanly figure. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a tight bun, makeup expertly placed and her expression indifferent. She didn’t have any more tears to shed for their tumultuous relationship. 

His stare bore into her, keeping her in place at the threshold. She fidgeted with the keyring between her fingers. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This was supposed to be a quick in and out with a few necessities. They weren’t supposed to have this conversation yet. She had nothing prepared. 

Ethan sat there expectantly; his posture squared, waiting for her to make the first move. 

She bit the inside of her lip. Becca needed to say something to break the tension and make this iniquitous return less awkward. 

“Why aren’t you at work?” 

Without breaking eye-contact he recited, “I took some time off.” 

She folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at the piles of documents surrounding him, “Yet you’re still working.” 

He motioned around them. “Got all this time on my hands, might as well finish off some files.” 

“Right.” Becca shoved the keys deep into her back pocket and began taking a few leery steps forward. “I’m just gunna…” she trailed, pointing down the hall and fleeing to the bedroom. 

She disappeared so quickly Ethan had to blink a few times to digest their first interaction in days. It was nothing and yet her body language said everything. He chucked his files from his lap and carelessly onto the glass coffee table. He mimicked her swift and discreet footsteps all the way to their bedroom. 

Becca was quickly pulling clothes off hangers and discarding them into a bright pink gym bag as Ethan stood at the doorway with folded arms. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore. Please can we put this behind us,” he sighed.  

Becca knew he’d follow and demand an explanation, she just wasn’t ready for that. In truth, his angered words still stung deep to her core - he brought up things from her past which she thought they moved on from. How can you trust someone if they’re going to hold your past mistakes against you? 

“Can you?” she spat.  

“Rookie…” 

Becca refused to look at him. If she looked over at the doorway she’d see that his arms hung at his sides, his rigid shoulders sunk and his ocean eyes were the darkest shade she’d ever seen. 

“Go ahead, Ethan, call me immature and reckless and clueless again. Do it,” she spitefully challenged as she knelt down to shove the articles down into the small pocket.

“I didn’t mean it. You know that.” He began walking into the room. 

“Doesn’t mean you can still say it! You don’t realize how your words affect people.”  

Ethan made it halfway to her before the words stung him to a halt. His ears flushed red, the vein in his neck leapt to attention and the crease between his brows appeared, his blood started to boil much like it did the other night. “Your actions got us into this mess! Don’t you realize that? You need to take better care -” his fingers fatefully found the bridge of his nose. “Did you learn nothing from the Martinez case!?” 

“How dare you.” Her head whirled around to give him the most menacing gaze she could muster for a few lengthy seconds. With a huff, Becca zipped up the packed bag and got to her feet. 

“Where’re you going?” 

She brushed past him, “To my place.” 

“Your place? This is your place.” 

“I still have my apartment.” 

“Wh- Why?” He thought she was just crashing with friends, not that she actually kept her bedroom in a five person flatshare. Ethan couldn’t understand what that room had that he couldn’t easily provide. Not to mention there was more space here with him and she’d be saving money - what more did she need besides her own bathroom and someone to share the king-sized bed?   

“For this exact reason.” Becca was just on the other side of the bedroom doorway when the next words spilled vehemently off her tongue, “Maybe you were right. We’re not compatible, Ethan.” 

Her foot lifted to take another step. Ethan lunged to grab the back of her arm, forcing her to turn back to him. It was an impetuous move. This time he wasn’t being selfish or selfless. He was a man standing in front of a woman asking her to stay. 

He spun her around with all his might. They were just two footfalls away from one another. His calloused hand holding onto the flesh of her forearm for dear life. Becca kept her eyes trained on the floor, she could not acknowledge him. 

Ethan’s deep baritone voice was beseeching, “You may drive me insane but I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”  

Becca squeezed her eyes shut as Ethan’s words jostled her. In the faintest of whispers she exhaled, “I’m losing my mind, Ethan.” 

There in front of him was the woman he was meant to care for above all else. His best friend. His confidant. His destiny. Yet how did he regard her? Like an emotional yo-yo - pushing and pulling until there was no energy left to bring her back.   

His voice was soft and shameful, “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry isn’t enough anymore.”  

Delicately, Ethan’s free hand lifted her chin so he could view every telling feature on her expressive face. Her eyes were still closed showing creases in her gold eyeshadow and her matte nude lips pursed together. The foundation hid her freckles and he couldn’t tell if the pink on her cheeks was real or artificial blush. 

“I shouldn’t have said those things, I know.” He caressed the length of her cheek with the soft skin of the back of his fingers.  

He felt Becca tense under his hold. “This isn’t about that,” she shook her head just once.   

Ethan became statuesque in his shocked state. His fingers stayed at her jaw, his supple lips slightly agape and his grip on her unwavering.  

This is it. This is the conversation she didn’t want to have. How is she supposed to tell him?

Her face contorted; biting back the tears, biting her lip, and biding time before she gave the final blow. 

“It’s everything.” She choked out “You can’t give me what I want.” Her doleful orbs finally fluttered open.  

No amount of manifesting could change Ethan’s mind; he’s a stubborn mule set in his single-boxed ways. No amount of hope could bring her the peace she knew Ethan was incapable of giving. 

His fingers twitched against her, his eyes never breaking their fixed stare. “How do you know?” he asked firmly and incredulously “You’re young, there’s still tim-”  

“What’s next for us?” Becca blurted out, meeting his eyes. Her steely glare sent a nervous chill down his spine.

“I -“

“Marriage?” She questioned.

His mouth still hung open, no words or sounds escaping, giving Becca all the confirmation she needed. 

“Kids?” she continued her cross-examination.  

Silence. 

Becca let out a light, afflicted chuckle, “Exactly…”

She wiggled free from his grip and moved away from his disconcerted form, her back just shy from pressing against the hallway wall. 

“Becca-” Ethan grasped her hand mid-stride, keeping her in front of him. “We’re in this together - it’s just you and me. There is nothing I would rather do than give you the world.” 

His hands flew to her cheeks, forcing her to look at him as he crouched down to her level this time. Brown met blue, both pleading. 

“Whether you like it or not, Rebecca, you’re stuck with me. I refuse to lose you.” He knew what it felt like to have her walk out on him once and he was not going to be foolish enough for it to happen again. His heart trembled as his veins carried all of his regret, anguish, and a sliver of hope as he uttered the next words; “Please...stay with me.” 

His breath was warm on her skin. His words were intoxicating. Becca’s eyes flit shut at contact.  

“I…” She trailed. “I have plans.”

“Cancel them.” He replied definitively. 

Becca was about to say something, but he stopped her protest with the touch of his desperate lips to hers. 

Ethan moved his heady kisses from her lips, peppering them along her cheeks in a way he knew kept her from thinking straight, and his right hand found its rightful place massaging the muscle below her waist. “I love you,” he said as if those three words could absolve all their woes. His lips were just a hair away from her ear, begging, “Please let me make things better.”

And for tonight she let him mend their open wounds. 

Becca let him ravish her skin with his debilitating kisses. Every touch and desperate caress helped her forget every fear she ever had for them, all patched up with his warmth. Her bag fell to the floor. His left hand tangled itself in her hair, holding her sturdy by the back of her head. She became clouded in wonted lust. 

This...

Her arms frozen at her side - logic told her to leave. This was over. 

Her body and spirit kept her in place, accepting of all he was willing to give. 

Ethan’s lower hand burrowed under her shirt, hardened fingers danced over her skin before finding home at the small of her back. The tip of each finger cherished the little dimples at the base of her spine as Ethan’s tongue grazed her teeth asking entrance. Without a fraction of a thought she obliged.  

Was she kissing him back? Or was she just letting him put her out of her misery? 

Habitually, a few of her fingers traveled to knot his hair while the others went to leave a gauging bruise on his bicep as he nibbled her neck. 

“Ethan…” she barely breathed with sanctity. 

He pulled away just enough to take her in. His clouded, partially bloodshot orbs met her glassy dark brown. Both were about to fall apart at any moment. 

“I love you.” A single tear escaped her. 

Ethan kissed it away. 

She tilted her head to nudge him with her nose, beckoning his lips back to hers. They met and she knew. She knew she was kissing him back as if he was the sustaining oxygen her lungs craved - she had no life without Ethan. He was her everything and she his. They just needed to find the balance. 

They tore one another's clothes off there in the dimly lit hallway, discarding them without care. Their kiss was slow and wet, savoring. Tongues gliding. Hands roaming over their favorite spots. Ethan trailed his hands down her bare back in tandem, settling just below the curve of her bum. His lips followed the path down her front and Becca’s head lolled back against the cool wall. Just when she thought he’d touch her where she needed him most, he leaned to wrap his arms around her thighs, lifting her up to meet his height. A slight smirk graced Becca’s lips as she began leaving a trail of carnal pecks up and down his jawline before nipping on that sweet spot at his ear. 

Ethan let out a guttural moan.  

Their hearts rapidly beat in time as he carried them to the lonesome bed. He placed his love down with the utmost of care, climbing on top of her not long after. Their bodies found and appreciated each other once again; Trying to console and solve their problems with every move of devotion. 

 ***

Becca lay across Ethan’s bare chest post-rapture, her index finger keeping time with each beat of his heavy heart. He rubbed soothing nonsensical patterns along her clammy back. She was back in this bed - their bed, full of his love while his mind was consumed by her. The way she was hanging onto him gave Ethan foresight. He needed to do better. Two decades of piety to his craft was nothing compared to the dedication and adoration he held for the woman beside him. It was time to be a better man. 

With the midday sun shining through the open windows, he cut through their silence. “Might as well cancel our plans for this weekend.” 

Becca rotated to look up at him with furrowed brows. Her makeup was smeared and Ethan could finally see every crease and freckle of her expression; her natural beauty is what made her the most exquisite woman he had ever laid eyes on.  

“I could stay here forever,” he continued in his delicate tone as he tucked a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear, “Though Martha’s Vineyard is meant to be nice this time of year.” 

She leaned up to place a tender kiss to his cheek. “We got all that we need right here.”  

All the fights. All the uncertainty. All of it didn’t matter once she was cuddled in his impervious embrace. She would throw away everything just to stay in this feeling of infinite bliss a little longer.  

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