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soft-pine · 23 days ago

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Timeline of Every Anecdote from Dean's Childhood in Supernatural (Full Canon Only)

My other timeline includes stuff from some of the pseudo canonical materials. This one includes only things that happen or are mentioned in the show itself.

winc*sties this is still not for you!

Still super open to feedback and suggestions if I missed something.

Content notes: death, child abuse, alcohol

1983

Dean is 4

John & Mary used to call Dean their “little piglet” because he liked to eat so much. [13.21 (this is technically in a dream of Sam's)]

Mouse Trap is Dean's favorite game. [14.17]

Mary would feed Dean tomato-rice soup when he was sick. [5.13]

Mary would sing "Hey Jude" as a lullaby. [5.13]

Dean really likes Mary's meatloaf. He doesn't know she gets it from Piggly Wiggly. [12.02]

Between May and November John and Mary had a fight and John left home for a few days. [5.16]

November 2 - Mary Winchester dies, Sam is 6 months old. [1.01, 1.21]

Mary's uncle arranges a burial and headstone even though she doesn't have a body. [2.04]

Dean doesn't speak for a while after Mary dies. [1.03]

John Meets Missouri. [1.09]

John leaves a box of pictures in the basement of the house. [1.09]

1984

Dean is 5

1985

Dean is 6

John takes Dean out shooting for the first time, using bottles as target practice. According to Dean, he "bullseyed every one of them." Dean remembers this story as him being “6 or 7." Dean cites this story as one of the fonder memories of his father. [2.06 (date suggested by John's Journal)]

Rufus spent the whole year being nice. It was the worst year of his life. [7.10]

1986

Dean is 7

Dean starts having a crush on Daisy Duke. [11.13]

Bill Harvelle dies. [2.06, 2.14 (year suggested by John's Journal)]

John began the masked vampire case - looking into killings and kidnappings along Route 77. [15.20]

1987

Dean is 8

John takes Dean and Sam on a donkey ride at the Grand Canyon. Dean’s donkey farts a lot which Sam finds very funny. [8.21]

Dean has begun hunting. [11.08]

1988

Dean is 9

John is hunting a Shtriga in Wisconsin when he leaves Sam and Dean alone in a hotel room. Dean gets bored and goes out and comes back to find the Shtriga attacking Sammy but can't steady himself in time to fire at it. John comes back but can only scare the Shtriga off. [1.18]

They know Pastor Jim by this point. [1.18]

Dean: "You couldn't been more than 5— you just started asking questions. How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time? I remember I begged you, 'Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know.... I just wanted you to be a kid... Just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you... Keep you safe... Dad didn't even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job... I had one job...'" [2.22]

Dean and Sam (5) play dress up as Batman and Superman and jump of the roof of a shed. Sam breaks his arm and Dean takes him to the E.R. on the handlebars of his bike. [9.15 (mentioned again in 11.08)]

At some point before now Dean is given his first beer by Fred Jones in Salt Lake City. [8.08. He also apparently gives Sam his first beer too but it's unlikely it was this same time?]

1989

Dean is 10

“When I was 10, I got my first B&E from borrowing some family's pay-per-view so I could watch the cage match between you and the Tower of Power.” [11.15]

Bobby takes Dean to play catch instead of “practice with the double-barrel” as John had instructed Dean. In the flash back Rufus guesses the year is around 1989. “No, we didn't shoot rifles, as a matter of fact. We threw a ball around. He's a kid, John. They both are. They're entitled.... Yeah, I know I ain't their dad.” Bobby hangs up and throws the phone down. [7.10]

1980s General

(i.e. there isn't a specific date mentioned for this but I'm guessing from context that it happened in this decade)

Sam sticks army men into Baby's ashtray. [5.22]

Dean sticks Legos into the vents. [5.22]

Dean eating all of Sam's Halloween candy sometime. [12.11 & 14.04]

John taking them to see World of Wrestling. Sometime before Dean is ten. Dean calls it “one of the nicest things” John ever did. Sam remembers John getting drunk. [11.15] ("The Hangman": "He was Dad's favorite. Anytime that noose would come out, Dad would be on his feet. It was one of the few times I ever saw him actually happy.")

John takes Dean fishing. When Dean tells Jack, Jack feels from his tone that it's his happiest memory of John. [5]

Dean telling Sam a stupid joke to distract him from ripping off bandaids when he was little. [15.01]

The first beer John shared with Dean tasted like "crap". [15.20]

Sam's memory of Thanksgivings: “We had a bucket of extra-crispy and Dad passed out on the couch. [5.16]

Dean: "I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." [1.22]

Dean says he believed the TV ads about Sea Monkeys having families [5.06]

Dean mentions a babysitter, Mrs Chancy, who was obsessed with the TV show Dynasty [5.06], which ran until 1989 when Dean was ten. This could be a lie he's just telling a kid to get him to open up about his babysitter though.

"Alright, here we go. John Winchester's famous cure-all kitchen sink stew. There you go. Enough cayenne pepper in there to burn your lips off, just like Dad used to make." [8.21]

"You used to read to me, um, when I was little, I— I mean, really little, from that— from that old, uh... Classics Illustrated comic book. You remember that? ... Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and— and light streaming over his face..." [8.21]

“You used to take us hunting. Remember? Dad had a case, he'd just dump us on you. Shoot, you must have taught us most of the outdoor tracking we know.” Bobby: “Yeah, what I could get to stick. I never could get you little grubs to pull a trigger on a single deer.” Dean: “You’re talking about Bambi, man.” Bobby: “You don't shoot Bambi, jackass. You shoot Bambi's mother.” [7.09]

“Not young like I was when he actually taught me how to drive.” [15]

Dean says soft rock always put Sam to sleep. [7.16]

Dean talks about learning 101 different ways to make Mac 'n Cheese for Sam at a motel in Scranton while John was off hunting. "ketchup for spice, hmm? Uh, tuna, hot dogs, fluff marshmallow mix." [10.11]

1990

Dean is 11

January - John is injured on a hunt in Windom, Minnesota, and goes to the hospital, where he meets Kate Milligan. [4.19]

September 29 - Adam Milligan is born. [4.19]

At some point Dean makes a sawed off. He's in sixth grade. [3.03]

Dean tries burgers from a seaside shack in Delaware that become his favorite. [4.22]

1991

Dean is 12

December 25 - Sam and Dean are at a motel in Broken Bow, Nebraska while John hunts. Sam reads John's Journal and finds out that Mary's death was supernatural, monsters are real, and that John hunts them. He confronts Dean, who confirms it. Sam gives Dean an amulet. [3.08]

1992

Dean is 13

John buys a Playboy featuring Anna-Nicole Smith, eventually both boys end up reading it. [7.22]

June - Sam tells John he is afraid of the monster in his closet and John gives him a .45. [1.01]

Sam wants to go hunting with Dean. Dean says John said no. John calls to ask Sam to come. [11.08]

1993

Dean is 14

January – Motel Baba Yaga case. Dean says, “I was babysitting you when I was your age”. Sam says "I'm pretty sure that's illegal." Dean sees the nest, a pile of dead kids and has "nightmares about it for the longest time." [15.16]

1994

Dean is 15

Summer - Sam and Dean spend part of the summer being looked after by Donna, a babysitter (and maid at the Mayflower) in Housatonic, Massachusetts, while John hunts. At one pointJohn is gone for two weeks. It is the summer before Sam enters 6th grade, and he assigns himself a summer reading list. Dean possibly has a crush on Donna. [5.12]

October - They are living In Bismark (North Dakota?). Sam has a crush on Andrea Howell & has a really bad experience at her Halloween party, throwing up. Sam hides in the woods until Dean comes and gets him. [14.04]

Sam still believes in the Easter Bunny until close to here. [10.12]

1995

Dean is 16

Dean's first Werewolf. Sam doesn't go to the body burning. "So. I pick up this crossbow. And I hit that ugly sucker with a silver-tipped arrow right in his heart. Sammy's waiting in the car, and uh, me and my dad take the thing into the woods, burn it to a crisp. I'm sitting there and looking into the fire, and I'm thinking to myself, I'm sixteen years old. Most kids my age are worried about pimples, prom dates. I'm seeing things that they'll never even know. Never even dream of." [2.03]

Dean spends two months at Sonny's Home for Boys after being caught shoplifting. [9.07]

April 20 - Dean's award for New York Wrestling Champion. [9.07]

November 13 – Sam's soccer team won division championship. John keeps the trophy. [3.03]

Sam later talks about how John was upset with him for wanting to play soccer instead of learning bowhunting. [1.08]

November 24 - Sam has his first traditional Thanksgiving dinner at his crush Stephanie’s house. He has been attending a school called McKinley for two weeks. [5.16]

1996

Dean is 17

July 4 - Dean and Sam set off fireworks in a field and almost burn it down. [5.16]

At some point when Sam was 13 he ran away for two weeks while under Dean's watch in Flagstaff, Arizona, living off pizza in a cabin and befriending a dog he called Bones. Dean scoured the whole town looking for him and worried he might have died, and John was furious when he found out. [5.16]

1997

Dean is 18

When he's 13, Sam briefly wants to be a magician. [4.12]

Summer - The Winchesters hunt a werewolf. [4.13]

November - Sam and Dean attend Truman High in Fairfax, Indiana, for 3 or 4 weeks, while John is on a hunt that was originally supposed to be 2 weeks but ended up taking longer than expected. Dean is in 12th Grade. It is the third school they have attended since September. [4.13]

1998

Dean is 19

Sam is a mathlete. [4.04]

Summer - While John and Dean are off hunting a Kitsune, Sam stays in Lincoln, Nebraska, and does research for them. While there, he meets a girl and has his first kiss - only to discover that John and Dean's hunt has circled back on him. [7.03]

July - Dean goes on a solo "five states in five days" road trip, but ends up spending most of it in Cicero, Indiana, with Lisa Braeden. In the meantime, John & Sam "tie up a hunt" in Orlando, Florida. [3.02]

Dean meets Rhonda Hurley, she makes him try on her pink, satin panties and he likes it. [5.04]

At some point they spend time with Travis, the hunter. [4.04]

1999

Dean is 20

1990s General

Dean trying to cook Winchester Surprise on a hotplate with food (baloney and sliced cheese) that it seems Sam shoplifted in the rain. John gets home and throws it out. [14.11] In Lebanon John tells Sam he remembers this and apologizes to Sam for it. [14.13]

Sam and Dean visited the Cleveland Botanical Gardens on a field trip. [5.16]

Dean going to CBGB "way underage" and John coming to get him. [10.09]

Hunting the chupacabra in Mexico. Sam is an olderish teenager when he says this happened the year before. [11.10]

John making Dean be bait. [14.14 production draft. Corroborated by 1.20. Putting this in 1990s and not 1980s is very generous imo.]

Dean used to live on “Nerve Damage” (“10 times the legal limit of caffeine”) as a kid. [13.08]

Escalating prank wars? [1.17] Sam mentions a time Dean put superglue in his toothpaste [15.06]

Could be 80s too: Dean: “Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?” Sam: “You mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?” Dean: “Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great.” [3.08]

Sam performing in Our Town. [1.16]

Sam talks about having to make his own dinner as a kid. [5.06]

2000

Dean is 21

2001

Dean is 22

Sam smokes weed maybe. [11.19]

Pre-2002, 2000s General

Sam & Dean driving 1,000 miles for an Ozzy show. [5.22]

Driving two days for a Jayhawks game. [5.22]

John catches Lee and Dean 'wasted' on a hunt. [15.17]

John plays Dean and Lee “Good Ol Boys” before hunts. “Listen up boys this is real music. [15.17]

Sam used to try to get him & Dean to do 'honest work' rather than hustling pool. [5.22]

The Las Vegs annual trip. [7.08]

Sam ran tech for a production of Oklahoma. [10.05]

John gives Dean the Impala. [1.20] (John's Journal suggests this was on Dean's 18th birthday which would have been 1997.)

2002

Dean is 23

John gives Sam the "hunting is life; you can't have connections" speech. [4.19]

Sam says he's leaving hunting to go to Stanford University. John says if he leaves to stay gone. [1.01, 1.20]

September - Adam Milligan meets John Winchester. [4.19] (This could be any time from now til 2003 but I think it would be now because John will want to feel he can replace Sam or do something right.)

Post-2002, 2000s General

Dean sleeps with Annie. [7.19]

Dean sees Lee while Sam's in college. [15.17] Possibly the 'cult thing in Arizona' 'what that thing did to that family, those kids.' Because Lee does one more job after that in Texas and retires.

At some point Dean hunts a Vetala and learns they usually hunt in pairs. [7.11]

At some point Dean hunts a succubus with Richie. [3.04]

Poltergeist case in Kittanning, PA. [1.04]

John teaches Adam to drive using the Impala (this is after John gave Dean the car for his 18th). He also teaches Adam poker and pool. [4.19]

John "used to swing by Stanford whenever he could. Keep an eye on [Sam]. Make sure [Sam was] safe." [1.08] because he was worried Sam was "alone, vulnerable'' [1.20] and "he was afraid of what could've happened to you if he wasn't around." [1.08]

2003

Dean is 24

Dean dates Cassie Robinson. She breaks up with Dean after Dean tells her about hunting. [1.13] It lasts less than two months. [5.11]

June 21 - Dean is involved in a hunt for the father of Cole Trenton, in Nyack, NY. [10.02]

John gets taken from this year into the future in "Lebanon." He is sleeping in the Impala and Dean calls him and he tells him he'll be back soon. [14.13]

2004

Dean is 25

September 29 - John takes Adam to a ballgame for his 14th birthday. [4.19]

2005

Dean is 26, dude.

September 29 - John buys Adam a beer when he's 15. [4.19]

Roughly October 10 - John cuts off contact with Dean. [1.01]

October 31 – Dean comes to get Sam. [1.01]

Dean: "I must have stood outside your dorm for hours... because I didn't... I didn't know what... What you would say. I thought you'd tell me to... to get lost or get dead. And I don't know what I would've done... if I didn't have you. 'Cause I was so scared." [15.20]

General Comments

(i.e. just quotes and things that are too general to place at a specific time. i've sorted them roughly into themes but all of these themes are also present in incidents above.)

Dean says he's been wanting John and Mary back together since he was four. [14.13]

John's absence

Sam: "You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine." [1.01]

Dean mentions how John would dump him and Sam at Bobby's. [7.09]

Toni Bevell saying about John's drunken rages and weeks of abandonment. Also pointing out that Dean & Sam didn't tell Mary about it. [12.21]

Sam says John would be gone for weeks at a time and "he wasn't exactly a monk." [4.19]

Sam says John "was not around much." [11.05]

Sam talks about worrying when John & Dean would be out on a hunt and he wouldn't hear from them for days. He thought about what he would do. [11.18]

John's drinking

In the pilot Sam comments that John is likely missing because he's drinking. [1.01]

Sam comments that a dad bringing their kid to a wrestling match to distract them while he drinks seems familiar. [11.15]

See also 1980's general [1.22]

John spends Dean and Sam's college funds on ammo [1.20]

Hunting

John saying hunter gatherings were trouble and in general keeping Sam & Dean away from them. [2.03, 12.06]

Dean says he and John weren't using disguises for hunting. [1.09]

Sam saying it seemed to him Dean & John bonded over hunting. [12.20]

Dean learned to use CB radios to look for leads from truckers. John used them all the time. [13.11]

“I'm starting to get why parents lie to their kids. You want them to believe that the worst thing out there is mixing Pop Rocks and Coke—protect them from the real evil. You want them going to bed feeling safe. If that means lying to them, so be it. The more I think about it...the more I wish Dad had lied to us.” [5.06]

Gordon Walker meets John "Hell of a guy. Great hunter." [2.03]

John maintains connections with Caleb, Jefferson, and Pastor Jim. Caleb sometimes supplies him with munitions [1.11]

John hunts with and then has a falling out with Daniel Elkins [1.20]

John hunts with and hooks up with Tara but never calls her back. [9.11]

At some point, John and Bobby have a falling out and Bobby threatens to shoot John if he ever sees him again [1.21]

“Growing up on the road, no matter where Dad dragged us, no matter what we did, there was always a TV. And you know what was on that TV? Scooby and the gang.” [13.16]

Dean: “Ah well, growing up it was a… it was always nice to check out once in a while. I like to watch movies where I know the bad guy is going to lose.” [14.04]

The Hustler was John's favorite movie [15.11]

(for the record, I didn't sort and collate every comment about john or their childhoods here. i mostly tried to pick one which were a little bit more detailed rather than just general attitudes. but if you want to see all comments made about john throughout the show, click here)

#i've been meaning to do this version for so long!#spn info dump #spn fic resource #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #john winchester's a+ parenting #supernatural #spn

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sasheemo · 23 days ago

Text

Friday Thoughts

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sunday morning’s spicy haze gives way to a heartfelt conversation about your future together. But with Agatha’s signature flair, it’s anything but ordinary.

Chapter Tags: Jealous Reader, Domestic Bliss, Nicky is Basically a Tiny Wingman, Happy Ending, Fluff Ending, Slow(ish) Burn Payoff, Smut

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: Chapter 4 dropped on Christmas Eve, and now Chapter 5 is here New Year's Eve—what can I say, I aim for festive timing! 😬

I know I’m not the fastest writer, and I’m sooo sorry about that, but this final chapter had me second-guessing everything right up until the very end.

It was supposed to be short and sweet. No smut. No Rio cameos. Just a heartfelt conversation to wrap everything up neatly. But… well, apparently I can’t resist a little extra spice and some fluff. So instead of “short and sweet,” you’re getting “long and indulgent.” You’re welcome.

Oh, and fair warning—this chapter has a lot of dialogue. But I promise I did my best to make it… engaging wink wink 😏

This is my first-ever completed multi-chapter fic, and honestly? I’m a mix of proud and devastated to be saying goodbye to it. These two have been living rent-free in my head for a while now, and I really hope this ending does them justice.

Thank you to everyone who’s been along for this wild ride—it’s been a joy writing this story, and your support has meant everything. As always, I can’t wait to hear what you think! Here’s to the happy ending these two (and you, let’s be real) deserve. Enjoy and Happy New Year! 💜🥳

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

All you can hear is the relentless pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud drowning out your thoughts as you search for the words.

Agatha’s watching you, her gaze sharp but not unkind. Her hand rests lightly on your arm—a simple, grounding touch—but it might as well be a flame branding your skin, its warmth sending waves of tension rippling through you.

The weight of her presence, the intensity of her eyes, the way her touch seems to anchor you in place, it all builds to a point where you feel like you might snap. You take a step back, breaking the connection, though the movement is hesitant, almost reluctant.

Agatha lets her hand fall without protest, her brow lifting slightly in curiosity as she watches you retreat.

Your feet begin to move instinctively, pacing back and forth across the room as you try to untangle the storm of thoughts in your head. The soft sounds of your bare feet against the hardwood floor create a rhythm, something tangible to focus on as you walk a short line, turn, and walk it again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Agatha shifting her stance. She takes a couple of steps back and leans casually against the dresser, crossing her arms over her chest with an ease that contrasts maddeningly with your spiraling.

Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders, the soft light catching on its dark waves. Her expression is calm, almost amused, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips as she tracks your movements.

After a couple of minutes of incessant pacing, you don’t even need to look at her to know she’s probably fighting the urge to laugh. She sighs, low and exasperated, though there’s no real annoyance in it.

“Come here, hon.” her voice cuts through the fog in your mind like a blade, steady and commanding.

You freeze mid-step, glancing toward her, your pulse quickening at the simple authority in her tone.

Slowly, you approach, hesitant but unable to resist the pull of her presence. You stop just short of closing the distance, leaving a fragile sliver of space between you—a barrier you cling to, as much for your own composure as for a chance to steady the storm inside.

Every part of you aches to close the gap, but you hold back, convincing yourself that this small distance is the only way to face her with a clear mind.

Agatha doesn’t push, doesn’t reach for you. Instead, she stays where she is, leaning against the dresser, her eyes fixed on yours with piercing intensity. Her stillness feels intentional, as though she’s giving you space to breathe, to think, while still holding you firmly in her orbit.

“Well?” she prompts, her voice a velvety blend of calm and command. “Whatever’s got you pacing like a caged animal, it’s time to spit it out.”

You let out a sharp breath, your shoulders slumping slightly as the tension inside you finally breaks.

“Doesn’t this worry you?” you ask, your voice tight with nervous energy.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, hon.” she replies smoothly, her tone effortlessly confident. “What part of this is supposed to worry me?”

You gesture vaguely with your hands, the words tumbling out clumsily as you try to give shape to your thoughts. “I mean… all of it? Us. Nicholas. What if—what if this gets messy?”

Her smirk deepens, and she tilts her head, studying you with that maddening, amused expression, like she’s already figured you out and is just waiting for you to catch up.

“Messy?” she repeats, the word rolling off her tongue with a teasing lilt. “Sweetheart, the only thing messy about this is how you’re tying yourself into knots over it.”

“I’m serious, Agatha.” you scoff defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So am I, hon.” her voice sharpens slightly, firm but not harsh. “Look, I’m not saying there won’t be challenges. But whatever they are, they’re not anything two grown women can’t handle.”

“So… what exactly is it that’s worrying you?” she presses, her tone softening just a fraction.

Her question hangs in the air, and the weight of her gaze settles over you like a warm, steady pressure. You glance away, trying to collect yourself, before meeting her eyes again.

“It’s everything.” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just… I don’t know how this works. How we work.”

Agatha doesn’t respond. She just watches you, but there’s no rush in her gaze, no impatience—just a quiet expectation, as if she knows the words are there and trusts you to find them on your own.

Her unexpected steadiness makes something inside you loosen. For some reason, you thought Agatha might struggle with conversations like this—emotional topics, deep and vulnerable. It never seemed like her thing, at least in your mind.

But now, seeing her so composed, so unshaken by the storm you’ve brought to her, you realize that maybe she was expecting this, maybe she’s known this conversation was inevitable long before you did.

And somehow, her calm confidence makes it easier to breathe.

“I just…” you trail off, running a hand through your hair. “I need to know. When did this start? When did you start… feeling like this about me?”

Her brows lift slightly, and for a moment, genuine surprise flickers across her face. It vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“That’s a tough one to answer.” she begins, her voice carrying a thoughtful edge. “It wasn’t some grand epiphany. More like… a collection of little moments, each one adding up until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.”

There’s a faint trace of annoyance in her tone, not aimed at you but at the sheer audacity of the realization itself. Like the idea that you’ve been occupying so much space in her mind is a personal affront she’s still coming to terms with—and even now, it seems to bruise her pride just a little.

“Like what?” you press with quiet insistence, a thread of determination woven through the words.

Agatha tilts her head, her smirk softening as her gaze narrows, calculating. For a moment, she looks almost reluctant to speak, as if she’s weighing how much to tell you.

“You remember that afternoon a couple of months ago,” she starts, her tone deceptively casual. “when you showed up drenched from head to toe? It was pouring outside, and you still walked in here grinning like an idiot, dripping all over my floors.”

You blink, caught off guard by the memory. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I thought to myself,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting as if replaying the scene, “how does someone look that damn happy while freezing and soaking wet? And why the hell can’t I stop staring at her?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, your cheeks heating as your gaze darts away from hers. Instinctively, you feel the urge to take a step back, a reflexive retreat from the intensity of the moment.

But this time, Agatha reaches out, moving as though she’s read your mind.

She leans forward slightly, her hand grazing your wrist as her fingers curl lightly around it, tugging with just enough firmness to pull you a fraction closer to her.

“And then…” she continues, her voice gaining that teasing edge that always leaves you off-balance, “You’d leave those little treats from the café on the kitchen table. Like some saintly delivery girl, making sure Nicholas had something sweet after school and I had something waiting for me after work. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”

“I just thought—” you begin, stammering slightly, but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

“You thought I was too busy to notice, or that I didn’t care.” she says, her tone mockingly serious now, though her smirk never wavers.

Her fingers trail from your wrist to your hip as she speaks, and it takes a moment for you to realize you’ve unconsciously taken a step closer, the space between you narrowing with each passing second.

“And you,” she continues, her voice dipping lower, “always smelled like coffee after your morning shifts. That scent… it stuck with me. Sometimes I’d walk into the kitchen at night, hours after you left, and I could still smell it. God, I started to notice it everywhere. It drove me insane.”

Your breath catches at her words, and again as her other hand joins the first, both settling firmly on your hips. With a final, deliberate tug, she guides you into the space between her legs, her warmth radiating against you, drawing you into her orbit completely.

“And then there was last Friday night.” she breathes, her voice steeped in an intimacy that makes every word feel like a secret. “I came home and found you on the couch with Nicky curled up next to you. I stood there just staring at you both. I couldn’t stop thinking about how… safe he looked with you. How much he trusts you. How cute the two of you looked together like that.”

The weight of her words leaves you momentarily stunned, but before you can process them fully, a darker thought claws its way to the forefront of your mind.

“And the other Fridays?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

Her brow arches, and the sharpness in her expression returns, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes. “What about them?”

“You know what I mean.” you say, crossing your arms tightly, trying to shield yourself from the sudden vulnerability you feel. “All those nights you came home late, looking… like that.”

Agatha sighs, the sound low and laced with mock boredom, yet the gentle squeeze of her hands on your hips betrays her true feelings—anything but indifferent. It’s not real annoyance, more a carefully crafted exasperation tinged with amusement, as if, deep down, she’s savoring how your relentless, probing questions are playing perfectly into her hands.

“Most of them were business dinners.” she says, her voice firm and matter-of-fact. “Clients, potential partners. Necessary evils, nothing exciting.”

“But not all of them.” you press, your voice sharper now, frustration lacing your words.

“No.” she remarks dryly. “Not all of them.”

“How many were dates?” you demand, the jealousy you’ve been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface hot and fast despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

“Does it matter?” she counters smoothly, her tone cool but not dismissive.

“It does to me.” you snap before you can stop yourself.

“Fine, a few. But none of them were serious, hon.” she says, and you could swear her voice is playful, almost teasing, as if she can sense the jealousy burning you alive and is enjoying every second of it.

“Define ‘serious.’” you scoff, your hands coming up to push lightly against her shoulders, but she doesn’t budge an inch.

“One dinner.” she states with a shrug, her tone infuriatingly calm and offhand. “Maybe some fun at their place afterwards, but that’s it. It was never anything more.”

Her honesty stings, even if it’s what you wanted, what you asked for. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the jealousy from overtaking you.

“And last Friday night?” you press, your voice barely above a whisper. The words feel heavy as they leave your lips, your pulse quickening with a mix of apprehension and the need to know. “What happened before you came home and found me and Nicky on the couch?”

Her grin turns inexplicably wicked as her hands slide lower to firmly your ass. With a deliberate tug, she pulls you flush against her, your hips colliding in a way that sends heat racing up your spine.

“Last Friday night was a date, sweetheart.” she begins, her tone maddeningly casual, like she’s recounting a a dull anecdote rather than making your blood boil. “She tried to kiss me outside the restaurant and invited me to her place.”

She pauses just long enough for the words to sink in, her eyes glinting with amusement as she gauges your reaction.

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind, and your chest tightens, jealousy fizzling hot and insistent in your stomach. Her nonchalance feels like a knife twisting, and you’re sure she can sense it, her smirk widening ever so slightly as her eyes lock onto yours.

You force yourself to hold her gaze, but the casual edge of her tone, the way she seems so unaffected, is almost too much to bear. A hundred thoughts race through your mind, each one more unbearable than the last. You’re not sure whether to scoff, snap, or step away, but before you can decide, Agatha’s voice cuts through the tension again.

“But…”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, and her expression shifts, the confidence that usually cloaks her like armor faltering ever so slightly. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel the weight of whatever she’s about to say.

She exhales through her nose, the hesitation palpable as though she’s debating whether to say the words out loud.

When she finally does, her voice is lower, dipping into a gentleness that catches you completely off guard, each word laced with a quiet vulnerability that makes your heart stutter.

“When I politely declined her offer… I called her by your name.”

You blink. Once. Twice. your brain firing on all cylinders yet somehow managing to stall completely. Surely, you must have misheard her.

And then she winks. And it’s game over.

Your eyes widen to comical proportions, your jaw drops like it’s auditioning for a slapstick comedy, and you’re pretty sure your entire face is now brighter than a chili pepper under a spotlight.

At your reaction, Agatha’s smirk blossoms into its full, mischievous glory, positively dripping with wicked delight—a clear indicator that she’s savoring every second of your mental implosion.

“You what?!” you practically squawk, the words bursting out louder and more incredulous than you thought humanly possible.

Agatha chuckles, low and rich, the sound rolling over you like a warm wave. The sheer satisfaction glinting in her eyes is almost maddening, and her hands, still resting on your ass, shift slightly—her fingers brushing against the loose fabric of your shorts in a way that feels far too casual given the bombshell she just dropped.

“No, no, wait.” you stammer, still trying to process. “You’re telling me you, Agatha Harkness—confident, poised, never-misses-a-beat Agatha Harkness—actually called someone by the wrong name? My name? On a date? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type to… you know… trip over your own rizz like that.”

She tilts her head, one brow arching in mock warning as her eyes lock onto yours, a look that clearly says, Careful, hon, don’t push your luck. It’s playful, yes, but there’s just enough edge in her gaze to make your breath hitch, like she’s daring you to test her patience.

“Trust me, sweetheart, no one was more surprised than me.” she admits with dry amusement as the faintest shrug rolls off her shoulders.

But there’s a betraying flicker in her eyes, a glimmer of self-deprecation, and you can tell she’s trying very hard to hold back laughter herself at this point.

“So, you’re standing there, at the end of your very hot date or whatever, and just—what? Randomly blurt out my name?” you ask, the teasing edge in your voice growing sharper as you fight the urge to giggle.

“It wasn’t quite like that.” she corrects, “We were outside the restaurant, and she leaned in—clearly angling for a kiss. I… stopped her before it went that far.” she continues as her smirk deepens. “But then she still invited me back to her place, and… well, that’s when it happened. Your name name came out instead of whatever hers was. Clear as day.”

The image plays out in your head: Agatha standing there with some impossibly glamorous woman, utterly composed until… she isn’t. The thought sends a strange mix of emotions swirling through you—jealousy, disbelief, and something dangerously close to triumph.

“Why didn’t you…?” you hesitate, your voice faltering as the question comes out before you can stop yourself. “Why didn’t you just go home with her?”

“It wouldn’t have made much sense, would it?” she replies with a shrug, as if you’ve just asked the most obvious question in the world.

“Why not?” you push, your heart pounding now.

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered. The whole date was a lousy attempt to stop thinking about the fact that I wanted my hot, younger babysitter.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face at her words. They land between you, heavy and electric, making it impossible to look away.

“And I knew,” she continues, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial, “that if I’d gone home with her, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d have spent the whole night imagining it was you. Hell, I spent the entire dinner doing that.”

The honesty in her words steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you momentarily stunned. Her confession is playful and teasing, but it’s also raw, stripped of any pretense, leaving no room for doubt.

“You’ve been in my head, sweetheart, for longer than you realize. Last Friday night just made it impossible to keep pretending otherwise.”, her words come out almost in a sigh, laced with exasperation, like this whole ordeal has been just as maddening for her as it has been for you.

Your thoughts are spinning, a chaotic swirl of emotions you can’t quite untangle, but the way she’s looking at you—steady, unshaken, and utterly sure—anchors you in place. Her gaze is magnetic, pulling you toward a singular truth that feels impossible to ignore, and there’s only one thing your mind is screaming at you to do.

Your hands fly to her neck, fingers tangling in the soft waves of her hair as your lips crash into hers. The kiss is anything but gentle—urgent, unrestrained, a collision of pent-up tension, jealousy and raw need.

Agatha stiffens for a second, caught off guard, but the hesitation melts as quickly as it came.

She responds with equal fervor, her lips moving against yours with a commanding urgency that steals the breath from your lungs. When she finally breaks away, it’s not in retreat but with a low, surprised laugh that vibrates against your lips.

“Well.” she drawls, her voice roughened with amusement and provocation, her lips still brushing yours, “If jealousy makes you this needy, I might just make it a habit to mention my Friday nights more often.”

Your face burns as you glare at her, though the heat in your chest only intensifies.

“Don’t even try it.” you snap, tugging slightly at her bottom lip with your teeth as your voice drops to a playful warning. “I mean it, Agatha.”

Agatha chuckles, the sound rumbling through her chest as one of her hands drifts from your hips to the front of your shorts, her fingers toying lazily with the waistband.

The casual, almost absent motion ignites a wildfire beneath your skin, leaving every nerve alight and your body coiled tight with anticipation.

She slips one thigh between yours, nudging gently to widen your stance, and your hands instinctively clutch her shoulders for balance. Before you can steady yourself, her fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing the edge of your panties.

Her smirk deepens, her eyes gleaming with sinful intent that sends a tremor through your knees, as if she’s already savoring the exact moment she’ll make you fall apart.

“But baby…” she murmurs, leaning in until her lips brush the shell of your ear, her voice dropping into something dark and honey-sweet. “Needy looks sooo good on you”

Her voice alone sends a pulse straight to your core, and when her fingers dip lower, slipping past the edge of your panties to press against your soaked folds, the moan that rips from your throat is nothing short of pornographic.

You’re drenched, embarrassingly so, and the slick sound of her fingers gliding through your arousal only makes it worse.

She doesn’t even try to conceal her delight, letting out a throaty, satisfied hum that vibrates against your skin. It’s a sound of pure indulgence, as though she’s reveling in the way your body responds so eagerly, so quickly, to her words, to her touches.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp, your voice trembling with a mix of need and protest as your hips buck involuntarily against her hand. “We’re not… we’re not done talking.”

Her lips curl into a grin as she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a challenge as her fingers slide deeper, spreading your wetness with excruciatingly languid strokes.

“Oh, I know.” she purrs, her tone dripping with faux innocence as her fingers tease your entrance. “Go on, baby. Keep talking.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to—”

The sentence dies in your throat, replaced by a strangled moan as two fingers slide into you effortlessly. The sound of your wetness fills the room, obscene and loud, and you can’t stop the strangled cry that escapes when she curls her fingers just right.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” she asks smoothly, her smirk widening as her thumb brushes a lazy, maddeningly light circle over your clit. “I’ve let you ask all your questions, answered them, and I’m still here for the rest. But…”. She punctuates her next words with a deep thrust, her palm grinding against your clit in a way that makes your breath hitch. “It’s time you start giving me something back, don’t you think?”

“Oh my God—fuck!” you groan, your head dropping to her shoulder as your hips grind against her hand, chasing the pleasure she’s so expertly coaxing from you.

Your legs tremble, barely holding you up, and the wet, filthy sound of her fingers moving inside you makes your face burn with humiliation and need.

“That’s it.” she hums, her voice low and approving as her free hand moves to tangle in your hair, tilting your head so her lips graze your ear. “Be a good girl and try for me, mmh?”

“Agatha, please.” you whimper, your nails digging into her shoulders as your walls clench around her fingers. “I can’t—I can’t focus when you’re—mmh—when you’re doing that.”

“Sure, you can. And you will.” she murmurs, her thumb pressing harder against your clit in rhythm with her thrusts. “You’ll think, talk, listen, and take everything I’m giving you, just like the clever girl I know you are.”

Her praise is a double-edged sword, both a balm and a brand, sending warmth flooding through you while also igniting a stubborn need to meet her challenge. Gritting your teeth, you force your voice to form a single, coherent thought.

“N-nicholas.” you stammer, your voice barely intelligible as pleasure and worry collide in your chest. “What about—oh, fuck—what about Nicholas? What if— what if this messes everything up for him?”

Agatha’s smirk softens just slightly, though her fingers don’t falter, their pace steady and relentless.

“Nicholas is smarter than most adults, baby.” she murmurs, her voice impossibly calm and confident even as you whimper against her shoulder. “He’s practically a human lie detector. Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already picked up on something.”

“Besides, he adores you.” she continues casually, as if you aren’t completely falling apart in her arms. “As long as we handle this carefully—and don’t, you know, start fucking in the living room while he’s watching cartoons—he’ll be fine.”

You let out a strangled laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a moan as her fingers curl deeper, hitting a spot that makes your entire body tense.

“But—but what if he—oh my God—doesn’t take it well?”

“Sweetheart.” she murmurs, her free hand tilting your chin up to meet her gaze, her eyes impossibly tender yet razor-sharp. “Stop overthinking. We’ll handle it. Together.”

You nod weakly, unable to form a rational response as she quickens her pace, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust.

But before you can let yourself fall completely into the haze of pleasure, another thought claws its way to the surface.

“And Rio?” you choke out, though your voice is barely a whisper now, trembling with the effort of holding on. “What happens when she—fuck—when she finds out?”

“Rio doesn’t have a say in my life anymore.” she drawls, her smirk widening into something downright predatory as her fingers thrust deeper, harder, drawing a strangled cry from your throat. “Sure, we keep things civil for Nicholas’s sake, but beyond that? She can think whatever she wants. It won’t change a damn thing.”

“But—but what if—mmh yes—what if she makes it hard for us?”

“What’s she gonna do, huh?” Agatha arches a brow, her free hand gripping your waist to steady you as your legs start to tremble. “Get all huffy and judgmental? Let her.”

Her confidence ripples through you, grounding and infuriating all at once, even as her pace grows brutal. Your walls clench tighter around her, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable height. Yet one last question remains lodged in the back of your throat.

When it finally tumbles out, your voice cracks under the weight of it. “And what if you… what if you get tired of me?”

Agatha freezes for a heartbeat, her gaze pinning yours in place with a fierce, almost dangerous intensity that takes your breath away.

“I won’t.” she snaps, her tone so firm, so unshakable, it’s as if the very idea is offensive.

Her gaze drops pointedly to where her fingers disappear into you, sliding out glistening before thrusting back in with a wet, filthy sound, over and over again.

“If you could see yourself right now—falling apart on my fingers, so perfect, so mine—you’d know just how impossible that question is.”

Her words land like a thunderclap and your body shudders violently, your legs trembling so hard you’re certain you’d collapse if it weren’t for the firm, possessive grip she keeps on your waist.

And then, as if to punish you for your suggestion, or perhaps to drive her point home with devastating clarity, she slides a third finger into you without warning. The stretch is intense, toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming, and you let out a strangled cry that tears through the room.

Her thumb presses harder, faster, against your clit as her fingers work you open. It’s deliberate, merciless, as though she’s staking her claim in every possible way, daring you to question her devotion again.

“That’s it, baby.” she hums, her voice dark and velvety, her satisfaction palpable in the way her lips curl into a smirk against your temple. “Taking me so well… so fucking perfect.”

Her words only add fuel to the fire blazing inside you, and you’re helpless to stop the wrecked, broken moans spilling from your lips as her pace quickens.

Your body arches involuntarily, seeking more, needing more, as the pressure builds impossibly higher, threatening to snap with every flick of her thumb and thrust of her fingers.

You silently call on every divine entity, ancient force, or cosmic fluke you can think of, just to ensure she’ll grant the desperate plea teetering on the edge of your lips.

“Please!” the word escapes you as a desperate sob, raw and aching as your hands clutch her shoulders. “Please, Agatha—fuck, I need to—”

“Come for me, baby.” her command cuts you off, slicing through the haze like a blade and shattering you completely.

Your body seizes, the coil in your belly snapping violently as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, relentless and all-consuming.

Wetness gushes from you, coating her hand and soaking the fabric of your shorts as she continues to work you through it, her fingers dragging unrelentingly along your walls, sending shivers through every nerve.

“Fuck, look at you.” she breathes, her tone edged with awe and sinful pride as your walls spasm around her fingers, gripping her so tightly it’s a wonder she can still move. “So messy for me.”

The intensity is almost unbearable, your cries escalating into a scream that rips from your throat as the pleasure crests in waves, each more powerful than the last.

Agatha doesn’t let up, her movements steady and calculated, prolonging your pleasure until the last waves finally begin to ebb.

Her hand on your waist tightens, grounding you as her lips press soft, soothing kisses along your jaw, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of what she’s just done to you.

As you collapse against her, your breathing ragged and uneven, she slows her fingers, her touch gentler now as she carefully withdraws, her hand glistening with your release.

She presses a lingering kiss to your temple, her voice impossibly tender despite the smug satisfaction lacing it.

“See? I knew you could do it. Such a good girl for me.” she murmurs, her words a caress that feels like velvet against your frayed senses.

Her free hand strokes slow, appeasing circles against your lower back, grounding you as the tremors in your body begin to ebb.

The room feels impossibly quiet now, the only sounds your labored breathing and the warm, satisfied chuckle that hums through Agatha’s chest.

“You’re insufferable.” you mumble weakly against her neck, your voice hoarse and cracked, though there’s a stifled laugh buried beneath the exhaustion.

“And yet….” she purrs, lifting your chin with a single, deft finger until your gaze meets hers. Her piercing eyes hold yours captive, but there’s a glimmer of something softer beneath the smirk curling at her lips—something achingly tender, almost reverent. “Here we are.”

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, the simple, affectionate gesture robbing you of what little breath you’ve managed to reclaim.

You blink up at her, still dazed, a faint, incredulous smile pulling at your lips.

“Here we are,” you echo, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of a moment that feels suspended in time.

It’s a connection that needs no embellishment, one that feels intimate and inevitable, like it had been quietly waiting for the two of you all along.

The rest of Sunday unfolds in a blissful, lazy haze.

After the emotionally charged conversation in the morning, the day slows to a gentle rhythm. Agatha suggests a walk to clear your heads, and the two of you meander through a nearby park.

The air is crisp, the sun peeking through the clouds as you stroll side by side, talking about nothing in particular—favorite seasons, forgotten childhood stories, ridiculous hypotheticals.

It feels easy, natural, like you’ve been doing this forever.

Back at home, the afternoon fades into evening. You help Agatha prepare a simple dinner, and she insists on pouring you a glass of wine while you work.

Later, the two of you curl up on the couch, a movie playing on the screen, your head resting on her shoulder. The sound of her quiet laughter at the film’s witty dialogue makes your heart ache with something sweet and new.

But the serenity is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Nicholas bursts in, his bag slung over his shoulder, his cheeks flushed from the cool evening air.

Rio follows, her gaze sweeping briefly between you and Agatha, lingering just long enough to convey a subtle curiosity, before she offers a polite nod. Bending slightly, she presses a kiss to Nicholas’s cheek, her voice soft as she wishes him goodnight.

Without another word, she straightens, casting one final glance in your direction, then strides out the door with the same poised elegance she carried in.

“Hey, kiddo!” Agatha calls out, sitting up slightly but keeping her arm draped over the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder.

Nicholas closes the door and freezes the second he turns, his eyes darting between the two of you.

His brow furrows, and then, with his hereditary dramatic flair, he lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Finally!” he groans, dropping his bag on the floor with a thud. “I was wondering when you two were gonna figure it out.”

You blink, startled. “Wait—what?”

Agatha’s smirk is instant, her lips curling as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What do you mean, ‘figure it out,’ Nicky?”

He rolls his eyes with as if the answer is painfully obvious.

“I mean the two of you! You’re always talking about each other and asking me stuff.” he quips, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You’re like, ‘What’s your mom’s favorite breakfast?’, and Mom’s like, ‘Do you think she likes scary movies?’. Ugh, it was soooo annoying.”

Nicholas shakes his head, letting out another dramatic sigh as if he’s been a long-suffering martyr to your mutual pining.

From beside you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a small snort escaping Agatha.

Heat floods your cheeks as you glance at her, but it only makes her grin widen. She arches a single, perfectly smug eyebrow at you, her expression dripping with satisfaction.

“Told you.” she says simply, giving an exaggerated shrug.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning. “This is mortifying.”

Agatha’s laughter fills the room, warm and unrestrained. She reaches out to tug one of your hands away from your face, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so casual yet affectionate it leaves you breathless.

After that day, You and Agatha decide to take things slow, despite the months you’ve already spent orbiting each other. You want to step out of the roles you’ve occupied—Nicholas’s babysitter, his mom—and discover who you are to each other beyond that.

At first, you were almost afraid. Afraid that someone like Agatha, who seemed so independent and unapologetically confident, might be all fire and intensity, with little space for tenderness beyond fleeting moments.

But slowly, carefully, she proves you wrong.

When Agatha loves, you realize, she doesn’t hold back. She loves with her entire being, fiercely yet gently, as though nothing outside the world she’s built around you truly matters.

Sure, the sex is breathtaking—raw, unrestrained, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. But with Agatha, it’s so much more than that.

She doesn’t just make you feel wanted, she makes you feel profoundly seen, utterly cherished. Every touch carries intention, every kiss a pledge of devotion.

She quickly learns your body like a map, her fingers and lips tracing each curve with reverence, savoring every discovery as though unveiling a hidden treasure meant only for her.

But beyond the fiery passion, there’s an unexpected warmth, a softness that takes you by surprise.

Her teasing sarcasm and sharp wit—cornerstones of who she is—remain ever-present, capable of making you groan in exasperation one moment and laugh until your sides ache the next.

And yet, as new facets of her emerge, they gradually begin to share space with so much more.

At night, when the world is quiet, Agatha reveals a rare, thoughtful vulnerability, speaking of the things that scare her or the mistakes she’s afraid of repeating.

In the evenings, she pulls you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as she teases you about your movie choices, only to stay glued to the screen the entire time.

In the middle of an argument, even when her irritation is clear and the sharpness in her tone feels like a shield she’s reluctant to lower, her gaze softens. Against her own nature, she takes a breath, letting the frustration ebb just enough to say, “I’m listening, go on.” It’s not easy for her, you can see that—but she tries. She chooses to stay, to listen, to understand, even when every instinct might tell her to close off.

Each moment is a small glimpse into a side of her that feels like a gift, a quiet affirmation that she is so much more than you ever imagined.

You also come to realize, that Agatha, for all her snarky remarks and commanding presence, craves affection too.

She’ll never say it outright, of course, but the way she seeks those little moments of closeness gives her away every time.

The way she tucks you closer to her chest in the morning, long before the rest of the world is awake. The way her hand brushes your hair back as you lean over a book, a casual touch that lingers just a second too long. The way she kisses your temple absentmindedly as she passes you in the kitchen. The way her fingers trail down your arm before settling on your waist as you both stand in the backyard at night, watching Nicholas excitedly point out constellations while Agatha murmurs their names with a quiet smile. The way her fingers softly brush against yours when she hands you a cup of coffee.

These aren’t grand gestures—they’re quiet, unspoken reminders of how deeply she cares. They’re Agatha’s way of saying what she can’t always put into words, of reaching for connection in ways that feel achingly sincere.

Agatha surprises you constantly.

She starts showing up at the café during your morning shifts, always impeccably dressed, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she strides in like she owns the place.

“I’m between meetings” she claims casually, though you notice she always stays just long enough to leave your coworkers flustered and whispering about ‘the gorgeous older woman’ who sits at the corner table, sipping her black coffee and glancing at her phone like she has nowhere better to be.

When she catches you watching her from behind the counter, her smirk is instant, as if to say, Yes, hon, I know I’m distracting you. And it never fails to make your pulse race.

She spoils you shamelessly, too. Thoughtful gifts appear with alarming regularity—books she’s noticed you eyeing, a beautiful scarf she swears “just screamed your name,” or your favorite pastries from a bakery across town.

“Stop fussing.” she says one evening as you eye the expensive wine she’s ordered at a rooftop restaurant. The city lights glitter around you, and the cool night air brushes your cheeks. “You deserve it.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her anyway, her hand slipping up to cup your cheek. Her smile softens, that guarded edge melting just enough to reveal the depth of her affection, and your heart aches in the best way.

For Agatha, you could have stopped working altogether if you wanted to. She made it clear from the beginning that money would never be an issue, brushing off the idea as though it was laughable.

Still, you hold onto your job at the café. It keeps you busy in the mornings, gives you a sense of independence, and lets you stash away some savings of your own. Besides, you’ve worked there so long it feels strange to think about leaving.

At the same time, you insist on keeping your part-time babysitting job, though you flat-out refuse to let her pay you anymore.

That particular conversation becomes a recurring battle. One day, however, you reach your limit.

It’s the umpteenth time Agatha offers to pay you for the hours you spend with Nicky. She leans casually against the doorframe as you fold Nicholas’s laundry, her voice calm but insistent, a mix of exasperation and charm she wields far too well.

You freeze mid-fold, the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

“Agatha, I swear to God, if you bring this up one more time…” you snap, throwing a pair of socks straight at her chest with uncharacteristic force.

Her smirk falters as she catches them, her eyes widening at the sharpness in your voice.

“You’re seriously yelling at me over socks?” she quips, clearly thrown off but still managing to sound incredulous.

“I’m yelling because I’m done with this conversation.” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “I’m not taking your money for this anymore. Period. End of story. Got it?”

Agatha blinks, stunned into silence. It’s not often you raise your voice, and judging by her expression, she doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

After a long, weighted pause, she finally lets out an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders slumping dramatically as she tosses the socks back at you.

“Well, you’re impossible.” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back against the doorframe with a look of mock irritation. “I can’t win with you.”

You narrow your eyes at her, still fuming, but the hint of a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“You already have.” you mutter, chucking another pair of socks her way.

This time, her smirk returns in its full glory. She catches the socks with ease, her expression relaxing as she throws them back with a playful flick of her wrist. “Flatterer.”

After that conversation, the balance you strike feels so natural, so effortlessly right, that it’s hard to remember a time when things were any different.

You spend your mornings at the café, while most of your afternoons are dedicated to Nicholas. Over time, Agatha begins working from home more often, and those afternoons blend seamlessly into dinners shared around the table, followed by evenings that melt into cozy, lazy hours on the couch.

Even if you don’t see her much while she works—her door often closed as she immerses herself in work—there’s something undeniably comforting about knowing she’s just upstairs.

It’s in the faint hum of her voice during a call, the creak of floorboards as she shifts her chair, or the brief moments when she steps out to grab coffee, check on Nicholas, or steal a quick kiss from you in the kitchen.

Her presence lingers throughout the house, steady and grounding, offering a quiet reassurance you hadn’t realized you craved.

The roles you once played haven’t disappeared, but they’ve shifted, harmonizing gracefully into this new dynamic that feels equal parts exciting and comforting.

Agatha doesn’t push you to redefine everything overnight, doesn’t demand more than you’re ready to give. Instead, she meets you where you are, and together, you explore the space between who you were before and who you’re becoming now.

Five months in, Agatha brings it up over breakfast.

“You know…” she begins casually, buttering her toast with the kind of ease that suggests she isn’t about to change your life forever, “it’d make a lot more sense if you just lived here.”

You nearly choke on your coffee, coughing and setting the mug down with a sharp clink. “Are you—are you serious?”

She looks up from her plate, her expression calm but her eyes warm, filled with a certainty that grounds you even as your heart races. “Of course. It feels right, doesn’t it?”

It does. Deep down, you’d known for a while now that this was where you belonged. Still, hearing it aloud, from her, catches you off guard. But there’s no hesitation when you answer.

“Yes.” you say, the word coming out soft but steady. “It does.”

Everything falls into place with an almost disarming simplicity and, by the end of the weekend, your things are integrated seamlessly into her home.

Your favorite mug finds a spot on her kitchen shelf, your books line the living room walls alongside hers, and the faint scent of your perfume lingers in her bedroom.

Nicholas adjusts effortlessly, almost as if he’d been waiting for this to happen all along. The three of you settle into a domesticity that feels natural, filled with laughter, shared meals, and quiet moments.

Even Rio seems unbothered when she comes to pick Nicholas up on the weekends. She exchanges polite words with you, her demeanor perfectly cordial, before whisking him away for their outings.

Whatever tension you’d feared never materializes, leaving you to wonder if Agatha had talked to her privately or if Nicholas, in his own way, had smoothed the path between you.

On Saturday mornings, Nicholas claims the kitchen as his domain, declaring himself “Head Pancake Chef” as you and Agatha lounge at the table, sipping coffee and exchanging amused glances while he works.

In the evenings, after Nicholas has gone to bed, the two of you often find yourselves curled up together on the couch, her arm draped lazily over your shoulders as you share quiet conversation, watch a movie or simply sit in comfortable silence.

Every day, every moment, strengthens the sense that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Yet, for months, you’ve held onto your old apartment, keeping it as a safety net—a place to retreat to if things fell apart, if Agatha ever grew tired of you, if it all turned out to be too good to be true.

You’d told yourself it was practical, that it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you’d known it was fear keeping you tethered to the space.

One random evening, everything changes.

It’s late, and the house is quiet. You and Agatha are curled up on the couch, one arm draped around your shoulders as you trace lazy circles on the back of her hand. There’s an ease between you, the kind that has grown naturally over the months.

Out of nowhere, she murmurs, “I love you.”

The words land softly but powerfully, knocking the air from your lungs.

You freeze, your hand stilling on hers as your mind races. For a brief moment, you think you’ve imagined it, your own thoughts playing tricks on you.

But then you glance up, and she’s watching you. Her expression is open yet achingly vulnerable, her lips slightly parted as if she’s bracing herself for your reaction, the faintest flush coloring her cheeks.

Agatha Harkness, who exudes confidence and poise in every other moment, suddenly looks almost shy.

Your heart swells, the response spilling out without hesitation. “I love you too, Agatha. So much.”

Her eyes widen briefly before a slow, radiant smile spreads across her face, lighting her up in a way you’ve never seen before.

She leans in, her movements deliberate yet tender, and when her lips meet yours, it’s as if the world tilts on its axis.

The kiss starts soft, her lips warm and gentle against yours. But it deepens quickly, her hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, her thumb brushing your cheek.

You feel her smile against your lips, a small, unguarded curve that sends warmth flooding through you. When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests lightly against yours, her hand lingering on your cheek as if she’s reluctant to let go.

Her eyes search yours, glowing with a mix of joy and relief, and you realize that this moment, this love, is as real as it gets.

The next morning, you list your apartment for sale.

Weeks later, it sells, and it’s time to clear it out for good. Agatha insists on coming with you to help despite your protests that there isn’t much left to do, since most of your things had already made their way to her house when you moved in.

Together, you sift through the last remnants of your belongings—forgotten trinkets in the back of drawers, mismatched furniture that doesn’t fit anywhere anymore, and boxes filled with things you can’t remember why you kept.

As you bend down to pick up one of the boxes, you feel the weight of her gaze on you. By the time you straighten, she’s right there—closer than she was a moment ago—her hand curling possessively around your waist, her presence electric.

“What if…” she murmurs, her lips grazing your ear as her fingers slide to the small of your back, “We give this place a proper send-off.”

Before you can respond, her mouth is on yours, claiming and insistent. The kiss is searing, a collision of teeth and tongues that leaves you breathless as she presses you back against the nearest wall.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp as her hands wander, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her. “We’re supposed to be clearing out, not—” your voice falters as her lips graze your neck, stealing your train of thought entirely.

“Oh, we will.” she purrs, her voice dripping with wicked intent. “After.”

What follows is nothing short of ruinous. She doesn’t just touch you—she consumes you, her hands, mouth, and body working in perfect, devastating harmony to claim every inch of you.

She starts in the kitchen, bending you over the counter with a commanding ease that makes your breath hitch. Her nails dig into your hips as her fingers slide into you, relentless and thorough, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck. The slick sound of her movements mixes with the sharpness of your cries, echoing off the bare walls as her pace quickens, leaving you breathless and clawing for the edge.

In the living room, she pushes you down onto the couch—the same one where you once sat alone, overthinking everything. Now, it’s where she strips you bare and buries her head between your thighs, her tongue working with maddening precision. She doesn’t stop, even as your hips buck against her mouth, her grip on your thighs unrelenting. When you fall apart, her name breaking from your lips, she takes it all, her smirk sinful as she looks up, licking her lips like she’s savoring every second.

Even the bedroom—now a sparse, nearly empty space that offers no distractions—doesn’t escape her attention. She pins you to the mattress with a ferocity that leaves no doubt as to who you belong to, her name a broken mantra on your lips as her pace builds, her body pressing against yours in a way that demands surrender. Her fingers push you over the edge again and again, each climax leaving you trembling and weak, her breath hot on your skin as she praises you through the haze of pleasure.

By the time she’s done with you, every surface bears the evidence of her passion, and you’re left spent, boneless, and utterly wrecked in her arms.

Later, as you sit on the floor together eating takeout amidst the remaining boxes, she looks over at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So…” she says, her voice a lazy drawl. “Think you’ll miss this place?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean into her side. “Not even a little.”

Because your home isn’t a space anymore—it’s her.

Exactly one year after that Sunday morning when everything changed, you find yourself reflecting on how far you’ve come.

It’s Friday night and you’re sitting at a cozy restaurant, the golden glow of candlelight reflecting off Agatha’s beautiful features. Her hand brushes against yours on the table, her touch as natural and grounding as the rhythm of your breaths.

Fridays used to be a minefield, an endless loop of questions you were too afraid to ask, feelings you didn’t dare name. You remember those nights vividly, steeped in quiet agony, where every thought, every fleeting moment tied to Agatha—her voice, her gaze, her very presence—was laced with an ache so consuming it felt impossible to escape.

At times, you can still taste the bitter certainty that nothing you longed for could ever be within reach. Looking back, though, you almost laugh.

Agatha had nearly driven you insane with her looks, her touches, her maddeningly unreadable smirks. You’d been so sure you were imagining it all, you’d almost lost your mind trying to figure her out.

But now, Fridays have transformed into something else entirely. They’ve become a ritual of joy and love.

They’re your nights. Date nights. Moments stolen just for the two of you while Nicholas stays with Rio or a babysitter. Whether it’s a fancy dinner in the city or a quiet evening at home, these Fridays are sacred.

You glance across the table at Agatha, who’s sipping her wine, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Her smirk curls in that way you know will always make your stomach flip, no matter how many times you see it. But there’s a softness behind it now, a tenderness she doesn’t bother hiding anymore.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, her voice low and familiar, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You smile, bliss flooding your chest. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes in mock disbelief, but the way her thumb strokes the back of your hand betrays her.

“You’re insufferable.” she mutters, though her tone holds no bite.

“And yet…” you tease, leaning forward slightly, your voice dipping conspiratorially, “Here we are.”

Her lips twitch as though she’s fighting a full smile, and for a moment, you both laugh, the kind of easy, unguarded laughter that fills every quiet corner of your heart.

And as you sit there, her hand in yours and the echoes of your journey fading into the warmth of the present, a quiet certainty blooms within you: you can’t wait to see where this love leads.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness fanfic #aaa fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha x y/n #agatha all along au

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covenofagatha · 3 months ago

Text

But you're my stepmom! (Part 2)

Agatha takes you out to dinner.

Word count: 2500

Warnings: none (I think)

A/N: this ended up being way longer than I was planning, so hope you all enjoy. Happy Agatha night to all who celebrate!

Taglist: @stayevildarling @i-just-cannot @hazey-g @buttercandy16 @320viada

“You’re home early,” your mom says when you walk through the front door. You check your watch and shrug. 4:15. Granted, if you had come from school, you wouldn’t be back right now.

After your encounter with Agatha, you had quickly scooped up the broken glass, tracked down Wanda, and then driven her back to school to drop her off. She had asked if you were coming, but you were buzzing with the thought of dinner with your step-mother that night so you knew there was no way you could’ve focused. And there was no point going to seventh period anyway. It was history – your least favorite subject.

So Wanda went back to class and you went shopping. You didn’t know where Agatha and you were going for dinner, didn’t know the dress code, but you knew how the older woman dressed and you weren’t going to look homeless next to her.

At the mall, you were able to find a tight black dress that accentuates your curves nicely. The neckline was bordering on inappropriate and the hem came down to your mid-thigh, but it was cheap and it made you look good. You had hidden the bag inside your backpack to avoid your mom asking questions.

“I have some homework to do and then Wanda and I are getting dinner,” you tell her. Your mom is a bit touchy with the subject of your father and Agatha, so you know better than to tell the truth.

“Sounds good, hon,” she says, turning back to her computer. “Did you have a good day?”

You hum noncommittally and then go upstairs. The first thing you do is take a shower to wash the chlorine from the swim you and Wanda took earlier and then you curl your hair. You’re not sure why you’re putting so much effort in to look nice for dinner with Agatha. You tell yourself that it’s just because she always looks like she’s just stepped off the cover of Vanity Fair and you don’t want to appear underdressed compared to her, but a small part of you knows you want to look good for her. You shake your head to get rid of the thought.

You apply some light makeup on your face and then slip into the dress you had bought. You dig through your closet and find some short heels that pair nicely. Fuck, you hope Agatha is taking you someplace fancy and not just a chain restaurant.

Your phone buzzes and you look at it. It’s a text from an unknown number: I’ll be there in 20.

Who is this? You type back, figuring it’s Agatha but just wanting to make sure. You find it amusing that you haven’t saved her number. You get an eye roll emoji in response and you smile.

20 minutes to spare. You hate to admit it, but you spend most of that time pacing back and forth in your room, wringing your hands nervously. You’re not sure why nerves are twisting in your stomach. Maybe it’s just because you’ve never spent any one-on-one time with your step-mother before. Maybe it’s the way she was looking at you when she was cleaning up your leg earlier, or the way she squeezed your thighs when you were sitting on the counter.

No, definitely not the latter.

You finally give up on trying to calm down. You throw a hoodie over your dress so your mom doesn’t see it and walk downstairs. She hardly glances at you from her spot at the kitchen table.

“What time will you be back?” she asks.

“Maybe by 8?” you guess. Once again, you have no idea what you’re getting into with Agatha.

“Where are you guys going?”

Can’t answer that either. “When she picks me up, we’re going to figure that out.”

“Well, have fun and don’t stay out too late.”

“I won’t,” you promise, walking over to give her a kiss on the cheek. She’s been looking older every day. The divorce was really hard on her so she’s been burying herself in work for the past two years and it’s finally catching up. “Make sure you eat something.” You get a text. I’m out front, from a still unknown number. You smirk to yourself. “I’ll see you later, mom.” She pats your arm and you walk outside.

A black range rover is parked to the right of your house, out of sight from the windows. You open the passenger seat and get inside, tearing off your hoodie. Thank god you dressed up. She’s wearing a dark burgundy suit that dips low, showing some cleavage. Her long dark hair flows down her back and her gold earrings glint in the sunlight. She looks hot.

And based on how she’s looking at you, she appreciates your outfit as well.

“Where are we going?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“You’ll see,” she says mysteriously, shifting the car into drive. The ride to wherever you’re going is filled with awkward silence. You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something first, but she was the one who dragged you along.

You purse your lips as the minutes pass. You sneak a glance at Agatha and she looks perfectly content. “So, where’s my dad tonight?” you finally ask, not being able to take it anymore.

She smirks knowingly. “A work dinner. You know how things are around this time of the year.” Suddenly, you get angry. You don’t know. You haven’t lived under the same roof as him in two years.

“Oh, sure,” you say, voice caustic. “Back when my parents were still married, he was busy all the time. Glad to hear it’s more of a seasonal thing now.”

She shoots you a look, face soft. “Honey–”

“You know he cheated on my mom, right? What makes you think he won’t do the same to you? Maybe there isn’t a work dinner at all,” you whisper conspiratorially, feeling horrible the moment it comes out of your mouth. The divorce has filled you with a rage that is hard to control and it slips out at the worst possible times. And now you’ve undoubtedly made the rest of the night even more uncomfortable than it already was going to be. “Fuck, Agatha, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She doesn’t even seem phased, just reaches over and pats your leg. “I know how tough this must be for you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. That’s all you’ve heard for the past two years. But you do still feel bad for your uncalled outburst. “That doesn’t make it okay. Plus he’d be a fool to cheat on you,” you mutter under your breath, blushing slightly when she smirks.

“How does this sound: tonight, I’m not your father’s new wife. I’m just a woman who wants to get to know you a little better. We can eat, talk, have fun. It doesn’t have to be a step-mother-step-daughter bonding thing if you don’t want it to be.”

“That would be nice,” you begrudgingly admit. She winks and turns into the parking lot of the new Italian steakhouse that has just opened up nearby your house. “Agatha, this is–”

“My treat,” she cuts you off. “Let’s go, sweetheart.” You trail behind her into the restaurant, gaping at how nice it looks. “Hi, reservation for two under Harkness?” It was always wickedly satisfying to you how she didn’t take your dad’s last name.

The hostess nods and beckons for you both to follow her. She seats you at a table tucked away in the corner and places menus in front of you.

“Jesus,” you say, flipping through.

“The first time is always a bit overwhelming,” Agatha says, your cheeks heating up at the double meaning. “How’s your leg doing?”

You had completely forgotten about the cuts. “Oh, it’s feeling better. Thank you, by the way. For cleaning me up and not saying anything–” You remember her rules and you shut your mouth. She chuckles.

“Of course, sweetheart. Like I said, our little secret.”

The waitress comes over and takes your drink orders. You order a shirley temple and Agatha gets a glass of red wine. When she comes back with them, you make a point to stare anywhere but Agatha when she licks her lips after she takes a sip.

“Are you ladies ready to order?” The waitress asks. Agatha recites some dish from memory and you are sure you look like a fish out of water when the waitress turns to you. Agatha stifles a laugh and orders the same thing for you.

“What did you get me?” You turn back to her once the waitress is out of earshot.

“The Filet Portabella. Trust me, you’ll love it.” You’ll have to take her word for it. “So, how is senior year going?”

You launch into the speech that you give every single time someone asks you that, something along the lines of: school is great but it’s stressful with the college search and no, you don’t know where you want to go yet or what you want to major in. It’s one of your least favorite, yet most-often asked questions.

Agatha hangs onto every word out of your mouth, asking some follow ups. You do have to admit, it is nice to talk to a grown up and actually feel listened to.

“So, the girl in the pool with you today. Is she your friend, girlfriend..?” Agatha asks once she’s exhausted the school topic.

“Oh, Wanda? No, we’re just friends. I don’t have a girlfriend. Wait, how did you know I’m gay?” You’re not sure why you’re so flustered.

“Your dad mentioned it. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t breaking into my house for a little romantic rendezvous.” Her tone is teasing.

You blush even harder now. You’re 18 years old and you’ve never had anything close to a ‘romantic rendezvous’ with anyone. “Um, no. She’s just my best friend.” And then because you’re having trouble breathing with her staring at you like that, you try to turn the tables. “You never broke into anyone’s pool when you were in high school just to go for a swim?”

Her eyes glint mischievously. “Never for anything as innocent as just a swim.”

Your mouth runs dry at the image of a younger Agatha (although imagining Agatha right now works too) skinny dipping in a pool with a lover. And then there’s the thought of you and Agatha in her pool. “Oh?” you manage to croak out.

Agatha leans in closer across the table, voice dropping lower. “My friend and I got caught one time by my neighbor. He was supposed to be out of town another two days but came back early. You should’ve seen his face when he walked out back to find us making out in his pool. My friend was so scared, she ran out and jumped over the fence. And then I had to explain myself all alone.”

Your breath catches, mouth opening ever so slightly. “She? You – you’re…” Agatha…likes girls?

A wide smirk slowly spreads across her face. “I don’t like labels. But yes, I’ve dated my fair share of women.”

“Oh. Cool,” you rasp. Thankfully, you’re saved from having to figure out something else to say by the waitress setting two hot plates in front of you.

“Enjoy!” she says, and leaves you two alone again.

You pick up your fork and knife, slicing easily into the meat. You hesitantly pop the piece into your mouth and moan instantly. The filet literally melts in your mouth, giving way to possibly the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

“This is so good,” you mumble while chewing, looking back up at Agatha, who has a strange look on her face. Her eyes are darker than before and you raise an eyebrow.

She blinks and then takes a bite of her meal. “I’m glad you like it sweetheart,” she says, watching you dig back in. You both eat your food in silence and when the check comes, Agatha doesn’t even look at the bill before slapping down her credit card.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say. “I had a really nice time.”

Agatha gives you a real smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve really enjoyed tonight as well and I hope we can start spending more time together.” You open your mouth, maybe to protest or maybe to agree, but at that moment, the waitress comes back with her card.

“You both have a lovely night. And can I just say, you two are a really cute couple.”

You choke on nothing and you suddenly are doubled over in a coughing fit. Agatha politely thanks the waitress before coming over to you and patting you on the back. Your throat begins to hurt and your vision blurs with tears, but you can’t stop. She presses your drink into your hand and you take a big gulp, wincing at the burn from the carbonation. You take a few more slow sips.

“You okay?” she asks quietly, now rubbing circles on your back. You cough weakly a few more times before your breathing returns to normal. You stand up, embarrassed. She chuckles as she wipes the tears from your eyes. “You can’t die on me now, sweetheart.”

You run a hand over your forehead. “I’m okay!”

“Is the thought of us being a couple really that unappealing?” Agatha murmurs playfully into your ear as she leads you out of the restaurant with a hand around your waist.

“What? No! I was just startled. You’re my step-mother.” Are you imagining the hint of a frown on her face or is it really there?

She opens the car door for you and then gets in the driver’s seat. “Any plans for the weekend?”

You had honestly forgotten today was Friday. “Um, I don’t think so. My mom’s working all day tomorrow so I might hang out with Wanda or something. I have homework I should probably do as well.”

She hums.

“Do you have plans?” you ask.

She chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “Your father and I both have some work we need to do. It’ll be a chill weekend.”

“That’s good,” you say awkwardly. “I am sorry about what I said earlier. About my dad.”

She glances at you. “Don’t be. I can only imagine how angry and hurt you are.”

“I’m not angry with you. You’re actually not that bad.”

Agatha laughs out loud at that. “Wow, thanks so much, sweetheart.” The pet name, as they have all evening, makes your heart skip a beat.

“You know what I mean,” you grumble.

The drive back to your house goes quick and soon enough, she’s parking in the same spot as earlier.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say again. She smiles softly and leans in. You forget how to breathe but she brushes her lips against your cheek.

“Good night, honey.”

You get out of the car in a haze, mind spinning.

#agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha smut #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha all along

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clxja16 · 1 year ago

Text

Enough

Charles Leclerc X Wolff!Reader

Genre: betrayal (?)

Warnings: I think there's some swearing, angst

Word Count: 5K+

Author's Note: Okay you guys voted for this one, and honestly I thought that the fake dating trope was going to win but I guess not. also I kind of need help with the genre, because its not really forbidden lovers. Like is there a genre of your parents betraying your trust in the name of protecting you??? but anyway lmk what you guys think. Actually please tell me what you think, because I'm scared I made this too dramatic. enjoy though <3

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

You lingered in one of the back halls before the start of qualifying. It was the Austrian Grand Prix. You looked around making sure that no one was in sight. Charles started to giggle at your antics of keeping this under wraps. You pulled at him, trying to push him right out the door.

“Go back to your garage,” you say gently pushing Charles further out the back entry of the Mercedes garage.

“After I get a good luck kiss?” Charles asks, as he holds his hands up in surrender.

You shake your head at him, before saying, “quickly, before someone sees us,” pulling Charles into a kiss, by his race suit. Charles grabs your face with both hands, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss further. You pull away first, worried about who might catch you sneaking about the garage halls, “okay now go, I’ll see you tonight.”

Charles doesn’t let go of your face, pulling you back in for a quick peck on the lips, “okay I’m going.” Charles finally lets you go, and shoots you a quick wink before walking off.

You turn back around to take your place in the garage next to your father, when you hear him calling out for you. You look back to see Charles has walked just far enough away to be out of sight, as your father turns the corner to come face to face with you. You let out a breath of relief that they missed each other. “y/n,” your father calls to your attention, “let’s get settled, qualifying is about to start.”

“Yes, daddy,” you answer, following after your father, to watch qualifying.

You have just finished your degree, a Masters in Business Administration from HBS and a Masters of Science from Harvard John A. Paulson SEAS. It took you nearly 5 and a half years to complete, but you did it regardless. Now, you attend the races to better learn how to apply the knowledge learnt in school to running a formula one team. This is all so that one day you will take over the formula one team from your father.

As you watched George and Lewis set out to do their first few qualifying laps of the session, you longed for it to be you in those cars. You really didn't dream of being behind the scenes, you dream of being up front and center, in the limelight, in the car. You wanted to set the fastest lap, you wanted to be getting grand prix victories, you wanted to win championships. However, you didn’t get a seat in formula 2, so your parents did the ‘reasonable’ thing and sent you off to school, instead of waiting around for the chance of a seat opening up.

“Look here,” your father spoke to you, as he pointed at some data on one of the many monitors in front of him.

“George is a tenth too early,” you say, trying your best to understand the data in front of you.

“Yes, exactly, good,” your father praises, before speaking with a couple of the race engineers. “Now we don’t want George to overly focus on what is going wrong, so we praise, advice and praise again.” You listen to the radio as the engineer, compliments George on his turn 3 and 4, critiques his turn 7, and compliments his turn 10 and 11. “When you take over, you have to remember that you are going to have to manage the drivers' psyche as well as their driving.”

“Father, I won’t be taking over for a long time, you’re gonna need to find someone in between you and me, to manage the team.”

“No,” your father declares, like his decision is final, “I will retire late, and you will start early.”

“Yes Father,” you say, no reason to start an argument now.

“Congratulations on another podium,” you spoke sweetly to Charles at the end of the Austrian grand prix weekend. You and him were hiding out in his hotel room, trying your best to stay away from the cameras, from fans and most importantly from your father.

“It’s only the second podium of the season,” Charles said as he dried his hair with the towel while walking out of the bathroom. “We’re so far behind this season, it’s laughable.”

“You could always make the move to Mercedes, Daddy would love to have you racing for him,” you say, as you wrap your arms around Charles, after he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

You can hear Charles chuckle a little, before turning around to face you. “Never,” he says with a smile, pushing you back down on the bed, kissing you deeply. You can’t contain the laughter that spills from your lips.

“We would make sure you win championships,” you argue, teasing Charles once again.

“And who’s giving up a seat for me?” Charles asks, as he moves from your lips down your neck, spreading his kisses all around.

“Lewis isn’t going to stay much longer,” you reveal.

“What?” Charles asked, as he pulled away to look at you. The seriousness setting in.

“Don’t say anything to anyone,” you start off, as you sit up in the bed, looking at Charles deeply, “Daddy offered Lewis another four years, Lewis said he only wanted to sign on for two more right now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, “believe it or not, Lewis does not reveal his intentions to me like you do.”

Charles cracks a smile hearing you tease, “well, maybe I could do Mercedes silver,” he says as he goes back to kissing you.

You and Charles spend the night together, as the two of you have done many times before. The next morning, you try to sneak out early enough where no one notices your empty hotel room. Charles makes your heart feel full, being around him makes you feel at peace, he wears your worries like his own. He’s everything you ever wanted and needed, and more. You know that there was no plausible way you could keep this a secret any longer. You love him too much to pretend nothing is going on. Although, you also know that your father would not be the happiest, he always said drivers weren’t the type of people you bring home. However Charles is different, you know he’s what you need, you know that you can bring him home.

When you did make it back to your own hotel room, you don’t think anyone checked in on the empty room. You made quick work of packing up your belongings, your father was flying out of Vienna this afternoon, to get a jumpstart on Silverstone. It being a home grand prix for both of your drivers, the entire week was packed with events. All events in which you had to attend.

After arriving in Silverstone, did you finally take a breather. George and Lewis both went to visit their families for the first day. This allowed you and your father to spend some time away from the race track. Father instead just went to the factory, and spent some time in the office. You on the other hand went out with Mamma, before she had to head down to Monza for the F1 Academy race.

“Mamma,” you called out to Susie, “do you think Daddy is serious about me taking over the team one day?”

Your question was enough to stop Susie in her tracks, “yes, I do think he’s serious about it.” She gave you a perplexed look. Your father has been talking about you taking over the team since you went off to college. He is determined that with his recommendation the board will approve for the team principal position.

“I don’t know if that’s what I want to do though,” you say truthfully. “I don’t know if I can handle being so close, but not being able to race.” As much as your mind was focused on being a team principal, your heart wanted to drive.

Susie came up to you, pushing your hair behind your ear, holding your face. She had a gentle smile on her face, but there was a sadness behind her eyes that you couldn’t place. “You are racing, if you take over the team, you are still a part of the race, but if you walk away, you will only be a spectator.”

You sigh, you know she’s right, “you’re right, like you always are.”

Susie laughs at your joke, “tell your Father because he never seems convinced that I’m always right.”

You laugh, as you and Susie enter the restaurant for lunch. “Mamma, can I ask you another question?”

“Of course sweetheart,” Susie answers worryingly, you are not normally this ominous.

“Would you be upset if I started seeing a driver?”

Susie doesn’t hide the shock on her face, after your question, “who is it?” She smirks at you, you weren’t the best at hiding your feelings from Susie. She was the first to know about your first boyfriend in High school. She was the first to know about the guy who cheated on you. She was the first to know about the college boy you wanted to bring home. And she was the first to know that none of them were enough to match you.

“It’s no one, it's just a hypothetical, Mamma.”

“Who, sweetheart?”

You debate for a second about how to answer, but you know you can’t lie. You gave away too much, and Susie knows you only use ‘hypothetical’ when it's real. “Charles.”

“Leclerc?” Susie doesn’t mask her shock for a single second.

“Mamma,” you whine at her reaction.

“Sweetheart, your father is gonna have an aneurysm when he hears this.”

“Mamma,” you whine again, this time more seriously, as you feel the water works coming on.

“Sweetheart?” Susie questions, her face going from shock to stone cold serious as she sees how upset you are. “This is serious.”

You sigh, “I really like him, Mamma. He makes me very happy.” You look at Susie, and you don’t like the look she has even more.

She looks very seriously at you, while also having the ‘its not good’ look. “Your father is not going to like this,” she says honestly, “but,” you watch Susie as she begins to smile, “if you’re happy, that is what's important.”

You begin to smile as well, “Daddy will get over it right?”

“I hope so,” Susie says truthfully. You were Toto’s oldest, nothing would ever be good enough for you. You were his pride and joy, you were the first, and as the first, you are everything to your father. Susie knows this, and she knows that no matter how much Charles tries, Toto still won’t think he’s good enough for you.

Susie reminds you that the best way to handle this, is to inform your father sooner rather than later. You agree, but you want to make sure that you and Charles are on the same page as well. Thursday night, once again you are hiding out in Charles' hotel room, instead of staying in your own room. The two of you cuddle together on the bed as a movie plays on the TV.

“Charles,” you start off softly, afraid to disturb the delicate peace that’s settled across the room, “where do you see this going?”

“What do you mean by that?” Charles asked, as he glanced at you.

“Us, our relationship, where do you see it going?” You stared at Charles, while listening to his steady heartbeat.

“I don’t know,” Charles answers, his answer holds a brutal truth that you don’t like, you sit up to look at Charles, “but, I hope it goes far and long.” Charles continues to lay in bed while you stare at him, “ I hope that it gets out of hotel rooms, and garage halls, and private phone calls. I hope it gets you into some red Ferrari gear,” you smile at Charles’ preposterous hope, “I hope that it gets further than this. I love you y/n.”

“I love you too,” you reassure.

“Why do you ask me that ma chère?”

“I’m going to tell my father about us,” you say, “and your plans to move to Mercedes.” You just have to tease him a little bit.

Charles laughs at you, “you mean your plans to be a Ferrari fan from now on.” And he always knew how to handle your teasing.

You laugh going to kiss Charles, “that’s so much work,” you say with another kiss, “you should just switch teams.”

Charles laughs sarcastically, he loves the banter. “y/n,” he calls. It stops you, he never uses your name, “I really do love you.” He’s probably told you this same sentiment over a thousand times, but each time, it still feels like the first time.

Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling, “I love you too.” Somehow these ‘I love you's' are different, they’re more significant, more meaningful, more genuine, more heartfelt, more profound. They’re more serious, because they’re not just ‘I love you,’ they’re a promise, a commitment, a lifetime, together.

“Daddy, please can you be rational about this?” You ask as you follow your father about the Monaco home. Trying to get him to stop complaining about your choices in men.

“Why couldn’t you date George, at least you would still be supporting Mercedes,” your Father says as the two of you make your way into the kitchen to see Mamma and Jack.

“Mamma do you hear him?” You ask, indicating your father as ‘him.’ “George is very much in a relationship, Father”

“And what’s wrong with Lewis?” Your father clearly is not thinking about the age difference between you and Lewis.

You looked to Mamma to see if your father was serious, and even she was shocked with the suggestion, “you would be okay with me dating someone that is 14 years my senior?” you ask with a brow raised to your father, “you’ve convinced me Daddy, I will stop seeing Charles and start seeing Lewis.”

Your father sighs, “that is not what I…”

“Daddy, I invited Charles over for dinner, tomorrow night, that way you can properly meet him as my partner, instead of as a driver.” You tell your father, hoping that you're just imagining the steaming coming out of his ears, “one dinner, Daddy, that’s all. He makes me really happy.”

“Okay,” your Father says. You don’t miss the slight eye roll he gives though.

“Thank you Daddy,” you say, giving him a hug, before running off to your room like a teenage girl to call Charles and let him know about dinner tomorrow night.

After your father hears your bedroom door shut, does he turn to his wife. “Susie,” he calls out, still listening for you, to see if you were coming back out. “A word, privately.”

“Okay,” Susie answers a bit confused about the request, she turns to Jack, “why don’t you go play for right now.” Jack nods along excitedly, before running out the room. “Toto, what is it?”

“She can’t date Charles.” Toto says, turning his full attention to his wife.

“What?”

“Susie, I have seen the drivers in relationships. They have their girlfriend one weekend, then they have a club girl the next weekend, and then some lucky fan the following weekend. Charles is no different.” Toto doesn’t hold back in his recounting of the drivers stepping out on their partners, “y/n is gonna get hurt, and her entire image will be tainted by being cheated on by Charles.”

“Toto don’t you think you’re being a little unfair.” Susie tries her best to defend Charles, but she knows Toto is telling the truth. She’s seen it too, from a number of drivers amongst the ranks throughout the years.

“Charles is a hell of a driver, but I'm not gonna allow him to ruin my daughter.” Toto declares as final, “we need to find a way to stop them from seeing each other before the public catches wind of their relationship.”

“Toto,” Susie takes a breath, if they do this, they would have to tread very carefully, or they could end more than just your relationship with Charles. “If she ever finds out that we are interfering in her life like this, she won’t forgive us, she's not a kid anymore.”

“She wasn’t a kid when we pulled her from racing,” Toto drags up a long forgotten and regretted moment, “we do what we have to, to protect our children, regardless of how it may look.”

“We’ll need to play this close to the vest.”

To say the evening was filled with tension and awkwardness would be an understatement. Your father continuously gave Charles dirty looks throughout the night, and you wanted to slap him for being so childish. Susie was pleasant throughout the evening. Jack was just being Jack. He probably talked the most, asking Charles about what it was like to be a real race car driver.

“This is a very lovely meal,” Charles says to Susie. You appreciate him trying his best to not ruffle your father’s feathers.

“Thank you Charles,” Susie appreciates the compliments. She doesn’t know what is best, because Toto is determined to stop you and Charles from seeing each other.

“Charles, did you ever pee in the car?” Jack asks, as he shovels another pile of food in his mother.

“Jack,” you say in a scolding manner, while Charles just laughs at the question.

Charles has to take a sip of water before answering, “I try my best to make sure I use the bathroom before I get into the car.”

“Enough questions Jack,” you say to your little brother, getting irritated with how much he was talking.

“I just wanted to ask the racecar driver,” Jack pouts. He makes that face with an exaggerated frown, that almost makes you feel guilty.

“Jack, we’re all race car drivers. Me, Mamma and Daddy have all raced cars before and you never ask us.” you argue back, you almost feel stupid that you have to argue with a five year old.

“But you didn’t make it to formula 1,” Jack points out, and now you don’t feel guilty, you just feel sad that Jack had to point out one of your biggest regrets in life.

“Jack,” Susie says, scolding your brother.

“I didn’t know you raced,” Charles says, turning to look at you.

You smile, thinking back to the time, “Yeah, I did karting for years, then I did formula renault, F4 and F3.”

“Why did you stop?” Charles asks, wondering how you could give it up.

“I didn’t get a seat in Formula two, and the agreement was if I could get a seat I could race, but I wouldn’t pass up opportunities to race. I got into college, so I gave up racing and went back to school.” You reveal to Charles, he can hear the regret in your voice, but he chooses not to point it out. You don’t see that look Susie and Toto exchange when they hear your retelling of events.

“I see,” Charles says, “It’s a shame, I think you would’ve been a hell of a driver.”

You chuckle at Charles, “I would definitely have more wins than you by now,” you tease.

“Oh?” Charles smirks at you, “you would?”

“Of course I would, because I would be driving for Mercedes, for sure.” You chuckle at your own joke.

Charles shakes his head at you, his smile spreading far and wide. Susie watches you and Charles, she's been watching you throughout the night and she knows Charles is enough for you. She knows that this is your person, that they will never be another that will be able to compete with Charles. It's him or nothing.

You skip the Hungarian grand prix, especially as the media releases pictures of you and Charles, going back to the Monaco Grand Prix. Your father thought it best that you stay home, he wasn’t sure how people would react to the relationship news. You spent a few days before your father left for Hungary, arguing with him that it was unfair to bench you, because of the possibility that fans won’t like the news.

Clearly, your father won that argument as you sat at home in Monaco, watching the sessions through the TV, instead of being there in person. What Toto doesn’t tell you, is that he wants you home, so that he can meet with Fred without you getting suspicious.

After the qualifying session, Toto asked Fred, the team principal of Ferrari, to join him for dinner. As the two men met away from the paddock, away from the cameras, from the drivers, from the team. They sat in a private dining room, in an elite restaurant. Only here did Toto feel comfortable asking what he was about to ask.

“What are we doing here Toto?” Fred asks, as he sips the beer he ordered. Fred wouldn’t say it, betraying his French roots, but he always preferred a bottle of beer over a glass of wine.

“Fred, I have a favor to ask,” Toto requests, he ignores his gut feeling telling him that this is wrong, and continues on, “I want you to delay Charles' contract signing.”

“Why would I do that?” Fred asks, delaying a contract signing seems like it’s not a big deal, but there's many implications to what that could mean.

“You would do it, because then I will be in debt to you,” Toto says, he's thought about this, he knows his way through a negotiation.

“Okay,” Fred says, he has a reason to do so, but what is Toto’s reason for asking? “Now why do you need me to do this?”

Toto sighs, “y/n.”

“Your daughter, I saw the news about her Charles,” Fred pauses, taking another sip of the beer, “well actually Charles told me about the relationship back in Miami.”

“Miami?” Toto questions, “she didn’t tell me until after silverstone.”

“Charles said he wanted me to know before the public knew, would like to know what else he said?”

“What?” Toto sighs, once more.

“Charles said he wants to do this right, that he is serious about her,” Fred offers.

“We’ve both heard drivers say one thing and do another,” Toto fixes his posture, sitting up in the chair, “I won’t allow my daughter’s image to be run through by Charles.”

“So you want me to delay a contract signing, to do what? So you can scare Charles into picking a seat over your daughter? And what happens when he picks your daughter over his seat?” Fred sits up in his chair as well, looking Toto square in the eyes.

“If he picks my daughter over his seat, then I know he’s serious about her,” Toto stands upm buttoning his jacket, “but we both know he won’t do that.” Toto sticks out his hand for Fred to shake.

Fred stands to shake Toto’s hand, “this doesn’t mean I agreed to anything.”

“You will agree,” Toto smiles, a little amused at the situation, “we both know me in debt to you is too valuable to pass up.”

Since the news of your relationship has been made public, you and Charles are seen together around the paddock during the Belgian Grand Prix a lot more. Although you guys did try to keep it as professional as possible, there weren't any public displays of affection between the two of you. However, that went straight out the window after the race podium celebration.

Instead of watching the podium you stayed in the garage with your father, since there wasn’t a Mercedes on the podium. As soon as Charles was done with the podium celebration, he ran straight into the Mercedes garage to collect a celebratory kiss from you. His, sweaty, champagne-covered, sticky self, pulling you into a tight hug with a deep kiss. He had one arm wrapped around your waist, while his other hand held onto his trophy. You were taken aback by the initial kiss, but soon you cupped his cheek and held him close.

Charles would’ve kissed you longer, but he could feel the cameras on the two of you. When he finally did pull away, you were a giggling mess that you didn’t even notice the cameras at first. “Let’s go,” Charles whispers to you, “let’s get out of here.”

You wanted desperately to leave right then and there with Charles, “I can’t,” you say. You watch his smile drop just a little, “I have work to finish,” you say while giving the side eye to where your father sat in the Mercedes garage, watching you and Charles. “And you have a press conference.”

“Okay, after that then.” Charles says, kissing you on the cheek this time.

“After that.”

That night, while you and Charles celebrated his podium finish, the picture of you and him making out in the Mercedes garage after his podium celebrations, hit social media. That photo is more talked about than Max’s 8th grand prix win in a row. That photo is in all the group chats around the paddock. That photo makes it to the official formula 1 social media pages. And the biggest take away is your father’s face in the background of the photo. Everytime you look at it, you laugh knowing that your father most likely made that face subconsciously.

Since summer break has begun, you spend more time with Charles than at home with your family. Today, you just so happen to need a few things from your closet, that you stopped in the Monaco home. That is when you could overhear your parents talking in your father’s office.

“We need to be more discreet about this now,” your father says to Mamma.

“Toto, I don’t think this is right. It’s not fair to y/n or Charles,” Susie says. Normally you wouldn’t eavesdrop on your parents, but the mention of you and Charles caught your attention.

“I am trying to protect our daughter,” Toto says, and you can’t help but think. What is your father trying to protect you from?

“This isn’t protecting her, this is your fear about what could happen,” Susie says. You can hear in your mamma voice, she’s getting defensive.

“Like how your fear pulled her from racing,” Toto says in a raised voice. You’re completely confused as to what your father could mean with that statement.

There’s a pause. It goes silent for a second, and you listen closer. “I was saving her life, we weren’t sure what the FIA would do after Jules.” There’s a pain in Susie’s voice.

“Safety measures were put in place,” Toto argues.

“After you pushed back on them.”

“I have changed my position on the halo, you know that,” Toto says. Even though the wood doors separate you from seeing your parents, you can clearly imagine what this fight is looking like.

“After Lewis almost dies!” Mamma never shouts, is your singular thought after hearing that statement. “What if you had gotten your way and the halo was never placed? What if it was our daughter in that car? I pulled her from racing to save her life, because you sure as hell wasn’t going to do it.” Susie pulls open the office door to see you standing on the other side. You watch her face drop from anger to sadness quickly. “Sweetheart…”

“Mamma… you pulled me from racing?” You question as the tears begin to well in your eyes.

“Sweetheart…” Susie repeats, shes at a complete loss for words.

“You told me that I wasn’t picked up for a seat.” you take a breath before you start crying, “was that the truth?”

“Darling,” Toto calls out to you.

“Was it the truth?” You ask again, this time you make the hurt evident in your voice, “you told me a team didn’t want to pick me for F2, was that the truth?”

“You weren’t anybody’s first choice,” Susie pauses, “but you were on the list.” You feel your break, as you start to cry. “We worked a few negotiations to ensure that you didn’t get picked. We worked to pull you from racing.”

You were a hyperventilating mess, you couldn’t stop the tears, the sobs, the heartbreak from happening. “You told me…You told me, if I earned my seat without you or daddy interfering I could keep racing. You promised that you would let me race.”

“We wanted to protect you, we didn’t want what happened to Jules.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snap at Susie, “don’t use what happened to Jules as an excuse.” You walked away, racing up the stairs. Towards your bedroom, you could hear your parents rushed footsteps as they followed after you. You began to shove clothes into a bag, as you tried to violently wipe away the tears.

“Where are you going?” Your father asks in a calm voice.

“I’m gonna stay with Charles for a while.” When you mention Charles, you remembered the beginning of the conversation. You stopped packing your clothes. Slowly you turned to face your parents. “What did you do?”

“Excuse me?” your father questions.

“What did you do to Charles? Mamma said it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, whatever you were doing. What did you do to Charles daddy?” You’re out of breath, you fear whatever your father has to say.

You watch as your father sighs, he hangs his head. “I asked Fred to delay his contract signing. Ferrari wants to keep Charles, they’re going to give him whatever he wants. I asked for Fred to just hold off on signing the contract.”

You scoff at the revelation. “Just long enough to scare Charles into picking a seat over me. This is rich from the both of you.”

“Sweetheart…” Susie calls out to you as she reaches to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you snap once again. You couldn’t tell if you were really angry or sad or shocked, but you did know you were just hurt. Your parents had taken away your dreams, and they were trying to take away your love. “You took away racing,” you take a breath, you strip away all the excess, you let them hear the hurt in your voice, “I won’t let you take Charles away too.”

When you do make it Charles’ place. When he opens the door for you, he sees you silently crying and shaking. Your voice is hoarse already, that it’s only a whisper when you ask, “can I stay with you for a few days?”

“Of course,” Charles says as he welcomes you inside. When he finally closes the door, you drop your bag to the floor, and just hold onto Charles tightly. He wraps his arms around you, providing you with the comfort you longed for.

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

Part II

#formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc #formula 1 au #formula 1 angst #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #scuderia ferrari #f1 ferrari #f1 charles leclerc #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc angst #toto wolff #toto wolff daughter #toto wolff au

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hgfictionwriter · 9 months ago

Text

Maybe This Time

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: UCLA was a long time ago. Jessie couldn't bring herself to make a move back then and missed her chance. But now that you're back in her life, maybe things can be different.

Warning: None

A/N: A bit more fluff for y'all! And sorry for flooding the Jessie tags. I’ve got a bunch of fics just sitting around!

"Jessie?"

Jessie turned and couldn't believe her eyes. Y/N. Y/N L/N. The girl she'd pined over at UCLA; who her friends had relentlessly made fun of her for liking and never pursuing; the girl who still showed up in idle daydreams from time to time, even all these years later.

"I heard you were playing in town now. Oh my gosh - it's been so long. I was hoping I'd run into you at some point."

Here you were standing in front of her. Smiling at her. Instead of being the...relatively...confident person Jessie now was - she was national team captain, a gold medal athlete, for goodness sake - she wasn't a young girl anymore hiding behind textbooks and her friends, instead though, she felt her cheeks burn hot and her words got caught in her throat. She stood there staring speechless at you.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize me," you said, a hint of apprehension beginning to cast over you.

Finally, Jessie began to react. She closed her eyes briefly in hopes of resetting, shaking her head and allowing herself to smile.

"Of course I do," she finally managed, only stammering slightly. "I mean, I recognize you. Of course."

"Okay." You let out a small laugh of relief. "For a second I thought worldwide athletic stardom made you forget your favourite lab partner."

"Of course not," Jessie readily assured you. "I'd never forget you."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She clenched her jaw as she reprimanded herself internally for imploding so quickly and after so much time. She cut herself some slack when you smiled again at her.

"That's comforting to hear. Well, I mean, I know you're just leaving," you gestured to the door of the coffee shop, "but, um, I don't know." You laughed nervously before settling on what to say. You offered her a resolute nod. "It was nice to see you again."

Jessie's mind whirled with ideas and options. Anything coming out of her mouth now was mere instinct.

"Nice to see you too. Um, I don't know, maybe we could chat sometime? Are you in Portland too?"

"Yeah, I work at a logistics firm in town." You cracked a smirk. "Not nearly as glamorous as being a national icon, but you know, I do my part."

Jessie chuckled and ran her fingers through her hair.

"If you call 4 am wake-up calls, jet lag, and bruises to high heaven glamourous, then sure, I guess it is."

"Sounds not too unfamiliar from your UCLA days," you teased. "I still remember when you showed up to class with a black eye. And I see you've healed fine from your recent one."

Jessie blushed. So you watched her games? And you remembered moments from uni.

You'd been friends in university, but that's all it ever was. Her friends had goaded her again and again to ask you out, but Jessie could never work up the courage. She'd doubted herself too much. And then before she knew it she'd lost her chance. You dated other girls and that was the end of it. She stepped back and time ticked on.

You remained close friends throughout uni, sharing deep conversations, hopes and fears, silly moments, too. There were moments where Jessie felt hope starting to blossom in her chest - that maybe you had feelings for her, but she'd stamp it out. She’d just be setting herself up for disappointment.

After you both graduated, that was it. She'd gone off to London and you fell out of touch. It was for the best really. Well, maybe.

"Anyway," you started again, drawing Jessie back from her thoughts. "Sure, I'd love to catch up. I'd say I'll message you on Instagram, but I know your social media is a black hole. I can give you my number if you like."

Jessie gave you a tight-lipped smile as she scratched the back of her head and let her gaze fall to the bulletin of flyers instead.

"Yeah, I'm not much for social media."

"I know," you chuckled. "You never were."

Jessie cleared her throat and looked back to you. "And sure, what's your number?"

She almost missed you telling her because her mind drifted back to class when you reached over and scribbled your number on the top corner of her paper and told her to text you about the reading. Jessie’s words had died in her throat and she had to settle for merely offering you a delayed nod as you gathered up your books and left. She’d felt light on her feet, nearly dizzy even, all day. Her hands had shaken when she texted you and her palms were clammy as she awaited your response.

That was a lifetime ago. But now here you were, and number newly confirmed. Jessie tucked her phone away in her pocket.

"Okay, I'll let you go," you told her. "And truly, if you aren't up to a chat of any kind - no pressure. You probably have so many people vying for your time. I won't be offended." You said with true earnest. "In case I don't see you again, I just want to say I'm really proud of you for everything you've achieved. And I'd say I'm impressed, but A) that goes without saying, and B) I always knew you were going to do great things. I told you time and time again. Anyway, it was so good to see you. Take care."

Before Jessie could respond, you'd turned and disappeared to the other side of the shop and into the line. She forced herself to turn and leave.

The door had barely closed behind her when she opened her phone and pulled up her messages with Teagan.

"You will NEVER guess who I just ran into."

-----

"Hi Y/N. It's Jessie. UCLA."

"Lol the one and only. How are you?"

"Well forgive me for not assuming that you would know who a random 'Jessie' is lol. I'm doing well, thanks. How are you?"

"You were always very humble. It was always very endearing, so I'm glad to see you haven't lost that. I'm doing well. Working late. Some of my vendors are shitting the bed, so I'm scrambling to find alternatives."

"Seriously? That sounds brutal. I'm sorry to hear that. Well, if it makes you feel better, the team had to run extra drills today because of how bad our last game was."

"It's the start of the season - lots of new players. Chemistry takes time. You guys will find your groove soon. I'm positive. How is Portland treating you, by the way? I'd love to hear more about your time in London too at some point."

"Well, if you still want to grab coffee, I can tell you all about it. And I want to hear about you too. Did you ever make it to the Ghibli museum?"

"Oh my gosh lolol. You remember that. And yes! I did. And it was amazing. And coffee would be amazing, too :)"

Jessie belatedly realized that she was smiling as you texted back and forth. It was an odd feeling - it was strange to be talking with you again, yet entirely natural.

To her surprise, you ended up texting every day until you met up Sunday afternoon. She'd mentioned to Teagan that you two had this scheduled and soon Jessie was hit with an onslaught of messages from all her Bruins mates stepping right back into form and teasing her.

On a scale from 1-10, how red did you blush? And why was it 20.

Can I finally tell her you mumbled her name in your sleep? Several times?

Please tell me you immediately pulled out a vision board with her face all over it.

LOL the universe said, “Think you’ve suffered enough pining for this girl? Think you’re over her? Guess again!”

She still hot? Send pics.

Jessie sat in her car down the street from the coffee shop and essentially gave herself a stern, mental talking to about your get together. She was not who she was 5 years ago, and neither were you. She didn't need to be so nervous. There were no stakes at all, she could just relax, be in the moment, and reconnect with an old friend.

When she stepped into the coffee shop, her pulse picked up just so when she saw you seated at a table, but thankfully by the time she sat she'd composed herself again.

"The good news is, the rain is nothing new to me after being in London," she joked as she swept some rain off her baseball cap.

You looked up from your phone and a large smile crossed your face.

"Yeah, I hear you. And what's going on - how did we both go from sunny LA to rain central?"

Not entirely surprising, conversation flowed easily between you two. And it wasn't all reminiscing and nostalgia, it was easy to talk about current things as well. Pretty soon, you were both at the ends of your second cups of coffee and yet neither of you made a move to leave.

"So, um, you've been in Portland for a while now," the ease Jessie had felt faltered some as she broached a topic she'd been highly curious about, "did [y/gf] come with you?"

You screwed up your face and laughed.

"No," you answered easily. "We broke up like a couple of months after convocation. Let's be real - that was never going to last."

"Oh," Jessie replied, surprise showing on her face at how readily you dismissed the notion. "I had no idea. I thought you two were solid."

"Well," you drained the last bit of your drink, "I guess I wasn't entirely forthcoming then. Sure, things were okay. But, I was lying to myself if I thought that was going to be a 'forever' kind of relationship." Jessie's look of surprise lingered and you rolled your eyes, leaning in. "Jessie. She'd get distracted every time she walked by a mirror. I wish I was exaggerating, but I'm not. Come on, don't tell me you didn't notice. Her full on checking herself out anytime she caught her reflection?"

Jessie sat back and gave you a brief look of disbelief, shaking her head. "I tried not to notice."

"Smart," you retorted good naturedly. "She was nice, and we had fun, but beyond our values not exactly aligning, an equal partnership it was not."

"Well, okay, she's out of the picture. You must be with someone new, then," Jessie went on. She ignored the twinge in her chest when you shook your head 'no'. Just as quickly, she scolded herself. Why would it matter? She was getting way ahead of herself here. She supposed that old habits - and evidently dormant feelings - died hard.

"No. I mean, I dated a couple of girls since I've been here, but nothing's really stuck." You looked up from your drink to Jessie. "Now, superstar, you have to tell me your update."

Jessie mouth contracted into a tight smile and she felt her cheeks begin to burn under the scrutiny.

"That's confidential," she quipped.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and leaned forward. "That is so not fair." Jessie remained smugly silent and merely shrugged. You let out an exasperated sigh and slouched back in your chair. "Fine," you relented not wanting to push too much. "You were always tight-lipped in university, too. You could've had anyone and you - as far as I know," you said pointedly, "didn't date anyone."

"Oh come on." Jessie now rolled her eyes. "I was so shy and quiet. Even if I'd liked someone I would've never gotten up the courage to ask them out." She felt a buzzing in her head as she watched your reaction. You smiled sweetly.

"You were shy and quiet, yes. But you opened up once you were comfortable. I mean, look at us, look at you with your teammates. And you were so smart, incredibly sweet, and pretty, and you had that dry sense of humour. And, hello, captain of the football team!"

"Co-captain," Jessie interjected pointedly. You hung your head briefly with a laugh.

"I repeat - you could've had anyone."

Jessie subconsciously fidgeted with her hat and planted her feet further apart as she shifted down in her chair. "Well, didn't seem that way at the time."

"Wait - so who did you like?" You probed.

"No one," Jessie retorted, her features scrunching up as she played off the question dismissively. "I barely had time to breathe. There was no way I could date someone."

"You are so cagey sometimes," you said lightly, not being able to resist ribbing her once more. "Fine, so, what about now? Are you seeing someone?"

Jessie's composure was long gone and her face burned hot as your interrogation got her flustered. She took a subtle breath and worked to calm herself.

"No, no one's caught my eye just yet," she relayed.

You studied Jessie, discerning whether to drop the topic or not. You eventually relented as you crossed your arms and reclined in your chair.

"Well, I imagine that's not easy. There's a lot to live up to. And you're surrounded by impressive people every day, so the bar's gotta be high. Again, you can have your pick."

You grabbed your phone and looked it over quickly.

"I need to get going. I have a few errands to run still before the weekend's over," you said, a hint of regret in your voice before you offered a smile. "I had a great time though. It was so good to catch up with you."

Jessie removed her hat, running her fingers through her hair briefly before pulling the cap back down on her head.

"Yeah, I had a great time, too."

For the first time this conversation, a small lull formed and neither of you jumped to bridge it. Eventually, Jessie cleared her throat.

"Maybe we could get together again. Coffee. A drink. Whatever, really."

A mild look of surprise crossed your face, puzzling Jessie.

"Sure, I'd like that," you told her warmly as you shrugged on your jacket.

"Okay." Jessie gave you a small smile as she, too, rose from the table. "Will you be at the game next weekend?"

"I hadn't planned on it, but I could be." You smirked.

"No pressure," Jessie said as she felt that old nervousness begin to bubble up. "I could get you tickets if you ever want to go. That's all."

You smiled, looking at her in appreciation. "I'll have to take you up on that."

Jessie chuckled, but gave you a pointed look. "Honestly, you don't have to. I know you weren't a big soccer fan even in university."

"But," you started, drawing the word out and returning her pointed look, "I started going to games after becoming friends with a certain someone. I just haven't had a reason to go to a Thorns games yet."

Jessie resisted her impending blush and instead crossed her arms loosely in front of her, shifting her weight to one leg. "Okay, just let me know," Jessie said. She gave you a small nod. "And I promise these games are even better than Bruins ones."

You cocked your head, a hint of a smile on your face as you lifted a finger to your lips and narrowed your eyes in mock contemplation.

"What are they calling you these days? Midfield Maestro?"

Somehow, Jessie didn't even feel the urge to blush. Instead, she gave you a cocky smirk.

"So you really have been following my career."

She nearly grinned at how your cheeks flushed pink and you broke eye contact. You only took a moment to compose yourself and look back to Jessie with a half smirk.

"Hard not to," you simply said.

Jessie relented, feeling like she'd teased you enough. For now. She smiled and spoke earnestly.

"Offer stands - if you wants tickets, just let me know. Regardless, let's get together soon."

"Deal," you told her, your blush slowly fading.

There was a brief moment of stillness and uncertainty before you stepped forward and pulled Jessie into a hug. It only took her a moment to relax into it, her arms wrapping around you. Even though your body felt different now - so was hers - it felt natural to hold you close again.

You stayed like that for several moments, surprise and tampered excitement filling Jessie when you tightened your embrace before letting go. She noted the renewed colour on your cheeks when you stepped back.

"Text me?" You asked.

Jessie nodded. "Of course."

A\N: Part Two is available here.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt #woso #portland thorns #canwnt x reader

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shurisneakers · 23 days ago

Note

“i know we almost died just now, but… am i the only one who’s hungry?” is so harmless reader core… but what if it was Bucky saying this?

Also hi i love u

hi <3 hey <3 i love u too <3 harmless turns 4 years old next year she's like in school now

Catch up with the rest of the series here!

"Great job, team," you pant, raising your hand for a high five. "I think that was very well handled."

Bucky, still trying to process what exactly the fuck just went down, does not even respond when you match his indifference, dropping your hand to slap it against his.

"Is that how it always goes?" you ask him, looking around the empty lot. "I figured there'd be a lot more zing, y'know? Some oomph. That was like, fine."

The mission was going fine, calm even, until you managed to piss them off, leading to them calling in backup, leading to you both being severely outnumbered, leading to you deciding you'd gotten bored which finally lead to you ending it with a timeout-inator.

Things had exploded, Bucky had to pull down a door to shield you both-- it was a whole thing that he definitely did not mentally prepare for. This was just supposed to be a simple data extraction. He doesn't know at which point nuclear guns got involved.

"How--" Bucky stops mid-sentence, brain scrambling to put together things, "--how did you get assigned on this mission again?"

It wasn't like he claimed to be the expert on all things SHIELD, but he figured that a non-Avenger, non-agent needed a lot of clearance to be allowed on a mission, no matter how mundane the initial objective was. The fact that it devolved into madness was more on you than SHIELD.

"I wrote my name on the sign-up sheet," you explain, smoothing out your singed clothes.

"The what?"

"Fine, you caught me," you give in without even trying, dusting some ash off his shoulder. "I forged my name on some documents, used some white paint. Did an ol' switcharoo. You know how it goes."

"You faked your way here?" he shouts, dropping the damn door he was still holding. "What the hell was your plan?"

"Why does everything need a plan? Why can't I just tag along to see what you do for a living?"

"We nearly got killed. You--"

"But we didn't."

"That is not the point. You said it was a special mission, you said you had clearance from Nick to--"

"I said Nick would give me clearance for anything. And it is a special mission. I'm here, isn't that the specialest gift of all?"

"You didn't ask?" he screeches instead. "How did you get here? Who the fuck was supposed to be here in your place?"

"Clint," you say with a sheepish smile. "He told me he'd wash my garage so we swapped."

That fucking moron. "He'd wash your garage in exchange for you risking your life--"

"I didn't risk anything." You scoff. "I knew we would handle that like champs."

"We nearly got annihilated by a nuclear gun." He drags a hand down his face. "If he didn't trip over your stupid jacket in the last second, we would be dust."

"Well yeah, only if you put it like that," you relent. Bucky glares at you.

You look out at the empty room, one hand on your hip. Lot of rubble and shrapnel in places they had no reason being.

"Huh," you say after a while. "Guess we did just almost die."

"That's it?" he raves, still incredulous. "That's all you have to say?"

"That's crazy-sauce, man," you add, throwing your hands up when he glares at you. "What? What else should I be saying?"

"Where the fuck did you send them?" Bucky finally makes a move, wiping the dirt off his metal fingers onto his cargo pants.

"I put them in timeout," you reply, tapping the gun you'd put back into he pocket of your pants.

"Where is timeout?"

"Like, somewhere outside of time," you dismiss. "Time-out. You get it."

His eyes clench shut, taking a deep inhale in before exhaling, lest he pop a blood vessel.

"We almost died," he tells you again.

"If you say so," you nod.

He stares at you.

You stare right back at him.

The world keeps spinning.

"I'm hungry," he grumbles. "You want lunch?"

"I could go for a sandwich, yeah."

#ari answers #friends #wlwloverwrites #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #harmless mini drabbles #harmless fic

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danieyells · 8 months ago

Text

@mayoigotokurousagi also asked for Sho, so here are my favorite of Sho's voicelines! He's a lil more chill--most of the excitement for him is because Leo's causing him trouble, so maybe there won't be as many since it's just him? (Spoiler: i still put nearly all of them, or it feels that way. . . .)

Also sorry this one took way longer haha i had to do some irl stuff and i was pretty tired too lol. . .may not get to the next ones for a few days since i have to wake up early tomorrow and i work double shifts all weekend. But i'll try and find time for it.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Hey, good timing. You got a second?" お、センパイ。いいとこに来たわ。ちょっと付き合ってくんね？

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"You got a message. Gonna check it or what?" おい、なんか通知来てっけど。見なくていいのか？　それ

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Here you go, Bonnie. Barbecue sandwiches, your favorite." ほら、食えよボニー。お前の好きなＢＢＱサンドだぜ

"Huh? Was that your stomach? You hungry?" ……？　なんだよ。もしかしてあんた、腹減ってんの？

"Pit's on again? I'm done with that already. They're all normies—what's the point?" あ？　また地下で騒いでんのか？俺はもうやんねぇよ……パンピー相手にしても仕方ねぇだろ

the word he uses for 'normie' here means 'commoner' lmao

"Yeah I got it, you want to train. You go ahead, I'll catch up." はいはい、トレーニングっすよね。もうちょいしたら行くんで

"Did you just see a creep in a black mask over there? ...Nah, never mind. I'm hallucinating." ……今、あそこに黒マスクした胡散臭ぇやつ歩いてなかったか？ ……いや、なんでもねぇ。幻覚だわ

SO THIS LINE CONFUSED ME AT FIRST because it's always referred to as a blindfold by everyone else? HE'S TALKING ABOUT HYDE HYDE IS JUST STALKING HIM LMAO

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Too early... What's Leo doing today? Guess I'll text him." ねっみ……玲音のやつ、今日はどうすんだ？一応Ｄチャしとくか……

if it's too early for you it's too early for Leo. But also I'm sure he's got something exciting or interesting planned. I like that we're immediately shown he wants to spend time with Leo even when he's tired haha

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Freakin' sasquatch... Would it kill him to approve an R&R permit every once in a while?" ったく、あのデカブツ……外出許可くらい出せっつの

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Class? What's the point? It's all written in the textbooks—all you gotta do is memorize it." 授業？　あんなん出なくても全部教科書に書いてんだからよ。そのまま覚えりゃいいだけだろ？

Doesn't go to class because he's smart enough to memorize the contents of the textbook I guess! Plus he doesn't care as much about Real Missions so knowing how to do the hard stuff doesn't matter to him haha. . .plus first years probably don't learn as much that's not in the textbook too.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"All right, time to go for a spin. C'mon, Bonnie." うし、軽く流してくっか。行こうぜ、ボニー

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"(yawn) What time is it? Seriously? Damn, overslept." ふぁあ…… 今何時だ……？マジかよ、寝すぎたわ

Neither he nor Leo sleep at night lmao

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Huh, haven't ridden a skateboard since middle school but I guess I still have the muscle memory. Watch this, I'm gonna do a trick." 中坊ぶりにスケボー乗ったけど、意外と体が覚えてんだな。トリック決めてやるよ、見ててみ？

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Nice, got an order. More demand than I thought. Getting Leo to make this app was a good call." お、出前の予約が入ったわ……思ったより需要あってよ。玲音に予約アプリ作らせたの正解だったな

Leo has a line that references this one!

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What's Mido texting me for? come tot hr epuit... Pfft. What the hell is this, some kinda secret code?" あ？　御堂センパイからＤチャ？『血か二個い』って…… ぷっ……なんだこれ、暗号かよ

Ksvdhdisn Alan is adorable. . .i love technologically incompetent characters. Poor bby can't even text. . . . .

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Shit, my whole body's killing me... Sparring five sets of fifteen rounds, are you kidding me? Mido's insane..." クソ、筋肉痛がやべぇ…… 御堂センパイ、スパー１５ラウンド５セットとか正気じゃねぇよ……

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"What am I gonna do tomorrow... Got nothing on, guess I could go to class... That asshole's on the schedule. Pass." 明日どうすっかな……暇だし、たまには授業出とくか？ ……あいつのコマあるわ。やめとこ

Lmao 'i guess i could go to class--wait my brother's teaching one of them tomorrow? Fuck that then.'

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"All right, that's the morning prep done. Guess I'll shower and go back to bed." うし、朝の仕込みはこんなもんか。後は……シャワー浴びて二度寝だな

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"This? It's a fishing rod. Sometimes I catch and filet the fish myself. It's pretty easy, and it saves cash." あ？　これか？　釣り竿だよ。たまに自分で魚釣ってさばくわけ。簡単だし、コスパ良いだろ？

Fishing with Sho. . .sounds nice and chill. Also did the pc not recognize a fuckin fishing rod. . . .

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"{PC}, there you are. I'm headed to the diner, could you come with and help me carry some stuff?" お、センパイ見っけた。俺、今からダイナー行くんだけどよ。ちょっと荷物持ち手伝ってくんね？

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"You think I look grumpy? The stream for the finals started at 3 AM, what do you want me to do about that? (yawn)" ……あ？　機嫌が悪ぃって？しょうがねぇだろ……決勝の中継、夜中の３時開始だぜ？ふぁあ……

Staying up late to watch a basketball game, much like Leo he does not go to bed until the sun's up ordinarily lmao

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Hey... Pfft. What are you panicking for? You need to be somewhere? Hop on—I'll give you a ride." お、センパイじゃん。ぷっ……なんだよその余裕ねぇ顔。急いでんなら、乗っけてってやろうか？

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You hungry, {PC}? I made lunch, but Leo bailed on me, so I was just gonna eat it myself." センパイ、腹減ってねぇ？昼飯作ったんだけどよ。玲音のやつ来ねぇし、食っちまおうと思って

Sho: hey our boyfriend ditched me wanna have lunch with me

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Last year I would've been in a club around this time. Leo was always getting in fights though, so we got banned from almost every joint in Shibuya." 昔はこの時間、毎日クラブいてよ。玲音がすぐ喧嘩すっから、渋谷の箱ほとんど出禁になっちまったけどな

Menace boyfriend Leo lmao

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"{PC}, black or white? I'm trying to choose some packaging for the food truck, what'd you think I meant? ...I'll keep it in mind, anyway." センパイさ、白と黒どっちが好き？ ……出前の容器の話なんだけどな。ま、一応覚えといてやるよ

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Geez, it's pretty late. Wait there—I'll give you a ride back." もうこんな時間かよ…… 送ってくわ。そこで待ってろ

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Seriously, it's way too early for this... What? I'm going to class. You're the one who wouldn't shut up about it." はぁ……マジねみぃ…… あ？　今から授業行くんだよ。あんたが行けってうるせぇからだろ

Ordinarily doesn't go to class(a lot of them don't tbh, and Luca says the classes are elective so the ghouls probably don't have to) but will go if you want him to I guess! Leo's gonna call him whipped but Leo already knows he's whipped because he's the one who's been whipping him--

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I've finally got the hang of running this food truck. I want to thank you for helping me out—think of something you want." キッチンカーも大分慣れてきたわ。手伝ってもらった礼もしてぇし、何か欲しいもの、考えといて

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Huh? No, I don't really need any help today... You don't have to make excuses to hang out with me, you know. Just ask." 手伝い？　今日は特にねぇけど…… センパイ、俺と一緒にいたいって、素直に言えば？

"senpai, why don't you just tell me honestly if you wanna be with me?" Is the Japanese here I think and. idk i love that. He's catching on and teasing you a little.

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"What time you planning on heading home, {PC}? Anytime's fine for me. You can stay over if you want." センパイ、今日何時に帰る予定？俺は別に、何時でも…… なんなら、泊まってってもいいぜ？

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Can't sleep? Come over here—I'll warm you up. Pfft... I was kidding, don't get mad." なんだよ……寝れねぇのか？あっためてやるから、こっち来い。ぷっ……冗談だって。怒んなよ

WERE YOU KIDDING THO. WERE YOU? KINDA HIGH AFFINITY TO JOKE LIKE THAT. AND YOU JUST SAID THEY COULD STAY OVER IF THEY WANTED. . .CHOOSE YOUR WORDS CAREFULLY SHOHEI

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Here, this helmet's for you. I got some time today, so I'll take you somewhere. Anywhere you wanna go." はい、あんたのメット。今日は時間あっから、センパイの行きたいとこ連れてってやるよ

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"Forget it, I can't keep my eyes open. Wake me when it's noon." 駄目だ。ねみぃ。昼んなったら起こして

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Pretty warm out lately, huh? Bet it's already snorkeling season in Okinawa. I used to go pretty often." もう大分あったかくなってきたな。沖縄じゃ、シュノーケリングできる時期だぜ？　昔はよく行ってたわ

He plays basketball, he skateboards, he fishes, he snorkels, this bitch loves sports lol

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"This? It's chirashizushi. Cuts are pretty chic, right? The idea came to me when I was over in Hotarubi." これか？　ちらし寿司作ってんの、飾り切り渋ぃだろ。ホタルビ行ったら、こんなイメージが湧いたからよ

Chirashizushi is sushi ingredients cut into small pieces and scattered over sushi rice! It comes in a lot of variation and isn't always made with raw fish like you might expect sushi to be.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"If I can get an R&R permit granted, I want to go for a solo ride. Haven't been for ages, and riding through the cherry blossoms this time of year feels awesome." 外出許可出たらよ、久々にひとりで走りてぇわ。この時期の桜坂辺り、最高に気持ちいんだよな……

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Damn, I'm melting here... I need a haircut. Nah I don't need a barber, I just do it myself. 'Course I'm serious." クソ暑ぃ……そろそろ髪切んねぇとな…… 美容院？　めんどくせぇから自分で切ってっけど。マジだぜ？

Sho really knows a little about everything huh. He cuts his own hair, he memorizes textbooks, he plays every sport, he can cook. . .is there anything Sho can't do? In his character story he even says he played guitar for a little while but hasn't done it lately, so music is probably within his wheelhouse too.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Sweating my ass off over here... It's been like a year since I last played basketball. Mido's core's gotta be made of steel... Oh, is that water for me? Thanks." 暑ぃ！　バスケしたの１年ぶりか？御堂センパイ、体幹強すぎだろ…… お、水くれんの？　サンキュ

actually i'd like to see alan playing basketball too. . .it's nice to know he doesn't just work out by sparring and running, he'll play sports too.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Summer homework? Nah, haven't done it yet. Only takes a day, right? Pfft... You want me to help you?" 夏の課題？　まだやってねぇけど。あんなもん一日で終わるだろ？ぷっ……センパイ手伝ってやろうか

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Leo won't shut up about wanting to let off fireworks, but no way am I doing that shit with him again. I'm sure you can guess why." 玲音が花火してぇってうるせぇんだけどよ、俺は二度とあいつとはやんねぇって決めてんの。わかんだろ？

wtf was Leo doing with the fireworks that Sho decided he's never settijng off fireworks with him again. . .was he just pointing them at him lmao. Leo also has a line referencing this!

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Yesterday when I was fishing in the river I saw this guy who looked like one of the Frostheim ghouls out there. Can't have been though, right?" 昨日川釣り行ってきたんだけどよ、フロストハイムの奴に似てんのがいた気がすんだよな……人違いか？

which one. . .i mean if it was Luca he was probably training, but if it was Kaito. . .idk what Kaito would be doing out in the river by himself. . .I know it wasn't Jin but if it was Tohma maybe it was some official business. . .? Or, y'know, spy stuff. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Geez, don't pipe up outta the blue like that. ...What? You gotta a problem with me reading a book?" ビビった。いきなり声かけんなよ。 ……なんだよ、その顔。俺が本読んでちゃ悪ぃのか？　あ？

sho has been saying like this entire time 'yeah i read and memorize the textbooks instead of going to class' how is the pc so shocked to see him ACTUALLY READING. Then again, i also wouldn't think he's a hobby reader. . .on the other hand he's got like every hobby he can get his hands on, so it makes sense.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Pfft... Hey, {PC}. Come over here. Geez, what're you doing walking around with a leaf in your hair?" ぷっ……【名★前】センパイ、ちょっとこっち来い。ったく、なんで髪に葉っぱ付けてんだよ……

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Scariest Ghost Videos to Fuel Your Nightmares... I asked a buddy for some good videos to kill the time, and he sent me this..." 『最恐の怨霊ビデオ集』…… ダチに暇つぶしになる動画教えろっつったら、これ送られてきたんだよ

it's hard to tell based on his expression how he feels about this lol

i wonder if he's not really into horror stuff or it makes him feel uneasy after the PC got attacked by Takeru?

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"I get more delivery orders on cold days... It's a pain in the ass, but I guess I'll just wear an extra layer..." 寒ぃ日ってさ、出前の注文やたら増えんだよな…… めんどくせぇけど今日は１枚多めに着とくか……

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Damn, I really wanna go snowboarding. I used to go every year before I ended up here... Think they got a good slope in Frostheim?" マジでスノボ行きてぇ……ここ来る前は、毎年必ず行ってたのによぉ。フロストハイムで滑れねぇの？

I bet they do I mean rich people would wanna go skiing now and then right? It's just a matter of would they let a vagastromer use them. . .then again what're they gonna do, stop him?

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Huh? I'm looking at a catalog. I could serve hot food if I had an electric pot. I'm thinking about it." ……あぁ？　カタログ見てんだよ。保温ジャーがありゃ、あったけぇメニュー出せんだろ？考え中

this makes it sound like his food isn't served hot lol to my understanding he does make everything in advance, not on the spot but i assume he means like. hot-hot. like soups for the winter kind of thing. he should do it! serve up some new england clam chowder.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I'm freezing my ass off... I just saw Mido walk past in a T-shirt. Are his nerve endings dead?" クソ寒ぃ……さっき御堂センパイ、Ｔシャツ１枚で出てったんだけど。自律神経狂ってんじゃねぇ？

Apparently I'm Alan lmao i too experience less cold than other people

His birthday: (August 19th)

"What, you're gonna celebrate my birthday? What do I want for a present? Hmm... I'll take you. Just kidding." へぇ、俺の誕生日祝ってくれんの？プレゼント…… じゃあさ、あんたのことくれよ。なんてな

Y'KNOW I'M SURE THEY WOULDN'T MIND IF YOU WEREN'T KIDDING THO YOU ARE VERY POPULAR then again based on his valentine's day dialogue he knows that lol

Your birthday:

"Know what this is, {PC}? Yep—an R&R permit. Today's your birthday, right? So, where are we going?" センパイ、これ何だと思う？　そ、外出許可書。今日、誕生日だろ？どこ行きたいか考えとけよ

I'm beginning to suspect that he heavily values freedom and being able to go where he wants and do what he wants. That includes taking you wherever you wanna go. Even at max affinity he has the same response--'we're going somewhere, anywhere you want.' At max affinity he doesn't mention an R&R permit--which suggests he doesn't care if you get in trouble going out, as long as you actually get to go out. One of the first things we see him talking about relating to Darkwick is asking Leo if he regrets going--I think Sho regrets it. He can't leave whenever he wants, even though he's one of the top students as far as grades, he's more restricted in what he's allowed to do and when. . .so I think these offers to drive you anywhere in total freedom are his ways of showing you what means the most to him. Just. . .being able to do whatever, whenever. I think that's also part of why he likes Leo so much. Leo doesn't let himself be restricted either. Leo gets into fights and into trouble and Sho complains about it but he understands the liberation. Sho wants to see that unrestricted you, I think. Even if it isn't anything extreme, even if it isn't anything exciting. He wants to see what you're like out of Darkwick's cage. So he'll take you on little joyrides into freedom. Show him where you go and what you do when no one's there to stop you.

New Years: (January 1st)

"What'd I wish for at midnight? For this year to be peaceful... Not that any gods are listening out for us." 新年の願い事ねぇ……今年こそ、平穏無事に過ごせますように…… って、神様叶える気ねぇだろな

Well when you've been chosen by demons. . .yeah, you're probably not on the good side of many gods.

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Yeah, these are all the chocolates I got. No idea how I'm gonna get through them all... So? You didn't get me anything?" ああ、これ全部もらったチョコ。これ食いきんのきちぃんだよな…… で、センパイは俺にくれねぇの？

I'm surprised Leo's wasn't similar to this tbh. Like, Leo's an influencer, why didn't he mention getting a metric fuckton of valentine's day chocolate? I'm happy Sho's loved by the students tho haha.

White Day: (March 14th)

"Baking sweets and cooking are totally different. It's not really in my wheelhouse, but... here. My firsts. Thanks for the chocolates." 菓子作りと料理は別もんだからよ、普段はやんねぇんだけど…… はい。俺の初焼き菓子、お返しにどうぞ

THE FIRST TIME HE EVER BAKED AND IT'S FOR YOU what a sweetheart. considering how good he is at just about everything i'm sure they came out just fine

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Hey, it's snowing outside. Wait, guess that's not so unlikely in this place... I used to get duped by that one all the time when I was a kid." おい、外、雪降ってんぞ？って、この学園じゃ嘘になんねぇか。ガキの頃、これ何回やられたことか……

we found the one thing he's not good at! pulling pranks!

Halloween: (October 31st)

"You really need an explanation? Leo made me wear it! Shit, why am I always the girl..." ああ？　言わなくてもわかんだろ。玲音に着せられたんだっつの！クソ、なんで毎年女装なんだよ……

Your boyfriend best friend makes you crossdress for him on Halloween on a yearly basis. . .and you do it!!!

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Sorry for making you help me prep all these roast chicken orders... Wanna do something Christmassy together once we're done?" センパイ、チキンの注文さばくの手伝わせて悪ぃ…… 今日の分片付いたら、俺らもクリスマス楽しもうぜ

Christmas is often considered a holiday spent with a lover in Japan to my understanding. . .what are you suggesting Sho. . . .

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"What're you looking at?" あぁ？　見てんじゃねぇよ

little peek at the delinquent thug vibe lol

(13 affinity and above)

"C'mon. Hurry up, or I'm gonna leave you behind." センパイ、そろそろ行くぞ。早くしねぇと置いてっちまうぜ？

Always on the go, always doing something, he doesn't wanna leave you behind but he won't wait too long so. . .come back already?

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"What took you so long? Your food's cold. Go wash up." 遅ぇよ……あんたの飯、冷めちまっただろ。さっさと手ぇ洗ってこい

Alright, mom.

I STILL FEEL LIKE I CHOSE A BUNCH THIS ONE IS ALSO ALL OF THEM NOW . . .Sho is pretty lowkey. But after rereading them all and giving it some thought, you can definitely get a feel for his character. He seems like he keeps busy a lot--he's always doing something. Cooking, playing sports, reading, memorizing his textbooks. . .he's confident and comfortable and sometimes he's a bit rough around the edges. And sometimes he's a little flirty too, if he likes you. But that's all part of how confident and self-assured he is--and he has plenty of reason to be when he's so smart and skilled at damn near everything he touches. He acts more like the senpai character here. He's a lot like Haku, except where Haku is a bit lazier and less motivated(although he still works hard) Sho is always on the go. Always up to something, always trying something. He likes to keep busy and doesn't like to sit still--to the point that he even considers going to class when he's got nothing to do during the day. He wakes up and has nothing to do? Let's call Leo, he's usually got something going on. He complains about Alan making him work out so much or go to the pit or play basketball real hard? He still goes and does it anyway. But it seems like he just. . .always wants to be busy. I can't really think of many points he just kinda had downtime. Yeah, he goes fishing and reads and watches basketball(?) but like. . .he's still occupied even then. Then again maybe that's because he's stuck in Darkwick. He'd rather be driving around somewhere or doing some sport but he can't do so much unless he can leave. . .he feels a little restless to me. But maybe that's just me haha.

#tokyo debunker #shohei haizono #sho haizono #danie yells at tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker spoilers #datamining cw #sho is also just a guy. but he perorms the character of 'just a guy' well

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tin-wufborf · 6 months ago

Text

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 13)

Hello, and welcome to part 13! You're getting this part pretty much immediately after the last because this is currently all I have the energy to do right now. So...I guess my cold says "you're welcome" lol.

Thank you all again for all of your support for this series. You're all amazing and fantastic and I love you all. I hope you all have as good a day as you can, if not a great one!

Oh! Before you proceed, please recall the warning I gave you in the last part's preamble about the prevalence of Bad Friend Scott McCall fics you'll be seeing moving forward. There's a shit-ton of them on this list, and there will definitely be some more moving forward.

Okay, that's all now, byyyyyyyyyyyyyye.

Smoochies and squeezies, my dudes!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Layover by dr_girlfriend (G | 1/1 | 3,643)

Excerpt:

Big, serious brown eyes were staring right into his from only a few inches away. The child had clambered half over the arm of Derek’s chair to study him at close range, her little rosebud mouth pursed in concentration.

“Uh.” Derek couldn’t look away as the girl reached out one pudgy hand and patted him gently on the cheek. Her scent was soft and sweet and somehow a bit familiar, just enough to keep Derek from shying away. Derek didn’t know too much about kids but he guessed this one was probably three years old or so, head still oversized in proportion to the short limbs and round little belly.

She seemed fascinated with Derek’s beard, eyes widening further under incredibly thick lashes as she petted Derek’s cheek some more, smoothing down the short stubble. Finally she grinned widely. “Good wuff.”

Derek jerked upright, hands clenching on the edge of his seat. Did she just say?...

“CJ!” The child was suddenly gone, lifted up by a strong, tattooed forearm around her little potbelly. “You scared the he— heck out of me! What have I told you about wandering — Derek?”

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Hale Construction by Mynuet (G | 1/1 | 8,342)

Derek gets a business and a home. Stiles gets his own Batman. The sheriff gets hash browns. The Stilinski household is expanded without anyone quite talking about it.

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So When Do I Get To Pledge My Loyalty To The Mob? by RedRidingStiles (M | 1/1 | 10,146)

“Are you my sugar daddy?” Stiles blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth when his brain catches up to his mouth.

The man lets out a soft laugh, making his way around the couch till he’s standing just feet away from Stiles.

Stiles can smell his cologne from here, it smells heavenly, Stiles kinda wants to bury his face into the guy's chest so he can figure out exactly what it is.

“If that’s what you’d like to call it.” The man smiles.

Stiles doesn’t think he should be allowed to smile like that. All soft and gorgeous and way too pretty to be legal.

He’s still not convinced any of this is real.

Stiles loses his wallet, someone returns it along with $5,000. Shit keeps coming, Stiles life doesn't make any sense anymore, he's just going with it.

Edited in October 2022

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Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf (M | 1/1 | 11,654)

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

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The One You Choose by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions) (M | 7/7 | 13,495)

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

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By Moon and Stars by kellifer_fic (M | 1/1 | 15,929)

"Have you heard of this Alpha?" Stiles asks, shuffling up his pallet so Scott has room to sit. Scott does with a grateful little twist of his mouth. Stefan forces him into the Stilinski ceremonial armor when they travel and Stiles can see that it's heavy and doesn't sit well on Scott. He can't shift encased in metal and Stefan knows it.

"I know of him, mostly stories that seem a little fantastical. Shifters exaggerate just like common people. They like their war stories."

"Tell me of him. Tell me a war story."

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What to expect when you aren't expecting by MemeKon (T | 1/1 | 16,921)

The baby's wailing is piercing, Stiles doesn't know how Derek can stand it. He tries shushing her and cooing at her and bouncing her a little, but the crying only gets louder, and in addition to hurting his ears, it's hurting his soul.

“Stiles,” Derek interrupts him mid-croon, eyebrows meeting over the bridge of his nose, “have you fed her since you found her?”

Stiles gapes and looks down at the baby's distressed face as she bawls.

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the most important things series by sarcasticfishes (2 works | G-E | 23,774)

1. most important things (E | 1/1 | 21,180) At first Derek didn’t know what to do with Romy. She was this tiny, squirming, pink thing that he had no idea how to read. But she was also his niece, and the only thing he had left in the world. He thought about giving her up and going back to California, but the thought of being so close to the place where his family had once been so alive hurt him, and so did the thought of letting her go. And so, in Chicago he stayed, and the Hills were forgotten. He didn’t want to go back. And no one came looking for him anyway. 2. most importantly, happy (G | 1/1 | 2,594) “Wow, Derek Hale talking about tutus. I’m hallucinating, right?” “Nope,” Derek turned his head slightly, to regard him, “Single parent syndrome.” “My dad tried to take me shoe shopping when I was twelve. Melissa ended up doing it for him.” “I’m a pro at shoe shopping,” Derek admitted, scanning the letter again.

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A Healing Silence by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (NR | 28/28 | 36,329)

Stiles is slowly pushed out of the pack following his fight with Scott about Donovan's death. After receiving a phone number from an old friend, Stiles is surprised to find that it belongs to the one person who may be able to bring him back to himself.

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How Derek Met His Smallest Fan by purpleduvet (maga_nw) (M | 2/2 | 37,273)

Derek is standing in the fruits and vegetables aisle, trying to decide between two very nice looking watermelons, when someone small crashes into his legs.

Derek comes back to Beacon Hills after years of being gone and meets Stiles and his kid at the supermarket.

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Suspicious Minds by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) (E | 1/1 | 40,105)

“Don’t feed Balto your pizza,” Stiles mildly warns his daughter.

“Derek.”

Stiles pauses, mouth open and cheese sliding off the pizza as he parrots, “Derek? Who’s Derek?”

His daughter rolls her eyes, like Stiles has just asked her the dumbest question ever. “The wolf, Daddy!”

“You changed his name?” Stiles asks in surprise. Usually she’s pretty set about naming things. Her doll’s name was decided two seconds after receiving it, the car has been Alonzo for three years now, and the toaster ‘Pop’ for the last six months.

Meg nods, prodding the sliding cheese back on top of her slice. “Yeah. He told me his name is Derek. And that he doesn’t really like Balto.”

“Is that right?” he asks, eyeing the wolf who seems far too interested in watching a pair of animated moose arguing. It’s official. This wolf is weird. This whole situation is weird.

-- Separated from Laura after being cornered by some hunters, an injured Derek finds himself being rescued by Stiles and his young daughter. In more than one way.

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We Play In The Shadows by words_reign_here (E | 17/17 | 40,729)

"This is my dad, Stiles." Emeri said and patted his belly. Emeri did not know what personal space was. "This is my godfather, Scotty." She said and patted Scott next. "This is my godmother, Allison." Emeri lowered her voice, "She works with Pops. She's a deputy." Mr. Hale nodded seriously, his full attention on Emeri. "And this is Lydia. She let dad borrow her uterus for nine months. But she's not my mom. Well. Biologically she is, but she doesn't have the legal rights."

Stiles put a hand over his face and sighed.

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our lives are changing lanes by grimm (E | 1/1 | 47,537)

There's a lot of screaming going on inside the first house Stiles visits. He isn't really worried, because it sounds like kids, but then the door opens and hi, says his dick, because the dude in front of him is gorgeous, built like a god with a face like thunder. Stiles wants to lick that solid jaw line. Hold the fuck on, says his cop brain, because the dude's got kids hanging all over him; one's on his back, skinny legs looped around his waist, and another two hanging off one arm, toes barely brushing the ground. There's a tubby toddler clinging to his leg like a koala, and he's got a baby tucked into the crook of the one arm that doesn’t have kids hanging off it. Stiles' mouth drops open.

"How many of those kids did you kidnap?" he asks before he can wrangle his brain into submission.

The man gives him a look that says what the fuck is wrong with you and snaps, "You think I'd subject myself to this on purpose?"

"Oooh," says one of the kids hanging off his arm. "I'm telling Mom."

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The House That Wolves Built by LuneFaitLaFolie (G | 6/6 | 48,978)

"Stiles isn’t stupid. He knows well enough that the pack are done with him. He knows he’s useless, and broken, but it still hurts."

"Derek is running through every interaction he’s ever had with Stiles, trying to figure out which ones he could have caught Stiles with his claws. The unfortunate reality is that he loses count of how many times he could have. "

Stiles is pushed out of the pack as his injuries render him useless and unhelpful, and the pack start to hate him. He hasn't spoken to them in months, until an allying pack comes to visit and he gets dragged back. But do they really hate him? Or was it all a big misunderstanding?

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Hale's Modern Encyclopedia of Playing Cards (and Dating Humans) by thepsychicclam (M | 1/1 | 49,698)

Wolves don't date humans. And Derek's okay with that. He's got his Pack, his friends in the Pack network, and lacrosse. Plus, he plays cards with his grandma all the time. Stiles Stilinski definitely doesn't factor into his life - no matter how much of a crush Derek has on him.

But when bird creatures attack Derek, Stiles, and their friends in the Preserve, Stiles finds out about werewolves and things get pretty complicated. For Derek at least. And he thought school was his only problem, but now he's grounded and Stiles is hanging around way too much for Derek to ignore him any longer.

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The Quickest Way to a Man's Heart (is Through His Bottomless Pit) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (E | 1/1 | 54,170)

Pulling open his apartment door, he let out an involuntary shout when something was quite literally thrust into his chest hard enough to have him almost tip backwards. He managed to right himself while keeping hold of what had been shoved at him and looked up in time to see his neighbour striding back towards his apartment.

“You’re going to fucking kill yourself.”

His door slammed.

Stiles blinked at the other man’s door, utterly confused, and looked down at what he was holding.

It was a plastic bag, full of what felt like tupperware, which made no sense to Stiles because when had his neighbour broken into his house to steal his tupperware?

(SNYE - January 11th - Neighbours)

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Go Away, Scott by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (NR | 45/45 | 66,227)

After the incident at the warehouse, Stiles is fed up with Scott. He finds himself drawn into Derek’s pack and in the process, drawn to Derek himself.

With the Alpha Pack closing in, Derek needs to learn how to trust his pack and those around him. And who better to help him than Stiles?

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Misfits series by Morraine (2 works | NR-T | 79,970)

1. Three Misfits in New York (T | 25/25 | 68,543) After Gerard beat up Stiles, the Sheriff doesn't believe his son's lies anymore. He demands answers and along the way mends his fragile relationship with his son. While they do their best to make sure that something like Gerard's attack will never happen again, new and unexpected friendships form and Stiles learns that he actually is kind of special. Suddenly it's not Scott by his side but Lydia and Derek, something he wouldn't have dared dreaming about in his wildest fantasies. Coupled with a surprise trip to New York and meeting an Avenger or five, life is bound to change drastically for the three misfits and their families. 2. A Misfit Working Holiday in New York (NR | 4/? | 11,427) Despite the looming threat of the Alpha pack, Stiles, Lydia, and Derek stay in New York to explore a possible alliance with SHIELD and further their new friendships. While there, new opportunities arise and they find themselves immersed much more in secret dealings than they could have anticipated. Not all of it is good, but the things that are good are beyond amazing for the disillusioned, hurt friends. Short though the working holiday may be, time well spent with incredible people allows each of them to grow beyond the hurt feelings and anger and discover not only what is really important but also their true potential.

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A Similar String by snarkatthemoon (M | 14/14 | 118,250)

Strong bonds made for a strong pack, and he needed a strong pack.

They spent a long time in silence, Derek thinking hard about how he was going to cement the bonds. It needed to be done, and not just because they had the threat of the witch hanging over them, but for the good of the pack.

It felt like hours had passed by the time he came around; he had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Stiles moving around on the couch so that his head was resting on Derek’s thigh, his long legs hanging over the arm on the far end.

He wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were closed and his heartbeat wasn’t as fast as it usually was, as if he was just on the edge of sleep. It should have felt weird, having Stiles in such close contact, but Derek found that it really didn’t feel weird at all. His head was a comforting weight in Derek’s lap, another anchor tethering him and keeping him calm and in control.

Or, the one where Derek meets a witch, gets his betas back, and seemingly develops a sense of humour. Also, Stiles is totally magic, manages to accidentally join a werewolf pack, and asks too many goddamn questions. What could possibly go wrong?

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Kings of the Moonlight by thelogicoftaste (E | 25/25 | 148,854)

Derek is the newly single father to his only son, Isaac Argent Hale, and he finds himself having to move back to his home town of Beacon Hills to escape the insanity of his ex. It's in the middle of all this upheaval, the crazy mess that his life has become that he meets Stiles. Crazy, beautiful Stiles.

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#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fic rec list #sterek fic rec #fic rec list #rec list #fic rec #tin's rec lists

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ywpd-translations · 4 months ago

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Ride 791: Replacing the lead!!

Pag 1

1: In the southern part of Fukuoka Prefecture, located at the border with Ooita Prefecture, there's Mt. Hiko, consisting of three peaks, that reaches the altitude of 1200m

2: It has a long history and it's long been worshipped as a training ground for monks

3: Currently, a slope car leading to Mt. Hiko's shrines has been constructed, and a lot of tourists go there to see the autumn leaves' color, the winter's silver frost, and for mountain climbing

4: The main shrine is built on top of Mt. Hiko's sacred mountain, Nakadake

5: Halfway up, passing through the west side, as the altitude increases, there's the winding highway number 500

Pag 2

1: The stage for the mountain stage of the Inter High's first day

Pag 3

1: Kumamoto Daichi is still at the top!! The local team from Kyushu!!

Goo!!

2: He passed the 3km left to the finish line point!!

I see figures following Kumadai's Fujiwara....

4: It's two people!!

Two people!?

Pag 4

1: It's Manami and Mountain King!!

Pag 5

1: I see his back!! One person

Is he the lead!?

2: So it seems!!

3: Two people!! Dammit, they really did catch up!!

So the voices in the audience I heard saying that Onoda and Manami were approaching were true!!

4: Kumadai!! Bad news coming from behind!! Raise your pace!!

5: But I won't lose!! I'm very calm!!

My condition has never been this good!!

Pag 6

1: Alright, once we pass that guy it'll become”the winner will get the mountain prize”!!

3: The one who wins will get the “mountain prize”!! In a race it's better to have some kind of prize

Suddenly...

Pag 7

1: I'm getting fired up!!

3: Okay!! Good!!

Pag 8

1: Woah!!

He's accelerating again!!

2: His concentration is rising again!!

4: His legs are turning more than before!!

5: I can see it from behind, so I get it well

6: You probably don't understand it yourself, but right now you're pedaling with an amazing efficiency of power transmission

Amazing

7: It's like he's 100% synchronized with his bike!!

Really... you

Pag 9

1: He has the power of turning his joy into concentration!!

2: They're already approaching!!

Pag 10

1: I'm sorry but I'll surpass you!!

2: No doubt!!

3: Really... this guy is so strange

4: Last year, on the second day's mountain, after we were passed by Kyofuhi, he chased after them

5: Since we're both running in the same Inter High, this year, before the start I called out to him

I wanted to greet you

I'm Kumadai's Fujiwara. This will be our last Inter High together

Pag 11

1: Wh-wh-wh- what is it!?

He's super nervous!!

2: Are you okay!? Take a deep breath

If you have any problems, you can call anyone from Kumadai, our numbers are in the 60s

Th- ye-

3: Th- thank you so much. Ah... you ran last year with Kumadai's Isa-san – Masa-san...?

That's right, you remember!! I'm Fujiwara Masayuki!!

4: I became captain, too

5: Ahh, is that so? Congratulations!!

No wait, you don't have to bow your head like that

We should do that to each other

6: Such an extremely small and humble guy...

7: That's always the first impression of Onoda...

Thank you for coming here

8: But every year, once he gets on his bike and climbs a mountain, this guy...

Pag 12

1: he feels overwhelmingly big when he approaches!!

Pag 13

1: I don't understand him

And also, he's always...

2: Thank you very much for this morning

Thanks to you, I calmed down a little!!

3: He's so polite...!!

4: I can't help but support him

Do your best Onoda

5: Yes!!

Pag 14

2: Any time now, huh?

3: I guess so

4: Onoda-kun will be reaching the race's climax

5: It's about time they passed the other climbers and started their race

Pag 15

1: I wonder if he's having fun

Hm, yeah, since he was looking forward to it

2: Even though I guess those two are probably thinking of the “mountain prize”as nothing more than a “juice” to buy the other as a treat if they lose

3: Kakaka

That sounds super fun!!

4: Those two

5: In the past two Inter Highs they were both times burdened with heavy races

8: If they can run with a smile, then that's enough

… yeah

Pag 16

1: We're excited too!!

2: Manami-kun moved ahead!!

3: Sakamichi-kun!!

Pag 17

1: 2km left until the mountain stage finish line!!

3: The wind... is blowing from the west

Just ahead of here

4: the trees become lower

5: and it turns back in a U-shape

Pag 18

1: That'll be the decisive moment!!

2: I'll fly!! Sakamichi-kun!!

Pag 19

3: It seems like we'll see them appear here at the mountain gate anytime now

There are currently two people in the lead, and they're passing the 2km point!!

So 2km left, huh

They'll come soon

I can't wait

Pag 20

1: I said it before already, but

2: “History” needs “someone who witnesses it”!!

#yowamushi pedal #yowapeda #yowamushi pedal translations #yowapeda manga #yowamushi pedal manga #yowamushi pedal spoilers #ride 791 #whats going on with kabu's and danchiku's faces on page 15!!! what did they see!! who's coming!!!#im lowkey scared ngl #but anyway its so good seeing onoda and manami being so carefree ;^; weve only seen heavy races between them this is so refreshing #THEYRE SO HAPPY #AND IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM #i really hope Manami is going to win tbh #he cant always lose against onoda lmao also onoda never lost so i think its time #especially since its a low stakes race #so go go manamiiii #and toudou is there!!!! man i missed him so much honestly #i hope maki-chan will appear soon too :')#i miss my toumaki tbh

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 1 year ago

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Potential TW ::: Difficulty conceiving. & for my vomit-sensitive friends, here's a mildly changed version: PUKE FREE EDIT

A/N ::: I am so tired tonight that this was not super proofed. This was an ask that came via my messages. They wanted a story with the spicy and the sweet parts of Kats & F.reader tryin' for a baby. I hope it has all the elements you wanted and that you like it!

C/W ::: Aged up Kats x f.reader, several mentions of vomiting & other facial fluids being discharged (snot, tears, puke). Oral M->F Quite a bit of P->V. Lovey dovey stuff, sweet moments between 2 people who just want a freakin' baby. Ok? 😭

WC ::: 4,923 (Jesus christ, I'm so sorry. This totally got away from me and I don't even know how.)

"Hey babe, it's me." Katsuki said in his usual growly voice. "I guess you're still at work or somethin'. Anyway, I'll be home tomorrow night. Also, I'been holdin' back. So, be ready for me. I love you, call me if ya want."

Katsuki was out of town on a job. He's been gone for almost a week now, the longest you two have been apart since you got married, almost 2 years ago. You missed him, sure. But when he came home, stomping through the entryway, yelling for you, it was the best feeling to be wrapped up in his arms and smooshed into his chest.

The two of you have been leaving yourselves open to having a baby for about 4 months now. It hasn't been constant trying, but the longer it goes that you're not getting pregnant, the more you feel like you're needing to take this more seriously. You started reading up on the most productive positions to get the result you're looking for, studying what you can do before and after you do the deed. How to check your basal temperature. When doctor intervention becomes more than a discussion and an absolute necessity.

The phone beeps, alerting you to your missed call and voicemail. "What ... oh, damn it." You listen to the message Katsuki left you and couldn't help the soft pink blush that spread over your face and chest. No man had ever made you feel the way he has. You had been pretty reserved until he helped you tap into your inner slutty girl. It sounds bad, but you've not looked back once since he brought you out of your little sexual shell. And why should you? Every time you're with him you swear it's the best sex you've ever had. Point being, you got really lucky to have him love you and be able to love him.

Pushing #1 on speed dial, you hear the other line ringing and start praying to whatever gods would listen to you that he'd answer his phone.

"Hey brat. Y'ignorin' me now or some shit like that? The fuck ya think ya are?" You could hear him choke out a laugh. The background noise was almost louder than he was.

"You know it, you caught me. Trying to ignore you. What're you gonna do about it?" You giggled when you heard his breath hitch in his throat. Your voice got low and breathy, "You gonna punish me, hm? Good luck catching me, Kats."

The phone crackled a few times before you heard him, "Hey! Y'there? Babe!? Goddamn it, this shit ass fuc---" and then you heard nothing.

"K-Kats? Hello? Are you ... are you there? Oh." You tossed the phone on the couch and pouted. "Things were just about to get good, too." You whined to the cat. But you knew they didn't care. They were Kats' anyway. They merely tolerated you until they were hungry and then they were your biggest fan.

A chime rang out into the quiet room and you pounced on it. A text from Katsuki, "Sorry, shit reception here. I'll try to call you from the hotel later. XXX"

It was about 6pm. Too early for bed, too late to go anywhere. So you curled up on the couch and watched your wedding video. You laughed and cried about how stupid you felt for missing him so much. He's only been gone a week and he'll be home tomorrow. Less than 24 hours and you would be together again.

You woke up to the sun forcing its way through the edges of the window coverings. "He's coming home today! He ... is finally coming home today!" A contented sigh heaved its way from your chest as you stood and stretched the uncomfortable position you slept in from your body. And then immediately a wave of nausea washed over you. "The f-," you covered your mouth and ran to the bathroom. Lifting the toilet lid, you took pause and started praying that you wouldn't puke. "Mmm ..." Your eyes roamed to the bathroom cupboard. The nausea faded and soon your body followed your eyes' lead and you started to crawl to open the door and pull out a pregnancy test.

You peed on the plastic receptacle and set the timer you'd bought specially for the bathroom, only to hurry up and wait for the next 3 minutes.

"Oh." You tried so hard not to let yourself get wrapped up in the hope that all of your fun and hard work had finally paid off. But it still hurt. It always hurt. It was a relief though, that Katsuki wasn't here to have to go through this again. He always somehow got more excited than you at the prospect of you becoming parents. 'There's plenty uh’time, ma,' he always says to you whenever the result is another negative.

It would be several hours before he'd be home, so you put yourself together and set out to grocery shop. You decided to stop by your favorite little boutique and look around at the lingerie. Maybe that would help cheer you up and raise moral to romp around with your husband. You laughed at the stupid thought. It was always fun to be with Katsuki.

You managed to knock all of your tasks out in a couple of hours and drove home to get stuff put away. You still wanted to shower, put on the new lingerie you bought and figure out what to do for dinner. Take-out was calling your name tonight.

In the shower, you started to think about how much you loved Katsuki. And a familiar, warm, tingly feeling started to bloom in the pit of your stomach. Unconsciously, you began rubbing your thighs together trying to alleviate the pressure - however pleasant it might be - building there. It was a dangerous game you were playing here. If you rubbed them too much, you know you'd get beyond frustrated and have to take care of this on your own. And there was nothing you wanted more than for him to be the one to alleviate this pent up tension in your body. Seeing as he was the one causing it, it only seemed fair.

Hurrying to finish washing up, you managed to get out of there with only a little bit of lingering agitation. Perhaps agitation was too strong a word. But you missed him so much there was no other word you could think of to replace it.

All wrapped up in a towel, you went to your room and looked over the clothes you had laid out for tonight. The dress you chose was newer, you picked it up a month or so ago, but haven't had the chance to wear it. It’s so new that he hasn't even seen it on you. The lingerie was a strappy black 1 piece and it looked so confusing to you. But you wanted to look nice for him. You knew he would love it for the whole 30 seconds it was on you before he tore it off. Yet you couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous about his homecoming.

It all felt so new to you for some strange reason.

His Jeep pulled into the driveway and your heart all but stopped beating. Your face got hot and you felt like you were going to puke again. "Jesus, calm yourself, y/n. You're married for Christ's sake. Have been for over 2 years. He is your husband. He already loves you." But you didn't believe a word you said to yourself.

You ran to the bedroom to take one last quick glance at your appearance. Smoothing down the dress at your stomach, you noticed it didn't sit quite like it did when you first bought it. You just chalked it up to a little bit of stress eating with Katsuki being gone, and you trying to stay cool about (not) getting pregnant. It just caught up to you. No matter. He's home.

The front door opened and you heard his heavy footsteps. Music to your ears. "Babe? 'M home. Get yer ass ov-", You peeked your head out of the bedroom and gave him a sassy smile. "There you are, fuck, missed you so much. Don't move." He tossed his keys onto the kitchen table and walked toward you like he was hunting you. Like if he moved to quickly you'd get startled and run away from him. Little did he know that it would take a lot more than him running at you to make you even flinch.

"I missed you too, Kats. So much." You whispered as he got closer. He reached out for you and pulled you flush against him, his mouth immediately finding yours. His lips were so soft and warm and he smelled so good. You couldn't resist the urge to kiss him deeper, and you let your tongue brush his bottom lip. He growled and held you tighter.

"Fuck, y’taste so good. Yer gonna kill me. I can't wait for you any longer. All of you. Every part of you." He kissed your cheek and then your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and tugging on it with his teeth. You moaned and ground your hips into his. The sensation of his hardness rubbing against you made you ache with need.

"Oh God. Please. I need you so much." Every brush of his fingers against your body left a trail of raised, peach fuzz hairs in their wake. You were panting now, trying to catch your breath from his lips on your skin. He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes shining with love and lust. "I love you so much, babe."

"I love you too, Katsuki." Your voice was breathy and quiet, almost like you were afraid to say it.

He leaned in and kissed you again, this time with more heat and intensity. His hands found their way to your ass and he squeezed, eliciting a whimper from your lips. "Let's go to bed." He grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom.

You walked in and he pushed you onto the bed. You squealed and giggled as you bounced. He stood over you and started to unbutton his shirt. His abs and pecs were on display for you. You couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his muscles moving as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. He moved to unbuckle his belt and you got a little nervous. He was so hot and you felt like you couldn't keep up with him. But he always managed to make you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth.

As he took his pants off, you got up and stood in front of him so he could unzip the dress. "You make this dress look so fuckin' beautiful, babe. Goddamn. So sexy. But y'know, 's much as I love this, 'm dying to see what's underne- Hoh fuck. Th- you- fuck that's hot. This new?" He asked as he covered his mouth with his right hand and shook his head slowly.

"You like it?" You blushed hard.

"Do I fuckin' like it. C'mere. Fuckin' c'mere and I'll show you just how much I like it." He pulled you close and kissed your lips, your neck, your chest. You could feel him hard and throbbing against your lower stomach. It was driving you wild.

He turned you around and began to kiss your shoulders. He moved the straps of the lingerie down and bit your skin gently. "Ah! Katsuki, please. Please touch me. I need you."

"Patience. G’na take my time with you. Got about 6 days to make up for, darlin'. Lemme have this. Lemme have you."

He turned you back around and kissed you deeply. He held you close and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I am so glad you're home, Kats." You whispered while you pulled him to the bed.

You laid there and let him take over, let him do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to drive you crazy. He kissed every inch of your body, making sure to pay extra attention to your most sensitive parts.

"You work out this week or somethin'?" He asked between kissing your hot skin. He moved down to your belly. "Fuck, you're just so ..." he growled against your skin as he breathed you in. "Your tits look fantastic. You're so ... gah ... I dunno. You're just so soft." He ran his hands over your curves and squeezed your hips.

You pulled his hair and guided him to your core. "Katsuki, need ... need your mouth." He obliged and licked a stripe up your slit, his tongue pressing firmly against your clit and you jumped back. "Hohmygod, Kats! Fuck!!"

"S'sensitive for me," he dove back in and started to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around it and then flattening it and moving it side to side, "Fumkin' lub et." You felt like you were going to burst. The feeling was overwhelming and you felt yourself get close to the edge faster than you could ever remember.

"Katsu- kugh, ohmygod, I'm gonna ... I'm gonna ..." You grabbed his head and pushed him further into you. He moaned and his hands dug into your thighs as he kept working your swollen cunt.

"Cum for me, baby. Show me how fuckin’ hard y’can cum for me. Lemme see that pretty pussy cum for me." He moved back down and started sucking and licking your clit again, his fingers sliding inside you and hitting that spot you love so much.

Your whole body tensed up and you felt yourself explode all over his fingers and tongue. "Katsuki!!!" You screamed and bucked your hips against his face, chasing your orgasm. You could feel him smiling against your skin as you rode out your pleasure against his face and hands. You didn't know what you were rubbing yourself against but there was no part of you that could stop it from happening.

"G'girl. Fuck, you taste s'good, babe. Kinda diff’rent. More tart. Lemony." He kissed your thigh and then crawled up to kiss you. "Gonna fuck a baby into you now." He smiled down at you, much more sweetly than his intentions actually were and held your legs open so he could slide himself inside you.

"Mmmm, yes ... please, want you … in me." You whined as he started to push himself in. He was big, you were used to it. But tonight you needed a minute or two to adjust to his size. It felt like you were clenching down on him, almost purposely. Making it more difficult for him to push himself entirely inside of you.

"Jesus fuck, you sure you weren't doing some pussy push-ups r'somethin'? You're so tight, babe. Feels so fuckin' good. But … Jesus."

You couldn't control your laughter at him calling kegel exercises 'pussy push-ups'. It was so stupid, but it made you feel warm and loved that he cared enough to notice things like that. "I've been practicing, yeah." You smirked and he leaned in and kissed you again.

"Good. So fuckin' good. Now, g'na fuck you 'til you can't stand it. I'm gonna cum in that hot pussy and make you the sexiest ma on the face of the planet." He growled against your lips as he started to move inside you.

You lost track of time and your body just reacted to him. He was rough and tender. Everything you needed and more. The two of you singing this song of moans in unison sounded better than any of your favorite songs ever had. His grunts and growls filled the room, as he fucked you harder and harder, so too, did your moaning and muttering of how good he felt get louder.

"Kats ... gonna cum again. Pleasepleaseplease ... you gotta cum first! It w- oh god - it works better if you cum first ... I think! Hurry up!" You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into you. You could feel your walls tightening and pulsating around his cock and it was the most exquisite feeling.

"Bah, fuck, I'm close babe. Gonna fill you up so good. Fuck, gonna fill you up with my cum." He grabbed your legs and pushed them back so your knees were against your chest and your ankles were at his ears. He held onto the back of your legs and pounded into you with all the strength he had left in him.

"Yesyesyes! Katsuki! Cum in me!" You were on the edge of your orgasm and you couldn't hold it at bay any longer. You felt the hot wetness of his seed filling you up and you let yourself go, your pussy clenched around his cock.

He stayed inside you for a minute or two, panting and kissing your forehead. Droplets of sweat fell from his face to yours. It was disgustingly intimate. You had never felt closer to him. Physically or emotionally.

"I love you." He whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"I love you." You whispered back.

And with that, he rolled off of you and snuggled up against your back, his hand resting on your stomach. The two of you fell asleep a short time later. Still happily tangled up in one another.

The next morning you awoke to Katsuki gently rolling his cock against your ass. You turned your head as best you could to see him, but when you managed to, you saw that he was still fast asleep. It didn't diminish the arousal that began to creep its way through your body, though.

You rolled over and kissed his face, whispering sweet nothings to him as you tried to wake him. "Kaaats, you wanna go again?" Running your hand down his chest and stomach, stopping about halfway down his happy trail, he opened his eyes slowly and gave you a half smile that looked so sexy on him.

"Mornin' babe. Wha' was I doin'?" He asked, looking down at his erection. "Ah. Was havin' a really ... really good dream 'bout you. Wan' me to show ya what we were doin'?" He flopped onto his back and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling his waist. "Y'so fuckin' wet already. Damn woman. You could put out a fire with that pussy. Hm-hm. Let's start one first though, yeah?" His hands dug into the plush of your hips and pushed/pulled you over him.

Your cunt wrapped so perfectly around him made him let out the most guttural of moans that caused you to clench around nothing. But he felt it and moaned again. It was becoming a vicious little cycle: He'd moan, your body would react, so on and so forth.

He pulled you up, grabbing underneath your ass and lifted you so you were hovering just over his cock. You rolled your head forward to look at him as you slid down, putting just the head inside of you.

"Don't be a fuckin' tease." He growled at you and tried to pull you down, his cock twitching at the denial of the possibility of complete envelopment. "Fucking hell, you're so bratty. Gonna make you pay for this," he laughed.

"Sorry, can't hear you over how good just the head of your cock feels while I'm bouncin' on it." You smirked at him as you wiggled your hips side to side.

He reached up and grabbed your neck, pulling you down to him as he thrust up into you. "I said, don't be a fucking tease," he hissed out through a clenched jaw.

You felt your eyes roll back and your body tense up as he filled you completely. It was almost too much to handle. "Katsu ... ki ... ah, fu-ughh, fuck! Don't stop!" You couldn't hold on anymore. You ground your hips against him as you came, your pussy fluttering and gripping his cock so tightly he couldn't help but follow you over the edge.

All of a sudden, you stopped riding out the last waves of your orgasm. Sitting on top of him still, you put your hand over your mouth and you looked down at him with pure panic in your eyes. "Hmph ..." you shook your head when he asked if you were ok. "Hmphhuh," you gagged again. He helped you off of him and all but dragged your post-o, jellied, naked body to the bathroom and lifted the lid on the toilet for you.

"Y'fuckin' sick'er somethin', babe? Got the flu? What the hell's goin' on?" His brows furrowed and he scowled at you. You knew it was out of concern, not frustration.

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself after something so icky. Hating yourself for doing this right now. Right after such an intimate moment. While he was standing there, staring at you. Puking your guts out. Naked. "Don' knoooohhhh fuck, leave, Kats. Get out! Ple-!"

He squatted down next to you and held your hair back with his right hand and rubbed your back with his left. "'M not fuckin' leavin' you. Not for pukin', not for fuckin' nothin'. Y'fuckin' hear me? Better or worse. Sickness and health and all that other shit. Just shut up and finish. 'L be right here for ya."

The amount of fluid that left your face was disgusting. You'd never had such floodgates open like this before. Puking, crying, snot running from your nose. You were an actual mess. But he stood by you through all of it.

"Hey, babe ... d'ya ... ah shit. D'ya think yer pregnant?" Katsuki asked as you stood from the floor, moving slowly toward the sink to wash your face off. The sparkle in his eyes was undeniable. And it killed you that you had to tell him you weren't.

You leaned over the sink, your face in your hands, and started crying. "I ... oh, Kats. I'm ... I'm not. I took a test a couple of days ago. I didn't w-", his hands on your back silenced you. They were, to date, the most important hands in the world to you. They were strong. They were soft and warm and they are all encompassing. If there were any kind of god, you would live out the rest of your days under his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me? I don't want you carryin’ this all by yourself, y/n. What we don't succeed in doing together, we share the hardships and overcome that ... together. I'm so sorry, babe. I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I shouldn'ta left ya for so long." He spoke to you so quietly. Like his words would be the thing that finally throws you over the edge. The thing that finally breaks you.

"Maybe I ate something." You ran your forearm across your dry lips and hobbled back to the bed to bury yourself in the blankets. "I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I won't do that again, promise." He walked over to you and sat down on the edge and brushed the hair from your face.

"G'na get you some 7-up 'n a cold washcloth. Be right back, babe." You watched him walk out of the bedroom and turn down the hallway. His butt jiggling ever so slightly. It made you smile. And it made you feel something else.

"The hell ...?" You sat up in bed and realized that you were horny. Again. Katsuki came back a minute later with what he promised you. Something to drink and a cold, wet cloth for you to put on your face. Smiling as he handed you this stuff, you pulled him in close to you and kissed him on the cheek all the way down to his neck.

"Oh, babe. Yer jus' so ... hah. No matter what. Even with your hair matted to your face and your eyes puffy and red. I love you." He leaned over and kissed your forehead.

"Don't say it." You smiled at him. It was almost like you knew what he was going to say. And you couldn't bear to hear it. Not right now. You had no idea where you two stood in that department. You weren't ready to admit that to each other. Not yet. Not right now.

He smiled back and laid down next to you, spooning you from behind. He ran his hand along your waist and stomach, over and over. It was relaxing. And it was a little bit arousing, but you managed to keep yourself at bay. You had just thrown up, after all.

"I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I can't give us the baby we want. I'm sorry I'm so fucking broken." You choked on your words as tears started to well in your eyes. "I'm so sorry."

He shifted behind you and held you tighter. "Babe, you're not broken. 'Sides, who says it ain't me? Maybe we should make a doctors appointment, yeah? Get my count tested and all that shit. Whatcha say?"

You sniffed and wiped your face with the washcloth. It felt good against your hot face. "You - Kats, you'd do that? You'd have your sperm count checked?" Rolling over to face him, you took his face in your hands and held it there while the two of you just stared at each other.

"Fuckin' never said I wouldn't! Course I will. 'F we ever wanna get to the bottom of this, we hafta explore every possibility, right?" He ran a rough finger along your cheek to collect the freshly fallen tears and wipe them on the sheets. You made an ick face at him and he told you to pipe down, they need to be changed anyway after the night you two just had on them.

***

A couple of weeks past and he had his appointment with the fertility specialist where they ran a count on Kats. They called and said his sperm was 'abnormally high and active'. Their exact words were, "We have never seen anything like it in our careers." He didn't shut up about it for 3 days.

This left you in a fog. Surely, you were the reason you two couldn't conceive. It made you feel like absolute shit. No matter what he said to you, it didn't lift the guilt you were trying to carry all on your own. You thought he shouldn't have to hurt when he wasn't the problem. This complex was exhausting you and you could feel yourself slipping deeper into sadness.

You went to the clinic at the end of the day that Friday, the last appointment they had for the week. They drew your blood and told you they would be in touch on Monday or Tuesday about the next step after they had a chance to evaluate the sample for any obvious

It was Saturday morning and you were both sitting on the back porch eating breakfast when your phone rang. "It's the clinic, Kats. You answer. I don't want to talk to them. They probably found a plastic bag where my uterus is supposed to be." You pushed your phone across the little glass tabletop and got up, carrying the dishes into the kitchen to wash them off.

"Yeah babe, on it. Hello? N-no. You're trying to reach Bakugou? Well, shit. Yeah. That's me, I mean ... I'm her husband, Katsuki. Yes! The man with incredible sperm!" He laughed, you cringed. "Wait, what? No, that's not ... I mean ...," his voice got quiet and he got up, walking across the yard to mess with a fence piece.

You watched him out there fiddle with the broken wooden slat and felt your heart breaking into even smaller pieces. "Fuck." You whispered, looking down at the tiny bubbles popping on the soaking dishes. A tear dripped from your chin and landed on your chest, darkening a spot on your gray Dynamight shirt.

Katsuki came walking into the kitchen and came over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders, he turned you to face him. "Hey, ma?" Getting down on his knees, he put his hands on your waist and smooshed his face into your tummy. "Ma?"

"Are you having a fucking stroke or something? What are you doing, dumbass?" You wiped your chin and huffed out a short, insincere laugh. "Kats, what did - what'd they say. Is it me? Am I ..."

"Yes, babe. It's you. It's you … and the little grenade you're carrying. You're ... we're ... having a baby, y/n. You're fuckin' pregnant." He beamed up at you, tears in his wide eyes.

"It's you, babe. You and me. And … and … and a little us in you. We did it, y/n. We're gonna have a family!"

You covered your mouth with your hands and cried. Not just a few tears, but a full-on ugly cry. You were going to be a mom. Katsuki was going to be a dad. And this was just the beginning of your lives as a family.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe in us. I'm sorry I let myself think for a second that it wouldn't be us. Us. Just us. I'm so happy it's us." You bent over and kissed his forehead. He stood and wrapped you in his arms and you both just stood there letting this new beautiful reality sink in.

The future was yours and yours alone … well, and Kats’ and the babies, of course.

Taglist ::: @dreamcastgirl99 @viburnt @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82

#my hero academia #mha #bnha #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki smut #bakugou smut #mha bakugou #katsudad #dadsuki #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader

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sunny44 · 1 year ago

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Marriage (Part 4)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex fiancée!reader Mason Mount x Fiancée!reader

Warnings: nothing I guess

Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

I wasn't at all comfortable with having that letter in our house.

My fiancé lives in the same place where the letter from my ex-fiancé/almost-husband was, I didn't have the courage to read it even though I almost did on the day he gave it to me, so I kept it on my bedside table where I knew Mason wouldn't touch it because it was as private to me as his was.

Mason had been invited to Barcelona that weekend to watch the Formula 1 race and he was trying to convince me to go with him.

"Please, love, I have a ticket that I asked for especially for you because I know you enjoy watching Formula 1 with me." He said, taking my hand. "I don't understand why you don't want to go, is something wrong?"

"It's not that..."

"Then let's go, please?" He asks, holding my face and pouting.

"All right." I give in and he smiles, kissing me all over the face.

"Then pack your things because we're going tomorrow." He says excitedly, leaving the room.

I knew it was wrong to be with him for years and to be engaged to him and leave that part of my life hidden, I love him and he's great but something in me doesn't want him to know because I don't want him to do the same thing as Max, I don't know if I could get over it if it happened again.

But I knew I'd have to tell him at some point and I decided I'd do it after the weekend.

...

When we got there and got ready to go, that's when Mason handed me the Redbull passes.

"Here." He puts it around my neck and kisses me, taking my hand and then we enter the paddock.

It was obvious that the first thing we were going to do was go to the Redbull garage and see Max.

Since the day he gave me the letter, I haven't said anything to him, firstly because I haven't read it and secondly because I don't know if I'm really going to talk to him.

We talked with Max and Checo for half an hour until Mason came up with the idea of walking around the paddock and even if I didn't want to, I'd give anything to get out of there, so that's what we did.

"Are you excited?" He squeezes my hand and smiles.

"Actually yes, thank you for persuading me to come." I said sincerely, since being here even with everything was really nice.

"Max is nice." He comments.

"Yes, he is." I smiled and gave him a kiss. "Where are the boys?"

"I think Ben and Reece went for a walk too."

"I'm hungry." I say and he laughs.

"Really?" He says ironically and hugs me and spins me around and I start laughing. "Let's eat then."

…

We were in the garage looking at the end of qualifying and then Mase came out to hand the tire to Max, my stomach flipped when they both smiled for the photo and I swear I could have fainted right there.

"Are you okay?" Christian asks from beside me.

"What?" I asked, startled.

"Are you okay? You look like you're going to pass out any minute."

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Look, I know about you and Max." He says, catching me off guard. "I remember you from a photo he carried everywhere."

"What photo?"

"It's a picture of you two hugging, I think it was the day he proposed to you. He used to say it was the best day of his life and so he carried it around everywhere, telling me the story of what happened to you."

"Can you not tell anyone? Please."

"I won't, I promise."

"Thank you."

"Seeing him together can't be the best thing for you."

"Certainly not."

"I don't think he knows and that's why you're upset."

"Yeah, I didn't think my old life would collide with my current life. I never told him because I didn't want him to do the same thing Max did to me."

"I'm sorry about that."

"You don't have to be, it's not your fault."

"But I'm sorry." I turned and saw Max standing there. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Look, forget it, okay?" I said, but he followed me and grabbed my arm. "Can you leave me alone?"

"What else can I do to make you forgive me?"

"Nothing, I don't want you to do anything." I say and then I stared to go.

"Why is it so hard for you to forgive me?"

"Because I can't forgive you, okay? If I forgive you, that means I'd have gotten over everything you put me through and I haven't, so that's why I can't forgive what you did."

"Can we at least talk?"

"No, I'm not going to do that here in a place full of reporters so they can put me in the spotlight, so can you just accept it and let me be happy?"

"Fine, I won't bother you anymore." He says, walking away and leaving me alone.

...

We were back at the hotel and I was just finishing my shower and when I came out of the bathroom Mason was looking seriously at his cell phone.

"Is everything all right?"

"Max posted a photo thanking the fans for the pole position and I commented and ended up seeing a comment below talking about you and Max." I closed my eyes and sighed. "Can you explain to me why someone said that missed you two?"

"Mase I..."

"You were his fiancée?"

"Yes."

"And why didn't you tell me?" he says calmly.

"Because it still hurts me to remember."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asks, knocking on the bed next to him.

"Before I tell you, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I didn't tell you before and that I was planning to tell you after this weekend."

"And why after this particular weekend?"

"Because I know you like Formula 1 and you were so excited that I didn't want to ruin it for you."

"And you were willing to have to see your ex just so I could have some fun?" I agreed. "Now I understand why you didn't want to come."

"Yeah, I'll tell you everything." He agrees and then I start telling.

After I'd told him everything and cried myself to sleep, Mason and I were cuddled up on the bed in the hotel room after I wake up and calmed down.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner and for lying all this time. I feel terrible about it and I completely understand if you don't want to marry me anymore. I know that I'm complicated and that after this you have every right not to trust me anymore, so I..."

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He holds my face. "I still want to marry you and I always will, I don't love the fact that you lied to me all this time but I also don't blame you for being afraid that it would happen again."

"Thank you for understanding me." I say, putting my face to his neck.

"It's okay." He smiles and gives me a kiss. "Now let's go to sleep because we have a race to watch tomorrow."

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

(Spanish GP, let’s go)

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @christianpulisic10 @gaslysainz @fanboyluvr @urgirlceci @justdreamersdream @aundercoverosh @newlifeforus @depressedriches @topguncultleader @123beautifulgirl123 @luvrrish @ @tyna-19

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spopsalt · 8 months ago

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Even though I admittedly really like the songs in Hazbin Hotel, a lot of them seem useless, since stans say it's meant to be watched like a broadway musical, I'll compare it to Heathers (Ik it's off broadway, but it's a musical so I'm counting it.) Let's compare some of the songs, I'll compare the first 4 of each to be fair.

Happy Day in Hell - Not the best song, but does an okay job of showing the setting

Beautiful - Really good song. Shows the setting, introduces the main characters (Besides JD) shows a massive plot point, shows the start of Veronica's conflict with her not liking her senior year of high school

Hell is Forever- Does an okay job at setting Adam as a villain, and admittidly gets stuck in my head a lot, even though Adam is a bad villian.

Candy Store - Really catchy. Sets up Heathers as villains, shows Veronica's inner conflict, and sets big plot point

Stayed Gone - Again, it gets stuck in my head. Does an okay job at setting up the conflict between Vox and Alastor

Fight for Me - Sets up Veronica wanting someone strong who will protect her, which comes up later in Dead Girl Walking Reprise where Veronica says "I wanted someone strong who could protect me" Sets up Veronica's feelings for J.D, shows her insecurity when Veronica says "When you face the crowd, could you be seen with me, and still act proud?"

It Starts With Sorry - Uhhhh I guess it uh...shows the dynamic between Sir Pentinous and shows the beginning of his (Mostly off-screen) redemption

Freeze Your Brain - Give JD more depth, shows JD's conflict, hints at his attraction towards Veronica, or at the very least that Veronica is special to him when it states (...) I don't learn the names, (....) You're planning your future, Veronica Sawyer

See anything different? Heathers songs sets up multiple things, while still being really catch, meanwhile Hazbinnnn a lot of their songs, while admittedly catchy, sets up one thing, two things if we're luckily, so they aren't all too plot important, what do you guys think?

#hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critic #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel critical #anti hazbin hotel

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woneuntonzz · 11 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩 .ᐟˎˊ˗

📞 ; “left twix or right twix?”

𖹭 : like-a-big-brother!sungchan x afab!reader x partner in crime!wonbin

💭 wherein wonbin chose you to be his ride or die and sungchan, well he just loved sharing his twix with you.

⤷ contains: fluff, cussing (very light), humor, mention of other idol

names for world building, twix lmao

⤷ warnings: none :))

⤷ wc: 8 . 4 k !!

not proofread >:)

under the cut .ᐟ ✂ - - - -

There are things in life that are just as beautiful as the twinkling lights of the city at night. Sometimes these things are salvageable, say, like a butterfly. most butterflies would live for two to four weeks, too short. That’s why with every butterfly that flew by and over the bushes of azalea outside your home, you made sure no one would come and ruin the very little time it had on this earth.

Your young self would have a daily routine of just sitting at the front porch of your house and just watching the flying critters flit their wings. To the pair of eyes that watched through their living room window, you looked lonely. You’d beg to differ though, butterflies were the closest you were gonna get to fairies, and every moment with them is fantastical at most.

The eyes that spied on you from the confines of their house would soon join you, but he would never get too close. He just stood near your lawn, not even daring to take another step.

Your conversations were of very frivolous things, you were children after all.

“What are you doing?” —he would be blunt the first time around.

“Watching the butterflies” his eyes would shift around a bit, and after some struggle, he was finally able to spot them.

At that point he could’ve said anything else at all, but his reply was very arbitrary, “I can swim very well.”

“That’s cool, I guess.”

“You should be my friend, do you wanna?”

“Mm-hmm~”

He’d learn that your name is Y/n, you lived just across the street and you went to a different school. Every day, you would be at the bus stop with your mom, sometimes it was your grandma, and he was there too but he couldn’t talk to you with the presence of an adult. You went to a different school, to his dismay, so really he could only idle around with you during those mornings at your front porch.

Overtime, he’d see you less and less at the bus stop. Instead, while he took his steps out of their house, he’d see your dad’s car taking you to school. The next morning, he finally mustered up the courage to sit next to you, and he’d ask, “Why is your uniform different? Did your school change the uniforms?”

You giggled, he seemed genuinely concerned about the sudden change. “No silly, I go to a different school now.”

And in a blink of an eye, you were away from him. He thought it was traffic’s fault that it was taking you so long to get home, but after the fourth day, he’d resort to a different excuse. She’s probably on a vacation, with lots of butterflies —it made enough sense for him to start waiting for you to show up every morning at their front porch too, until they too had to move.

At first he opposed the idea and felt particularly betrayed by his parents for hindering his quest to await your return, but after some time of staring at your deserted house, he thought maybe they were moving to where you moved, or at least close enough for him to end up at the same school as you.

Perhaps his expectations were too much of a major leap. Still, he kept his hopes up, maybe one day he’d stumble into you again.

He would walk to the bus stop a little earlier than thirty minutes before the bus arrived. He stared at the stop across the street, and he wished everyday that ‘one day’ would be today.

The day would come where he could no longer wish. Bearing only his dwindling hope, five years later he was almost running late he had to catch the second bus. Whilst he ran, he could hear bells ringing like christmas eve —a boy with black boxy glasses and a girl with a ponytail tied with a yellow silk ribbon, both on bicycles would speed past him.

He almost missed the bus again, because the yellow silk ribbon belonged to you. He would think that recognizing your face through the years of growing apart would be nothing but an impossibility, but the innocence that embellished your eyes and the lines that drew on your face when you smiled, he could recognize them like it was yesterday when he first saw you on your front porch admiring butterflies.

What he definitely couldn’t recognize was the four-eyed kid that you cycled with to the bus stop. He’d just watch since your stop was the one across from his, so every morning, he would be across the street sitting on the wait —he not only waited for the bus, but he waited for you too. He’d observed the kind of relationship that you had with that boy, and he’s admittedly grown jealous of the way he could make you laugh and how close he would be to you all the time —or at least when you were at the stop.

It’d be like that, and you’ve always thought he looked familiar, but you never really came around with who he actually was. Highschool came around, and you would never know that one kid that always hung around every after breakfast at your front porch would be your classmate.

“Can I have some? I’m really hungry.” you were eager to get a bite of something since your activities for that day were particularly tiring —in this case you eyed an unopened packet of twix bars.

“Hmm, okay.”

The chocolate was freed from its packaging, and you were expectant, and very evidently so. Your eyes followed one bar being held up, and —snap.

“Here.” —you would receive the shorter half of the right twix bar.

“Wow, thanks Jung Sungchan.” a playful smirk would play on his lips.

“You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t much, but you’d try your best to maximize the bites you would take. Three bites, and it was gone. The last bite felt like you were being snapped out of the universe, fading away into nothing and willed to the state of inexistence.

Luckily your best friend was there to save the day. And there he was, carrying two quantities of the infamous cafeteria sandwich.

With a smile, he’d hand you one of the sandwiches. You were inspecting its edibility when you asked him, “Wait, were you saving these?”

“Yeah. p.e. hit me real hard today.”

“Wow, coming from the Park Wonbin?”

He was a track runner but eventually he’d move on to join the school’s dance team. Still, he had the stamina like that of a wolf.

“Hey Wonbin, seniors told us to meet for practice.” —Sungchan is in the dance team too.

You definitely thought he was one with the typical cool guys of your high school. He’s a football varsity, and got pretty decent grades, but he was more atypical than anything really. Other than being extremely talented, he was deemed to possess a high sense of responsibility and was appointed to be a protocol officer by the supreme student government. You called him the school eagle —his eyes sealed the deal. He was such a watcher, sometimes you felt like not moving at all fearing that moving at the wrong angle for even just a few inches might get you in detention.

Somehow, though, you never got sent to detention. You weren’t a troublemaker per say, but you’ve had your fair share of late arrivals, and under cloudy weather your teacher might just announce your detainment to the whole class just because you stood from your seat a little earlier than everyone else when class was dismissed.

Sungchan was in charge of taking people to detention, but when it was time to turn in the transgressors, he’d just go on to tell you, “Meh, not really in the mood to send people in there today, besides, detention should be illegal, don’t you think?”

Now who wouldn’t agree to that? “I think so too!”

A faint chime of bells —a sigh would leave Sungchan’s lips, one you wouldn’t catch for yourself because all of your attention would lie on your best friend who rode his pure black bicycle.

“Hi Binnie!” you’d wave your hand and exclaim like a child.

“Hi Y/n-nie, I thought you got detention?” Wonbin was genuinely surprised to see you out of school, the humiliation your teacher put you through would've been enough to kick you straight into the disciplinary dungeon —students liked to call it that.

“Oh, that? Sungchan got me out, ain’t that right Channie?”

Sungchan nods at you like a puppy, with strikingly excited eyes. He finally got himself a nickname. It didn’t even matter if it sounded like Binnie that he hated hearing so much, it was from you, and that was all that mattered.

Your next stop —the bus stop. It was the same one you and Wonbin always cycled to every morning since you became each other’s ride or die, the same stop Sungchan stared into whilst he wondered if you could still remember.

Whether you remembered or not, it was certain you moved on. You were just children anyways. That swimmer kid was cute, friendly, and funny for being his outlandish self. But you couldn’t even remember his name, Susan? Sangchin? —whatever it was, he would be just another memory you’d grow apart from. Either way, you already had Wonbin.

Yet, Wonbin was so hard to love. You’ve heard it all before, never fall in love with your best friend. He was once a timid boy that wore thick frames and was a bumble-borne. You befriended him because you thought you could be that one nerdy duo since you were so nerdy. You’ve both had your handful of friends, but in the end you would end up being there for each other when outcasted from the rest. It’d be easy to say you’re attached to each other, it’s already been a good seven years of rushed bike rides and chasing each other in empty spaces. Your friendship would be the foundation for your shared felicity and solace.

The prime of your wretched feelings would root from your middle school days.

“Do I look okay?” you heard Wonbin ask from behind you.

You turned around, and it would take you a while to actually look at him because you were busy fixing —or trying to fix— his glasses which hinges went loose causing its temples to break off. “You look great.”

“You haven’t even looked yet.”

“Okay drama queen, hold up.” you set aside his poor glasses and the roll of tape you had worn on your wrist.

When you finally spared him your eyes, suddenly your glands were producing double the hormones. “Ew.” is what you’d utter, contrary to what you truly felt. Smitten, suddenly your best friend was too attractive for your eyes.

You would try to forget about that embarrassing moment —embarrassing for it was one-sided. You’d feel mortified over your own shenanigans and the fact that he never even knew you did karate with the air in your room later that night by the sheer thought of him.

You’d think that was it, that it was only your man’s journey to self-discovery —but he was just so attractive when he ran the track. You are what you eat, and everyday you’d feed yourself with your delusions. Your practice of being touchy and soft with each other with your sudden upsurge of attraction for him was not a good combo at all.

Hand holding, side hugs, linking arms, resting your head on each other’s shoulder, it all used to be in your best friend etiquette, but because he couldn’t stop your heart from pumping a thousand beats per minute, there would be a shift. Boundaries were established later on, it felt just right since you were both changing and heading towards the confounding parts of your adolescence. You would be less touchy, perception growing as quickly as your bodies changed.

Now he’d let his hair grow a little longer, would occasionally get a trim to follow school regulations, and he’d get rid of his glasses, though would still have them on when he needed them. He definitely got dapper, more charming. Eventually, you wouldn’t be the only one subjected to his attraction, and he’d hold his title as a ladies’ man.

His timidity was long gone for sure, but if he were being honest, your attention was all he needed. He didn’t need, nor asked for the love notes stuck on his desk, or the letters stuffed in his locker. Still, he’d go through all of them, thinking maybe one of them might be from you.

Him catching feelings for you was an absurd idea, but every day you’ve spent with him felt like a spark, that maybe would ignite the flames of your affinity. He saw the way tables have turned —then, he used to be the one to shy away from physical contact, more than often blushing even, and of course you'd just be your enthusiastic self. Now, he was the one who’d usually initiate skinship, smiling at your inept attempts of seeming unbothered. You’d gulp and inhale thick air whenever he gave you compliments also, and in his eyes you’d be his cute, little best friend —little, because he was a few inches taller but wouldn’t want to be discredited for only being a little loftier.

Even then, your bond would only grow and it thrived with your little escapades like staying out after school till curfew, making shameless excuses to your parents that convinced them enough that you were just really studious and preferred after school till curfew group studies. For that though, you were obligated to maintain above average grades, it was hard, but it was crucial to mask your leisure.

You’re a fairly active student, the type to not feel anxious over giving the wrong answer because you believed redemption could be achieved by anyone who knew the right steps to take. School was definitely not easy, but it shouldn’t be made complicated. You’d learn to sort your priorities, separating academics from the twists and turns of your life.

“Left twix or right twix?” —school would still encompass such interesting encounters nonetheless.

It was the first time Sungchan would raise this offer, and you tittered at him for being a believer of the left twix versus right twix agenda. “There’s no difference anyways.”

He took his time, basking in your sweet, sweet laughter before he replied, “No, but just imagine—” he takes out both bars from its packaging, holding them out with both hands. “This is me—” he’d bring the left one forward a little, “—and this is Wonbin.” then the right.

Under a frolicsome mood, you wore a grin as you reached for the right twix, but he’d move it away. “Hey!”

“Wow, I’m giving you my chocolate and you still hate me.”

“It doesn’t mean I hate you, but I like Binnie more.” —way more. With a bitter smile, he gave you the right twix, but not without snapping off an inch. “Sungchan.”

“What? If i’m a full twix bar and this is Wonbin, it should at least be accurate and Wonbin’s definitely not as tall as me.” you broke into a chortle from his unserious justification.

“Wonbin is still tall though, besides, you probably want more for yourself just to spite me.”

“Untrue.” he took the piece he snapped off and held it close to your lips. “This little piece can be you then, have it.”

“Are you’re trying to say I’m just about an inch of your height?”

“More like a foot, but yeah.”

He fed you the small piece, eyes following the movement of your lips as you bit on it. “Thank you, Channie.”

There truly was no difference between the left and the right side, he just wanted to test something out, to check how likely you were to pick the left twix —to pick him.

You would wonder why he seemed to always have a packet of twix with him, and why he always hit you with the left or right question. You always answered right, and he always snapped it to the same length, giving you both pieces. You thought maybe instead of left and right, he thought of it as him and Wonbin still, like the first time he asked you. It was such a bold assumption to make, especially when you treated him like an older brother. He was waggish, not much of a prankster, but he knew how to turn a smile upside down and at the same time, he was dutiful, and caring at times needed.

It was something about him you thought you didn’t have to second guess. Well, while he did help you stay out of detention for all the times you were sent there, you figured he might’ve done that for his friends too.

“Dude, please, I can’t get detention today. I don’t have any other excuse for getting home late again.”

“Bro, you know I have to turn you in, if not I might get in trouble.”

Okay, maybe not all his friends. Overhearing their smalltalk made you think back on all the times he’s gotten you out of trouble. Shouldn’t he have been kicked from the supreme student government if he really faced any consequences for never taking you into the disciplinary dungeon?

“Hey Channie?”

Sungchan had never stood up so fast in his life. “Yes? Is there anything I could do for you?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to ask you something, is it okay?”

“Yeah! of course, go ahead, hit me.”

“So I heard you and your friend talking the other day…” Sungchan anxiously swiped his tongue over his top lip as he waited for you to continue speaking. “Did I get you in trouble for saving me from detention?”

He profusely shook his head and would briskly reply, “No, not at all. Don’t you worry about it.”

You kept your eyes locked with his, and you’d furrow your brows and squint your eyes in jest, displacing your doubt with a playful scowl. His eyes would widen in the slightest bit, chuckling at your mien.

“You know I always got your back.” —he meant it as a sign that you’d hopefully pick up on, but you learned to just not question his sweet gestures, all the big and all the small.

But from that day forth, you haven’t gotten detention, not even a single warning. Sungchan wouldn’t acknowledge your efforts till one the day you would be waiting for the early morning bus beside him, and you weren’t with your best friend like you usually were.

“Y/n, you’re early today. Where’s Wonbin?”

“Still asleep probably. I already told him I wanted to go to school early, but he didn’t meet me at the exit street.” you yawned, carefully ridding the water in your eyes with your fingers. “I waited for him there for thirty minutes, but I just went ahead. Can’t miss the first bus.”

Sungchan blinked a couple of times, trying to process what he was hearing. The morning haze was quite strong, and it was getting to his head. If she chose to not wait for him, she wanted to ride the bus with me, right? —his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of you clearing your throat.

“How about you? you seem pretty early too.” your query had left him flustered for a second.

Truth be told, he would come that early in the morning to wait for you, and unfortunately for Wonbin too. However, in all of those mornings, you’d assume he had just gotten there like you have, and for that, he deserves an oscar. Though, there were mornings where he wouldn’t he wouldn’t be there, it was the days you got detention for arriving late at school. Sungchan could take the risk, but would rather not get himself in any trouble as a part of the student government.

“I ate some good breakfast today so I was in the mood to go to school a little earlier.” He sounded convincing enough, so you’d just shrug your shoulders.

The first bus was less full, with one or two vacant seats left at the back, and you sat next to him somewhere in the middle. Before you were sat though, he would place a hand on top of your head, anchoring you where you stood and rushing past you —and you thought he did that so he could have the window seat to himself, but instead he got himself settled on the aisle seat, giving the seat next to him a little tap, signaling you to sit down.

“You’re unbelievable.” your words came out in an exhale as you sat down, struggling a bit because his lanky legs were in the way.

“And you're just so cute!” he’d do that thing where he’d shake his head, pointing a pout at you.

His supposedly teasing little gesture would cause your mouth to fall open, just enough to express the cringe you caught from his tomfoolery. “Ew, what the hell.”

“What?” he’d laugh at you —quietly, for the sake of paying respect to the other people in the bus— and for a second, would wear a smirk on his face, “But seriously, you’re really cute, you know.”

Your brows would lift itself along with the dilation of your eyes. He did sound genuine, but it was just a sheer compliment, one you didn’t hear often, but still, you took it as words he pulled out of the kindness of his heart.

That day, Wonbin got to school eight minutes late.

“Sorry, I forgot we were supposed to be early today.” he’d tell you during lunch time, barely having touched his food.

“It’s okay, be sorry to yourself. You’re being sent to detention today —eat your food Binnie.” you watched his hasty movements, taking a bite out of his already lukewarm food. “You should practice being early too.”

“Is that why you wanted to be early?” he’d reply as soon as he got the food down his throat. “Sungchan kept you out of detention, didn’t he?”

“Yeah but, he might get in loads of trouble if he kept covering for others.”

Wonbin only nods. “I guess I better be careful then.”

When Sungchan took him to that horrid room, he’d reflect on —not his actions, but rather, Sungchan’s. Wonbin could tell that he stuck around you often, so often that there was no way you couldn’t discern his mellow doting, but you didn’t notice at all, did you? And from the very conversation you had with Wonbin at the cafeteria, he’d conclude that maybe, you like —or at least was starting to like Sungchan as well, he took it as if you were only staying out of trouble just for Sungchan.

But there’s no way, Wonbin had only ever seen you with a rosey shade on your cheeks when you were with him, him and not Sungchan. He would be awakened from his nap by the detention monitor, and he would wake up with a new purpose. Like track and field, he was determined to stretch himself far enough to be able to reach you, to earn you once he pushed through the finish line tape.

For the next following days, he’d wake up before the chickens could cluck, and he got to the exit street first and waited for you. He kept up the routine, even when he was tired from p.e. or dance practice the previous day, he’d greet you with a sheepish grin like he was telling you that he beat you to being the proficient early bird.

When it had all started, Sungchan was utterly bewildered —but even more let down, but he’d never show it, to you especially. He had no reason to feel perplexed even, you saying that you waited for Wonbin the previous day on which he failed to show up should’ve been a hint that the four eyed kid —now not so four eyed— would stick around. For a while you would think he was excited to see Wonbin because he got more fired up, fired up in a positive way it seemed.

Little did you know, they’d softly scoff after one of them spoke. Now they were sure of their competition, and you would be oblivious of it all. Fortunately for Wonbin, you still had heart eyes for him, which Sungchan would catch up to quickly. He’d try to contest it by helping you with anything and everything, humorous pick-up lines evolving into actual and genuine compliments, and when he had the chance, he would approach you when he sensed the gloominess in your demeanor and turn your frown upside down. If there was anything that didn’t change, it was of course, the never-ending left twix or right twix query.

“Left twix or right twix?” he held the half-opened packet to your face.

Without sparing him an answer, you’d snatch the right twix. Sungchan’s bittersweet chuckle subsided quickly when you snapped the bar yourself, popping the shorter piece into your mouth first. “You never run out of twix bars huh?”

But he was surely running out of time. Perhaps his practice of splitting the bar in uneven lengths was foreshadowing, if you and Wonbin came from the same twix bar that he split up, that would mean you two are each other’s halves. Stupid —he felt stupid in love.

He had a twix bar and a dream, but Wonbin had you close already. Besides, what could a split bar of chocolate do? Everytime Wonbin saw that pathetic excuse of a conversation being pulled out of Sungchan’s bag, he made sure to bring you a nice and cold bottle of honey ice tea to wash down the sugars. It was your favorite too, now how could a twix bar ever compare to that?

Their antics would persist with time, still no one made any substantial efforts. And by the time you were in your senior year, you would think the two have just gotten closer, but with that they’d confront each other —prom night hung by a thread, and it was getting close.

“What’s your plan? gonna pull out a giant twix bar?” sickly was all it sounded to Sungchan.

“I already asked her. She said yes.” Wonbin’s assertive facade would break when he heard the certitude in Sungchan’s voice.

“She did?”

“Yeah, funny I used a twix bar too.”

A quick and defeated exhale would fall off of Wonbin’s lips that would soon display a weak smile, “Good for you.” he had lost races before, practically got used to the feeling, because he knew there was always room for improvement, and that there would be another race for him to win.

However, this race would have him limping. He does admit he was a little careless sometimes, still giving away his time to talk to a previous admirer before politely rejecting them, it wasn’t for a long time, it lasted for a good two days, but after those two days, it would take a while for Wonbin to win back your laughter —a while being a little over a week. For a minute he thought you were bound to grow apart by the end of highschool, but he’d almost go crazy over your shy glances and the slight stutter in your voice whenever he said something out of the best friend zone.

“You should’ve joined the school band, or the choir.” he says moments after he voiced out to you his concerns for college.

You sat up, lifting your head from his shoulder to answer him. “I considered, but I got too... scared.”

“How about this, promise me you’d be more open to showing off your talent to people —I know you love to sing, you’d love it even more when you realize through others how wonderful you actually are.” his hand would slowly move close to yours. “Performing might help you love yourself in some way.”

“Okay, okay, I promise.” you held out your pinky, and he’d intertwine his own with it.

“You have a beautiful voice. So, so beautiful.” you weren’t certain if he had intended for you to hear the last part, as it would be a little faint, but you heard it.

In a hospital, you’d be close to the state of losing life just by how rapid your heartbeat was going and how hot you were, matching the crimson spread across your face. Wonbin kept your pinkies intertwined, who knows, that might be the last one you’d have.

Prom night inched closer, and closer, and a week before you were growing anxious. Then news would fly by of a lucky girl, so lucky that she got Park Wonbin to ask her out to prom.

Let’s just say, you weren’t lucky at all. Devastating, heart wrenching, you had used every word in your mind’s dictionary to describe how you felt, at that point you couldn’t really run to your best friend to cry when he was the sole reason for your heartache, so to whom do you go to?

You sniffled, expelling a weak laughter through your stuffy nose before you’d say, “I want the left one.”

“Really? why?”

“Cause he left—” sniffle, “—he left me.”

Sungchan was only now realizing just how much you actually liked Wonbin. His guilt would arise, and he would look back on the moment he had deceived Wonbin to believing he already had you as his prom date when he hadn't even composed a proper plan to ask you out.

“Take it.” He gave you both bars.

“Do you not want any?”

“No, I want you to have it.”

You ate your heart away, tears dissolving into nothingness once you’ve had a sweet bite of his succor. Sungchan offered you his water bottle, and it was half full of warm lemonade. You’d never expect him to carry around a bottle of hot lemonade, still you’d drink it. It was perfectly tart and sweet, like comfort in a cup. Soon enough, you were feeling a bit more lively and somehow felt like you needed to pop him a question.

“Who’s the lucky girl you’re taking to prom?”

You were flustered to hear him laugh a bit as he spoke, “I don’t have one, actually.”

“Wait, really? not even one of the girls who held up those big signs that said ‘marry me jung sungchan’ in your football matches?”

“I’d only take a girl I actually like. I don’t want to pretend to be enjoying myself around someone I’m not familiar with.”

You didn’t know what was in the air that day, but for a while you’d glance out the window, there was a butterfly —you used to love them so much, as a kid you’d always be there to accompany them, it was his fault you’d grow out of it —that little boy. Your glee that was once those tiny fairy-like creatures soon took the form of that little boy, but why were you suddenly just reminiscing about that childhood crush you had? it wasn’t like you’d meet him again, he could be an olympic swimmer for all you know.

“I wanna be your lucky girl.” six small words were enough to make a mess of the big guy that he is.

The next thing you knew, he was picking you up from your house. “Shit.” he’d only seen a glimpse of you through your living room window but he was already fumbling, sweaty palms and all. And when you finally stepped out of the door, all eleven organ systems in his body would start malfunctioning. You were even more beautiful than those azaleas or the garden butterflies that flew over them. He was so lost in your grace that you had to snap him out of it.

“These looked like the ones we had back at my childhood home. They’re beautiful Chan, thank you.” you held the bouquet close enough to get a whiff of its scent.

They were azaleas, other than butterflies, it was these flowers that reminded him of you. Did he know what flowers they were the first time he saw them? no, but did he remember its appearance clearly enough for him to spot it within an array of several other flowers? Well of course he did.

“They remind me of you.”

“Wait, really? how?”

He wanted to say it —I used to swim very well— but for some reason, he held back. “Cause you’re beautiful, Y/n.”

It was the first time you’d actually feel your face heat up because of his compliments. However, this one sounded different, and soon you were shying away from his gaze, trying to hide the ridiculous color spreading throughout your face.

That night, you saw Wonbin with his date. For a while, you’d convince yourself that you were in the stage of acceptance, it was time to let go. But then, your efforts of avoiding him were vanquished, he only seemed to be appearing in your sight more and more throughout the night. He looked so… happy, happy like he was with you, but you were a couple meters apart, only giving each other abrupt glances.

The night would end, with your eyes brimmed with tears, face to face with Wonbin at the back of the gymnasium where no one else could see.

“I like you Wonbin.” was not what he expected at all.

He was already shaken by your watery eyes when you had asked him to talk for a while. “But, why’d you say yes to Sungchan?”

“Because you had already asked Lia out.” and I thought you would ask me —you could only finish it in your head, too afraid that you might just be going crazy.

“Wait, Sungchan told me you already were his date before I asked Lia.”

Suddenly, your tears would dry up. Your brows furrowed, feeling a great sense of betrayal. “I wasn’t. He's only my date now because he didn’t have a date either.” your voice became a little more stable, your anguish diminishing, and in its place would surface, the feeling of being misled.

“Y/n, I liked you too.” Wonbin, for a short while, would look out into the lights of the gymnasium that seeped through the ajar door.

Lia was waiting for him. While he had his moments of sorrow, he’d be by himself, and he’d find that she, a beam of sunlight, gave him enough motivation to look a little farther into the future. His feelings for you, while it did linger, would eventually dwindle from the thought that maybe you had been more fond of Sungchan after all. Now that it was refuted, all he really felt was confusion. His worries would lie with you, but mostly it was for the girl who he had told to wait for him, the one he had already made promises to.

“Let’s stay best friends, yeah?”

Just a little later, you'd be back at the table where you had left Sungchan, and he was still there, his doe eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “How’d it go?”

“Why would you do that?”

He instantly knew what you were talking about, and with an anxious breath of air, he said, “Y/n, I didn’t think he’d take it seriously.”

“Seriously?”

He was being honest though, he thought Wonbin would’ve double checked with you, he thought, if Wonbin really wanted to have you as his date, he could’ve had you instead of some other girl, right?

Now, there could be a billion ways to apologize, but chose to play safe, saving his confession for some other point in time. Forgiving him wouldn’t come as easy as he thought it’d be —what a man, too sure of himself for his own good. He took his time, being extra cautious and keeping his tranquility to take care of yours. You’d be nonchalant with him, something he’d never get used to, but even then, he was the same —if not more altruistic. For a while you’d feel bad for shunning him when he gave you most of his energy every day for you to reconsider his apology. But the whole ordeal at prom night was cauterized into your soul. Wonbin would only and quite literally be your best friend forever, not even really forever.

You wouldn’t really say your friendship with him was at the verge of falling apart, but you most certainly weren’t spending as much time as you used to with him. You wished you could bring the old times back, you wished you had asked him to prom yourself. But the chances were long gone, you were already in college, still with a handful folks you’ve gone to highschool with —and the most notable of the few, Sungchan and Wonbin.

Much to your dismay, Wonbin would stray a little further from you, taking a major that was way too different from yours. Though, you made sure to make time for each other whenever you could, in the meantime, you’d have your moments with the only person you felt comfortable enough to stick by.

“Left or right?”

Your first instinct has always been to grab the right bar. “I’ll be on my way, Wonbin just texted me that he’d been in the mall since five. I’ll see you for group study tomorrow!”

You were in a hurry because it was already five-thirty. You chose the right one again, but at least you weren’t rejecting his offer anymore, unlike when you haven't forgiven him for his deception. You’ve come to terms with just letting it go, and you believed he deserved your forgiveness because he treated you so well, maybe too well even. You saw a shift in Sungchan, he was a lot more —sincere? genuine? honest?— honestly, it’s quite hard to pinpoint which one it is, but he was all that and more.

Just letting it go was a painful process, especially when you still had to maintain your friendship with the very man that pulled on your heartstrings and cut them off. After everything that went down that night, you two became evidently distant, but only for a considerable while. Getting back to bff terms just came naturally and there was no actual talk about what happened that fateful night in your old highschool’s gymnasium.

At this point, you were so close to accepting the fact that you’re only fated to meet a friend just to be a friend and nothing more if you wish to be nothing less. Maybe the best friend rule was right, maybe you should’ve been more rational.

Your movie night with Wonbin would end with him giving you a very light hug, and words that would trigger your past misgivings, “I’m meeting Lia again tomorrow, just catching up, she’s at the neighboring campus, are you free tomorrow?”

You gripped tightly on the the straps of your bag, trying to look for something, anything that could possibly affect him the same way. “I’m pretty packed tomorrow, Sungchan and I are preparing for multiple tests coming this week.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Goodluck! and tell him I said good luck too.”

His unfazed visage left a stinging in your heart. Why did he have to grow his hair out to a length that made him look so alluring when he’s choosing to act unbothered by your sly hinting? sure, he wasn’t as beautiful as a bouquet of azaleas but still, it was unfair.

“You good? you seem very down today.”

You were thankful the group study was not just a blatant last-minute excuse even though it might’ve sounded like one when you spoke it.

“Did something happen last night?” Sungchan would quickly catch up with the shift of expression on your face, so he’d add, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I look fine, right? like, just okay?” he was taken aback with your question and your voice that just sounded so tired.

You just had your eyes on each other, after a while his eyes would move down slowly as he said to you, “I don’t know about everyone else, but I think you’re really pretty.” his eyes would shift back to yours that fluttered with his dulcet words. “I really love your eyes.”

He really did, he always have. He loved your watchful orbs that glistened against the harsh sunlight, lashes flitting with the morning breeze as your irises followed the butterflies.

That day was suddenly not so bad.

The times you’ve met with Wonbin to catch up would be a time for revelations. You’d learn that he’d made a lot of friends —quite a friend group they are, just a group of pretty and talented people. Wonbin seemed to be handed opportunities left and right, and you were happy for him, it’s just that when it was your turn to share the events of your life, you’d be empty handed, and occasionally would tell him that you’ve been busy with projects, tests and whatnot. You’d feel mortified, having him feel bad for you when everything was going well for him. Those meets would lead to gruesome mornings the following day, but luckily, Sungchan’s always there to mend you.

“Say ‘ah’” you’d part your lips, just enough for Sungchan to feed you a twix bar.

When the chocolate in your mouth was almost gone, you ask him, “Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted the left or the right one?”

“Well, did you want a specific bar?”

“Hmm, maybe? I mean, I would’ve chosen the left bar.”

It wouldn’t take you a while to familiarize yourself with Sungchan —him and his everything, his routine, his favorite things, his little habits, his comforting patterns, he was unlike any other guy you’ve met despite him appearing to be on the surface. He’d give you a sense of hope every time you felt like closing your eyes and falling into an eternal slumber, and eventually, he would become a reason for you to wake yourself up everyday.

While he’s explained to you the things you could still observe with your own eyes, you wanted to know more, to understand him a little better like he did so well with you. You were hesitant to go past standard questions, but he’d encourage you to continue asking him whatever. He answered every question, from his highschool life to his very upbringing. You’d learn that he wasn’t always a football player, he used to be a very well-equipped swimmer, and that the place his family used to live where you used to live, and that— wait, he was a swimmer? —you’d interrupt your train of thoughts. Sungchan wasn’t even there anymore, but you were still thinking about everything he had told you earlier that day.

You’d take your time to think again, about that little boy that lived across from your house. He was a swimmer, and what are the chances he’d become a football player? What are the chances that that little boy is now the not so little Jung Sungchan?

“Left or ri—” you’d bite the left twix from his hand, locking it in between your lips. “Oh, okay. Do you want the other one? I’m not really hungry right now.”

“No, no—” chew, “Have it. And while you’re eating, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, anytime. There’s no need for you to ask if it’s okay.” he took a bite out of the twix bar he held.

“What do you think of butterflies?” —he’d stop chewing for a while and his eyes would light up like a night sky of constellations.

“I’ve always thought they’re very pretty, but I know I could never love them as much as you did.” —so it wasn’t Susan or Sangchin, it’s Sungchan.

“Oh, so you didn’t become an olympic swimmer?”

Relief and felicity, there was nothing else in Sungchan’s mind and soul —nothing else but you. His butterfly-loving Y/n whose beauty surpassed even the most well-nourished of azaleas, everything about you, to him, was the closest God had ever gotten to perfection.

From then on, you would tell each other stories, the hows and whys of your detachment.

“We moved because of my dad’s work, but I was sad because I thought I'd never see you again ever —but you’re here now. I gotta admit though, I kinda forgot most of what we had then, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I understand. All that matters to me is you still love butterflies —I mean, that you’re still happy.”

“Thank you Chan. How about you? Why did your family move?”

“Well, I spent like, what? four years maybe? —I was practically begging my parents to move me to a better school, y’know, because…”

“Because?”

“I wanted to be with you. I love you Y/n, I always have, haven’t I told you?”

His confession was something you didn’t foresee, but he didn’t either. It was all unplanned, but he just felt like it was the right moment. Just you and him at the most tranquil site on campus. He wanted to lean in, to just close the already little distance that separated the two of you, but he didn’t. He wanted you to be willing, to give him an avowal that you felt the same. It was only then that you’d start seeing him beyond his brotherly demeanor.

Tomorrow would be the first day that Sungchan would fulfill his duties as your suitor.

First thing in the morning, he’d pick you up, three rhythmic knocks on your door was all it took for your heart to start tumbling and jumping from your chest. And everytime he opened the door, you’d be met with a pair of lively eyes that would become fervent when he finally had you close to him. You two were always together, so much so that it was hard to spot the two of you in two different places at the same time. At hectic times, you’d confine yourselves in each other’s presence. A twix bar and a smile was all and everything that could relieve the two of you of your frustrations.

Your birthday, unfortunately, was an exam day —something both you and him can’t miss for your life. You studied all morning, and before you could snooze away, he’d start to randomly play songs and dance around, dismissing the judgemental eyes that watched him caper. If that wouldn’t work, he’d lay his weight on you like a baby, pushing his nose against your cheek or shoulder. You just hoped you didn’t look too annoyed, because if you were being honest, you thought you would’ve never been able to answer anything on that test at all if it weren’t for him and his foolish, but sweet pokes.

After such a long day, you two would be sat next to each other at an empty stairwell in campus, somehow, for you it felt like sitting at your old front porch all over again.

“Happy birthday!”

“Not really happy, I feel like I got half of the answers wrong.”

“Oh? birthday!” once upon a time, Sungchan could only hope he’d be the one to evoke your sugared laughter through your hardships, but now, he had it all to himself which was more than he could ever ask for.

You watched as he fished a packet of twix, and with a cheeky smile, you’d snatch it from him. “Oh.” was all he could utter, dispensing another guffaw out of you.

You opened it, holding both bars with two hands. Holding out the left bar, “So imagine this is you.” and then the other, “And this is me—” he takes that bar out of your hand using his lips, munching away as you laughed, “Hey! I wasn’t done yet!”

He could only laugh with you, coughing slightly from the sudden sugar attacking his throat. “Okay, o—” cough, “Sorry.”

“What I was meaning to say was—” you took a minute to admire the boy in front of you who stared at you with such fondness and anticipation. “We’re like twix bars. This is gonna sound so cheesey…”

His chortle would make you shy away from his gaze, but he was quick to assure you, “Go ahead, cheesey or not, all that matters is that you mean it.” it was all jested words for encouragement, but he’d soon realize that his jovial advice would apply greatly.

“Well, I was gonna say, we’re like twix bars. Say one twix bar is you, and the other is me. If you break it in half and misplace it, you might just confused which half belongs to which half, so, technically speaking, no matter the consequence, we’d be each other’s other half.”

He had his lips pressed together, like supressing a laugh, but what it truly was is him fighting the urge to just jump you and shower you with all his affection.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I wasn’t gonna!”

“Yeah you were.”

“Were not, you’re just really cute, that’s all.” he’d gently pinch your cheek, but you remained expressionless, so he’d start poking it, progressively becoming a little more pushy, until— “Y/n—”

It took a lot of your power, but you were able to grab him by the wrist, the hand that poked on your face would now be linked with yours, not only that, but your lips were locked too.

“I love you too Sungchan.” “Your lips tastes like twix.” —you’d spew at the same time after pulling away from each other.

Your own laughters were the only thing you could hear, nothing else but each other would matter as your lips would soon attach to each other again.

“Wait, Sungchan, don’t you think we should be somewhere more, I don’t know, private?”

“Sorry, your lips just really taste like twix, I can’t help it.”

It wasn’t really because of the remnants of chocolate on your lips, he just wanted to go all in, as if he already hadn’t gotten you all to himself at that point.

Though, it would be quite an interesting story to tell. Jung Sungchan, who used to swim very well, met a girl who loved to watch butterflies from their front porch. He fell in love, but she wouldn’t reciprocate after a few fifty twix bars. Maybe Wonbin was the one who’d been foreshadowing with precision, because Sungchan had a twix bar, and a dream in the form of you. And he hoped that maybe, some time in the future, you’d be watching butterflies at the front porch of the house you would share in morning and bask in each other’s love for the rest of the day, and maybe forever too.

End.

#riize #briize #riize fanfic #riize au #riize x reader #riize fluff #riize sungchan #riize wonbin #jung sungchan #park wonbin #riize imagines #Spotify

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Office Hours - Chapter 5 (Professor!Miguel O'Hara x F!College-Student!Reader)

Pairing: Professor!Miguel O'Hara x F!College-Student!Reader Category: ANGST (you have been warned) Warnings: Near-death experiences, depictions of hypothermia, descriptions of hospitals, swearing, relationship conflicts, deceased minor characters Word Count: 1.9k+

Summary: You find Miguel nearly frozen to death in a graveyard during one of your daily runs. The truth is revealed.

A/N: This one’s pretty heavy, just a warning. Next chapter will have a bit of comfort, though.

Ch. 4 <- -> Ch. 6

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“Today’s class has been canceled. Please use this time to catch up on your Modules.

-Professor O’Hara

4:03 AM”

Your brows furrowed as you scanned your phone over and over again. Your cereal had grown soggy by the time Gwen stepped out of her room.

“You okay?” Gwen asked as she peeked into the kitchen. You looked up, a knot starting to twist and tighten inside your stomach.

“Yeah...I think so,” you sighed as you slid your phone into your pocket. Gwen leaned on the doorframe.

“Well, either you are or you’re not,” she said. You shrugged and finished tying your running shoes.

“Physics class was canceled today,” you said. Your roommate pursed her lips.

“Well, at least you get an extra day of Thanksgiving break, right?” Gwen hummed. You shrugged.

“I guess so,” you muttered. Your roommate frowned as she walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“What’s going on, sis?” Gwen asked, her bright, blue eyes glowing softly. You glanced up, a weary frown etched onto your face.

“Don’t know. I think it’s just November blues,” you said as you gazed at your feet. Your roommate nodded and patted your shoulder.

“Yeah, they’ve been hitting me pretty bad this year, too. If you need anything, I’m here for you,” she smiled. You gave her a small grin before zipping up your jacket. You pulled out your headphones as you walked towards the front door.

“Hey wait!” Gwen called. She nearly body slammed you into the door as she flung a coat around you. “There’s a wind chill advisory today,” she explained as she adjusted the coat over your shoulders. You gave a small smile as you pulled the coat over yourself.

“Thanks, mom,” you grinned. Gwen chuckled and playfully punched your arm.

“‘Course,” she said with a wink. You decided to grab a hat and some gloves from the closet before taking your leave. “Oh, and don’t forget you’re welcome to come over tomorrow. It should just be my dad, Hobie and I,” your roommate grinned.

“Thank you,” you said with a small smile. “I shouldn’t be gone too long. I’ll just run to the graveyard and back,” you added.

“Sounds good. Oh, and don’t forget tonight’s girls night!” Gwen chirped. You gave a short nod before stepping out into the hall and out the back door.

You immediately shivered, the cold wind slicing through you like a knife. A part of you screamed to slink back inside and curl up under your covers, yet you pulled your hat down and started your light jog. You wouldn’t run as long as you usually would-you couldn’t allow yourself to freeze to death and leave your roomie by herself.

The rolling gray clouds above you angrily darkened and swirled as your feet thudded against the pavement. You passed by a few people here and there, most of them scurrying to get indoors as quickly as possible. Relief filled you as you saw the cemetery ahead, always the half-point of your daily jog. Your breath fogged up as you made your way down the road, the pavement slick against the bottom of your shoes. Just as you went to turn the corner, you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye.

A large man was kneeling in front of two similar tombstones, a set of lilies being crushed inside his clenched fist. He definitely wasn’t dressed for the weather: his only clothes being jeans and a dark, long sleeved shirt. You slowed your pace as you eyed the man, his stature somewhat familiar…

Your eyes widened.

“Miguel?” you breathed. The man remained still as if his body were frozen to the dead grass. Dread settled into the pit of your stomach as you rushed forward, your feet barely touching the ground. You panted as you approached him, your heart breaking at the sounds of incoherent mumbling and quiet sniffs. You reached your hand out and placed it on his shoulder.

“Miguel? Miguel, can you hear me?” you asked frantically. His wet, puffy eyes just barely flicked over to you. Miguel’s face softened.

“Mari...it’s you…” he said with a relieved smile. Suddenly, his massive body crumbled to the ground with a heavy thud. You gasped and instantly cupped his pale face.

“Miguel?!” you screamed.

———

You clenched and unclenched your hands as you watched the paramedics quickly rush Miguel through the double doors of the ER. They arrived just in time, carefully pulling him onto a stretcher. You hesitated when one of them asked if you wanted to ride up front the in ambulance...but you didn't want to leave Miguel alone. Not after the state you found him in.

Your professor groaned as he cracked his eyes open.

“Mari?” he asked with a dazed expression. You frowned as tears welled in your eyes. “It’s you, it’s really you,” Miguel croaked as he tried to reach for your hand. Your bottom lip trembled as your heart felt like it was crumbling from his hopeful gaze.

“You can come in,” one of the medical staff said. You blinked as you watched them wheel his shivering body into a vacant room.

“Body temperature is 89.9,” you heard one of the nurses say, their voice muffled. You kept your hands against your mouth as you sank into a chair, your head spinning as you blankly stared at the wall in front of you. Medical staff came and went as they proceeded to reheat Miguel’s frigid body, bringing in blankets and IVs.

You felt like it’s only been minutes despite the sun having dipped past the city skyline long ago. You snapped your head up when you heard someone step into the room. A man with sandy blonde hair and thick glasses came up to Miguel, a nurse following behind him. You noticed how one of his sleeves seemed much more loose than the other.

“Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to wake you,” the man said in a hushed voice. You yawned and shook your head.

“It’s okay,” you sighed. Your eyes softened as you saw Miguel resting in the bed, his large chest rising and falling as his eyes flicked beneath his eyelids.

“He’ll be alright,” the doctor assured you. He gave a warm smile before pushing up his glasses with his hand. “I’m Doctor Connors,” the man said as he held his one hand out. You took it and shook it gingerly before letting your hand limply fall to your side. A low rumble reverberated through the room.

"Are you hungry?" Doctor Connors suddenly asked. You rested your hand over your gurgling stomach and nodded slowly. The doctor hummed.

"There's a café just down the hall. They have a lovely grilled cheese and soup," he suggested with a warm smile. You nodded.

"Okay, thank you," you replied as you rose to your feet. The doctor nodded in reply before turning back to his patient. Your body felt heavier with each step as you trudged towards the café. Words tumbled from your mouth yet you could barely hear them. Your phone buzzed incessantly as you waited for your food.

Your throat tightened when you saw Gwen's face light up on your screen. You clenched your other hand as you took a deep breath.

"Hey Gwen!" you said in a strained, chipper tone. You heard her sigh with relief.

"Thank God you finally answered! I was about to send out a search party," your roommate exclaimed.

"One grilled cheese and noodle soup!" the waitress called from the counter. You gave a polite smile as you took your piping hot meal, tilting your head down and sinching your phone between your ear and shoulder. You heard some shuffling and laughing in the background. Your eyes widened as you set your tray down.

"Are you already at girl's night?" you asked, your perception of time completely warped. Gwen hummed a "mhm".

"(Y/N)...where the hell are you?" she stressed with a harsh whisper. Your lips tightened as your stomach curled into a knot. You swallowed.

"I'm...I'm out with a friend," you explained quickly. You could feel the eyebrow raise on the other end of the phone. "It's a long story. I'll just Uber home," you said as you stirred your spoon in your soup.

"You sure? Traffic's hella bad today," Gwen replied.

"Traffic's always bad-it's New York," you said. Your roommate chuckled.

"Touché," she said. You watched the steam roll and billow off of your noodle soup as you leaned back in your chair.

"Alright. See you later," you said.

"Later sis," Gwen replied. Your heart sank a little as silence filled the space between your ear and your phone. You set it down before scarfing down your meal. The food tasted like paper to you, each bite more bland than the last. Patients and staff wandered up and down the halls as you emptied your plate. You sighed as you tossed your trash into the bin before making your way back to Miguel's room. You paused when you heard some sniffling from inside the room.

"Gabe…I-I fucked up," you heard Miguel croak. You froze next to the doorway as you heard him nearly choke on a sob. You peeked a little past the doorframe and watched as he ran his hand through his messy, dark locks as he parted his lips.

"I don't know what to do-you're the only person I can talk to about this," he trembled. You held your breath as you lingered near the doorframe. Miguel glanced around before cupping his hand to the side of his mouth.

"I-I started sleeping with one of my students," he confessed. Gabe screamed on the other end, causing Miguel to pull his head away. "¡Cállate!" he shouted before coughing into the crook of his elbow [Shut up!]. Your heart raced as you tried to steady your breathing. Who was Gabe? And why the fuck was Miguel telling him everything!?

Your train of thought was broken when heard your professor sigh heavily.

"She's so much like her, Gabe. Her smile, her laugh...the way her heart just shines," Miguel sniffed. He rubbed his temple and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I-I thought I could just imagine I was with Mari w-when we were..." he choked. Your jaw dropped as you felt your blood run ice cold.

"Oh God...what have I done?" he breathed. "What have I done?" Miguel sobbed. The room spun you as you braced yourself against the wall. You took a step back as you felt your heart tearing apart thread by thread.

"Todo es mi culpa," he said with a shaky breath [Everything is my fault]. You frowned and clutched your chest, your hands trembling. "I-I should've been the one to take her!" he yelled. You flinched and jumped back. "If I took Gabi to the play instead of Mari...i-if I didn’t work overtime…then..." he trailed off before folding his head into his forearm.

"Oh Gabi...Mari...perdóname," he wept [Oh Gabi...Mari...forgive me].

Hot stream down your cheeks as you kept your hand over your mouth, your mind violently tossing and turning in every direction. You gasped when you turned and almost ran into one of the nurses.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” the older woman asked. You simply shook your head before glancing over. Miguel’s dark eyes were wide, his face drained of all color as the two of you locked eyes. You turned back to the nurse, your eyes red and glossy as you sucked in a sharp breath. “I…I have to go,” you stammered before quickly taking off down the hallway.

----

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