#they could opt to stay best friends when they age up from childhood

[tragicclownwrites]

🤡

[freeabortionslol]

Oscars night (Quinn Hughes x Reader)

hey gang how are we doing on this lovely Wednesday evening? anyways this is my first fic in like forever and it was kind of rushed so don't hate me I just wanted to write something.

summary: fluff, the reader is an actress going to the oscars for the first time with her childhood crush friend Quinn Hughes where there are several tension filled moments between the two until if finally cracks. the reader has a very strong friendship with the Hughes family with Luke looking at her as an older sister

warnings!! cursing, suggestive (???), marijuana, lil bit of angst (maybe), jealousy, mentions of alcohol, kissing, and lmk if I missed any but it's basically just fluffy as hell. I didn't fully proofread and it's lowk rushed but enjoy!!

wc: 4.2k

It was your first awards season with Quinn by your side. The two of you had been friends since you were kids, with you being the same age as Jack. You’ve always just been best friends, but the past couple of months things have shifted and the tension has been stronger than ever. You’re unsure if you're delusional or if he also noticed the way your hands lingered close when he handed you something. The two of you were staying in a hotel room near downtown Los Angeles for the Oscars. You were nominated for best supporting actress, and the film you appeared in was nominated for best picture. Your agent set up the hotel room and when she scheduled the room, she assumed you’d be sharing with your now ex boyfriend. While you and Quinn shared the room, there were two separate beds which disappointed you a bit, but you couldn’t voice it. You stayed in the bathroom getting ready for the night. Your agent wanted to have a hair and makeup team come to get you gussied up, but you insisted that the only person who could make you look the way you wanted, was you. You went for a more laid back look with less bold eye makeup, a blowout, and a floor length green gown with spaghetti straps. You put the final touches on your makeup look and slipped on your dress. The problem was, you couldn’t zip the dress up all the way unless you were trying to dislocate your shoulder. You thought about possibly asking one of your friends to do it when you got there, but the thought of showing up to the Oscars in an unzipped dress was mortifying. You decided to suck up your fears of intimacy with Quinn, and slowly opened the door. Quinn couldn’t hear the door open with the soft sounds of Mac Demarco playing from your bluetooth speaker. He was standing in the mirror fiddling with his tie trying to get it on the right way. You stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring how he looked in his prada suit. His hair hung messily parted in the middle just the way you liked it. You had to beg him to let you do it since he normally opted for the beanie + suit combo. You stared at him as he began to get frustrated. Huffing and puffing as he moved the tie around his neck trying to center it perfectly. You let out a silent laugh with a small smile and walked over towards him. 

“Here let me do it.” You grabbed his shoulders with both hands and moved his body to face you. Quinn was speechless as you untied his tie and began doing it your way. Your eyes were focused on the tie around his neck, but his were centered on you in your stunning gown looking beautiful as ever. He had seen you several times in various different articles of clothing including his own, but never like this. He had never seen you so glamorized before, at least never in person. You fit into it so naturally, and he had to remind himself that you were dressed for your world and not his. He had gotten so used to seeing you in the box wearing his jersey with a pair of leggings, and completely forgot what you looked like doing the things that you loved. The nerves of the night came over him like a wave. Worried that he wouldn’t do the right thing or that he might embarrass you, but nothing beat his thought of wanting to see that green gown on his bedroom floor.

“You look beautiful.” He said in his trance-like state which caused you to look up from where your hands were on his tie. Never in his life had Quinn looked at you like this, or even spoken to you like this.

“I-uh…thank you.” You gave him a small closed mouthed smile to which he returned back. You turned your attention back to his tie trying to cover up the red tint that had washed over your face. “You look very handsome.” You could feel his breath on your forehead as he smiled. His face was now painted with the same red tint as yours. “Lucky to have a guy like you as my date.” You finished with his tie and turned around signaling him to zip up your dress. He very gently moved your hair out of the way and began to zip up the dress. His knuckles subtly touching your bare back as he made his way up, which sent shivers down your spine. When the dress was fully secured he grabbed both of your arms and turned you to where you were both facing the mirror. He placed his head on your shoulder admiring the stunning sight in the mirror. He was taking mental pictures in his head and in this moment he declared that this was his favorite spot. Being so close to you knowing that his lips were close enough to leave soft and rough kisses trailed down your neck. The way he could hear your faint breathing against the top of his head and it made him wonder if your heart was racing just as much as his.

“The only lucky person in this room is me.” He planted a soft kiss on your jawline and walked to the other side of the room to retrieve his phone. You, on the other hand, were left standing in the mirror, but that red tint covering your face had become significantly more saturated. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the two of you arrived at the red carpet before the show, cameras flashed at full speed as people were shouting incoherent things at you. Quinn had dealt with cameras at awards shows several times, but nothing as intense as this. He had to remind himself that you were also a star and being an actress came with more publicity issues than being a hockey player. He was nervous. Not visibly nervous enough for everyone to notice, but enough to where you noticed. You felt bad for bringing him to this crazy event, but you knew that things would calm down eventually. Absent-mindedly, Quinn placed his hand on your hip pulling you close. He felt the need to protect you from the flashing cameras, and he didn’t love the photographers yelling at you to pose in a different way. There was one photo that stood out prominently that you knew would be the talk of the internet. You were wearing a small closed-mouthed smile leaning your head towards Quinn, while he had a stare that could kill as his hand held and strong grip on your waist. This was abnormal for him, as he was always smiling during award show pictures. As you moved down the carpet, Quinn’s hand moved from your waist to the small of your back, making sure that his presence was known behind you. You grabbed his free hand with yours, pulling him to where he was next to you as you whispered in his ear.

“You okay?” You asked as he looked directly into your eyes

“Yeah. I’m fine, just not used to all this.” He let out a slight laugh along with a smile that brought your nerves down significantly. You decided to intertwine your fingers with his and you both moved down to an interviewer from entertainment tonight. When you stopped, Quinn took his place standing next to you, but stepped back a bit. His hand found his way back to your hip which was cut perfectly out of camera view. The interviewer asked you several questions about your movie while Quinn stayed back. His thumb was tracing circles on your waist which sent shivers down your spine, but you did your best to hold back those thoughts during the interview.

“So, Ms. Y/Ln, care to introduce us to your date?” You smiled and placed your hand on Quinn’s shoulder to move him up closer next to you 

“Yes. This is Quinn Hughes. He’s a defenceman for the Vancouver Canucks. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I thought why not take him to the oscars.” You let out a small forced laugh and Quinn looked at you and smiled.

“So Quinn, how's your first experience at the Oscars going? Do you love it? Do you hate it? Do tell.” Quinn turned his attention away from you and over to something in the distance, not wanting to make direct eye contact with the interviewer or the camera. 

“It’s-uhh…it’s definitely not something I'm used to.” He rubbed his neck and laughed, looking back at the interviewer. “I don’t know how she does this all the time. Truly she’s a champ for being able to walk through this chaos. Put me on the ice in front of thousands of people and I'm fine, but put me in front of a bunch of cameras and I freeze.” You laugh at Quinn’s comment which causes him to crack a smile at you.

“Sooo what’s the scoop here? Are we dating? Boyfriend and girlfriend?” The interviewer asked and you and Quinn immediately froze. Both of your smiles dropped in an instant along with your hearts. Without hesitation, Quinn stepped up to the mic and said “No. We’re just friends. Have been for a long time.” You felt your heart shatter on the red carpet. You knew that the two of you were just friends, but hearing it said out loud? By him? So publicly? It was bound to crush you. You couldn’t stop thinking about how quickly and naturally it came out of his mouth like he didn’t even have to think about it. The both of you said your goodbyes to the interviewer and made your way down the carpet. He made sure to keep his fingers intertwined with yours not wanting you to get lost or taken. He didn’t know why he had that fear, but it definitely showed. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the insane red carpet frenzy, you and Quinn finally made your way inside. His hand was still intertwined with yours as you made your way through the groups of people. You were stopped by several costars and famous actors you wanted to introduce Quinn to. While standing around with Quinn, you excused yourself to the powder room as he went to get drinks for the two of you. The infamous bathroom was filled with women you’ve only ever seen on a screen and you had to fight the urge to ask for a photo while you were washing your hands side by side. You looked up into the mirror, fixing your hair as your hands were shaking. The only thing you could think of was how Quinn answered that question. You were freaking out on the inside and just wanted to ball up on the floor and cry it out, but you couldn’t. Quinn wasn’t the only thing that influenced your nerves, it was also that you were nominated for your first oscar and the thought of losing was killing you. In all honesty, the thought of winning was actually worse. Having to go up in front of an entire room of some of the most hardworking people in the world and read a speech that you wrote in your notes app last night while giggling on the phone with Jack. You held back your tears as you stared in the mirror. You let out a couple deep breaths, each one shakier than the last. Suddenly, as if she was a gift from god, Billie Eilish moved in next to you, hitting her vape pen. The two of you had met on several occasions and have become “Award Buddies” being so close in age.

“Billie.” You let out, trying not to hyperventilate. She looked up from her phone at you.

“Yes?” She gave you a half smile as you stared at her blankly.

“That THC or nicotine?”

“THC.”

“Can I hit it please?”

“Go for it.” Billie handed you her pen and you took a long drag. The smoke already calming your nerves just from the feel of it in your throat. You weren’t a big smoker at all. You only really got high with Luke when he was staying at your house. It was kind of a sacred thing between the two of you, sometimes with Quinn joining along. It was safe to say that your tolerance was low, but you weren’t thinking about that when you took another long hit of Billie’s cart. After three long hits of the pen, you handed it back to Billie, thanked her, and made your way out of the bathroom. You expected to see Quinn at the door when you walked out, but instead you were met with a long line of women waiting for the bathroom. You made your way through the crowds of people standing around, your high still not hitting quite yet. You stopped yourself when you finally found yourself in the eyesight of the bar. Quinn was standing there, two drinks in hand, talking to a beautiful woman. She looked about his age, a bit shorter than you, and her healthy chestnut colored hair fell into flawless curl patterns. Her head flew back in laughter at something he said, his face gaining a smile with teeth which was something he only reserved if he was actually having a good time. You felt your blood boil and your heart sink as you watched this wholesome interaction between the two of them. You watched as her hand reached up to touch the tie that you had put on him just hours before, and you decided that was the final straw. Your territorial instincts kicked in as you pushed through the crowd trying to make your way to the two of them. You reached Quinn and you placed your hand on his back, rubbing it around.

“Hey baby.” You’ve never called him that, but it’s now or never. Quinn was startled by your presence but quickly put his arm around your waist, pulling you close. His touch made your high kick in immediately as you leaned into him. Your body felt like it was melting into his. You visualized laying in his arms at the lake house while Luke and Jack were laughing about something stupid. That’s where you wanted to be right now, not here.

“Hey pretty girl.” He kissed the side of your head and handed you your drink, subtly hinting to the girl that he was taken. The girl only smiled and walked away letting out a “Nice to meet you.” You moved your head into Quinn’s chest and began laughing uncontrollably.

“What? What’s so funny?” He cracked a smile. Your head burying further into his chest as you let out a muffled “Quinny I'm so stoned right now.” You laughed through your words. 

“What are you talking about?” He laughed along with you. You lifted your head up slightly so he could see your eyes. Your chin still rested in his chest while your arms were limp. 

“Holy shit. You were sober when you left me.” He placed his hand on your cheek and smiled. You leaned into his touch and kissed his hand before looking back up at him with a cheesy grin. He let out a soft laugh and rubbed his thumb against your cheek bone. Quinn knew how overly touchy you got when you were high. Every time the two of you smoked together, you insisted he held your hand, or you leaned your head on his shoulder. The night always ended in you lying on top of him because you liked the way the rise and fall of his chest made your brain feel. He moved his hand from your face down to your waist, to which you responded by holding onto his wrist for dear life. You stared at his facial features as a smile grew on his face.

“I love you so much Y/n, but you have to act sober, or the internet will go crazy.” His words made you immediately lock in, suddenly remembering where you were. You removed your chin from his chest but kept your grip on his wrist strong. You widen your eyes, trying to make yourself look less dopey, but Quinn immediately responded with a cringed face.

“Don’t do that. You look crazy.” He laughed. You stayed there with your widened eyes just staring at him, unsure of what to do. Absentmindedly your mouth parted slightly in response to the lazy state your body was in. Quinn quickly took his index finger to your chin and pushed it up to close your mouth.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Making your way to your seats was a challenge in itself. If Quinn wasn’t there you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to make it. He held your hand the whole way there keeping you close as you attempted to make yourself look sober. Sure, you weren’t the only person there that was high, but you weren’t a big smoker, so you didn’t know how to handle it. Not to mention, you’d never been high in public. When you made it to your seats, you made sure Quinn’s hand never left yours. You were in public, but you were still the same girl that gets high at the lake house with his little brother. You looked over at him remembering that he was just as nervous as you were before. You wished he was in the bathroom with you to hit the pen. His leg was bouncing up and down as the lights dimmed, so you removed your hand from his and placed it on his leg, drawing circles with your thumb hoping to calm his nerves. He looked at you with a soft smile that said “Thank you”. As the ceremony went on, Quinn found his hand behind your back, fidgeting with the strap of your dress, twirling it with his fingers. His touch made your face red and you wondered if there were any cameras on the two of you at this moment. Your hand on his leg, and his playing with your dress. You looked over at him to see him only watching the stage as someone was accepting an award. You leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

“Do you realize you’re doing that?” He whipped his head to face you. Your faces now only inches away from each other.

“Doing what?” He asked. His voice low but not quite a whisper. The feeling of his breath on your nose made your heart ache, as you realized you’ve never been this close to him before.

“The strap of my dress. You’re playing with it.” You gave him a slight smile, your eyes never leaving his. He mumbled out a quick sorry and moved his hand away, but you stopped him before he could do so. “No no. It’s cute. Leave it there.” His face turned pink as he smiled at your comment, and turned to look back at the stage. You cheered to yourself in your head at this sweet, and public, intimate moment between you and Quinn. After an hour of people receiving awards and terrible jokes made by the host, your category was finally up next. The high helped your nerves, but you were still shaking. Quinn removed his hand from the strap of your dress and grabbed your shaking one. Your eyes never left the stage as you sat at the edge of your seat in anticipation. Quinn glanced at you with a side eye. He hated seeing you all amped up like this when he’s so used to your calming presence. He leaned in close to your ear. 

“I have a really funny idea to piss off Jack, and throw everyone else off.” You turned to him, your eyes filled with fear, but softening at the idea of Quinn plotting something. It was something the two of you always did together. He was clearly doing it to try and calm down your nerves, but good lord was it helping. 

“What?” you asked, leaning back in your seat, letting him whisper in your ear. 

“If you win, I get to kiss you before you walk up.” Your heart dropped to your stomach as you flipped your head to look at him. Your eyes were in shock and your mouth parted slightly. You knew Quinn would suggest something crazy, but never THIS crazy. The thought of your first kiss with Quinn being in front of the whole world made you sad. You always wanted it to be an intimate moment, maybe in your apartment or down by the lake, but you also couldn’t pass up the opportunity to finally kiss him. You smiled at him, your faces so close to touching.

“Okay. Deal.” You handed out your hand for him to shake. “Jack is gonna lose his shit.”

The moment eventually came. The presenters were announcing the nominees and you got to see yourself in the camera on the screen. Your posture was slumped, you were leaning into Quinn, and your eyes were slowly falling closed. You quickly fixed yourself at the sight, widening your eyes in the way Quinn said not to do. He laughed slightly next to you. You quickly grabbed his hand with your gaze still locked in on the screen.

“And the Oscar goes to…” The presenter left everyone on the edge of their seats as she opened the envelope. You squeezed Quinn’s hand harder than before and he sent back exactly three squeezes which you knew meant “I love you” You looked over for just a split second to give him a smile, before looking back to the stage.

“Y/n L/n!” Your eyes widened more, if that was even possible. Cheers roared from around the theater. Quinn stood up first, holding out his hand for you to take. You were so caught up in the adrenaline rush of winning that you had completely forgotten about the deal you made with him. You stood up slowly trying not to burst into tears of joy. Quinn’s hands were set on your waist, so you rested yours on his biceps. You let out a little scream and jumped up and down twice. Quinn laughed at your reaction before he grabbed your face and planted a closed mouthed kiss on your lips. It wasn’t how you imagined it would be at all. The kiss wasn’t tension-filled or long like how you wanted it to be. You pulled back, your face red, suddenly remembering the deal. Without thinking, still at the peak of your high, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a longer kiss. You made sure his bottom lip was tucked in between yours, wanting to get rid of his closed-mouthed idea. It was long awaited and hungry. You weren’t thinking about where you were as you moved your lips against his. You pulled him down slightly, letting him dip you. His grip on your waist tightened as you let your hand move to tug his hair. Quinn let out a slight groan as he pulled back and whispered in your ear.

“Not here, Movie Star. Go get your award.” He let out a slight chuckle and you quickly unwrapped yourself from his touch to jog up to the stairs. When you finally made your way up to the stage, all the nerves that had been building up had suddenly washed away. Not only had you just won your first Oscar, but your childhood crush just kissed you in front of everyone. The adrenaline of that was enough to quickly sober you up. Your speech was breathless and short. You made sure to exclaim your excitement through the microphone. You thanked everyone who worked on your movie, your family, and of course your “Sexy Date”. You quickly made your way off the stage, grinning wide with a slight pep in your step. You made it back to your seat looking at Quinn who had the cheesiest smile on his face. He quickly pulled you into a tight hug, burying his head in your hair.

“I love you so much. You’re amazing.” He muffled through your shoulder.

“I love you too. You have no idea how long I've wanted to kiss you like that.” Quinn pulled back from the hug and grabbed your hand to guide you to sit. Your heart began to race as you realized what you’d just said to him. Your mind started running through all the possibilities of what he would say. 

“Baby, I want you to kiss me like that everyday for the rest of my life.” He faced you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. You bit your bottom lip and grinned harder than you ever have before. You shifted your focus back to the stage as you rested your head on his shoulder, his hand finding its way back to your waist. You basked in the glamorous vibe of the celebrity-filled room, realizing the prize wasn’t the golden statue you’d just won, but the man sitting beside you.

Hughes fam & weird neighbor girl

Ellen Hughes: *Picture of Y/n holding Luke when they were kids* Lukey loves his big sister <3 Good luck tonight!!!

lukey pookie: *Picture of Y/n and Quinn kissing at the Oscars* Yeah apparently so does Quinn

jack attack: WHAT DA FUCK

Ellen Hughes: Jack. Language.

captain quinny: What can I say? Couldn’t help myself.

jack attack: Y/n ur bringing me to the next one and I get to kiss you

You: no.

[jolalibrary]

meet me in the city where we won't sleep

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.

childhood besties!javi x f!reader

wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)

warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.

an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.

It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.

Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.

It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.

“What do you want, Piña?”

He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.

“What you doing in my field, Flor?”

Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.

Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.

And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.

It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.

Not that Javi cares.

If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.

The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.

Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.

Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.

When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.

It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.

Then, it was all he had thought about.

Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.

Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.

It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.

He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.

Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.

Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.

He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.

He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.

Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.

“Hello?”

“Flor?”

It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”

You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.

Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”

“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”

Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.

Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.

A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.

“Where are you, Piña?”

Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.

“In a phone booth on a bridge…”

He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.

“…right across from your place.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”

Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”

Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.

“Give me five minutes.”

The call ends before he can get in a bye.

The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—

Then he does.

Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.

Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.

It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.

“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.

Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.

Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.

Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.

“What d-do you want, Piña?”

But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.

Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.

Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.

A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.

Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.

It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.

More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Not going anywhere.”

Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”

He knows he has.

It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.

He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.

But, they're not here.

At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.

That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.

“You keep staring.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”

The thing is, you’re not wrong.

Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.

“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”

He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.

Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.

“My favourite place here.”

He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.

“Books?”

“Books.”

Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.

It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.

“Which do you recommend?”

Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”

“Funny.”

Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.

“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”

Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.

“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.

“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”

Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.

“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”

Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”

Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.

“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”

His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”

Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.

Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.

“Hello, Flor.”

“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”

Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.

“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”

Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Did you love her?”

Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.

“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”

Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”

Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”

He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.

How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.

What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.

Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.

Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.

Done it weekly since you left the first time.

The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.

Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.

“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”

It’s here within the hour.

A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.

He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.

“So I have to ask.”

Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”

“Did you like the tie I sent you?”

Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.

“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”

“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”

Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”

It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.

I’d do anything for you.

It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.

Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.

Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.

“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”

“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”

You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.

“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”

“You not happy I’m here?”

Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”

Yes. It’s all he thinks.

Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.

It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.

“I am now,” he replies.

Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.

That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.

For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.

Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.

What else is a guy like you gonna do…

This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.

Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.

He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.

The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”

Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.

“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”

Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—

“What are you doing, Piña?”

“Kissing you.”

Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”

And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.

He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.

Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.

He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.

A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.

Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.

Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.

What door he’s trying to open all over again.

“Javi…”

Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.

Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.

It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.

A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.

Practically whine.

Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”

You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.

“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”

Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”

“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.

You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.

When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.

“More, Javi. Please—”

“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”

Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.

“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”

Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”

Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.

He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.

There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.

“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.

His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.

You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.

“You best fuck me now.”

Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”

Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.

“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

“Murphy is a nice guy.”

Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.

“You jealous, Piña?”

“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”

Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”

Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.

“Too dangerous.”

“That it? I can learn—”

“No.”

“No?”

He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—

Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”

When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.

Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.

There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.

But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.

It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.

“Wanna get a coffee?”

Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

A thing he thinks when he showers.

When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.

“Now who's staring, hermosa.”

“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”

He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.

None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.

It was just like in Colombia.

A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.

The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.

“You should buy me flowers.”

“Should I?”

Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”

Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—

“Piña.”

“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.

The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.

Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.

His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.

“Here.”

You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”

“There your—”

“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”

Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.

“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.

“You deserve more than flowers.”

“I’m that good?”

Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”

“Hello?”

He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”

“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”

Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”

You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No. I love you.”

Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”

“Still love you.”

Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.

“You doing okay, mi Piña?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.

“I am now—okay, I mean.”

It needs to be left alone.

He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.

But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.

His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.

“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”

Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.

“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”

He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.

Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.

One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”

“It’s okay.”

Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”

It breaks him a little.

Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.

It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.

“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”

You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.

Because it’s like last time.

The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.

“Come home with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”

“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”

Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”

“You read about it.”

“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”

For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.

And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.

“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”

“That isn’t—”

“You left. You left me.”

“—Flor—”

“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”

He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.

“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”

Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.

You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”

“I am—”

Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”

Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Flor—”

“Save it.”

The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.

It was different.

Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.

When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.

Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.

“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”

He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”

“Flor—”

“I wish you'd never kissed me.”

It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.

“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”

He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.

“What do you want, Piña?”

Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”

It’s weeks.

Eight weeks and four days to be exact.

At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.

Javi doesn’t expect anything else.

Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.

Home.

A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.

Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.

Because he knows what he did.

Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.

One week adds up, then another, and another.

If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.

A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.

It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.

He’s not prepared.

Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.

Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.

Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Piña.”

It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.

Home.

A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”

Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.

“I didn’t come for you.”

He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.

“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”

Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”

Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.

“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”

“Flor…”

Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”

Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.

“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me if I’d asked for it.”

Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.

“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”

“That so?”

Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”

“Not doing it again to you.”

“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”

“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.

“Fine. I love it.”

Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.

“You owe me flowers.”

Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”

“That’s a good start.”

Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.

Home now feeling right.

[eggymf-archived]

forever and always

ft. sebastian sallow with f!reader (one-shot)

themes: angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, porn with plot, slow burn, mutual pining, hurt to comfort, aged-up characters (21+), reader is not mc

warning: nsfw, smut, not spoiler-free, loss of virginity, mild depictions of injury, unedited, not proofread

summary: both you and sebastian are aurors who had just completed a mission. however, sebastian was wounded in the process, and the two of you decided to stay in an inn for the night to treat his wounds and get some rest. unfortunately, there’s only one vacant room left with one bed.

word count: 5.2k

a/n: didn’t expect it to turn out pretty long, but i’ll just casually drop this load of filth right here. 

masterlist || AO3 cross-post

“What in Merlin’s name were you thinking?!”

Sebastian winced as you cleaned a nasty gash on his chest with a soft cloth soaked in Wiggenweld Potion. In that moment, he wasn’t exactly sure which was worse: the physical stinging pain on his chest, your scalding tone, or the fact that you being angry somehow made you a bit more attractive than usual (not that you weren’t in the first place). You pointed your wand at his wound, muttering an unfamiliar spell: the wound stitched itself back with a translucent, silver thread coming from the tip of your wand. He gave you an appreciative grin while you glowered at him half-heartedly.

“The next time you pull that sort of stunt ever again, I will NOT help you with your wounds, Sebastian!” you huffed angrily, placing the soiled cloth into a bowl filled with water. You headed towards the bathroom to clean up while Sebastian stared at your retreating figure, a fond smile gracing his lips.

It has always been like this eversince the two of you became friends: kind and gentle (Y/N) always worrying about his wellbeing and being a mother hen whenever he got hurt. You’ve been friends with him and Anne eversince early childhood: the three of you were born in Feldcroft and have been living there for as long as you could remember, while Ominis joined your little group during your first year in Hogwarts. All four of you were sorted into Slytherin and were inseparable as a group. Throughout your years as friends, you were aware of Sebastian's penchant for getting himself into trouble and danger, and with how reckless he gets, you made it one of your many missions to study all sorts of healing spells out of concern for the boy. You always looked out for all of your friends, especially Sebastian. It was an oath you had personally took upon yourself.

However, Sebastian's friendship with you wasn’t always smooth. 

The end of 4th year was the start of the worst of his Hogwarts years: with Anne being cursed, Sebastian wasn’t the best person to interact with in general. You tried to help Anne of course, conniving with Sebastian by sneaking into the restricted section together with him and retrieving book after book. You had also asked your mother, who was a healer, to help with Anne's case. Unfortunately, you ended up on the receiving end of Sebastian's misplaced anger when you delivered the grave news he wasn’t ready to hear.

“I'm sorry, Sebastian. My mother tried everything. Anne can't be healed.”

“How could you say that, (Y/N)?! It’s either you’re not trying enough, or you don’t care about Anne enough!”

“That’s not--”

“I'd rather be with someone who’ll be more useful in finding a cure. So, if you’d excuse me, I have a book to read.”

He despised himself for saying such things, but his pride was a difficult pill to swallow. He steered clear from you during 5th year, opting to befriend the new 5th year student instead. It was all for Anne - he thought that the mysterious new student would be the key to finding the cure that Anne needs. At least, that’s what he merely tells himself out of his own miserable denial: during his absence from your life, it was rumored that you had began dating Garreth Weasley, so he decided to date the new student out of spite. It hurt him a lot: seeing you give the same warmth towards Garreth. But of course, being the insufferable prick he was at that time, he’d maintain the façade and pride of being in a relationship with the strongest student in their year.

Then everything just spirals out of control eversince he went into Salazar Slytherin's scriptorium. He had already lost you to someone else, and to further add fuel to the fire, he lost himself to his own madness, ended up murdering his uncle in the heat of the moment, his twin sister refuses to talk to him, his brother-like friendship with Ominis became strained, and his “significant other” breaks up with him after the school year when they no longer needed him. 

He deserved it all - he was stubborn, manipulative, and cruel. He couldn’t argue with that fact, yet you still took him in without any hesitation despite everything he had done.

It was during the first summer that he didn’t have Anne nor his uncle around - the time when he was graced with a slight glimmer of hope in making things right. Ominis was with him in their cottage in Feldcroft as usual, casually reading a book with his wand while lounging on one of the vacant beds. Sebastian was about to prepare their dinner when someone knocked on the door. Upon opening it, Sebastian was shocked to see you standing before him, holding a small pot of warm food.

“... Thought the two of you might be hungry, so I made extra.”

Sebastian teared up.

“(Y/N), I-”

You merely shook your head.

“Eat. We can talk all about it tomorrow,” you said, handing over the pot to Sebastian. “Also, I’m sorry about what happened.”

Sebastian watched you as you headed back to your home. He glanced at the pot he was holding, his heart twisting with both guilt and a slight relief. You had extended an olive branch towards him even if he was supposed to be the one who had to do it, and he felt ashamed yet thankful at the same time. Needless to say, Ominis was rather confused with Sebastian’s behavior, who was sniffling while eating their dinner that evening.

The brunette male chuckled to himself at the fond memory, but was soon snapped out of his reverie when he heard footsteps towards him. You grabbed a blanket and one of the pillows, heading over to the furniture-less spot in the room. 

“You’re sleeping on the floor?” Sebastian bemusedly asked.

“Why yes, I am. You need the bed more than I do. You’re hurt.”

“I was hurt, (Y/N), but I’m fine now thanks to you. We’ve always shared beds when we had sleepovers, so what’s the fuss now?”

“We were children back then, Sebastian. I'm actually a grown woman now, in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Well then, I'll sleep on the floor instead. Can’t have a grown woman sleeping on the floor now, can I?”

You sighed in exasperation, slightly throwing your hands up in disbelief as Sebastian stood up, striding towards you. 

“It’s either I sleep on the floor, or you sleep on the bed with me,” he interrupted before you could even protest against him. You swore you saw his lip twitch slightly into a teasing smirk, causing you to shoot him an irritated glare.

“OW!”

Sebastian rubbed the spot on his arm you just violently pinched, a grin still gracing his face triumphantly regardless of the pain as you sat on the other side of the bed. You were blushing furiously, grumbling about how stupidly inconvenient it was that the current room they were staying in for the night was the only vacant room left in this inn while Sebastian plopped right onto his side of the king-sized bed.

The night was still young, but the both of you were too exhausted with your recently finished mission of retrieving several smuggled dark artifacts from dark wizards. Sebastian was lying face up, staring at the decrepit ceiling of the room while you were laying on your side with your back facing him, quickly falling into a deep slumber due to fatigue. He turned towards you, staring at your back as his mind wandered back to what had occurred earlier.

You almost got hit by a slicing spell - the spell that Sebastian had voluntarily shielded you from at the very last minute. And there you were, chiding him about almost getting killed for saving you. 

Sebastian's fist clenched in silent worry as his eyes remained glued to your sleeping form. The thought of you being fatally injured or worse was undoubtedly his worst fear in this line of work - the both of you being Aurors and as a duo in assigned missions certainly had its perks, but a part of him couldn’t bear to stomach that you, his beloved (Y/N), always had death looming over you. You never were the combative type - you were a healer, not a soldier, yet regardless of that, you’d still accompany him to the ends of the earth to at least make sure he’s alive. It brought a twinge of pain within his chest the more he thought about all that you’ve done, and he hopes that he’d be blessed enough to repay you for your never-ending grace towards him.

Thankfully, your friendship with Sebastian had been mended for the most part these past few years. The bond was fixed somehow, yes - but it was never fully intact. Despite the both of you constantly being in each other’s company because of work, it’s as if you’re always separated from him by some sort of distance he couldn’t quite explain. Even within this small room, Sebastian feels a wash of longing despite you just being an arm’s length away from him. Is it because of the guilt of him pushing you away in the past; the fear of hurting you once again; or the fact that the both of you are always mere inches away from death so there’s no guarantee if one of you would be even alive the next day? 

Several soft sniffles could be heard from you as you shifted around, turning to face him.

“(Y/N)...?”

No response. Sebastian scooted slightly closer, finding a glistening wet trail at your nose bridge. Hesitancy took a hold on him - you were crying in your sleep. He hated seeing that more than anything, and that hate was further amplified by the fact that he didn’t know how to even help you with it without transgressing the invisible emotional boundaries between you and him. He placed his hand on your arm, causing you to stir from your slumber, your eyelids fluttering open.

“Seb...?”

His breath hitched at the old childhood nickname: you hadn’t called him that eversince he pushed you away. Gone were his reservations of keeping a respectable emotional distance from you - not when you said his name in such a soft, vulnerable tone after so long. Warmth enveloped you, snapping you out of your sleepiness. Sebastian had wrapped an arm over you, his palm resting at the back of your head as he pushed you closer towards him. You were about to protest against his actions and push him away, until he murmured his long-repressed wishes in a broken, pleading manner.

“Please just- Let’s stay like this. Even for a while. Merlin, I missed you so much, (Y/N). Please...”

You couldn’t say no to that. Hell, you could never say no to him. 

You succumb to the comfort and safety given by the man you’ve always loved eversince the both of you were children, reciprocating the hug by wrapping an arm around his waist while burying your face into his chest. You recalled the innocent sleepovers that you, Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis usually had back in the Sallow’s cottage - they were truly gems of memories that you held dear in your heart: the times when your circle was still intact, carefree, and blissful. Sebastian would often hug you like this especially when you had nightmares, and his warmth often lulled you into the best, uninterrupted slumbers. You could’ve cried in relief being in his arms once again, but you decided against it. 

He didn’t need any more sources of problems: not when he’s still in a turmoil of guilt, trauma, and the incapability of forgiving himself for what he did as a naïve teenage boy. You would’ve felt horrible if you were to sandwich your pent-up romantic feelings for him into the fray. Sometimes you wished you could rid him from all of this pain deep down, but alas, your healing prowess is only applicable to physical wounds, not mental and emotional ones.

This moment, however, albeit it being a moment of vulnerability with the both of you just lying in each other’s arms, it was truly a test of both of your mental and emotional fortitude. Both of your respective scents engulfed each other’s senses: dizzyingly pleasant, familiar, and comforting, driving you both closer and closer to the edge of self-control. The questions that raced within Sebastian's mind earlier were now getting less and less hazy as he looked at your once tear-stricken face, cupping it while his thumb gave featherlike caresses on your cheek. 

Yes, he felt guilty for pushing you away in the past. Yes, he feared breaking your heart once again. Yes, he feared your possible untimely death that could happen anytime. But that’s not the primary source of his painful longing this entire time. 

It was because he loves you from the start: heads over heels in love to the point he’d unconsciously steer you away from anything that would be cruel enough to steal the light that gave you so much life. He wanted to protect you from everything that would reduce you into ruins - most especially himself. He loves you to the point where it hurts. 

But with you staring at his eyes with the same sense of brokenness and unspoken yearnings, the bubbling desire he had feared and suppressed had finally broken through the walls of his self-control.

He captured your lips with his, inhibitions evidently thrown out of the window as you returned the kiss with equal fervor. Sebastian felt his mind blank out as the kiss became more and more frantic, desperately pulling you in closer to feel you against his body. You gasped for air as the both of you pulled away, gazing at each other’s blown-out eyes. Sebastian trailed his thumb on your lips, admiring your messily breathless and dazed form - even in such an unkempt state, you were still so fucking beautiful.

“This is your last chance to stop me, (Y/N),” Sebastian murmured with a hint of seriousness in his tone. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself if we continue.”

You leaned towards him, giving him a peck of reassurance on his red, flushed lips.

“Then don’t,” you breathed out.

Sebastian felt his last remaining trace of self-doubt disintegrate as soon as you whispered those saccharine words with so much pent-up desire. He smiled, gently locking his lips upon yours once more, relishing in your addicting taste. Having you in his arms like this felt so right - you were so utterly pliant, obedient, and needy for him. His hand reached the back of your head, yanking your hair to expose your dainty neck, peppering kisses along your jugular. Your felt yourself shudder, closing your eyes as you indulged in Sebastian's ministrations. 

You yelped as Sebastian climbed on top of you, not breaking the onslaught of his desperate, wet, open-mouthed kisses on your poor neck. He wedged his knee in between your legs, prying them apart. A mewl tore out of your mouth as he nipped on your neck, suckling on the spot and leaving a blooming, purplish red mark on your once unblemished skin. Sebastian growled as he began unbuttoning your blouse while you sat up to meet his lips in yet another fiery kiss, ridding him of his top as well with shaky, eager hands. 

Sebastian yanked the undone clothing off your frame, baring you topless before his hungry gaze. He attached his mouth on your chest right below your clavicle while you straddled him, his arm wrapping around your waist in response to keep you firmly in place. Voluntarily, you maneuvered your hips in a slow, grinding manner on the painfully obvious tent on his pants, earning a pleasured hiss from the brunette as your lips descended upon his, tongues melding with each other in an open-mouthed kiss.

“F-Fuck (Y/N)...!” he panted in between exchanges of depraved kisses, gripping your waist as you pushed yourself down harder on him, controlling the movement of your hips to a faster pace. You let out a shaky groan, feeling the agonizing texture of your growingly wet undergarments sticking on your sensitive core. The aching between your legs grew hot and unbearable, and this was barely even the start of the sheer debauchery the both of you were going to partake in for the night.

Sebastian left a trail of kisses downwards from your lips all the way to your chest while removing your bra in the process. Your chest heaved in pleasure as he took one of your nipples to his mouth, swirling his tongue on the sensitive nub while his other free hand pinched and twisted the other. A cry of pleasure erupted from your bitten-red lips as he gently gave the nub a gentle bite and soothing the pain off by smoothing his tongue and giving it a teasing suck. Sebastian smirked as you let out another loud moan while he gave your other nipple the similar brutal yet pleasurable treatment. At this point, he felt his pants getting soaked from the outside, causing his still concealed member to twitch in anticipation as he felt beads of precum leaking from his tip. Despite the layers of clothing still separating your core from his member, he still felt how deliciously wet you are for him, and he wondered how soaked you truly are beneath all that remaining clothing left. The thought alone made him salivate.

He liked this. He liked having this particular sort of power over you - you had no choice but to just keep taking all the pleasure he’s inflicting upon your sensitively submissive body. A sense of impatience soon took a hold of him, causing him to throw you on the bed, frantically unbuttoning your pants and pulling the garment off your body harshly. Your face flushed in shame at the sudden exposure, instinctively shutting your legs close. A glint of possessiveness was evident in Sebastian's eyes as he pried your legs apart, staring at your translucent, soaked-through undergarments. 

Your heart was thrumming frenziedly in your chest both out of embarrassment and want, covering your poor blushing face as Sebastian peeled the last remaining article of clothing away from your body. He firmly kept your legs apart as he brought his face closer to your wet aching core, watching it clench around nothingness. Sebastian's brain was completely fried, taking in both the heady scent and lewd sight of your most delicate spot. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.” he rasped, spreading the lips of your pussy before licking a long, wet stripe along your slit. Your back arched, your mouth hanging ajar in a silent moan as heightened pleasures consumed your being for the very first time.

“So fucking sexy.” 

Lick.

“So fucking good for me.”

Sebastian kept murmuring praises in between licks, the sinful sounds of slurping, mewls, and groans filling the room as he licked up your honeypot like a starved man. Your legs trembled as he continued his relentless actions, alternating from licking and prodding at your weeping hole using solely his tongue. You felt a single digit rub against your slit, coating itself with your essence before slipping inside your cavern.

However, you let out a hiss of pain, causing Sebastian to abruptly stop. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. The question itself made you blush.

“I don’t really know how to say this but...”

“But...?”

“... It’s my first time, so...” you meekly said, avoiding eye contact from the half-naked male in front of you. Sebastian's eyes widened in realization.

Oh. You’re a virgin.

That fact alone caused a switch to flip within the male as his eyes darkened with carnal desire.

Animalistic, feral thoughts consumed Sebastian as he spat on your hole aggressively, the lewd action causing you to whimper in delight. He slowly reinserted his finger inside your tight hole, his hot breath fanning over your clitoris as he partook an experimental lick on the sensitive bud. You writhed instinctively, a pleasantly fiery and toe-curling sensation coursing through your veins as you sobbed in pleasure. The mild pain was slowly subsiding as your body responded to the intensity of his foreplay. You were absolutely dripping, and the sheets you laid on now had a wet patch of your juices. One of your hands attempted to grip Sebastian's hair to pry him off your delicate spots, but he had caught your wrist before you could do so, pinning it down on the bed harshly as he continued the deliciously brutal abuse of your pussy and clitoris using his fingers and tongue. He inserted another finger, groaning at how tight your walls felt around his digits. 

Oh, to have his cock inside you - the thought alone made Sebastian rut his hips while he relentlessly flicked his tongue against your sensitive pearl.

Your throat felt dry as you moaned uncontrollably, tears prickling your eyes as your pleasure-driven sobs and cries egged Sebastian to his hasten his pacing, causing your insides to twitch in profane delight. He curled his fingers upwards and suckle on the ball of nerve, occasionally swirling his tongue around it. Your legs began to shudder violently at the frenzy of pleasure coursing through your stimulated body, your toes curling as you cried pathetically, begging Sebastian to slow down his ministrations - a request which fell into deaf ears.

And just like that, you had your very first orgasm. 

Tremors coursed throughout your body as you came down from your high as Sebastian slowly retracted his fingers from your pussy, staring into your eyes as he licked the soaked digits - a sight that made your already abused pussy clench wantonly. He got off the bed, his hands reaching for the waistband of his pants as he unbuttoned it, pulling the article of clothing off along with his underwear. Your eyes remained fixed on his as he climbs back on top of you, resting your eagle-spread thighs on his as he prodded the blunt head of his cock on your virgin hole. You gasped at the sensation as he teasingly rubbed the tip along your slit, juices trickling down from your hole. Curiously, you looked down at his appendage with bleary, pleasure-filled eyes.

Oh Merlin. He's fucking girthy.

You swore you almost drooled at the sight despite the worry at the back of your mind if his cock would even fit in your tight virgin hole. Sebastian leaned in for an oddly gentle kiss despite his prior eagerness and vigor. He languidly licks and suckles on your tongue, grinding his cock on your bare pussy as he groped one of your breasts and trailed his other hand on your thigh. You felt so fucking sensitive under him, your body twitching in delight as you received his raw, carnal adoration. 

Sebastian, however, was having second thoughts deep down hence the sudden gentleness. He was sure his cock was going to fucking break you with how insanely tight you are, and he didn’t want both of your first times to just be about his own pleasure alone. With how utterly feral he was in the moment, he doesn’t trust himself enough to not go ballistic the moment his cock is completely sheathed within your warmth. Prying his lips away from yours, he nuzzled the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Get on top of me,” he whispered, giving a brief peck on the damp, sweaty skin of your neck. Sebastian sat beside you, his back leaning against the headboard of the bed, snaking an arm around your waist as you straddled him. The both of you gazed at each other, eyes filled with both lust and love, leaning in for another breathy exchange of kisses.

“I love you, (Y/N). I love you so fucking much.”

Sebastian’s frantic, whispered confession against your lips made your heart soar as you sighed against his plump lips, cupping his cheek as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.

“I love you too, Seb. I’m all yours. Only yours.”

Sebastian hummed in response as he nuzzled your neck. He reached for his thick, leaking appendage as you raised your hips, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. He spat on his hand and coated his member with his saliva before rubbing the glistening red tip along your slit to further lubricate it as much as he could. He looked up at you, while you meekly nodded in approval. He positioned the head towards your hole while you lowered yourself slowly, engulfing him within your delicate, wet flower.

You gasped in both pain and pleasure as his cock split you open, burying itself inside your pussy inch by inch while Sebastian’s breath quickened, his hands gripping your hips almost painfully as his self-control threatened to slip away with how heavenly your walls felt. His eyebrows furrowed in both concentration and intense pleasure - it took all of his remaining willpower to not thrust himself up into your warm, inviting hole as he peppered your exposed skin with kisses, mapping his hands across every inch of your exposed skin as he steadied his breathing. You let out a cry of pleasure the moment you buried his cock all the way to the hilt, his smooth tip kissing your cervix.

You gave an experimental roll with your hips, causing a whimper to erupt from your lips while Sebastian’s breath hitched in response, bringing his hands to grip the curves of your ass. He guided your hips in a slow, grinding motion, allowing you to get accustomed to his size. The initial burning sensation of the intrusion was melting away as your body succumbed into the pleasure, your juices flowing from your hole the more stimulation you received. You reached for your clitoris, gently rubbing it as you threw your head back, gasping at the amplified sensations that made your thighs quiver in delight.

Sebastian bit his lip at the sight of you pleasuring yourself while he guided your hips, the shameless image burned in his memory for good. You started bouncing up and down his cock - a telltale sign that the pain had already dissipated as you began to lose yourself into lustful desire. Instinctively, he bucked his hips up, earning an eager whine  followed by a string of pleasure-drunk babbles from your lips as you rubbed your clit harder.

“Oh f-fuck! You feel so good. Please, please- Just like that...!”

Despite your wanton pleas, Sebastian lifted you off his lap, causing you to whine at the absence of his cock inside you. You were suddenly pushed down the mattress rather harshly, a gasp escaping from your lips as Sebastian grabbed one of your ankles, throwing your leg above his shoulder while his other hand had two of your wrists pinned right above your head. He slammed his cock back inside your pussy, the both of you groaning in unison at the delicious friction. 

Passionate moans spilled from your lips as Sebastian rammed his hips  against yours, setting a viciously mind-melting pace. The squelching sounds of your bodily fluids alongside the repetitive slapping of wet skin caused your head to spin in delight, your mind in a mania of sinful indulgence. You were utterly helpless and at his mercy, and you fucking loved it. Sebastian's eyes drank the sight before him: your naked body covered with a sheen of sweat, skin littered with multiple hickeys, bitten-red lips, a fucked-out expression, and your legs spread out nice and wide just for him. Only him.

Sebastian freed your wrists, leaning back as his fingers grazed against your swollen-red pearl, rubbing it in circles. A high-pitched whine bubbled from your lips as your hands gripped the sheets, your knuckles turning white. As soon as he started the onslaught of his rough thrusts once again, your mind blanked out as his cock head brushed against a certain, spongy spot within your pussy. 

“Fuck! R-right there!” you cried out, your chest heaving in desperation as you clawed at his arm. Your thighs began to quiver once again, causing Sebastian to smirk knowingly as your eyes rolled back in sheer unadulterated bliss. 

“Please, please- oh fuck, Sebastian!” you babbled, drool trickling down your chin mindlessly as your remaining bits of sanity began to slip away. Sebastian chuckled darkly at your depravity, leaning forward to brutally assault your poor neck with marks once again.

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum for me,” he groaned against your ear, causing a high-pitched moan to suddenly erupt from your throat. Your walls tightened around his member as he growled, rubbing your clit as you rode your high. Globs of your essence spilled from your hole, coating Sebastian’s cock with a translucent, milky substance. 

Despite just having your release, Sebastian was still slamming his cock in and out of your hole, chasing his high while continuing with the abuse of your sensitive spots. Your eyes rolled back as one of his hands wrapped around your neck in a gentle grip, broken whimpers escaping your lips. Sebastian groaned as you gasped for air while tears of pleasure ran down your flushed cheeks - the debauched image of you so utterly broken and cock-drunk solely for him caused his member to twitch inside you as he quickened his pace, tipping him closer and closer to the edge.

“F-fuck, I’m close! Where do you want it?” he hissed through gritted teeth. You pulled him closer, resting your forehead against his as you locked your legs around his waist. He groaned, gazing straight into your eyes as he approached his climax, burying his cock all the way inside your pussy.

Sebastian let out a long, guttural moan, his eyes never leaving yours as his shaft spurted his seed deep inside you. Your walls clenched and twitched as Sebastian slowed his pace, milking any remaining globs of his cum from his cock. The both of you were panting, foreheads pressed together and staring each other with fucked-out yet loving expressions. 

Sebastian reluctantly pulled his now softening member out of your hole, causing you to mewl in response. He laid down beside you, the both of you staring at the ceiling, panting in exhaustion. You felt his hot cum trickle down from your wrecked hole, causing you to blush in realization at what had transpired between you both. 

Shyly, you glanced at Sebastian, who was still panting slightly, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. He got up, giving you a peck on the forehead, before heading towards the bathroom while you remain in your spot. Sebastian returned from the bathroom with a wet towel at hand, voluntarily wiping any filth away from your prior activities with him while looking at each other with adoration. You intended to at least fix the sheets for the both of you. However, a painful sensation coursed through your inner thighs as you tried to move.

“...Uh, Seb? Could you please pass me my wand?” you asked, feeling guilty that you couldn’t be much of service to him in this little aftercare session. Sebastian quirked an eyebrow - your wand was right at the bedside table not far from you. You felt your face burn as he gives you a questioning look, silently demanding for an explanation for your peculiar request.

“... I can’t feel my legs.”

[lokischocolatefountain]

omg say no to me and salvation have me gagging… pretty please write more, i need hubby javi 🥵 ur amazing

I love that you liked hubby Javi! I like him a lot too. So, a little warning: I wrote this out sleep deprived and in a hurry so it’s going to be full of mistakes. 🙈 but I hope you like it. Wrote a little birthday themed thing for Javier Peña and his wife from this married Javi universe because it’s Pedrito’s birthday. Happy birthday to him and tbh fuck him (respectfully) for making me thirst over a fucking cop (on top of a merge mansion ad character I hate him).

Switch It Up

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3.8k words

Summary: Javier Peña and his wife switch roles for his birthday

Javier Peña was a grown man. He was a federal agent working for the DEA in Columbia, he saw several horrors a day and had a goddamn gun tucked in the back of his jeans. He was a grown man with a whole wife to show for his age and maturity.

He should not be so bummed about a lonely birthday.

It was her fault really. Before her, he didn’t really do birthdays. His friends usually got him presents— the best whiskey they could afford and a trip to the strip club and paid for prostitutes. It was more for their sake than his own (though he couldn’t deny that he had fun). When it got serious with his now wife, he opted to forego the stripclub and the prostitutes because he had decided that it was no longer fun to sabotage the one good thing in his life. He’d exchanged the bachelor life fun for a perfect day off with her.

Every year brought something different; she was innovative that way. The first year, she woke him up at midnight with her lips around his dick and brought him the cake she baked from scratch. She blew him and he blew the candles. He hadn’t cut a cake in years. The last time was when his Ma was still alive. They ate the cake together, saved some for Steve and Connie and he ate her to thank her for being the perfect girlfriend.

Last year, she took him for an all expense paid trip to Medellín for a whole week. It was the most time he’d gotten away from work and the only time he spent in Medellín without chasing after pieces of shit. She had arranged for some mountain climbing shit because of his love for physical exertion. He chose instead to love her all week long for physical exertion. She complained about having brought her climbing gear for no reason, but that didn’t last long. It was a little hard to complain when you had a dick in your mouth.

He’d been thoroughly spoiled as a husband.

This year, he was all alone with a whiskey bottle from Steve and Connie, sloppy cheek kisses from little Olivia and a whole cake from his wife. He’d kept a sizable slice for himself and placed the rest in the break room for everyone to enjoy. Cake wasn’t as delicious with nobody to share it with.

Javi didn’t mean to be ungrateful. He knew she would’ve stayed behind if she could have. But her parents really needed her to help with the sale of her childhood home and he wasn’t going to act like a kid and ask her to stay because it was his birthday. It would’ve been silly.

“Jav! They found the guys. Carillo needs you in this address right fucking now,” said Steve, barelling into their office with a piece of paper in hand.

“Fucking finally,” he muttered, taking the paper with a scribbled address. He’d sat idly at work all day tackling their paperwork backlog while Steve was out there doing some real work.

The location was…strange. It was oddly quiet and there was no Carillo, no CNP guys. He had a choice to make— he could wait right there and keep an eye on the building and go in when the rest of the guys arrived. Or he could go in by himself. The second was extremely unwise. He would get told off by everyone from Noonan to his wife. If he didn’t get killed first.

Minutes passed by and he chose the latter option. He could handle Noonan. She didn’t approve of his actions, but she always understood. Gun tucked in the back of his jeans, he crept around the building. Once he’d found an open window, he slipped in, praying to the Gods he no longer believed in to keep him safe for another day.

Darkness suffocated his sight as he walked further into the building. The noise from outside the building grew dimmer and dimmer, eventually fading into the background. He crept like a cat, his shoes making nothing but the slightest whispers against the floor of the building. It had looked like a commercial building from the outside and if he remembered right, this place had once been a stripclub. Not one of the good ones for sure. It had to have shut down for a reason.

The place was littered with cardboard boxes, the contents of which he would explore had he not a mission in mind. Three of the most elusive hit men on Escobar’s payroll were hiding out somewhere in the building. The location was a bit too unusual for the men who had a record of gravitating towards luxury, but it wasn’t too out of place for them to have chosen a former strip club.

He spun in place when he heard a clatter behind him, his gun pointed in the direction of the sound and his heart beginning to beat faster. He took a few steps towards the source of the sound, wandering further into the building.

Click, click, click

High heels against wood? No, can’t be…

Nevertheless, he followed the sound.

Ahem

What the fuck…

Lights went up suddenly, illuminating the dark hall. The room had been swept clean with nothing but a chair in front of the stage. Under the bright lights above the stage glimmering a beautiful silver was a pole.

A voice cleared its throat again. When it finally spoke, it had a sultry tone to it.

“Agente Peña…”

No… It can’t be.

Click, click, click, click, click….

He saw the impractically high high heels first. Click, click, click against floors that were probably designed to amplify these sounds. The red of the shoes stopped to give way to white socks stretched tight around legs he would kill to throw over his shoulders. The socks mercifully, or mercilessly, stopped under bruised knees to expose full thighs he wanted to sink his nails into.

“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, earning the laughter of the woman on the stage.

“Your friends told me it was your birthday, Agente…”

“It is,” he said, tucking his gun away. Hands on his waist, he took slow steps towards her. He needed to see her up close, confirm that his mind wasn’t conjuring up the most salacious thoughts after having had to go without a good fuck for an entire week.

“Your friends seem annoyed, Agente… They say they miss the fun single Javi who they could take to strip clubs. Now, I’ve never met this fun Javi before, but god if you look like this when you’re not fun,” she said, using her index finger to point at him, “you must look hot as fuck when you’re fun.”

“This your way of telling me I’m usually boring, sweetheart?” He asked, taking a seat on the chair she’d set out for him in front of the stage. He made sure to spread his legs and lean back comfortably in his seat before he folded his arms behind his head.

She smiled her sweet shy smile that he was sure was responsible for landing him in this exact moment in his life. She bit down on her brightly painted lips and wrapped his hand around the pole before swinging around. Her hair was out of the tight pony she put it up in for work. As she twirled around the pole, her hair swung free, caressing the wind before resting on her shoulder and cascading down the crimson shirt she’d stolen from his cupboard.

“You’re going to do as I say if you want a good night, Agente…”

“Ah… That’s how it is?” He taunted, letting condescension slip into his voice. “Alright. As you command, sweet thing.”

“Good boy,” she purred, the sound going straight to his cock. Calm the fuck down, Peña. She hasn’t even begun yet.

“Hands behind your back,” she ordered, looking down at him imposingly from where she stood.

“Sorry, what?” He asked, blinking rapidly and tilting his head to take a good look at her. Habituated to her shy smiles and pleas to be taken and fucked throughout their time together, it wasn’t an understatement to say that he was shaken by her sudden assumption of the commanding role.

Her fingers glided up and down the pole and for the first time he noticed that her nails were done up all pretty with the brightest red nail polish there was. Fuck, she’d gone all out. “You fuckin’ heard me, Peña,” she snapped and took a few steps forward before dropping to her ass, gently like a caress against the surface. He didn’t even know she could move like that. She hopped off the stage and his heart caught in his throat as she got closer to him and he caught a whiff of her perfume in the air. She stopped when she was over him, her legs spread out on either side of him. Oh how he’d missed the scent enveloping him as he buried himself in her and threw her into a world of ecstasy. The soft moan that escaped his lips surprised even him.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he breathed out, tracing a hand up her thigh only to be swatted away rudely. She grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks and digging her nails into his skin just enough to give him a taste of how she’d be piercing the skin on his back as he fucked her later that night. He’d make her keep those shoes on for sure.

“Jesus!” She swore, the scorching heat of her gaze beginning to burn him. “No manners. Is this how you treat dancers, Agent? Fuckin American, touching everything, acting entitled to every goddamn thing, not following a single rule… It’s about time someone taught you a lesson.”

“Well darling, if there’s one thing I’m entitled to, it’s you,” he teased, hoping to rile her up and make her look all adorable and hot with rage. The next thing he knew was a stinging pain on his cheek.

“Once more.”

She raised an eyebrow at him as she caressed the cheek she slapped. He swallowed, looked up at her and tried again, “Please, Ma’am. Once more.”

“Good boy,” she purred, her lips curling up in a smirk of satisfaction. Was this what she saw in him when she laid under him and took all that he had to give her for the night? Seeing her so confident in herself, feeling the sting of her authority on his cheek and sitting underneath her, he felt like he finally understood why liked this so much.

He had a feeling that as the night matured, he would only get a better understanding.

“Hands behind your back.”

Eyes still set on her, he moved his hands behind his back. Just like she’d ordered. She took a step back and he immediately missed her closeness, missed how she crowded over him and put him down in his place with just a stare. She slipped a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out the leather pouch with the handcuffs. Once she retrieved what she’d wanted, she tossed the pouch over her shoulder. She circled him, their eyes still joined in the heated gaze of expectations. He leaned back on his chair, praying to the lord that he didn’t look absurd doing that. The last thing he wanted to do was make her laugh.

The cold metal of his cuffs nipped at his wrists and he attempted to pull his wrists in opposite directions, enjoying his own failure at achieving the freedoms he only half-heartedly sought. She placed her hands on his shoulders from her place behind him and descended lazily down to his eye-level.

“Feliz cumpleaños, mi amor. Disfruta del espectáculo,” she whispered before giving him a peck on the cheek. He attempted futilely to grab her so that he could kiss her properly, so that he could devour her lips and thank her for showing up for him.

There was music. It didn’t appear magically. She pressed a button on the cassette player he recognized from home before she walked up the stairs to the stage. Everything seemed torturously slow. Even the way she walked away from him looked to be designed as slow poison for him.

She descended gracefully to the floor and sat herself on her side, her back curved as she leaned back, her high-heel clad legs together with her left leg covering her right. She pushed her ass and tits out. She swept her leg out in a circle around herself, lifting it in the air as her right leg followed suit to make a semi circle. He caught a sparkle of something under his shirt that she wore as she exposed herself to him for a few seconds before she bent her knees and brought her legs back to where they started.

Javi drew in a sharp breath as she quickly got to her knees and twirled around again. This time, she let her right knee support her as she let the left kiss the smooth floors with the platforms of her shoes, back and forth, back and forth as his cock twitched in his pants. He would never forgive himself if he ended up jizzing in his pants seconds into her dance that she’d clearly put a lot of effort into.

Next thing he knew, she was upside down— fuckin’ hell— and spreading her legs, giving him a view of the little skirt and thongs she wore underneath as his shirt gave way to gravity and revealed her for him. She snapped her legs shut, as though punishing him for staring before she slid her legs over the floor and laid herself out flat, her delicious behind bouncing from her momentum. Spreading her knees apart, she rose from her position and let her hair flip around before she got up— how the fuck did she get up from that position??

Fuck!

He realized he’d said that out loud when she looked behind her shoulder and laughed before holding the pole, her fingers wrapping around it one by one. She stroked the goddamn thing up and down like she would his cock and fuck he’d be proud if he wasn’t so mad about being locked up with nothing to do but watch, to be a passive participant in her erotic torture of him.

She twirled and twirled a little more around the pole in many different ways. She moved effortlessly, dancing around the thing like it was no big deal. But he knew the strength it took to swing around a pole like that and look sexy as hell while at it. He knew how strong she was from the way she bent one leg around the pole and spun as she let the other draw a circle around her.

His thoughts, as scarce as they were with the sight in front of him, went off to a dreamland where he took advantage of all the flexibility she was displaying to bend her in every which way he wanted, to take her in all the ways he imagined. Sexier was the thought of her practicing this routine. Just for his sake. Just to do something special for him.

When she stepped away from the pole for a few seconds, Javi thought that was it. He was a fool. She stopped at the edge of the stage and looked down at him before she snapped the button of the shirt off, exposing just a bit of her cleavage. Eyes trained on his to derive sick joy from his torment, she snapped the buttons open one by one.

She was a sight.

Back to the pole, she held it like it was a part of her, letting the metal assist her as she closed her eyes and put herself on artistic display for him. He was one lucky man. He’d always known, but it bore repeating. He was lucky as fuck. She shed the shirt and he moaned as the action gave him more of her to see. He would never tire of seeing her body no matter how many times she took her clothes off for him be it to seduce him or simply take a shower.

Behind him, he struggled against his handcuffs, the metal digging into his skin and leaving marks for him to cover up the next morning.

He gasped as she climbed the thing like it was no big deal and wrapped herself around it. His heart jumped right out as her back arched backwards and he thought for a moment that she would fall. But she didn’t. Her legs were holding her in place around the pole. She brought herself back down, landing her shoes on the ground and pinning him with her gaze. She then took the strings wrapped around her waist and tugged, letting the barely-there skirt unfurl from around her.

His mouth was wide open in awe when she threw the sparkly black fabric at him. It covered his eyes for a fraction of a second as it hit him in the face before dropping down to his lap. He growled her name and cursed as his hips rose up from the chair in a desperate search for contact. Any contact. God, he’d even fuck his fist if she’d let him. But she ignored his plight, letting her starving husband continue starving as she moved torturously both on the pole and the floor in front of it.

When her bra came off—tossed in his direction again— he whimpered like a pathetic creature that was kicked by something much bigger and more powerful than he was. He was helpless and horny as fuck and enjoying it.

Perhaps because she’d decided to have mercy on him or just because her dance had ended, she hopped off the stage and stalked towards him like she was a hungry beast and he her latest game that she could wait to tear into.

“Please, Ma’am,” the honorific slipped out without him meaning to. “I need…please,” he begged, his voice shaky as he struggled to articulate what it was that he needed. He let out little mewls of desperation as he struggled to form words that weren’t ‘please or Ma’am’.

She bit down on her lip and tilted her head as she considered him. “Aww baby, it’s alright.”

“P-please,” he muttered, his worldly coming out airy.

She palmed him through his jeans and stroked him, her eyes twinkling as she regarded him in his struggle. His breaths grew fast with just the first touch. He pleaded repeatedly, calling her every sweet name in the dictionary- in two dictionaries of two languages, but she didn’t seem to want to free him. She was enjoying his helplessness too much.

She laughed and bent at the waist to look him eye-to-eye, “I got you so hard just dancing for you huh, Javier?”

He was no longer in control of any part of his body. It was all hers from the hairs on his head to the tips of his toes. They all danced to her beat, worshiped at her altar, awaited her command with bated breath and followed her to his own destruction. His lips, now hers, begged “Y-yes Ma’am. I w-want— please! Want to touch you. Tan bonita... Quiero que tú… Por favor, patróna—”

“You want to touch me?” She asked, raising a cruel eyebrow at him. “Really? What makes you think you deserve that, baby? What have you done to deserve me?”

“I’ll do anything. Anyth— any— fuck!” He whimpered as the world disappeared around him, leaving only a hazy vision of her leaning in front of him, her hand around him. He felt his underwear get wet from his embarrassingly quick release as he muttered a curse in regret.

She tipped his head back and pressed her lips to his, their tongues dancing around each other and their lips taking in as much as they could of the other. The few days of separation had really gotten to him and he was pleased to know that he wasn’t alone with the way she pushed for more from their kiss.

“‘M so sorry, baby. That was…I lasted longer as a teenager, believe me,” he explained himself, wanting to hide himself away yet willing to show her all of him. All his embarrassment and sexual failures and his genuine feeling of regret over the way he ended the night.

She laughed softly, not in mockery but with her love. He could always feel her love.

“It’s okay, mi amor. Nothing to apologize for. You’ve made me cum with less, I swear,” she said, draping herself across his lap and cradling his face in her hand. She kissed him on the cheek and then the other and then his forehead. “Happy birthday, Javi.”

He smiled, no grinned, at her as he felt his heart fill up with gratitude for her. “I can’t believe you came back from stateside just for this.”

“About that…” she trailed, her index finger reaching out and playing with his mustache. “I never left.”

“What!?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling sheepishly.

“You’ve been gone for three days!”

“I was at my friend’s.”

“Your parents called and said you reached home safely!” He exclaimed. How deep was this plot!? Who were all in on it? And what kind of a fool was he to not notice a thing. He should’ve asked her parents to give her the phone! He should’ve checked and caught them in the lie.

“I asked them—”

“You asked them to lie for you to give me a sex present for my birthday?”

“Nooo! Well, not like that! I didn’t call them and ask them to lie to you because I wanted to give you a fucking pole dance- strip show thing for your birthday. I just made something up. My god, Javi!” She huffed, shoving at his chest lightly.

“Wait! And Steve. FUCKIN STEVE! What did you tell HIM?”

“Don’t worry, your dignity is safe with me. Didn’t tell him I was gonna restrain you and make you call me Ma’am and oh, what else was it? Patróna?” She teased, smiling as she played with his hair.

“Si, Patróna,” he retorted right back, making her smile transform into a gasp and her eyes turn wide.

“Shut up,” she mumbled as she got off his lap and reached behind him. She uncuffed him and he was immediately upon her. She yelped as he pulled her into his lap, giggling as he pressed kisses all over her face.

“Javi, stooop!” She whined but leaned in closer and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Gonna take you back home, baby. Need to do this right,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Oh? Do it right? You gonna hold me down and fuck me hard, Agente Peña?” She asked as he took his leather jacket off of himself. Finding her clothes would take too much time and he was not willing to spend his previous time with her after being deceived into separation.

“Pfft, no! You, my darling wife, are going to hold me down and take what you want,” he declared, excited to lean back and let her do the work for that night. And perhaps other nights when he needed her to take over and take guide him though it. It wasn’t something he thought he would like, but with her, every day was a surprise and he discovered new things about himself even after so many years alive.

Wrapped up in his jacket, she let him carry her to his jeep and he drove her home, a happy and grateful man.

.

.

.

Series Masterlist

Read more of my Javier Peña fics here

[hazbinned]

Important notes for my personal portrayal of Valentino - Background and Headcanons. Because this has been his story forever, and yet I just realized I had never compiled these in a post and that nobody knows any of this unless you read through all his threads in search of crumbs or have discussed it with me in IMs.

TW: Era-typical homophobia + abuse + Valentino topics. If you continue reading, you should know what to expect.

Valentino is of mostly Puerto Rican heritage and was born to immigrant parents in 1940, in the East Coast of the United States (Florida) as the second eldest of four boys (brothers being Pablo, Francisco, and Denzel). He grew up in a rough neighborhood, as his father was involved in some crime and petty gang activity that, for the most part, Valentino and his siblings were excluded from. Valentino spent most of his childhood and teen years left to his own devices, causing trouble with his brothers and friends for the fun of it. He was haughty, leaned toward being a bully, and never faced the consequences of his actions right from the start.

(His parents hardly paid attention to him, so he could do whatever he wanted— he did, however, learn some cooking from his mother, and some very basic firearm skills from his father.)

Valentino was always feminine in many ways, which his family mostly just commented on or tried to ignore, until he started getting older and it went from a 'quirk' to something they saw as a problem. In his early adulthood, he was caught with a man, and fallout ensued. Val ditched his family and then the state, and eventually, in the 1960s, wound up in LA, where he was almost immediately reeled in by a pimp (who was also his dealer/sugar daddy/eventual film director).

They had a genuine friendship for a handful of years, both of them being in it for the money and other benefits— Val wound up living in the guy's mansion and starred in adult films for him, and felt like a real celebrity. During this time, Val adopted his signature heart glasses into his look (though he mostly wore them as an accessory on top of his head), and was gifted two exotic birds by his pimp: a green rose-ringed parakeet and a red parrot, which he named Versace and Ferrari respectively. (He was extremely attached to both of the birds, and both of them outlived him.)

Good things never last forever, though, and Val's pimp started wanting him to film things that he was just not comfortable with��� when Val voiced this (and the fact that he'd rather star in dominant roles), the friendly and mutually beneficial side of their relationship withered up and died, giving way to disrespect and physical abuse (often with the strike of a gun). Val was told he could leave anytime he wanted, but that his pimp wasn't going to help him— he'd essentially be broke and homeless. Feeling trapped, he opted to stay, and put up with a couple more years of that... until, finally, he knocked off his pimp and took control of the mansion and the entire operation.

It was during this that he started wearing his sunglasses over his eyes, and truly grew into the version of 'Valentino' that everyone knows. He became a pimp himself, and continued starring in films (of his own volition and creative direction) until he died at age 38 to a shot to the head.

Val, for the most part, landed on his feet in Hell and immediately just started doing what he was best at in life. He performed a lot more in the beginning, and his natural charisma (plus his new addictive pheromone) made it easy for him to start accumulating souls. Minus a few setbacks (such as his pheromone lending to some uncomfortable encounters here and there) he was on the easy road to success.

He and Vox met and the two of them immediately hit it off, and started supporting each other (financially and otherwise-- friends, to business partners, to unstable life partners, to lovers). The rest is history.

ADDITIONAL HEADCANONS.

Val does not perform much anymore. He still can, but he prefers just sitting around and making other people do things now. He hasn't appeared on stage in person for years, and hasn't starred in any published films for even longer. It has been since the early/mid 2000s, at least.

Val's eyes had started failing in the last few years of his life, and this carried over into his Hell-form. He finds it humiliating and refuses to get help.

Val has never faced lasting consequences for any of his actions, which is in part responsible for him being the way he is. He thinks he can get away with everything because he can get away with everything.

Val's communication style is extremely physical. Even when he's not trying to be controlling, he kind of still is if he's manhandling someone.

He's very paranoid about a second, more permanent death (or even a fall from grace), as he loves his life in Hell and does not want to lose it. He's scared that Angel will continue the cycle he started and kill him, or that he will somehow wind up with the tables turned and find himself in Angel's shoes. He will do anything to keep this from happening.

Sometimes, when he gets really worked up or emotional or high, he unintentionally lets out a more vulnerable side of himself-- closer to how he was during life. He hates that, it gives him the ick... especially when Angel is privy. (This is NOT the same playful attitude he sports around Vox and Velvette and other people he likes. It's very similar, but it's different. He doesn't mind as much when Vox or Velvette are witness to it.)

Val was never innocent, kind, or a 'good person,' although he can seem this way to those he is manipulating, as well as to his loved ones (as he is generally fun to be around if he likes you. Bad people typically aren't bad to everyone, and Valentino has his own circle of people he likes and respects-- namely Vox and Velvette.) His arc was not one of a good person becoming a villain. He was always villain-adjacent, he simply went from 'toxic' to 'awful.'

Valentino stood at an extremely tall 6'7" during life.

The last one is suggestive ala the read-more:

Val is a dom. He just really doesn't enjoy not being so, although there are some exceptions where he is genuinely chill with switching it up, like if he's in a certain mood or if it's a special occasion and Vox really wants that, or if his partner is someone he views as more powerful and cooler than him (ala 'celebrity crush' like Asmodeus-- not just anyone with power). He can kinda get into it then, but he has to LOVE you, respect you, trust you, AND find you attractive. Generally, though, he doesn't like relinquishing control ever and his partner would have to be someone who is okay with that. A teeny tiny bit of this is a trauma response but it's primarily just who he is.

[tojigasm]

You're Rich And I'm Wishing You Could Be My Master, Yum

Authors Note: This is the first part of my collab series with @tsundere-cherry-girl I'm sorry this took me so long to get out as I really was excited for this piece and wanted to ensure it was perfect before sharing it with you all! I will now be working on requests! enjoy our dilf king Toji, blessup.

* cw : 18+ minors dni, Daddy kink, age gap, and anxiety attacks

Word count: 14.7k

College wasn't something you enjoyed, in fact you loathed it. There was something about autumn winds and winter snow storms that no longer brought along the warm fuzzy feeling that they would have when you were younger. Now, the snow storm that had passed through overnight only reminded you of how far you were going to have to walk to your next class in the freezing cold.

You pulled your coat closer to your body, the cream corduroy acting as a soft barrier against the freezing air. Boots shuffling through the layered snow as you made your way through the peninsula of covered sidewalk, dead leaves that had fallen to the snow being kicked up; rising to the air quickly before falling onto the ice again.

Despite the fact that throughout your childhood you dreamed of college - a way to escape the bouts of teenage immaturity and transition to adulthood - a couple of years to have to yourself. But you couldn't help but be fucking irritated by the constant parties and think-with-their-dick boys who approached you after class, pawing at you and calling you sweet names with their whiny voices that pricked your ears like an icepick.

Outside of the constant nagging from boys, you did have your friends: friends that would call you in the middle of the night to ask if you wanted to go to the dorm next to yours and go party, friends that slipped you the answers to your History teacher’s exam because Mr. Yaga was a fucker who didn’t care if you passed or failed.

Outside of school ruining your life, you had your friends and your friend group was interesting to say the least: there was Megumi, your best friend, who would approach every situation with the least amount of worry - no matter how unprepared he might be and always end up fine in the end. Then there was Itadori, who was late to every single class, a head full of dishelved hair that would shake in shame as your professor scolded him for the upteenth time that week. And then there was Nobara, who was your roommate but spent more time out with at parties than actually in the dorm. Thankfully, all four of you had become close throughout the first hellish year of college, being there for one another when need be.

It was finals week, your schedule was filled to the brim with studying and back to back classes that would determine your grades for the end of the semester. Long nights in the main library and in your dorm resulted in early coffees and shaking fingers as you worked out the answers to your exams.

You hurried to your last class, holding your textbooks and folders closer to your chest, boots skipping up the steps to the door, black letters on the textured glass read ‘Professor Nanami’.

Once inside, you hurried to your seat next to Megumi who was rereading some of his notes, his head turning to you when you sat down and began to pull out your notes randomly.

“Are you serious?” Megumi asked, deadpanning at your mess of scrambled notes and chicken scratched papers.

You gave him a sheepish smile before pointing a finger at him, “Hey! I made it before Itadori, and that’s saying something!”

Megumi chuckled lightly and went back to his notes, highlighting a few things “So… have you decided whether or not you're gonna stay at my place for winter break?”

Your eyes widened. Shit! you forgot about that!

“Uhm… are you sure you’re okay with me coming, I don’t wanna feel like I’m intruding on your break, let alone your family.” You clicked your pen nervously and bit the plush of your bottom lip.

Megumi gave a fake look of shock “No, you’re all good, I want you to come!” he reassured and then went back to writing.

You thought it over for a second, eyes dashing from the scattered and scribbled papers on the table and back to Megumi “Then I’ll go, it sounds exciting!” You smiled widely and Megumi nodded, opening his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by your professor, clapping loudly from the desk at the bottom of the auditorium.

“Alright, as you all know this is your final for the semester, determining whether or not you’ll pass my class.” he took a moment to shuffle the stack of papers, collecting them together. “Do your best, and once you’re finished, you’re free to go.”

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves.

Your professor walked up and down the carpeted steps, placing blank tests down and continuing down the aisle to the next row of students.

Your palms were clammy and your skin pricked with beads of sweat, your turtleneck began to stick to your soft skin.

The atmosphere of the classroom did nothing to relieve your stress, the humming of the heater causing a persistent ache in your head, pulling at the strings of your mind as you tried to think over all the information you had spent the past week and full 12 hours reviewing. A blank test was placed on your desk and you inhaled deeply, looking over the first question and picking up your pencil before circling ‘A’.

Walking out the door and into the snow, books held to your chest, you turned to Megumi before heading in the direction of your dorm.

“So what time are you planning on leaving?” You asked, jutting your hip out to stand more comfortably, snow crunching under your heavy fur boots.

Megumi always stood so perfectly still, even when talking - when you had first became friends it was off putting, making you think he was uncomfortable in your presence, only when the two of you became closer - basically best friends, did u realize that Megumi did some pretty odd things, that being one of them.

“I was gonna head up around like eightish maybe?” Megumi looked up to the sky as though he were in deep thought,” I can drive us both if you want.” He offered, hand gesturing to you.

You shook your head and placed a mittened hand out to stop him, “No, it’s okay, you can just drop by my dorm once you’re ready and I can follow you.” You smiled.

Megumi nodded and then looked away towards his dorm.

“Alright, well, make sure you pack for at least a week and half’s stay, wouldn’t want you to not have something to wear.” he joked, kicking the ground a bit, dragging his shoes through the snow aimlessly as if he were drawing something.

You shook your head and laughed, “I will,” you sighed deeply and clicked your tongue, your shoulders falling gently, “well, I gotta get going, I’ll see you at eight then?” you began to walk backwards, the snow squealing under your boots.

“On the dot.” Megumi concluded and turned, walking through the deep snow on his way back to his dorm.

The next morning when you woke you felt refreshed, your face felt soft and your muscles were relaxed, little to no cramps as the contrast to how the week of finals had treated your body - the overwhelming stress not giving you a minute to relax.

You took a shower and got dressed, putting on your favorite fur jacket over a hoodie along with a pair of baggy jeans. You took one final look in the mirror before checking your suitcase once more, making sure you had everything packed.

Toothbrush, check. Hairbrush, check. Tampons, check. Phone charger, check…

You continued down the checklist of items, failing to hear Nobara enter the room. She had a coffee and muffin in one hand and her purple-bubble thick cased phone in the other.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” she quirked an eyebrow, clearly wanting you to elaborate on where you were going. Nobara was always like that, she felt like more of an aunt at times than an actual friend.

You turned your head to look at her, “Don’t get too excited now, I’ll be back when school starts up again.” You smiled and turned back to your open bag.

Nobara didn't say anything, opting to take a small bite out of the muffin and a sip from the straw of her drink before swallowing loudly.

“A-are you going to your parents place?” She still stood in the hallway, leaned against the wall, she bent over a tad as she continued to look at you, eyebrow pulled into a tight arch.

You stopped zipping your suitcase up to take a deep breath, voice becoming stuck in your throat and tears building up in your downcast eyes.

“N-no, uhm actually,” You cleared your throat, shaking your head slightly, “I’m actually going out of town to stay with Megumi, he invited me to stay with his family for break.” you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and placed it onto the ground, pulling the handle all the way up.

“Hey, you okay?” Nobara asked, walking up to you and chucking her phone onto her bed, the case causing the phone to bounce in the process.

You nodded and smiled, you knew she was looking out for you, aware of the issues you’d had with your father in the past, but that didn’t make the mere thought of your relationship with your father any easier to think about.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just nervous.” You gave a weak smile and grabbed your phone from your nightstand, slipping it into your coat pocket.

“Awh, you’ll have tons of fun, I’m sure Megumi will do a great job making you feel right at home!” She smiled and her hair shook as her head lifted in excitement.

You nodded again and smiled at her warmly, reaching to grab the handle of your bag, “Alright, well, I’m off - I’ll see you again soon.”

Nobara nodded and followed you out of the doorway. The two of you said your goodbyes and you made your way down the hall, fur boots clumping on the carpeted ground.

“Wait!” Nobara’s voice stopped you, making you turn to look at her, one hand in your coat pocket.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“You got everything? Like, all your girl stuff and everything?” she kept a hand on the door handle, the other on the wall.

You smiled at her and nodded, “Yeah, I've got everything.” You then waved to her and continued to make your way to the elevator.

Once outside you shivered as the wind hit your face, biting your skin as you made your way down the snow covered steps and onto the pavement. Megumi was waiting at the curb, leaning against his black Mercedes, dressed in a Louis Vuitton coat, arms crossed and looking to the side.

You always wondered where he got the money for all of the expensive things he bought: his cars, his shoes - being his best friend, you didn't feel comfortable asking, but now that you were being introduced to his family, you realized that the possibility of his family being just that rich never actually occurred to you.

“Hey Gumi!” You waved, pulling your suitcase through the snow behind you.

“Hey,” He turned to you and smiled, “You need help taking that to your car?” he asked, flipping his keys absentmindedly

“No, I'm all good, you wanna just meet me in the parking lot?” you gestured to the lot at the side of your dorm.

“Yeah sure.”

The ride to the cabin was fairly smooth, most of it being a fast trip on the freeway until you followed Megumi’s black Mercedes down an off ramp and into a new town.

You took the time at each stop light to look around, making note of the winter decorations parading the streets. The clouds covering the sky gave the town’s look a picturesque holiday aura to it.

Music played through your speakers as you followed Megumi throughout the town, the road soon became flat and desolate for a few miles before his car came to the start of a small trail.

The tires of your car grumbled over the gravel, rocking your car side to side as you drove down the pine covered road. The trees created an atmosphere that felt almost - in no other words to describe it - home.

You could see mountains to the left of you, sun glittering against the snow, you could smell the pine wafting through the ventilation of your car, relaxing your nerves and washing over your senses greedily.

The road seemed to go on forever, not that you were complaining, the surrounding forest made you feel as though you were stuck in a perfect place in time, nature in its purest form, no city lights, no roads, no cars, just the soothing smell of pine and the occasional cry from a bird.

Megumi’s car took a right and suddenly the ground became smoother, the rocks becoming a makeshift driveway where a Black Ford F150 was parked next to a tan Rolls Royce in front of cobblestone steps that lead up to the chestnut red door of the prodigious house you assumed was the “cabin” Megumi had told you about. The two of you obviously had different ideas of what a “cabin” was. This was a multi million dollar house at least, you wouldn't be surprised if his parents owned the place...scratch that. They definitely owned it.

Megumi parked his car next to the tan Rolls Royce and stepped out, walking over to your car. You rolled your window down to which he bent over and leaned his crossed arms against it, ducking his head to look at you.

“You can park next to my dad’s truck if you want.” He tilted his head and threw his thumb back to point at the giant F150.

“Okay, thankyou.” you let Megumi step back and rolled up your window before pulling into the parking spot.

You stepped out and went to the backseat of your car, pulling out your bag and your blanket before rounding the car to where Megumi was still removing his bags, two Louis Vuitton duffle bags were sat on the sanded down gravel, dirt already seeping into the leather and fabric.

“Your family knows I'm coming… right?” You chuckled nervously, watching Megumi continue to sift through the many expensive bags in his trunk.

“Of course, I’ve told them all about you. Trust me, they’ll adore you.”

You almost cried at that. What had Megumi told them? what if he was lying and they actually were just allowing you to stay out of pity, what if Megumi had actually told them something terrible about you and you weren’t even there to defend yourself.

You felt bad, knowing Megumi would never talk so horibily about you; The two of you were best friends. You just still couldn't help the metaphorical vomit that filled your brain to it’s brim, threatening to spill from your lips until you convinced Megumi you wanted to go home, spilled over until the words became tears because you couldn’t even fathom the idea of Megumi’s family not liking you.

“Are you ready to go?” Megumi stood with two duffle bags in one hand and another thrown over his shoulder.

Nodding, you let Megumi pass you and followed him up to the front of the red painted door. The wood had been furnished and was well kept, obviously polished regularly.

Megumi raised his fist and knocked on the peppermint red wood, a soft rapping filling your ears.

The door opened to reveal a young woman in red bottom snake heels and a cream sweater, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail.

“Hi ‘Gumi!” She smiled happily, her eyes squeezing shut as her arms crushed him in a tight hug before parting and looking him up and down. “My goodness, you’re so much taller than last time I saw you.” Megumi grumbled and she giggled, petting his shoulder lightly.

Suddenly she turned to you, “Oh hi! You must be y/n, Megumi has told me all about you.” She went to grab your mitten covered hands in her own, “Please come in, you must be freezing.” She stepped to the side and placed a hand on your back to guide you inside.

The three of you walked down the wood paneled hall, the walls were decorated with wreaths and cute accessories for the holidays.

“My name is Tsumiki by the way.” She smiled at you again, leading you into the living room, her heels clicking against the floor.

Once you entered the living room you immediately felt out of place - well, more than you felt already, if even possible; a flat screen TV sat was built into the flat wooden wall, a huge leather couch was placed in the middle of the room, double doors leading to a balcony were opened, the sound of birds and creaking wood echoing throughout the home.

The smell of sugar made you turn your head in the direction of what you assumed was the kitchen, the heaviness of it making you close your eyes and hum.

Tsumiki giggled, “I’m making a pie, it should be done before dinner if you two wanna go get settled down and unpack.”

Megumi nodded and took your arm in his hand, pulling you down the next hallway as you said a quick “Thankyou!” before you were out of range.

Megumi pulled you along to a crème covered carpet staircase, climbing the steps with one hand on the rail and the other still on your arm.

Once you made it upstairs, you came into another hallway; a chandelier illuminating the white thicket walls. Four doors were on either side of the hall leading to two large pearl French doors that sat at the very end.

“My dad’s room is the room at the end, Tsumiki sleeps in the room closest to the bathroom ‘cus she always has to pee, I usually take the room farthest from my dad’s just ‘cus.” Megumi informed you. You nodded at his words before it dawned on you that you would be the one sleeping closest to his dad - someone who you had yet to meet and someone who quite frankly, intimidated you.

“You can take the room I usually sleep in if you want.” Megumi tilted his head to see your nervous expression.

“No!” You cleared your throat, “It’s- it’s just, it doesn’t really matter to me, I’m fine either way.”

“M’kay.” Megumi walked to his door and opened it, standing outside until you entered your own, “I’ll get you when dinner’s ready.”

You nodded and walked into the bedroom, met with a king sized bed and glass panel door that led to a balcony. The walls were a grey color, decorated with simple objects and pictures of the surrounding mountains. The room smelled of lavender and vanilla, painting a clear picture of the woodland surrounding you.

Placing your suitcase onto the bed you began unpack; putting your folded clothes into the auburn dresser and closet, placing your shoes at the bottom of the wardrobe. Deciding to keep your toiletries in your room, you put them on the vanity seat beside the glass sliding door.

Once you had everything put away you grabbed your phone and sent a quick text to Nobara, informing her you’d made it, to which she replied with a ‘Good to hear, can’t wait for you to come back, miss you already! xoxo’

You smiled and put your phone down, getting ready to move some things around when a knock came from your door. You opened the heavy door to come face to face with Megumi who had changed into a navy sweatshirt.

“Dinner’s ready.” he informed you and you smiled, nodding as you followed him down the staircase and back through the hallways into the dining room. The walls were plastered with gold and black trim, decorating the thicket walls; a candled chandelier illuminated the room in a calm light.

“Hi there!” Tsumiki waved as she placed a basket of bread rolls onto the table, “you can sit wherever you’d like.” You took a seat next to Megumi, the cushioned chairs adding a soft touch to your nervousness.

As Tsumiki sat down she opened her mouth to ask a question when the sound of a door shutting made you jump, looking towards the hallway to see a tall raven haired man round the corner, dressed in tightly fit black shirt and baggy jeans, his timbs pounding the polished floors.

“What’s for dinner?” His gruff voice immediately made your legs tense. It screamed authority and discipline - the voice of a parent, a father who was stern but rewarded good behavior. The man took a seat at the end of the table and looked at you, his eyebrow raising.

“Who’s this?” he didn't speak to you, opting to talk to his son.

Megumi took a bite of his food and looked at his father, rolling his eyes, “Her name is y/n, I told you she was coming.”

You felt almost helpless not being able to speak for yourself in front of the man of the house. You couldn't deny Megumi’s father was attractive, a part of you embarrassed that you couldn't even make eye contact with the man, afraid that if you did, he’d surely know you were crushing like a schoolgirl on the father of your best friend.

“Oh yeah, nice to meet you, y/n.” He nodded in acknowledgment and began eating.

Tsumiki made small talk, making sure to involve you in all the conversations: asking about your school work, which major you were studying, your plans for the future.

You answered each honestly, explaining why you were interested in your major, why you chose the same college Megumi attended and how you planned to succeed in the workplace you were working towards being in.

Toji had leaned back in his chair at some point, his arms folded beneath his head as he listened to you ramble on about how important school was and your eagerness to be introduced into an industry such as the one you were interested in. It was cute.

Tsumiki listened attentively, asking questions and nodding her head in agreeance whenever you said something. “That's really cool, y/n, I believe you’d be a good addition to any team that hired you, you’re a smart girl and a hardworking one at that.” Tsumiki interrupted herself to gasp lightly, turning to her father. “Come to think of it, dad, didn’t you do some work in that major?” she swallowed, “I could’ve sworn I remember you talking about it.”

You looked to Toji, only to meet his eyes and immediately look at your lap; he looked almost bored - eyes lidded and plump lips resting against each other, the pinkness of them only becoming a darker color, your eyes traced of the scar that was ingrained in his skin.

Toji laughed at your quick shift of focus, taking a hand out from behind his head to scratch at his chest, the fabric of his shirt sliding over his pecs as he did so. “It’s okay, kid. You can look at me - I don't bite.” you gulped at that, if there was any questioning of your attraction to the man, the way his biceps bulged at his shirt as he spoke assured that you were swooning for the older man.

“But, Yeah, I did.” He said flatley, watching you with squinted eyes. There was a moment of silence before Toji stuck his tongue into his cheek and looked down at his finished plate before moving his hands back down to the table resting his elbows against the cotton of the tablecloth.

“Gojou still working there?” He asked, reaching towards the glass cup of toothpicks and inserting one between his teeth.

You gulped sighly and nodded “Y-yeah, he is.” You felt as though you needed to speak with your head down - a primal dominance encouraging you to not make eye contact out of respect, his blue eyes pierced your own as he brought his tongue out to lick the scar on his lip.

You could’ve sworn you died right there and then; something about the oh-so-innocent yet so aware action he pulled by simply flicking his soft tongue along the line of the dark scar made your knees weak, your thighs squeezing together, your shoes toeing at each other nervously.

“He’s a dick.” Toji stated.

“Yeah-” you laughed a bit. “Yeah, he is.”

Once dinner was finished and you and Tsumiki had cleaned the china plates until your fingers pruned, scrubbing the soft sponge across the glass plates gently. When the plates were all put away, you fled to your room.

You had spent what had been at least thirty minutes with your soft hand between your legs, rubbing furiously at your clit, replaying the image of Toji sliding his tongue over the dark line of his scar - pretending it was your plush legs he was kissing instead.

A part of you wished he could hear you through the smokey colored walls, entertaining the idea that he was just as perverted as you, jacking himself off to your soft moans and imagining that he too wished he was with you too. The thoughts themselves brought you to an orgasm; pushing a satin pillow onto your face, you moaned, deep and shaikly, feeling your stomach tighten.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming.” You wined, rubbing circles around the small bundle of nerves until your legs tensed and chills ran down your spine when your orgasm washed over you.

You pulled the pillow off your face to inhale deeply, pulling your fingers from between your legs, looking at your soaked fingers, embarrassment flooding your body as you stared at the proof of how long you had been jacking it to your best friend's dad.

A wash of realization hit your brain when you remembered where you were, whose house you were in and who was sleeping in the rooms on either side of you.

Oh god. You slapped your hand to your forehead, immiedialtey praying to god that your wishes for Toji to hear your soft moans and supple sighs hadn’t been answered.

Getting out of the tall bed, your feet hit the cold floor and you shivered, padding your way to the door of your room, you stepped out and made your way into the bathroom across the hall.

Once inside, you washed your hands, lathering a generous amount of foamed soap that read ‘Winter Candy Apple’ and was wrapped in a sparkly red plastic that slid against your fingers as you sat the bottle back down onto the granite countertop.

Toji was laid back against the expensive furs of his queen bed, fisting his cock furiously to the sound of your moans, sweat beading in small drops on his firm chest.

“Gah -fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” he threw his head back, his hair sprawling behind his head and he hissed, cum spurting onto his hand and abdomen.

“Ohhhh shiiit.” he groaned, voice shaky.

Toji pnated in the mess of blankets and crumpled satin sheets, staring up at the cream colored ceiling, chest heaving.

His blue eyes tracing the iron lines of the gray barn liam chandelier, Toji felt dirty, jerking his dick to his son's best friend. He scoffed, “what the hell?” Toji took another shaky breath and ran his hands over his face before sitting up and pulling his boxers up over his waist and walking into his adjoined bathroom.

The fluorescent lights created a flaxen glow against the white walls and black mineral countertop. Grabbing a small towel from beneath the counter he placed it under the sink’s faucet and wiped down his abdomen, sighing as he chucked the soiled towel into the hamper and walking back into his bedroom.

Toji walked to his dresser and pulled out a white tshirt before heading to the door that connected his bedroom to the hallway.

Walking out into the hall Toji scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the carpeted floor, his eyes tired and adjusting to the dark of the hallway when suddenly something - someone bumped into his chest making him reach his hands out to steady the person he hit.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You whisper yelled and gripped onto his forearms.

Toji squinted to see your features outlined in the dark, “Oh, hey kid, what’re you doin’ up?” He took his hands off your shoulders and yawned dramatically, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

“Sorry, I just needed to use the restroom.” you told him, eyes meeting his sapphire ones.

He nodded, “You wanna come downstairs? I’m gonna get some coffee.” Toji walked past you.

You listened to the stairs creak as he made his way down the steps, “yes!” you whispered yelled again, being met with a light chuckle from the bottom of the steps.

Following Toji throughout the massive cabin you reached the kitchen where Toji had you sit at the bar. He stood at the opposite side of the island, pouring a pot that had been put out by Tsumiki earlier than night, aware of her father’s habit to wake up and come to the kitchen searching for something to drink and calm his nerves.

Your eyes followed Toji’s movements, his arms flexing as he placed the pot down and pulled out a packet of sugar, ripping the paper and pouring the bag into the cup before grabbing a spoon and mixing the drink together.

“You want something sweetie?” Toji placed the spoon into his mouth and looked up to meet your eyes.

Your face felt warm as you watched him gently suck on the spoon, “u-uhm, no, I’m okay, thank you.” You pull your knees up to your chest, resting your chin and stopping your knees.

Toji offered a slight ‘tch’ and walked towards the sliding glass door, pulling it open and stepping out onto the balcony, letting snow-chilled air fill the room.

You didn't know what to do, too nervous to ask if you could follow but too shy to stay behind and sit awkwardly until Megumi’s father decided to come back into the warmth of the cabin. Stepping off the bar stool you slipped on a pair of slippers you had left at the door and walked out onto the patio, making your way over to where Toji stood.

He was bent over the wooden terrace, leg crossed over another as he looked out at the moonlit forest. You walked up beside him and mimicked his position. He side eyed you and chuckled lightly, noticing the repeated movements of his own. He turned around and leaned his back against the terrace, wondering if you’d follow.

You stayed in Toji’s original position.

“It’s pretty right?” Toji stated, nodding his head towards the pine trees and snow covered ground.

You nodded and began to pick at the wood of the terrace, sniffling as the wind tickled goosebumps up your arms and legs. “It really is.”

Toji huffed in aggreence and turned back to lean on his forearms again, taking a sip of his coffee, the steam from the cup swirling in the air like a growing cloud of fire, eating away at the air in a grey mass.

Toji sensed your nervousness and laughed a bit before scooting closer to you and pointing towards a small tire swing, nearly covered completely by the snow, only a sliver of rusted rubber still visible. “When I was younger, around ten or eleven, I used to swing on that thing everytime my parents drove me up here, and broke my arm on it once too.” He laughed at the memory and took another sip.

You laughed and leaned over the ledge a tad as you tried to imagine Megumi’s father as anything but a father at sometime in his life. Fully believing that he’d been born a father and stayed that way for the past thirty-five years if he had told you that. Maybe he looked like Megumi… possibly Tsumiki, she has his nose-

“Megumi broke his arm on it too, I think it’s cursed.” He joked and you looked at him in question.

“Really? He never told me that.” you sounded disappointed, almost as if Megumi had hid something from you - logically, you knew he hadn’t but in the past thirty minutes, Toji had shared more memories of his own childhood with you than Megumi ever had in your three years of knowing him.

“Are you ready for ice skating tomorrow? There's a lake in the woods that we go down to every year.” he asked

You did remember Megumi mentioning a lake… now that you thought about it, you didn't have any skates.

“I don’t have any skates…”

“You can have a pair of Tsumiki’s, she’s got like six different colors.” He rolled his eyes at his daughter’s adoration for fancy colors and need for fashion.

You giggled at that to which Toji smiled. ‘I don't know how to skate either, haha.” you ran your hands up and down your arms trying to stay warm.

Toji lifted an eyebrow at that, adjusting to lean on his elbow that held the cup of now-cooled-down coffee. “You serious?” He took another sip.

You met his eyes for a split second before looking at the balcony terrace again, “Yeah.”

Toji gave a ‘hmph’ in surprise, tilting his head as he downed the rest of his coffee. “I’ll teach you.” he stated, giving you no room to refuse his offer.

“Okay.” you smiled.

The two of you entered the cabin a few minutes later and Toji sent you up to bed with a hug, following behind you as you made your way back up the stairs and into your room.

“Night, Mr. Fushiguro.” You stood in the doorway of your bedroom.

“Night, brat.” He smirked and waited for you to enter your room and shut the door before retreating to his own room and falling back onto the bed, eyes searching for something to focus on as he forced himself to sleep. His eyes decided on the iron of the chandelier again, tracing the intricate lines and candle holders as he fell asleep, the smell of your shampoo and memory of your moans filling his senses.

As you lay in bed, you stared at the ceiling; thinking of how you’d ask Tsumiki to borrow a pair of skis, what you’d wear, and how you’d have Megumi teach you how to ice skate without embarrassing yourself. Wait no. Toji was going to teach you. Your eyes slowly begin to close, your body sleep deprived and too exhausted from the long drive and late talk with Toji to question why he offered to teach you rather than have his son.

The next morning was far more relaxed than the evening before, you helped Tsumiki make breakfast, whisking eggs as Toji made his way into the kitchen.

“Well aren’t you two cute.” he teased and tousled his hair a bit.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, “It’s almost done if you wanna get Megumi.” You said, choosing to watch the basking of the eggs rather than make eye contact with the taller man.

Toji laughed and walking over to the coffee pot you had refilled, pouring himself a cup of it and adding a packet of sugar. He made his way over to the bar and sat on one of the stools, his chin resting in his palms as we watched the two of you work.

He felt like he had a family back. It was a horrible thing, truly, to seek comfort in the young girl who Megumi had introduced as his friend. But Toji wanted you, and whatever Toji wanted, Toji fucking got.

A plate was placed in front of him by a pair of small hands, he looked at you and smiled, placing a hand on your head and scratching your scalp as he tousled your hair “Thanks.”

You nodded and went back to the other pre-made plates. You placed another next to Toji for Megumi.

Toji internally groaned, he wanted you to sit next to him.

“I’ll go get Megumi.” You left the kitchen and Tsumiki siad a quick ‘Okay!’ before turning to her father who was devouring the food you’d cooked.

Toji could feel his daughter’s eyes on him, looking up from his meal to stare blankly “What?”

Tsumiki rolled her eyes and turned back to her own plate of sugar covered pancakes, decorated with strawberries and whip cream. “I see the way you look at her dad. She’s in college and you’ve barely known her for a whole day!” She exclaimed.

Toji simply shrugged his shoulders at her input and continued to eat, taking another bite of eggs, “You’re gonna give her a pair of skates for when we go to the lake today.”

Tsumiki nodded and picked up her plate, walking past him to sit at the table, placing a hand on his shoulder “Dad.” she pleaded

Toji lifted an eyebrow “I’m not gonna do anything.” He put his hands in mock defense to which Tsumiki gave a ‘really?’ look at and sighed, walking over to the table and taking a seat.

Only a minute later you came down with a sleepy Megumi following behind, rubbing his eyes and tripping over his feet. “Morning.” he said groggily, taking the seat next to his dad and digging into his breakfast.

Toji ruffled his pointed hair and laughed as the raven strands bent for half a second and then bounced back up into their original place.

You sat at the table with Tsumiki, watching the quiet scene unfold, smiling warmly at the interaction. The father-son interaction brought you to think of your own father, your thoughts scrambling to find a moment in your life where he was as soft with you as Toji was with his own children.

“You guys excited to go skating later?” Toji turned in his chair, looking at you Tsumiki.

You nodded, mouth full. Wiping your mouth you nodded again, “I am, Mr. Fushiguro. I’m very excited.”

Toji’s heart warmed at your tired voice, feeling a little guilty for keeping you up outside in the cold for as long as he did. He crossed his arms over the back of the stool and watched you eat, “I can take y/n in my truck if you two wanna take the Royce.” Toji stated more than asked.

Megumi shrugged at that, not really caring who he went with but still concerned about how you’d feel being all alone with his father, He was fine with driving with his sister but Megumi knew his dad’s truck had enough seats for all of you. “y/n are you okay with that?” Megumi turned to you.

You felt embarrassed as all eyes were on you, “I’m okay with that.” you smiled at Megumi, slowly turning your head towards Toji, reassuring him with a smile.

He smirked and stepped off the stool, stretching his arms over his shoulders, his shirt riding up past his navel. “Alright, I’m gonna go get dressed.” he made his way through the kitchen and into the hall before turning back and looking at you “y/n, wear something warm ‘mkay?” He said and walked off.

Tsumiki rolled her eyes at his request “Don’t mind him, it’s just his dad shit telling him to be all parental, wear whatever you want.” She said.

You smiled at her before dragging your finger through the leftover whip cream on your plate, bringing your finger to your lips and sucking on it gently. It felt nice to be dotted on, to be worried about, to be worried about by a father. As you made your way to your room and got dressed, pulling on a hooded mink fur jacket, like Toji told you to do; You twirled in your mirror, picking up one foot cutely, watching the strings of your furry moon boots dangle.

A knock came from your door before Megumi entered the room, dressed in a luxury white fur coat, the hem running to his jean clad knees. “You almost ready? Tsumiki put your skis in my dad’s truck already, she guessed your size.” you laughed at that.

“I’m sure they’ll fit.” you picked up your phone and slipped it into your pocket and followed Megumi down the carpet steps. Once outside you stepped onto the gravel and over to Toji’s truck where he stood, resting against the tailgate with his arms crossed; the denim of his jacket stretching over the bulkiness of his arms - drool pooling in your mouth at the sight.

“You ready kid?” Toji stepped out, timbs crunching the gravel beneath him.

You nodded and watched Megumi walk past you and open the door to Royce, “We’ll meet you there right?” he said, hand on the door. Toji gave a thumbs up before walking up to your side of the truck; Tsumiki pulled out beside him as he did so.

“Be careful on the road, dad, she doesn't need to be subjected to your psychopathic driving skills.” She narrowed her eyes only to soften them when she saw you, “Don’t worry, baby, I’m sure he’ll keep you safe - something about Tsumiki’s insignificant promise that her father would protect you made your knees weak - It’s only about a thirty minute drive, we can get lunch after too.” She then left, wheels rumbling over the gravel as the car rounded the corner; Leaving you and Toji alone.

“C’mere baby,” He motioned for you. You walked up to the passenger side, Toji standing with the door open, hand on his hip. “You ready?” you nodded and he placed his hands on your hips, your smaller ones grasping his forearms in shock, placing you in the seat he then squeezed your thigh gently, “Good girl.” he shut the door.

You were gonna die right then and there. Jesus Christ you were going to die and Toji-Fucking-Fushiguro and his deep voice and big hands were going to be the reason Megumi would find you dead in the passanger seat of his father’s car.

The sound of the driver’s side door opening made you turn your head, watching Toji step into the truck with ease and push the start button, the car rumbling as it turned on and warm air ran over your skin. The contrast between the cold air and the heated car made you shiver.

The ride was silent as the truck rocked back and forth over larger rocks in the road, Toji had some music playing at you watched the mountain range, making note of how it must've snowed last night as there was visibily more white frosted trees and the mountain seemed to hide all the dark toothpick looking trees from across the valley.

“When I was younger, my dad took me up here with my friends,” he paused as you turned to him, waiting for him to continue in complex adoreness. Toji felt his hands grip the leather wheel with his left hand, his right folding into a fist on the compartment piece in between the two of you; his mind begging him, demanding him to reach out to you and hold you, hold your thigh, your hands, anything to touch you.

He cleared his throat and continued “I took his pickup out to go get drinks with my friends and slid on black ice, we jumped out in time but the truck went down this lil’ valley, thought I was gonna die.”

You felt your shoulders release - aware that Toji had survived since he was literally driving you down the same road he nearly died on before you were even born. But a part of you made you relieved to know that he hadn’t slipped down the icy mountain and met an evil demise brought to him by the reigns of teenage boy stupidity.

“You were okay though right?” your eyes wide with worry

Toji laughed at your shocked expression, the thought that you asked if he was okay, the thought that you were worried about him made his heart swell. He loved the way you made him feel and simuloutansley hated it. Knowing you’d almost never reciprocate the same feelings he had.

“Yeah honey, I was okay.” He ruffled your hair teasingly before grabbing the back of your hood and pulling it up and over your head, covering your eyes.

“Hey!” You moved the hood from your head and hit his arm, he jumped back and put his hands up in mock defense, laughing heartily.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughed and turned back to the road.

You gave a ‘Hmph’, crossing your arms dramatically.

A hand was placed on your thigh gently, squeezing at the plush of your thigh through your pants. Turning your head you met his eyes, the car slowing down, his focus now on you. Toji shifted a small bit, moving closer to you, his grip on your thigh growing tighter.

The air suddenly seemed thinner, your lungs scrambling to find breath in such a quiet and intimate moment. Your best friend's father had his hand holding your thigh, your best friend’s hot, older dad had his giant, rough hand holding your thigh - holding you.

You exhaled shakily, almost embarrassed to meet his eyes.

“Hey” placing the hand that was on your thigh to your cheek, stroking your cheek gently.

“Hi” you whispered, toji smiled at your voice, god he was whipped and he’d only known you for seventeen hours.

Leaning in, he watched your plump lips part, his face was so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “You’re so pretty, baby.” he whispered, thumb coming up to rest on your bottom lip and pulling it downwards.

Heat went straight to your pussy, your thighs clenching together as toji brought his lips to your own. His hand went to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he ran his tongue over your teeth. You moaned into the kiss and brought a hand to his arm, rubbing his skin softly.

Toji groaned, pulling away from you and shifting the gear of the truck into park and reaching over you with both hands, cupping your face to his. Toji inhaled deeply through his nose, pulling apart to see a line of spit attaching your lips together.

“Fuck.” his eyes were lided and his lips were swollen and red “C’mere” he brought you into his lap himself, pushing the seat back so you’d have more room. Looking out the window you could see you were still on the trail, no other cars in sight. Your head was turned by Toji, grabbing your chin and leading you back to his lips.

Your lips met again, Toji’s hands coming to squeeze the flesh of your ass appreciatively. Moaning into the kiss you lowered your pelvis down to his prominent bulge, rutting against it gently. He hissed at the movement, breaking apart from you to look down between the two of you.

“Shiiit,” he sighed and went to run a hand through his hair, “can’t do that to me, I’m gotta fuck you, needa be inside you so bad baby.” placing his hand on the cup of your sex making you shiver.

“Toji please.” you closed your eyes, head tilting downwards slightly.

“Please what? C’mon use your words.” he smirked and ran his hands down the sides of your body, battered and roughed fingers caressing the soft-textured fur of your mink coat.

“Mhmm'' you whimpered, suddenly very aware of where you were and who you were with. Shying away, you backed away from him to rest on your thighs - still straddling Toji’s waist - you brought a finger to your lips, biting your soft skin and looking through the windows as if you were being watched. As if the trees and the birds and the deers and the clouds knew you were about to lose your virginity to your bestfriend’s fucking father.

“Hey, hey, what’s up munchkin?” Toji sat up, bringing you to his chest comfortingly - a parental instinct to protect - “m’ I movin’ too fast?” he asked, petting your head softly as you softly nodded into his chest.

“M’ sorry sweet girl'' Toji rubbed your back gently, letting you snuggle into his hold and hide yourself in the neck of his turtleneck, sniffling quietly. “Shh, no more tears, baby m sorry.” he cooed. The two of you sat in the car for a good while, the soft humming of the engine and Toji’s warm arms wrapped around your small body mixed with his soft words slowly lead you to sleep.

When you finally woke up you were met with a bright light, bringing a hand over your eyes to shield the sun away you saw Toji leaning over you slightly, working to unbuckle our seatbelt. “Hey sunshine.” he smiled.

“Hey…” you rubbed your eyes gently making him chuckle, “are we at the lake already?” you asked, looking from your seat in the truck, noticing you were in a small parking lot surrounded by forest.

“Sure are sweetcheeks, you wanna get out?” he backed away from the door and let you stumble out, knees still wobbly from being asleep. Toji steadied you and pressed a kiss to your forehead to which you hummed at and tilted your head back, puckering your lips for him. Toji chuckled and pressed a small peck to your lips.

He took your hand in his and walked you to the bed of the truck, picking you up and placing you onto the rubber mat of the bed and grabbing your (Tsumiki’s) pink skates.

Toji pulled off your moon boots and helped lace up your skates before putting you down, patting your head gently. Yawning, you watched him go back to the passenger seat of the truck and put your shoes underneath the seat before coming back to you.

“You ready lil lady?” he looked at you once and took your gloved hand in his, leading you to the rink where Megumi was skating backwards and talking to Tsumiki as she twirled lightly. Megumi saw you and waved, making you giggle and wave back with your free hand.

Toji walked you over to the entrance of the rink, stepping in and holding a hand out for you to aid you in walking to the frozen lake bed. You hesitated, watching Megumi and Tsumiki, they made it look so easy - but to someone who had never skated in their life, you were sure this was how you were to meet your end.

“C’mon baby, I’m not gonna letcha’ fall.” Toji urged, stepping a tad closer to you as reassurement.

“You promise?” you looked down at the ice and back to his face and then his hand.

“Yes, honey, I promise.” Toji’s face turned serious, eyebrows furrowing as you took his hand, helping you step down and grabbing your hip when your leg slipped a tad. You held onto him for dear life, the hood of your coat rubbing against his shoulder.

“It’s okay, kid” he laughed a little and stepped backwards, holding his other hand out for you to take, letting you follow him as he took small swerves backwards. “Easy, just like that - ooh, careful! Good girl.” Toji praised, allowing you to grow more confident as he only held one of your hands now, still skating backwards as he watched your footing. Praising you when you made a turn or caught yourself.

Tsumiki had stopped skating and was standing by the edge of the lake, watching her father and you skate together. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that her father was pinning you and that you were returning, said pinning with the intensity of a school girl crush.

Megumi made his way past her and slowed to watch the two of you, turning to her as his chest heaved slightly. “Why are you watching them?”

Tsumiki was taken aback by his question, taking her hands out and gesturing to the two of you - you had slipped and Toji had caught you, bringing you up to his chest to hold you, letting you rest against his body as he continued to skate backwards, allowing you to hold onto him as he did the work for both of you.

“They look like they’ve been dating for four years for christ’s sake!” She exclaimed, her ponytail swaying. Megumi looked between her and the two of you shrugging lightly before preparing himself to continue skating. “How can you just sit here and not be bothered by that?” she laughed airily.

Megumi sighed and tilted his head towards her, “If i’m being honest, i don't really care - she’s still my best friend, and like, yeah” he shrugged again, “It’s weird, but this is the happiest i’ve seen dad in years, not to mention, she seems happy too.” Megumi then looked down at his gloves, restrapping them before taking off to skate again.

Toji held you to his chest, skating slowly as you listened to his heartbeat through his shirt. The rhythmic sway of his movements slowly lulling you into a sleep again. “You still with me baby?” his voice startled you slightly, vibrating through his chest and tickling the side of your cheek making you giggle.

“Yeah,” you slurred and moved to get closer to him, legs still moving in sync with his to help him as the two of you skated around the lake. “You’re warm.” you snuzzled him.

“Oh yeah?” he pulled your face away from his chest to tilt your head upwards, “Well, you’re pretty.” he watched you turn away from him bashfully, earning a deep laugh from him. “Awh c’mere stinker,” he grabbed your face and turned you back to him, slowly stopping the two of you in the middle of the lake. “You really are pretty.” he said and you nodded, leaning up to kiss him.

Megumi watched the two of you holding each other, completely unaware of his presence in staring at the two of you. An odd feeling filled his chest, not one of anger or sadness but one of almost relief, relief he could see his father being happy. Relief for you, someone who always seemed to sell themselves short, someone who put others before themselves. It was interesting to see you and his father somehow grow closer in less than a full day than he had managed in twenty-two years of living in the same home as the gruff man.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Tsumiki grabbing her brother by the arm, dragging him off the lake and onto the snow covered ground. “We’re gonna head into town and get some takeout, you guys wanna come?” She yelled.

Toji pulled away from your gaze to give her a thumbs up, “We’ll probably get something on the way back, don’t wait on us.”

You watched Tsumiki nod and return the thumbs up, walking with Megumi to the Royce and pulling out of the lot, gravel crumbling under the tires.

Toji sighed as he watched them get into the car, “Finally, gotcha’ all to myself.” He tucked his head to nuzzle your neck making you squeal and wiggle around in his arms. The two of you sat in silence for a small while, listening to the soft air and snapping of tree branches, the occasional bird crying. It was heavenly - you and Toji’s own little space among the battered and destroyed world.

Feeling yourself move forward, you open your eyes slowly to see Toji skating backwards gently, moving so quietly that he skates hardly made any noise against the frozen water. “Hey, you ready to go, baby?” there was that pet name again. That damn name that made your knees weak, an insignificant title that made you want to sink to your soft knees and devour his cock.

“Mhm” you hummed, following him as he made his way to the snow covered ground and pulled you up, helping you stand as he watched you sway tiredly - worn out from skating and probably talking the night before did not help any.

Once in the car, Toji had buckled you in and removed your skates, letting you sit cross legged on the heated leather seats. You watched Toji remove his own skates and put on his shoes before stepping into the car and reaching his hand out towards you. Heat rushed to your cheeks when your hands met, it was a simple act of love - one might even say domestic, and for a minute, yeah, you entertained the idea of being domestic with him. Of having a family with him. Of being his.

“You okay?” He asked and rubbed the skin of your knuckle with his thumb gently, putting the car in reverse with his other. Toji held your hand the rest of the drive, squeezing occasionally when you pointed something out.

“Okay, baby,” Toji parked in a shopping center and let you look around at the sea of snow covered cars and neon labeled writing that covered the illuminated buildings, “What’re you feelin’?”

Sitting up a tad straighter you scanned the buildings, looking for any place you could recognize before falling back against the heated seat. “M’ not really sure, I don’t recognize anything here Toji.” you yawned and leaned over the compartment to wrap your arm around his bicep, snuggling into him.

Toji cooed at your tenderness, patting your head and making the decision himself, pulling into a drive through and ordering something for himself and for you, deciding to get you two different things in case you favored the other.

You woke up to the smell of something spicy, rubbing your eyes before letting them focus on the ma sitting in the seat beside you. “Mornin’ to” you yawned, jumping lightly when he laughed through the mouthful of food.

“It’s seven P.M, baby cakes” Toji took another bite of food and then reached into the backseat to grab the separate bag of fruit and hand it to you gently. “I got you two things so you can choose which one you want.” he brought his hand to your head, pulling you towards him and placing a kiss on your temple and then went back to eating.

“Thankyou Toji.” you whispered, leaning against him as you ate and looked up through the windscreen of the car, watching the stars quietly. The soft hum of the engine mixed with the soft song playing on the radio built a warm feeling up in your belly. The feeling of home. Although you had only known Toji for a day, somehow you knew he was everything you needed. The perfect mix of dominance and parental guidance that made you look up at him like he was the only man in the entire world who mattered (scratch that) the only person who’s ever mattered.

“What’s up, baby?” he met your soft gaze. You smiled and leaned up to kiss him. Toji filled the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, short and sweet, nothing forced and nothing fake. It was reassuring.

The two of you went back to eating when you paused after your third bite, “Toji?” you asked and turned to him. “Yeah, baby?” he leaned back to rest his hands behind his head, watching you lovingly. You had him whipped and he knew it. He knew as soon as he heard your cries and soft meals for him through the thicket walls that he would do anything and everything to ensure you were happy and healthy and his.

“I want you to be my first.” so nonchalauntly said it almost made him blush, you spoke as if you were talking about the weather.

“You sure?” He querched an eyebrow at you to which your submissive nature returned, making you shrink away and lower your head.

“Yeah I’m sure.” you said and played with your food nervously. Toji smiled at you.

“Okay.”

The rest of the ride home was filled with soft comments and the soft sound of your knees bouncing nervously. At one point Toji had reached over to hold your thigh, slowing the rhythmic bouncing. “Calm down” he chuckled and rubbed your leg with his hand, “Don’t stress yourself out, I’m gonna take care of you.” he reassured you. Toji looked between you and the road, your face illuminated with a cherry light from the car lights surrounding you, “Hey, I’d rather have you do it with me than some dipshit who’s gonna fuck you and get you pregnant without caring about you.”

Your head turned to his, a worried expression painted your pretty features. “D-do boys actually do that?”

“Do what, baby?” he squeezed your hand and made a left turn, turning the wheel with his left hand smoothly.

“Try to get girls pregnant and then run away?” your bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Toji would have laughed at your naive nature, so easily bought by scary lines of abandonment. He knew you had abandonment issues; if the small tugs on his arms and adoring looks you gave him were any indication that you had trouble believing people (Toji) weren't going to leave you, stemming from some evil plant that had been rooted by most definitely someone you called a “father”.

“No, not all. But boys are idiots, I don’t want you hanging around any boys when you go back to school. They just wanna get their dicks wet.” Toji said, no room up to argue, as if you were going to.

“I won’t, I promise.” you were serious and Toji could tell. His precious baby, you were all his and he’d do whatever he could to protect you from the terrible monster spewed from the selfishness of teenage boy hormones and immaturity.

“I know baby, you’re my good girl, you’re daddy’s good girl.” the title made your legs quiver immediately, panties becoming soaked and thighs rubbing against each other, desperate for friction to ease the assault on your brain. The truck came to a stop at another intersection and Toji took the opportunity to press a kiss to your soft lips, pulling away and running his thumb across the bottom. He hummed at you and kissed you again, “Mhm, my sweet baby.”

“You’re so pretty” Toji praised, looking at you from between your spread thighs, your legs thrown over his shoulder as he pressed kisses to your panties, sucking on the damp spot of the fabric.

“Mmm, daddy, please.” you whined and reached a hand down to slip beneath your panties, your actions serving as pointless when Toji smacked your hand away.

“Please what?” he bit the inside of your thigh, sucking off your soft skin. You mewled at his touch, small fingers twisting the satin sheets generously. “Please touch me, I need you.”

Toji smiled at your neediness, sitting up a tad to pull your panties off and throw them behind him aimlessly. Bringing his mouth to your cunt he inhaled deeply and groaned, cupping your hips with his rough hands and bringing your body closer to him.

You exhaled shakily as he kissed your clit gently then moved down to lick a wide stripe up your core. You rushed to grab his head to steady yourself, thighs quivering as he groaned again when he inserted a finger.

“Fuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” he sucked your clit, his finger curling inside of you and stoking your gummy walls. “God, can’t wait to feel your tight little pussy on my cock, Jesus.” he exhaled deeply. “Gonna add another finger, kay, baby, you tell me if it's too much.” you looked up from your cunt, your juices coating his plush lips.

You nodded gently, spreading your legs a tad wider to accommodate toji’s new position. He pulled himself to sit on his knees, resting your cunt over his thighs. “Words for me, use your words for daddy.” he kissed your folds and you shivered.

“Yes daddy-”

“Promise me you’ll tell me if it hurts.” his eyes grew soft at your affectionate gaze.

“I promise, daddy.” you nodded and decided to act boldly, scooting yourself higher into his hold. Toji smirked through a chuckle before leaning down and inserting two fingers into you slowly. Wincing at the stretch Toji caressed your thigh with his hand holding you to him.

“I know, so good for daddy, just a little bit more baby.” he continued to praise you until both fingers were stuffed inside your tight cunt, threatening to split you if he tried to stretch them. “Oh honey, you’re so tight, that hurt?” he looked at you, concerned about his features.

You thought it over for a second, “Mm, a little bit, just a lil’ uncomfortable” hissing when he went to remove a finger, walls clenching emptily after benign stretched lightly.

“M’ sorry baby, daddy’s sorry, jus’ wanna make sure you're okay.” he rubbed the inside of your thigh and reentered his finger, sliding the two of them in and out of you with a squelch of your wet cunt. Toji watched as you squirm slightly, his fingers separating gently to stretch you. “So good for me baby, so good.”

Tears welled in your eyes at the praise, bringing your hand down to wrap around Toji’s wrist, he softened his movements. The two of you met each other's eyes and Toji smirked at your expression, eyes lidded hair stuck to your forehead. The way you looked at him with such trust made his heart swell, your swollen lips and rising chest, and the meteophicral hearts swimming in your vision could bring him to his knees.

He needed you and he fucking needed you now.

Toji grabbed a pillow and placed your hips over it, moving back to lean between your legs and press small kisses to your folds. “M’ you taste so good.” he wrapped his hands around your hips, caging you to the bed. His scarred lip tickling your skin when he sucked on your clit and reached his hand up towards you to hold yours in his own. He could tell you were close. Your legs twitched and he could feel your folds pulse and pump in his mouth.

“You’re okay.” he mumbled as your legs clenched as you came, nails digging into the rough flesh of his knuckle. His gruff voice muffled between your legs. Toji continued to lap at your soft cunt, his tongue flicking over your clit as he brought you closer to the edge.

A tight heat coiled in your belly, you tensed again and pulled your legs closer to your chest, toji following you as you moved, keeping a hand wrapped around your waist. He pulled off of you to smile, the scar on his lip splitting - the sight was almost painful to look at. Toji’s fingers pinched your clit while he watched you moan.

Throwing your head back against the fur pillow and tightening your grip around Toji’s wrist you came. “Oh- oh, please I’m cumming.” your walls pulsed around his digits, pussy soaking his mouth.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for daddy huh” Toji smirked against your cunt, licking your wet folds before moving away to kiss up the inside of your thighs and up your leg that sat on his shoulder. He sat up onto his knees to kiss your ankle, rubbing your calf as you panted. “So pretty, baby.” he kissed your ankle again then moved to rest his hands on either side of your shoulders.

Toji brought his head down to snuzzle your neck, kissing the junction between your collarbone and neck, pressing short and small kisses all the way up your jaw until he met your parted lips. He pressed his lips to yours, cupping your head with one of his hands while the other moved down to part your folds again.

“Think you’re ready for daddy?” he pecked your lips. You nodded and whined lightly as he moved back to cup the bulge in his sweatpants. You moaned at the sight, you pushed yourself onto your elbows and crawled over to him.

He watched you eye his bulge, his cock twitching as your head tilted upwards, eyes meeting his own. You looked so innocent - so easy to ruin. You looked between him and his bulge, jaw opening and closing like a gaping fish. “C-can I touch..” you whispered, embarrassed at your own insinuation that you most definitely wanted this man’s cock inside of you.

Toji chuckled and leaned down to pet your head, he kissed your forehead and nodded when your expression grew into one of frustration at the lack of answer. “Yeah, baby, you wanna touch daddy’s cock?” he tilted his head to watch you turn bashfully making him laugh, pulling down the hem of his sweatpants through his chuckle.

His cock sprung up to tap his abdomen and drool pooled in your mouth, you moved to take him into your mouth, Toji’s hand coming up to press against your forehead, stopping you in the process. You looked up to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Daddy’s okay, I’ll teach you how to suck dick another day, kay baby?” he stroked the back of your head. His words were almost condescending, treating you as though you didn’t know any better, as though you were too incapable of doing things on your own. Toji didn't think so though, Toji saw this as his way to own you completely, riot your brain of everything you knew and mold you into a submissive little puppy - mold you into something entirely perfect and special, hidden from the sinful acts of civilization.

“Daddy,” you whined, pawing at his thigh, staring at his cock had begun tortures; memorizing the thin veins that ran up the underside and his pretty pink tip. Daddy’s cock is pretty you thought to yourself.

He hadn't even noticed he’d begun to stare off.

Toji blinked and made a smile at you, holding your jaw in his hand and kissing you roughly, “Daddy’s here.” he pulled off to look behind you at the bed, pushing you back till you were laying on your back, arms reaching up for him.

Positioning himself between your legs, he hiked one thigh over his arm, pressing your knee to your chest. You placed your hands on his biceps, rubbing his skin as a means to comfort yourself as you watched him tug on his cock, precum leaking from the tip.

You made a nervous whimper at the feeling of his tip pressing against your folds. Toji kissed you and stroked the skin of your hip gently. “Shh… kiss daddy’s gonna go slow kay?” he waited for you to nod before slowly pushing his tip in.

You cried out and pushed against his belly, trying to slow him down, “Too much daddy!” tears already fell down your soft cheeks making Toji’s eyes soften. He brought himself down to rest on his forearms, bringing his hands to either side of your face and cupping it as you sobbed.

“Honey, calm down,” he spoke gently, thumbing your tears away “it’s only just the tip, baby”

You closed your mouth and screwed your eyes shut, trying to get used to the stretch only to shake your head when it wasn’t working. “Too big, daddy,” you wailed and brought your hands up to cup his wrists.

“Baby.” he cooed “focus on daddy for me baby” he pulled out a small bit to let you calm down. You slowly opened your eyes, vision blurred with salty tears as you tried to make out his face.

“Daddy you have to go slow.” you cried, bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes which Toji pulled away, leaning down to kiss your eyelids gently and pulling back to place a peck on your swollen lips.

He cooed again, “I know baby, daddy’s sorry, he was going too fast.” you nodded at his words and he nodded back, smiling when you began to breathe normally again, taking deep inhales through your lips. “That’s my girl, deep breaths, kay?” you continued to breathe until you squirmed a bit underneath him. “Where you goin baby?” Toji asked, head tucked into your neck where he’d been pressing gentle kisses.

“Wanna try again.” you met his eyes when he came back up, “I can do it daddy, just go slow.” you reassured him when his eyebrow quirked.

“Okay, daddy’s gonna so slow, you tell him if it gets to be too much okay?” he kissed both of your cheeks and you nodded, your features filling with excitement in hopes of making your daddy proud. Toji noticed your excitement, of course, and laughed lightly, “Calm down, squirt, we still gotta take it slow. Daddy doesn’t wanna hurt you.”

You nodded enthusiastically and grabbed his biceps again, bracing yourself for the stretch and wincing when he pushed in again. Toji watched your soft expression grow screwed and stopped, “Take a breath, baby.”

You gasped loudly, showing Toji that you were in fact breathing which earned you a smile at your exaggerated breaths. Toji took your moment of distraction to push himself in a bit more, making your smile break into a gasp, nails gripping his skin roughly.

“So good, for me, see almost done” he tucked your head to look between the two of you; the sight of his girth splitting you open making your walls flutter and soak hsi cock, pulling him into you more.

Toji’s jaw dropped at the clench of you walls, you were so fucking tight - and he wasn’t even all the way in - “Oh, fuuuck,” he chuckled breathlessly, readjusting himself to support his weight on one of his hands, “easy, kid, god.”

“M’ sorry” your eyes welled up, thinking you were hurting him you went to move only to be stopped by him keeping you in place.

“No,” he chuckled “No- just- just god, haha” he took a few breaths, bringing a hand down to massage your clit, hoping you’d loosen up because at the rate you were going right now, he was gonna cum right when he was fully inside you. “Jesus, kid, you’re gonna be the death of me.” he said through gritted teeth.

Toji continued to push himself in, your body shivering and leg quivering over his arm as he met your hymen, tapping it lightly with the tip of his cock making you wince. “There she is.” Toji looked down between your bodies, seeing how much more you had to take he gulped and turned his head back up to see your worried expression.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m still gonna go slow, baby, daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.” the two of you waited for a moment, his cock pulsing inside your tight cunt as you took deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself. Toji took the time to appreciate your features; your furrowed brows as you concentrated on the size of him, your long eyelashes stuck together by tears, your soft skin and plump cheeks that made him want to wrap you up in his arms and snuggle you. “You okay, baby?” you nodded “You want daddy to try moving?” he asked and kissed you.

“Yes daddy, I just- I need help.” you looked to him for guidance and guidance he provided. Toji thought for a second before taking your smaller hand in his large one and pulling it down to his cock, letting you wrap your small hand around the girth that hadn’t entered you yet.

“Good girl,” Toji muttered, watching you feel around his cock, exploring the touch and texture of it, “Now, daddy’s gonna push in and if it gets to be too much for you I want you to press against me.” he informed you and you nodded, heart speeding up at the pulse under the skin of his cock. “You ready?” nodding you moved your arm to his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him.

Toji pushed in gently, your hymen splitting, a broken cry muffled by Toji’s mouth, your hand made no move of stopping him but he slowed to a near stop for your sake, stroking your wrist with his hand and pressing kisses over your tears.

“You okay, sweetie?” he pulled back, stroking the back of your head.

“Yeah, m’okay, jus’ hurts a bit.” you sniffled

“I know, kid, you’re being’ so good for me, so good for daddy.” he kisses your nose and lets you relax, running his hands over any part of your body he could reach, slowly kissing you and allowing you to grow accustomed to his size.

“I’m okay now daddy, c-can you move, but be gentle please, like- like slow?” you said softly, taking your hand off his length to hold his forearm.

“Of course, baby.” Toji nodded and pulled out a bit before slowly pushing himself back in. He watched your expression clench up, having difficulty in taking his length; he tried a few more practice thrusts before realizing your body was tense and making it difficult for you to fully let him move without hurting you. “Baby, relax.” he sat up onto his haunches and pulled you closer to him. Your legs were placed over his shoulders as he pressed your body into a mating press, forcing your body to relax in surprise of all of his cock sinking into your tight cunt making him groan.

“Oh jesus, you’re so fucking tight, baby - haha, god, you’re all mine, god you feel so good.” he praised, head coming to tuck into your neck. He pressed small kisses to your skin while he groaned.

“Mm daddy, please,” your legs tensed when his cock twitched slightly. There was hardly any room for him, his cock was pressed against your cervix, your squirming not helping to ease the cramped feeling.

“I gotcha’, kid.” he pulled out and thrusted back in, this time you moaned and threw your head back against the fur pillows. You felt so fucking full. “Fuck, daddy.” you cried, turning your head upwards to watch him to see his focused yet blissed expression.

“Yeah, sweetie?” he chuckled, thrusting deeply inside you, his balls slapped your skin, the sound was damn near pornographic, the weight of his cock made you moan. “Oh, that feels good, does my baby feel good?” he teased at your expression, drool trailing from your mouth.

You nodded enthusiastically and moved to hold him closer, your legs bending against his shoulders to press him further inside you. “Daddy - whine - daddy, please all the way inside.” you pleaded and Toji looked at you worriedly.

“Okay, sweetie, relax for me.” he readjusted your legs higher on his shoulders and sank all the way into you, two of you gasping when his balls met your folds. “Jesus.” Toji shivered and pulled back to thrust into you again.

Toji continued to thrust into you, hitting your cervix and making you moan and clench around him, the heat and tightness of your pussy making him groan. He needed to get you to come. “C’mon sweetie, you’re so pretty for me, so. thrust. damn. Thrust. Good.” he brought a hand down to your clit and began to circle it gently, the rough pad of his finger bringing you closer.

“Oh fuck, daddy!” you moaned, “Daddy, m’ gonna cum, m’ gonna cum.” you cried.

Toji groaned and leaned down to kiss you, “cum for me sweet girl, want daddy to fill you up? Give you a baby?” he smirked at your expression, fucked coompletely stupid.

“Daddy please, please fill me up.” you moaned, the need to be bred was making your head spin. Thoughts of being swollen with his child and carrying his baby for him made your knees weak.

“Okay, kid, daddy’s cummin’ c’mon.” he said through clenched teeth, pressing your legs deeper against your chest causing you to cum. Your jaw dropped and you gasped, pulling yourself closer to Toji as you came.

Toji leaned into your hold, shivering as he bucked his hips into you, your gummy walls pulsed around him, milking his cock as cum painted your walls. He swore you were going to kill him. “God, you’re all mine, kid, all fucking mine. He finished thrusting and pushed himself all the way into the hilt, assuring his seed took before pulling out and falling beside you.

You sat staring at the ceiling, looking for something to ground yourself with as your body shook. Eyes coming to focus on the iron chandelier you felt tears well up in your eyes and pour down your cheeks. Suddenly everything was too much and not enough, you needed more of him, you needed him to tell you everything was okay, to tell you he wasn’t going to leave his multi-million dollar cabin after fucking you ti’ll you were braindead, your mind scrambled to find some logical thought, grasping at the scariest one it could find until you could feel the anxiety rotting in your stomach.

Toji heard you sniffle and turned over to see you covering your face with your hands, chest heaving as tears ran down your cheeks. “Baby, baby, baby, what’s wrong?” he moved to pull you into his arms, spooning you and grounding you with his weight. “Are you hurt, honey, what’s going on?” he kissed the back of your head. Hsi touch made you cry harder, “c’mon, kid, talk to me.” he pleaded and brought his hand over your body to cup your face.

“Please -” you choked, turning over to meet his eyes, “Please don’t leave me, don’t - I can’t, I wan’t-” you were panicking, unable to get the words out as word vomit spilled form your swollen lips aimlessly.

Toji tried to make sense of your rambling, ‘shushing’ you and pulling you against his chest. “M’ not leaving a sweet thing.” he kissed the top of your head. “Remember how I told you I didn’t want you hanging around those boys? Is that what this is about?” he pulled your head back from his chest to look at you, stroking your cheek gently.

You thought for a moment and considered that those scary stories Toji told you about the mean boys and their inability to be mature probably put you on edge. “Maybe” you sniffled.

Toji chuckled lightly, “Baby, I’m not gonna leave you.” he tucked you back against his chest before rolling over and letting you lay against him. “Shh, sweetie, relax.” he cooed as he felt your back heave with heavy sniffles.

Trying to slow your breathing you snuggled against his body, relaxing to the touch of him running his hand up and down your back comfortingly. You turned to him as you felt your eyes get heavy, “Toji?” you sniffled.

“Yeah, kid?” he asked, eyes closed yet his hand continued to run up and down your skin.

“Thankyou.” you said softly.

Toji peaked one eye open, “C’mere.” he brought his arm up to make room for you, letting you lay down next to him before wrapping you in his hold under the heavy fur blanket. “You’re a good kid y/n.” he kissed your forehead.

You hummed to yourself, relaxing into his hold and falling asleep to the sound of his heart.

The next morning Toji sent you to shower, letting you have your own privacy as you scrubbed the blood from between your thighs and watched the clear water that ran over the pearly white tiles turn a pink hue.

Once you were finished and dressed yourself in a pair of pj’s, you made your way downstairs, lured into the kitchen by the smell of bacon and syrup much like the morning before. Toji was sitting at the bar with a coffee cup in his hand and his phone in the other.

Noticing you enter the room he motioned for you to come over to him, letting you stand between his legs as he sat on the stool. “How’d you sleep, baby?” you stroked your head gently.

“Mm, good.” you yawned and rubbed your eyes to which Toji pulled your hand away from your face again.

“How many times I gotta tell you to stop doing’ that shit with your eyes?” You smiled sheepishly before wrapping your arms around him in a hug to which he returned, resting his chin atop your head.

“Forever.” you joked and Toji laughed, you smiled as you felt it vibrate through his body.

“Breakfast is ready.” Tsumiki said through a smile and placed two plates down at the bar, one for you and one for Toji before going back to make her own plate.

“C’mere, sweet thing.” Toji spread his legs and helped you up into his lap. Letting you rest against his chest as he brought your plate over next to his and began to feed you. It was a simple thing, the act of feeding someone you love, but it was a small act of domesticity that warms your heart. It made you and Toji’s relationship seem years old, as he kissed your temple and took a bite of his own food you smiled to yourself.

“What are you thinking about?” Toji teased and flicked your forehead.

“You.” you answered honestly, snuggling into him.

Toji smiled and placed a hand on your head before bringing another fork of food to your mouth, “Yeah, I’m thinkin’ about you too.”

Toji fed you another bite as Megumi made his way into the kitchen. You waved to him and smiled with a mouthful of food, Megumi chuckled at you, his shoulders bouncing.

He made his own plate and went to sit down with Tsumiki. The four of you ate in silence, save for snide comments made here and there by Toji or soft pet names he would whisper to you as you took another bite.

"Are we gonna go to the gondola today?" He pulled the string off his hoodie mindlessly and he munched on a piece of bacon.

Toji looked back at his son before turning to you and stroking the back of your head softly, "How's that sound, baby?"

You nodded your head and brought a hand up to cover your mouth, "sounds fun to me, I wanna see the mountains and play in the snow."

Toji smiled at your excitement and kissed your temple. The rest of the breakfast was filled with far more normalcy rather than tension, son and father making jokes while Tsumiki and you spoke about silly little things.

"You ready to go, kid?" Toji yelled from the bottom of the steps. He wore a black jacket made of PU leather and cotton fabric, snow pants, a pair of leather snow boots.

Bouncing down the steps in your moon boots you squealed happily, "Yes, I'm so excited!"

Toji chuckled and ruffled your hair once you made it to the bottom of the steps, "Careful, baby." He scolded lightly and you shook your head, removing his large hand from your hair.

"I wanna go!" You said gleefully and ran to the door and out into the icy air, Toji following behind, his bag in one hand and truck keys in the other.

You crouched down in the small amount of piled snow that had built up over night, grabbing a stick and poking at it happily as Toji started the F150 and placed his bags in the back.

Suddenly two hand grabbed your waist making you squeal and thrash around, "Toji!'' You giggled and he laughed, kissing your neck playfully. Toji carried you to the passanger seat of the truck and placed you in the seat, helping strap you in and then kissing your nose.

Toji made his way to the driver's seat and sat down, heated up the seats and started the engine before typing in the directions to the gondola. "You ready to go see some mountains, sweet cheeks?" He laid his hand out across the compartment signaling he wanted you to take his hand.

Placing your hand in his, you looped your fingers together and leaned forward to kiss him on his lips. "Yes!" You chirped and grabbed his phone to turn on some music.

Toji smiled at your music choice and rubbed the faux fur of your glove gently as he drove down the trail. He was happy.

[katsukikiss]

I FUCKIN HATE YOU

CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP // MINORS DNI // EREN X F!READER

Warnings: NSFW 18+, fingering, unprotected sex, alcohol use, noncon touching(ish), hate fucking?, creampie m, idk what else

AN: This is a collab for @bordemm bunny’s rager! It had to fit the theme/vibe of a song and mine was ‘IFHY’ by Tyler the Creator! Give it a listen when you’re about halfway through!

Big thanks to @morelikebaku-no for beta reading this for me!

WC: 5.2K

Masterlist

How did you two get to this point? Why did you hate each other? He would always shove you into walls when you got too close to him and you’d slap him across the arm in retaliation. He would mock how eager you were to please and achieve on missions, and you’d scoff at his selfishness. You threw insults and jabs back and forth whenever you two were near, which wasn’t too often anymore. Although, you weren’t the one who started this all. He used to be so nice, asking you if you needed help, giving you his food, riding your horses side by side. You were both so fond of one another, a bond you had shared since childhood. You thought you might’ve even loved him, but something snapped in Eren one day. You couldn’t understand why he changed so much after that day.

Eren remembered the day perfectly. You both got ready that morning before you set off for what would be a horrible evening. Your squad had a relatively easy mission to complete, but something felt off to you. Eren rested a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that everything would be okay, and that he’d protect you. He always stuck close to you on these missions, fearing that he’d lose you like he lost everyone else.

You set off on horseback together. You were a skilled cadet, well seasoned in using your ODM gear. Eren hated when you’d get cocky and push yourself too far, but thats why he stuck so close, but not this time. Levi sent you and Jean forward in a group of two, despite Erens pleas to be paired up with you. You shot him a reassuring smile before you and Jean pushed forward and to the right. Eren had to stay in the center with Levi and Armin, his eyes trailing off to watch you descend further away from him.

You and Jean easily took out five abnormals, you killing three and him taking out the other two. You were in a state of euphoria, zipping through the trees. Jean admired your strength and confidence, but they all still saw you as someone that needed protecting, and it royally pissed you off. You slung off to the left, Jean quickly losing sight of you.

“Y/N! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING?!” he howled out to you. He swiftly maneuvered around to try and follow you. Then he heard you scream.

Your blood curdling screams echoed through the forest. ‘T-Thats y/n’ Eren thought to himself.

“EREN WAIT!” Armin loudly pleaded, but Eren was gone, slashing his way through the trees to where your voice came from. Rage was radiating through his body, how could Jean have lost you, let you get hurt. He swore he was going to beat him half to death for letting something happen to you. He moved at an inhuman speed, frantically looking around for where you might be. Then he saw a 15 meter titan, with a tight grasp on you and your neck. Blood was dripping from your nose and lips, you lacked the ability to scream anymore.

Without thinking, Eren transformed. It was dangerous for him to go into his titan form, with you so close and vulnerable, but his body acted on its own will. He lunged at the titan, his mouth clamping hard onto the arm in which you were trapped in. The arm came tumbling to the ground, with you hurdling down with it. Eren was too blinded by rage that he failed to realize you were about to splatter on the ground. He continued to thrash at the titan that once held you. You looked down and your eyes filled with fear. Why wasn't he going to catch you? Suddenly you heard quick sipping noises and you were caught by Jean. He glanced down at you nervously, his breath heaving. He perched up onto a large branch and sat you down against the trunk of the tree.

“Oh my god y/n are you okay?!” he asked in a panicky breath, cupping your face in his calloused hands. You shook as you looked over his shoulder to see Eren still on a rampage, but now he was running towards you two. You lifted a quivering finger to point to him, your throat bruised and unable to form words, and Jean quickly turned his head. A large hand was coming down at you two. Jean scooped you up and slung the two of you away as the branch snapped. Eren let out a shrieking scream that sent shivers down both of your spines. Jean never let up his tight grasp on you as he navigated his way through the forest, trying to get as far away as possible. Eren hadn’t lost control in so long, and now he was trying to kill you.

You got back to the rest of the squad, and Jean explained what had happened. Armin, Mikasa and Levi all went back into the forest to find Eren. He was in a clearing, sticking out of the nape of his now disintegrating titan form, sobbing uncontrollably. They approached him with caution. He hysterically screamed at them, “I'M A MONSTER, I ALMOST KILLED HER!”

You had spent three months in the infirmary, healing from the broken arm and bruised windpipe you had suffered. Everyone came to visit you regularly, except Eren. He never came by to see you, and shuddered when Armin finally recommended that he should.

“I dont want to fucking see her” he muttered under his breath. Armin stopped speaking, not wanting to push his friend over the edge again. You were finally strong enough to go back to your own room, eat in the dining halls, and train. Much to your dismay, Levi wasn’t going to put you back on missions for awhile.

Your first day back in the dining hall, everyone beamed a smile at you.

“Hey y/n! Why dont you come sit over here?” Jean shouted to you. You smiled and looked away, opting for your usual table instead. You made your way to Armin, Mikasa and Eren with your tray. You plopped your tray down and scooted your way over to Eren. His head was low until you sat down. He looked up at you with anger in his eyes.

He was never angry at you, but at himself. He feared being anywhere near you. You almost died at his hands and he could never forgive himself for that. You were so sweet, never once holding a grudge for what happened that day. He hated how forgiving you were, it made it all so much harder. He made a promise to himself that he needed to stay away from you, make you hate him if it meant you’d be safe.

“Long time no see Eren!” you exclaimed. Mikasa and Armin both looked at Eren anxiously. He slammed his fist on the table, standing up and walking away.

“What's his problem?” you asked the other two who were looking at you with doe eyed expressions.

“Not sure, but I think it's best if you keep your distance for a little okay y/n?” Armin said in an apologetic tone. He could see the pain and worry twist its way into your face. ‘What did I do wrong?’ you asked yourself. Tears flooded down your face as you ran out of the dining hall back into your room. You told yourself this wouldn’t last long and things would be back to normal but you were so wrong.

Six months later and now you and Eren thoroughly hated one another. You couldn’t take his insults and cold shoulder anymore so you threw it back at him, making the divide between you two grow larger with every passing day. You let your feelings from before the mission drift away and all you were left with was resentment and anger. You never understood why he turned so cold but you didn’t care to figure it out anymore, he never wanted to be around you and that was it. But little did you know, someone else had really convinced him to stay away from you. He wanted to try and talk to you one day but Mikasa coerced him out of it, telling him that it would make things worse and that he would only end up hurting you again. He believed her and vowed to stay away from you.

It was a crisp Saturday evening. The regiment was going to be drinking and celebrating a successful mission outside together later that night, even Levi and Erwin would be attending. You made your way over to Sasha’s room to talk and get ready. It was nice to finally have a day to let loose and have fun. You and Sasha decided to take some sheers to old shirts and create sexy twist tops; neither of you had attire for a night out like this. You took an old black t-shirt of Erens that he had given to you one night, looking at it you felt a pang in your heart, before you shook it away and began to cut. You twisted it in the middle, giving your breasts little fabric hammocks to rest in. You pulled the straps up and over your shoulder. You shoved yourself into some high waisted jeans before heading out with Sasha.

It was a lively sight. People hugging and laughing, ignoring the horrible world they lived in for a while. Connie waved you and Sasha over to him and Jean who were seated around a high table. You jumped up onto a stool between the two boys and across from your friend. Jean had a pitcher of beer on the table and four glasses for you all. You finished three pitchers all together in the matter of 30 minutes, talking and cracking jokes the whole time.

You looked around and spotted Armin red faced, blabbering off to Commander Erwin, whose face was also flushed red from the alcohol he had consumed. It was a pleasant surprise that made you smile, seeing the two blonde men letting loose for a bit. Then you saw Eren and Mikasa, sitting at a table together getting belligerently drunk. You were never jealous of her, he always told you she was like a sister to him, but then you shook your head. ‘What? Why would I even be jealous anyway…’ you looked away from the pair, cursing at yourself for even feeling that way. ‘He hates you, you hate him’ you reminded yourself.

Your attention was snapped back when Connie placed four shots onto the table. You were no stranger to drinking, you actually really enjoyed it; maybe too much. You all nodded, tapping your shots down on the table, bringing them up, clanging them all together, then slamming them back onto the table before throwing the clear alcohol back into your mouths. Sasha groaned at the foul taste, begging Connie to go get some food with her to wash it out of her mouth. They headed off towards a table of food, leaving you and Jean alone. You looked back over at Eren, but he and Mikasa were both gone. Your mind started racing, but you kept your calm on the outside. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision a bit distorted, but your words still came out presentable. Jean laughed, he watched you sway in your seat before gripping tightly onto the table almost falling.

“You alright pretty girl?” Jean asked in a flirty voice. He was always super kind to you, especially after the accident, but he also learned not to baby you anymore after that. Sure, he was mad you ran off on your own, but he understood why you did that in the moment, you felt like you needed to prove something. You didn’t mind him taking a coy tone with you tonight.

“Oh yeahh don't worry about me” you said, dragging your words a bit in a teasing voice. You winked at him and he blushed. You were typically sarcastic when Jean flirted with you but not now. He was cute, maybe not ideal but you can’t be that picky when you weren’t dealt a great hand in the Scouts. He slid his hand across the table and grabbed onto yours gently. You looked up at him with a wide eyed, innocent look on your face. You looked to the side to see if Eren came back around, but to your frustration he was still nowhere to be found. You looked back at Jean.

“You know, I’ve always thought you were so beautiful y/n” he confesses, his grip on your hand tightening. You probably would have blushed under normal circumstances, but your drunken state left you smirking at him with an insatiable gleam in your eyes.

“So why don’t we…” your voice trailing off, you nodded your head to the side, signaling to Jean that you wanted to ditch the party and be alone. His entire face flushed red and his pupils dilated. He was so eager to finally have you to himself. He stood up briskly as did you. He held onto your hand, walking forward without saying a word to you. You started to feel a bit intimidated by the tall handsome man as he led you away from the crowd and into the dark of the night. But someone was watching you two, never stopped watching.

He pushed you up against the stables and began ravenously kissing at your neck and squeezing at your breast. Being touched deprived and drunk made you moan at his every touch.

“You look fucking incredible in this shirt” he huffed out. His lips came back to yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth. He started to move his hand lower and lower. You started to get nervous, you didn’t want to go this far, you weren’t ready to. You grabbed at his arm and whimpered out, “I-I don’t wanna do that right now, okay?” Jean kept moving his hands down. You weren’t sure if maybe he didn’t hear you or was too drunk or was just flat out ignoring you. Then his hand was forcefully pulled out of your pants as he fell backwards into the ground.

“Get the fuck off of her and get out of here. Now” Eren demanded in a fierce tone. He was standing above Jean, looking down at him. Any haziness you had in your head was washed away when you saw the scene unfold in front of you. Jean scrambled to get to his feet before looking Eren right in the eye.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he challenged. Eren was seething with anger. They both burned holes into each other's eyes. You didn’t want to see anyone get hurt because of you, so you spoke up.

“Jean, it's okay, I'm okay, I’ll catch up with you later okay?” you tried to reassure him. He looked at you confused then back at Eren with a grimace before turning away from the two of you.

“Alright whatever” he groaned, disappointed. You looked at the man in front of you for a second, before you lazily lunged at him with a fist. You were so angry and emotional when you saw him leave. Your coordination still wasn’t functioning at its best, he easily dodged and grabbed your wrist.

“What the fuck were you doing back here? Was he trying to..?” he manically questioned before letting go of his grasp on your arm. You were surprised to see how riled up he was over seeing you with Jean. You decided to push your luck.

“Why do you care Eren? And yeah, we were going to fuck until you came and ruined it” you spat at him.

“I heard you y/n, and I saw him ignore you. Don't play tough when I know you aren’t” he hissed back at you.

“What is wrong with you? Why were you watching us, you freak? Weren’t you off fucking Mikasa?” you sneered at him. You were embarrassed that he caught you lying, but even more embarrassed that he watched Jean touch all over you.

“You should be grateful I was here, who knows what we would’ve done” he answered, ignoring your comment about Mikasa. It gave him pleasure knowing you still cared a bit, that maybe you were even jealous.

“Grateful? I have no reason to be thanking you, I can handle myself just fine now leave me alone” you said, shoving your way past him. He grabbed your arm and yanked you back.

“What the fuck Eren. Get off of me…don’t you have another girl to harass?” you scoffed at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he stated in a shadowy tone.

“Don’t play dumb, you and Mikasa left together”

“We didn’t..but why do you care hm?” he asked, slightly smirking. He was lying, but he didn’t want you to know that just yet.

“I don’t give a shit, fuck whoever you want but don’t ruin my sex life too”

“I actually never left the party”

“Yes you did”

“Maybe you didn’t see me, but I was there, watching you,” he confessed.

“Eren what the fuck” you said, afflicted by what he had just said. Over the last year he spent everyday avoiding you, your gaze, your touch, and when you were around he was nothing short of evil to you. But here he was, hands on your wrists, having the longest conversation you two had ever had since the mission. You felt your emotions being pulled in every direction. ‘He still cares. He hates you. He’s an asshole. Does he miss you?’ You couldn’t figure out what to think, but one thing you knew was that you couldn’t forgive him for the way he had treated you.

“I don’t know why you were watching over me, or why you’re even talking to me right now, but I want to leave. I don’t want anything to do with you” you stammered. It wasn’t entirely true. You missed him so much, but that was the old him. You don’t even know who you’re looking at anymore.

“Y/n, I know that isn’t true” he said, inching closer to you. You could smell alcohol on his breath and the scent made you dizzy. You backed up, trying to pull your hands from his grip but it was of no use. Your back was up against the wood of the stables.

“I've missed you so much, you have no idea” he remarked, with a hint of sadness in his voice. You looked up at Eren, finally locking eyes with him. You hadn’t looked him in the eyes in so long. Despite everything, his eyes were the same as you remembered. They looked at you sympathetically, with love and tenderness, the way he used to. However, your fleeting moment of empathy turned quickly back into anger

“How could you?! How could you just cut me out of your life, treat me like a fucking stranger? And you have the audacity to pull this little stunt! ” you screamed at him, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I-Im sorry, I-“ he was cut off by your hand sharply smacking him across the face. He stumbled back and away from you.

“Get the fuck away from me. You don’t get to just walk back into my life, no, fuck that and fuck you” you refuted. Your reply hit him harder than the slap. He couldn’t let you go, never again. The brief compassion he had was gone. He was done trying to be gentle, you had awakened something that had lied dormant for months. He spent so long trying to stay away from you, his thoughts tormenting him, but you were different now. He was going to go easy on you, slowly open up to you to see if you could accept him into your life again, but it seemed he couldn’t take that approach anymore. He slammed you back into the side of the stable, trapping your arms behind your back and gripped your jaw with one large hand.

“I did that all for you. You don’t know how hard it was for me to be mean to you, to stay away from you. But here you are, and I'm not going to hold back anymore” he revealed with a low predatory voice, sending an aching chill to your core. He slipped his free hand under your little makeshift shirt and ferociously clutched at your breast. He aggressively pressed his lips against yours, his heart fluttering as he finally felt your soft pretty lips against his own. A low whine vibrated in your throat. You wanted to be stronger, to push him away from you but your resolve crumbled.

“I don’t want to see you around Jean or any other guy here, do you understand me?” Eren murmured, his throat rasping with the low tone he took.

‘Excuse me, what did he just say?’ You couldn’t just take orders from him, not after all he put you through. You snapped out of the trance he had you under. You looked at him with scalding eyes and spit onto his face. It was risky, but you weren’t thinking straight. Again, you were conflicted between screaming at him or accepting him, hating him or loving him. He looked down at the dirt and slowly dragged his hand across his face, wiping your saliva from his cheek. He creeped his head back up, his vile look tormenting you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are Eren? Trying to tell me what to do with my body? Fuck off” you hissed back at him. You tried to move away from him but his hand was encasing your fragile throat.

“I know you miss me baby, I know you want to let me back in, but you have too much pride, you were always too stubborn. Let me show you what you’re missing” he muttered. You wanted him to be wrong but he was so right. You desperately wanted to forgive him and bring everything back to the way it used to be. His free hand unzipped your tight jeans and tugged them down to the ground. His thick digits started to rub against your folds through your pink lace panties. His other hand moved from your neck to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. He bit and sucked at the tender flesh of your neck, leaving little territorial marks all over you. Your lips parted to let out soft mewls. The last few months suddenly flashed before you, bringing anger back to the forefront of your mind.

“I h-hate you!” you screamed. Despite enjoying the way he was making you feel, you still had so much to let out.

“Don’t say that” he growled. His hands were under the fabric of your panties now, two fingers pumping in and out of you. His thumb reached around to swirl erotic circles on your sensitive nub.

“I mean it” you softly moaned out.

“No babygirl, you don’t. You can’t lie to me” He cooed into your ear. His fingers pace inside you abruptly quickened causing you to let out a pleasurable cry. Something about this new Eren was making your mind go crazy, he had an intense hunger for you and a depraved way of fulfilling it.

“Come back to me y/n, let's start over” he groaned into your ear, and you had a feeling he wasn’t suggesting that, but rather demanding. He tried to reach for your hand.

He desperately wanted you to touch him. You held your arms behind your back the entire time, by choice. You didn’t want to make him feel good, you didn’t want to feel his body, his face, his hair, or you knew you’d completely come undone.

“N-no Eren” you stammered. You were pushing his buttons, seeing how far you could go, how much he could take. He was starting to get angrier, revealing his deep sinful nature. He flicked his two fingers up, hitting your spongy spot every time they prodded back into you. His talented digits made your chest rise and fall quickly, letting short strained breaths and cries out.

“Wrong answer. You don’t get a choice. You will be mine” he demanded. Just as these words left his mouth your walls began to involuntarily clench around his fingers, your juices releasing all over them. You scraped your nails into the wood behind you, desperately trying to offer yourself some comfort. His possessive words should be scaring you, making you uncomfortable, but they only make you long for him more. Something about his controlling nature was truly intoxicating.

“I knew it, you do miss me, don’t you babygirl? I knew I should’ve done this earlier” he insinuated, a shameless smile creeping up on his face. He pulled his fingers out of your sobbing hole and brought them up to his mouth. He lolled his tongue out and slowly dragged his fingers down, savoring your sweet taste. You watched him in the lewd act, but thought about his words for a moment. ‘I knew I should’ve done this earlier’ you want to ask him what he meant but before you could speak his mouth was on yours, lips meeting once again. He gave you a wet kiss before pulling away to look at you. He pet your face and swept your wet strands of hair off your sweating forehead. Even all hot and messy, you still looked so adorable to him.

“Please baby, I can’t take it anymore. Put your arms around me” he begged. You gave the slightest nod of disapproval, pissing him off again.

“When I try to ask nicely you refuse. What is it with you?” he scowled at you. He yanked your arms from behind your back, making you yelp. He put them on his shoulders and pressed his body flush to yours. You stopped trying to fight his advances, wrapping one hand behind his neck and the other snaked through his hair.

His clothed bulge was firmly pressed against your exposed cunt. You began to buck your hips forward into him, forcing a low moan to escape his lips. He placed his hands on your thighs and hoisted them up and around his waist. You continued to kiss and explore each other's mouths with your tongues. You twirled yours around his, as if they were always meant to dance with one another.

He picked up your pants and carried you a few over to a shed. He kicked the door open, removed a hand from your ass to pull a light on. You looked and saw an old steel table with miscellaneous tools and blueprints all over it. Eren used a hand to shove everything to the side and sat you down. He stood between your legs, your neck angled painfully high to kiss the man towering above you. His hands moved down to his crotch as he meticulously unbuttoned his slacks. His throbbing member sprung from his boxers as he lowered them down his legs. Your mind was racing as you thought about what was actually happening. He pressed his cock against your needy hot cunt, sweeping through your puffy lips with it. All inhibition left your body from the touch. You pulled him close to you, the heat radiating between your legs.

“Fuck me Eren, please” you begged him. Your words made his blood hot.

“About time” he groaned. He aligned his cock with your tight entrance. He firmly grabbed your ass cheeks as he slowly advanced himself into your sobbing cunt. Your walls clung onto his swollen tip. He bucked his hips before completing bottoming out inside of you, gently grazing your cervix. His thrusts turned into brutal ramming, the entire table shaking with ever hard pound into you. Your lower stomach was bulging with every assault, your head hanging back from the feeling.

“Do you still hate me now?” he spat at you. His eyes transfixed on your bouncing tits. You couldn’t think straight, the pleasure of his cock hitting you in all the right places scrambled your brain.

“N-No no Eren fu-uck just fuck me, faster please!” you squealed out. He was already savagely slamming into you, but he answered your calls and quickened his pace. He grabbed you by the neck, forcing your head forward to look into his eyes.

“Tell me, tell me you’re mine” he whined into your ear. His eyes looked primal, as if he would devour you if you didn’t answer him correctly. You could tell he was close, his thrusts were getting sloppier and all he could do was let out husky breaths and little moans.

“Ah fuck I’m all yours Eren!” you cried out.

“ONLY mine”

“Y-yess ONLY yours”

Your legs wrapped around him as your orgasm shocked your entire body. You gripped his dark locks and looked up to see Eren’s eyes looking at yours, admiring the way your face contorted with pleasure. His knees buckled as his cock twitched inside you, releasing his warm thick cum all over your walls. He slowly dragged himself out of you, huffing heavy breaths out. Your legs fell down to dangle off the side of the table again. You rested your head onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around you, placing his head on top of yours. You both laid there, chests heaving in unison. You abruptly pulled away, startling him, and you looked up.

“Why d-did you leave me Eren?” you asked, tears welling up in your solemn eyes. He looked to the side, saddened by the question, and trying to find the right words.

“Because, I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought you’d be better off away from me after the mission and I-“

“Why would I be better off that way? You hurt me even more by doing that…”

“I nearly killed you y/n! I almost lost you, and everyone made me feel like I would be a danger to you” he whispered. Anguish and hurt flooded his voice when he spoke to you. The once domineering man was crumbling as he gave his confession to you.

“Why did you wait so long? Why now?” you said, pulling aggressively on his shirt. You recalled him saying he wanted ‘to do this sooner’ but never got to ask about it. He rubbed the back of his neck before looking down at you.

“I…well…Mikasa told me to stay away from you too…and I did leave the party before with her..but only for a little and that’s when I realized her intentions…but I came right back to find you and talk to you after that” he said, searching your face for a hint of how you were feeling. Your expression was blank, eyes were now dried and void of emotion. You jumped off the table and started putting your pants on. Eren started to grow worried as you neared the door.

“Y/n? Where do you think you’re going?”

“To find Mikasa”

[mqnasluvr]

heya ! i heard you were new around here, could i request headcanons of enemies to lovers with kaeya and childe ? any pronouns are fine ! they’re so annoying i hate how i love them nevertheless,, thank you belladonna and take your time <3

enemies to lovers | kaeya alberich

pairings; kaeya x gn!reader

mentioned; jean

warnings; enemies to lovers but it’s pretty one sided, spoilers for kaeyas backstory, no beta we die like men, a lil bit of kaeya slander im sorry i had to, gn! reader

word count; 2k

a/n; where did kyquu go? :( i hope they at least see this.. i didnt finish childes part but i wanted to push this out as soon as possible. :(

kaeya

to put it simply, your relationship with kaeya was... tiring.

you had been close to kaeya and his younger brother for years, them being your closest and most trusted friends throughout part of your childhood and teenage years. but that all came to a halt when the former admitted to being a spy from khaenri'ah.

in no way or form did he expect for you two to forgive him— but actually seeing your broken and betrayed faces hurt him more than he thought it would, and the image still haunts him to this day.

you had separated yourself from the two brothers. although diluc didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t want to pick between them ( even though you really should’ve ). that decision was too hard for you to make.

for years, you stayed out of touch with kaeya as he continued to climb the ranks within the knights of favonius, and you followed, much to your dismay. you worked hard to become a knight, and you weren’t going to quit just because of some bad blood between you and your superior. ( props to you for maturity )

he wanted nothing more than to reconnect with you, and maybe even diluc— but that was wishful thinking. diluc ragnvindr was a stubborn, hardheaded man, and getting past that exterior would be no simple feat.

so, he opted for ( not so ) subtly courting you— giving you the occasional wave whenever he saw you walking through mondstadt, offering to help you train ( although you declined every time ), and other small things. you question why he chose to do this now of all times, after half a decade of not speaking to each other.

you weren’t sure how to feel, but it made you agitated. not seething with rage, but it did annoy you to see his lazy grin whenever he walked into the angels share and saw you sitting in the corner of the room. it annoyed you whenever he did that stupid two finger salute before walking off, and archons, did it annoy you when he patted your shoulder after sparring as if you were the best of buds.

then why did your thoughts never stray from him?

that question, you couldn’t answer.

and so, you resorted to treating him like he didn’t exist. it was rude, but you couldn’t really think of anything else. avoiding him like the plague was the one thing you were good at.

as if things couldn’t get any worse, one of your worst nightmares came to fruition.

“jean, please. why can’t i do this mission with you? why... him?” you were basically at the acting grand masters feet, head in your hands and pleading up at the woman. she felt bad, but there was nothing she could do.

“i’m really sorry y/n. but i’m too busy with other things, and kaeya happens to be available. you know an ordinary knight wouldnt be able to take this mission,” her guilt worsened when you looked up at her with ( fake ) tears in your eyes. she kneeled to your height.

“i don’t know of your history with kaeya, but please, just put it aside for this one mission. it shouldn’t take you very long.”

jean helped you stand to your feet, the frown etched into her face growing deeper when she saw your shoulders slump. “alright, fine..i’ll try-”

“jean! have you seen y/n— ah, there they are,” kaeya waltzed in without so much as a knocking, making you jump in surprise and shoot a glare at him. he flashed you a lazy grin.

“speak of the devil..” you muttered.

“are you ready to go? we don’t have much time.” the mission you were assigned was to gain intel on what the fatui were planning. to get said intel, you had to sneak into a gathering held by the fatui. the dresscode was rather expensive— more expensive than anything you owned— so to help you out, kaeya took the liberty of purchasing an outfit for you.

kaeya dropped it into your arms. “change into this. don’t want to show up to a party wearing uniform, do you?”

“thanks...” your face felt warm from embarrassment, but you did have to admit, that was considerate of him.

he laughed and waved his hand, shaking his head. “let’s get going, yeah?”

—

you finished getting ready with the help of jean. she sent you one last apologetic gaze before walking you out the door, waving at you both.

kaeya didnt even hide the fact that he was checking you out. his eyes raked over your attire, before sticking his arm out for you to hold. “my, my, you look quite impressive, y/n. is everything suited to your tastes?”

you huffed and walked past him. “the corset is too tight, and the shoes are too small.” you were only half lying— the corset was a bit uncomfortable to move in, but he got your shoe size down to a T. how? you didn’t really want to know.

“if that’s the case, i can loosen it for you-”

“no.”

kaeya laughed it off, and you only grew more irritated. “come now, y/n. don’t be so stiff.”

“i am perfectly content with being stiff, thank you. now hurry up, i want to get this over with,” you muttered the last part.

you didn’t want to admit that you were struggling to take your eyes off of his attire. he was clad in a white suit with blue complimentary colors to match your own outfit.

you rolled your eyes. ‘of course he’d get us matching outfits.’

but, you didnt find yourself minding all too much.

—

the party looked like any other party— fatui agents littered all over the residence, along with guests in fancy clothing.

you tugged on your sleeve, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. but on the outside, yourself and kaeya blended in pretty well.

because kaeya was such a well known figure, he had to change up his looks a bit. no eyepatch, ( i know, so uncharacteristic ) and he used contacts to change his eye color to a darker shade.

he also put that disgusting rat tail away.

so he didn’t look completely different, but he looked different enough.

...the change was nice.

you couldnt help but feel watched though. but that was to be expected. even though you felt somewhat secure in this situation, anxiety rests for no one. it rested in the pit of your stomach dormantly, waiting for a moment to bloom.

looking around the ballroom, kaeya found people dancing in the middle. deciding that it was better to at least enjoy the party before leaving, he stood in front of you and held his hand out, bowing.

“may i have this dance?”

“who do you think i am-”

kaeya flashed you a cautious glance, head nodding towards a fatui agent who was keeping their eye on the two of you. holding back a sigh, you placed your hand in his. he grinned.

“thank you,” he said. you grunted quietly and held back a roll of your eyes as he dragged you to the middle of the dance floor.

“attention whore,” you muttered, feeling warmer as he placed his hand on your lower back and pulled you in closer.

“you wound me, y/n.”

“you deserve it. i wish i could slap you.”

he stayed quiet. maybe too far?

you shook your head. no. there was no way you we’re going to let yourself feel sorry for him when he was literally a spy.

but he feels honest enough.

sure, his intentions at first were.. questionable. but he’s changed for the better. kaeya has been in mondstadt for years now, and khaenri'ah fell ages ago. his love for mond shouldn’t be doubted for a second, even if he hides it quite well.

before you could look up and make sure your words didn’t hurt him too badly, he leaned down near your ear.

“we have to go.”

“what-”

“i’ll explain later, but we have to go,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd.

you didn’t notice, but several of the fatui agents were watching you. you didnt change your looks as much as he did, opting to use simple touch-ups to make yourself more presentable. but it wasn’t enough.

“hey!” one of that agents shouted, and kaeya turned his head back to see how close they were. like he suspected, they were following gou. they pushed through the people, even going as far as knocking one man over, just to catch up.

you hurried your steps along with kaeya, almost sprinting to keep up with him. his grip on your hand was firm though. you two dashed up the stairs onto the third floor of the residence, where the bedrooms were. offices, libraries, bedrooms— they were all there. kaeya picked a random one and shoved you both inside.

it was a red themed bedroom, the lights dim with papers scattered along the desk on the other side of the room. “it seems we’ve gotten lucky,” kaeya joked, skimming over the papers. they were letters, between the fatui and some unknown source. kaeya stashed them in his jacket.

you didn’t understand how he could joke at a time like this. you still arent in the clear and you could hear rapid footsteps coming upstairs. “kaeya—!”

“you know how you said you wanted to slap me?” he said while tucking the last bit of papers into his suit. he didnt even give you a chance to answer. “you can, after this.”

you were confused, but when he backed you up against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, that confusion turned into anger, then more confusion, then understanding.

sighing when you finally caught on, he pulled your body closer to his and you wrapped your arms sround his shoulders. he tugged and nipped on your bottom lip, and if you didnt know any better your knees would be knocking. he was almost too good at this.

suddenly, an agent— a female one, this time— barged in. “have you— hey! take that shit elsewhere, lovebirds!”

kaeya hid your face in his chest, grinning lazily at the woman. his lips were swollen and his eyes were lidded. the woman blushed.

clearing her thoat, she held up a picture of you. well, moreso the back of your head. “have you seen this individual?”

he stared at the woman, then glaced down at you. “..sorry. i’ve been busy, i haven’t seen anyone of the sort. wish i could help,” he shrugged, and the ladies blush worsened. “o-of course..” she muttered, before closing the door and locking it.

kaeya snorted at the irony. he looked back at you, who was still touching your lips with your fingers.

“was i that good?” he chuckled, and caught your hand when you moved to slap him. his laughter died down and he looks oddly serious.

“y/n, we need to talk..”

“...no we dont,” you turned your back to him. he put his hand on your shoulder.

“yes,” he sighed. “we do. i know you didnt want to do this with me-”

“kaeya..”

“-and really, i understand. but i’ve changed, and i know you’ve noticed. i dont want you to hate me forever-”

“kaeya-”

“and you can’t-”

“kaeya!” you nearly yelled. he finally stopped talking over you. “i don’t want to talk about this right now. can you just drop it?”

“then when?” he narrowed his eyes. he laughed humorlessly when there was no reply.

kaeya’s eyes softened the longer you stayed silent. he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you in for a hug. “...sorry.”

“could you please shut up,” you mumbled into his chest. he laughed softly.

“i know you’re wary right now. but all i ask for is a second chance,” he pulled away and hend your hands together in his. “...please.”

it was an odd sight, seeing him this vulnerable. then again, there was a good chance he was faking it to get on your good side but.. for some reason you found it hard to believe that. he looked truly sincere.

you groaned.

“you better not make me regret this.”

[miscellaneous-bnha]

A little “Christmas Magic”

Kirishima x Fem!Reader x Denki

This is my piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten’s Citrus Dome “Snowed In” Collab.

Link to the Collab: https://tomurasprincess.tumblr.com/post/637531853698547712/citrus-dome-server-snowed-in-collab

Warning: slightly Scumbag Kiri/Denki, dubious consent (at the start), Possessive/FeralDenki, Smug Kiri, some exhibitionism, lowkey yandere Denki if you squint, dumbification, a little tongue pulling, light cum play

Also, I write Denki as someone who pretends to be stupid but is actually extremely intelligent.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP

Being childhood friends with Denki had it’s perks; knowing how intelligent your best friend is compared to how stupid he likes to act is one of them, so you knew that it was no accident he kept you distracted long enough for the blizzard to roll in.

Effectively trapping you in his home with his roommate Kirishima.

“Aww come on! It’s not that terrible! We’ve got good heating, enough food n’ snacks. The world’s BEST portable charger,” he points to himself dramatically, “And, if you do get bored of me, Kirishima’s here too.”

“You say that like you were planning on excluding me from your plans.” Kirishima looks at his roommate unimpressed. You stifle a giggle.

“Even if he was, I wouldn’t let him.” You nudge the redhead with your shoulder, making him snort a laugh.

“Fair enough.”

“So you agree it’s not that bad?” Denki bats his eyes at you, causing you to push his face away with a scoff.

“Alright alright. It could be worse.” He grins.

“I’m glad you agree!”

The three of you spend the night talking about the latest games the three of you have been following. They had both just convinced you to download a multiplayer rpg when the power suddenly went out, leaving you all in the dark.

“Oof, unlucky. I guess even state of the art homes still get black outs.” You mutter.

“More likely than you think. Here, why not get closer before the temperature starts to drop.” Kiri offers.

“Sure, why not. I’ll be thankful for it later anyhow.” You sandwich yourself between Denki and Kiri laying on your back as the three of you bundled together.

“Everyone’s phones charged up?” Denki peeks at your phone, still going strong at 95%

“Yeah, it should be good for a while longer. Anyone up for some music?”

For the next 3 hours, you continue to talk until you find yourself growing sleepy. Comfortably warm, you can’t help the way your eyes slip close.

————

When you wake up again, you can still hear the wind whipping around outside. You grab your phone only to be met with the no battery signal. Both boys on either side of you completely knocked out.

You tsk at your own stupidity. ‘I should have turned it off when I realized I was getting sleepy.’ You thought to yourself, leaning over Denki to use his phone to check the time.

The numbers 9:27am stared back at you. Just as you move to settle back into your spot, Denki’s arms suddenly wrap around you.

“Mm… five more minutes…” the angle at which he grabbed you made it so you were lying on top of him, your legs straddling his hips.

“Uhm… Denks…” you try to shake him gently.

“Noooo… jus’ five mmm….” he starts to snore softly again, and you’re left stuck on him.

You sigh, accepting your fate. With your phone dead, you decide whether or not you should stick the charger into his mouth and plug your phone in or if you should just go back to sleep. Unfortunately, with how restless you felt, sleeping wasn’t an option, and you’d feel pretty guilty for disturbing him from what must be a good dream.

A really good dream.

Your face erupts into flames when you realize there’s something hard poking at you. The blush darkens when he groans and his hips jerk up to grind against you.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t ever attracted to your childhood friend; blonde hair, golden eyes, killer smile. You saw how popular he was back then, and you can see it in his hero ratings now. Even aside from his looks, his goofy, lovable, secretly intelligent nature made it impossible not to fall for him all those years ago.

But you also knew he tended to be a flirt, which made it hard to tell if he was genuine. Especially since his advances were never directed at you.

Wishful thinking made it easy to believe that he didn’t flirt with you because “he didn’t want to think the one person he cares the most about to think he was playing with them”, but reason told you otherwise.

You’ve met some of his exes, and none of them were like you.

So, in the friendzone you stayed. ‘Better than nothing’, you reason, and— much to your own surprise— you’re satisfied with that.

You shake your head and squirm. “Denki…! Wake up you idiot!” He snorts when you headbutt his chest, head sitting up as he let you go to rub at the spot you hit.

“Awww… I was having a good dream…”

“I’m sure you were!” You spit, embarrassed.

You make an attempt to hide it. “Also, I need a favor, my phone died while we were sleeping.”

“Ah, yeah. I tried turning your music off, but I guess that didn’t work.” You hum, but nod.

“Thanks for trying. Mind charging it for me?”

He taps a finger to his chin, pretending to think about it before he grins. “Sure, but it’ll cost ya.” You snort.

“Ha ha. What do I owe?”

“A kiss.” You roll your eyes. Even as a kid, Denki always liked to say stuff like that.

You lean down and press a kiss to his cheek.

“There, your kiss. Now can you charge my phone?” You have to bite your tongue to hold back a yelp when you’re suddenly flipped over on your back, Denki hovering over you.

“You can do better than that!” He grins when you snort.

“Oh really now?” You plant another, wetter, kiss to his cheek with a smack. “And is that good enough for you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh come on!” You whisper-yell, fake exasperated, “I give! What more could you possibly want??”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes!”

He pauses, eyes watching you for a moment before suddenly his lips are on yours. One hand cupping your jaw, thumb circling the underside of your chin, the other bracing himself over you.

You don’t expect it, nor do you expect the way he deepens the kiss so effortlessly even while you’re still floundering for steady ground. He almost seems to be intent on trying to keep you stumbling.

You gasp and pant when he parts from your lips with a wet smack; head foggy with confusion, you don’t have any time before his lips are back on yours, smothering you into another blissful, naïve cloud.

You whine when the hand cupping your jaw trails down slowly, fingers intertwining with yours and giving a gentle squeeze, bringing it above your head to pin it there.

“W-Wait!” You gasp, trying to come back down to reality, still not believing what’s happening.

“No.” He nips the side of your neck, making you groan softly, “Waited long enough.”

“Wh- what do you mean??” You don’t get your answer. Instead, he presses more hot kisses to your lips, each accompanied with a soft smack.

“Denki—!” You hiss through your teeth when he bites down on your neck again, harder this time. He covers your mouth with one hand, hushing softly.

“Waited too long for this. Should’ve just said something a long time ago.” His breath is hot against your ear, making you squirm when his teeth nibble on the lobe. “Should’ve told you how I feel ages ago.”

You can’t help the excited thumping of your heart, especially if his words mean what you hope they do. You gasp when you feel his hard on grind against you, sound stolen from you when Denki presses another deep kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, need you. Need you so fucking bad.” He borderline growls as his free hand disappears below the blanket covering the both of you. You’re just about to let the haze overcome you when you suddenly hear Kirishima snort from next to you, making your blood freeze.

“Denki..! Kirishima’s right there—!” He groans burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck..! I know! ‘S fine!” He flips you both again so that you’re on top, tugging at the pair of sweatpants you borrowed and your panties.

“We can’t!” He bucks his hips into yours, making you inhale sharply. He tugs you down so your chest is pressed to his. You can feel the way his heart is pounding through your thin shirts.

“For fuck’s sake, please, baby girl. I can’t. I can’t wait anymore.” He groans into your ear, hands pinning your hips to his, moving you to grind against him.

“But Kirishima—!”

“Kirishima—” He growls his roommate’s name with disdain, making you shudder with fear and arousal, “— won’t know if you stay quiet.” He hisses when he finally manages to slide the sweatpants off of you, bare cock nudging against your panty-clad pussy.

“Please. I need you so fucking bad it hurts. I will combust if I can’t fuck you right fucking now.” You shiver when you feel his fingers pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, fingers sliding through your slick and circling your clit.

“Okay, okay okay okay— wait!” You bite your lip when he shoves his leaking cock into you, growling into your shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck…” he groaned, hips fucking up into you with soft ‘paps’

“Den—ki!” You whine, grinding down on his cock as much as he would let you.

“That’s it, baby…. jus’ keep sayin’ m’ name.”

“Or maybe mine.”

The shock of hearing Kirishima’s voice right by your ear has you clamping down on Denki’s cock, sending you over the edge when he thrusts roughly into you.

“Kiri—“ Denki slaps a hand over your mouth, cutting you off.

“Seriously?” Denki growls, pissed. He doesn’t pull out though, opting to fuck into you still,

“Aww, come on. I’m not the one breaking promises around here, Denki. Don’t get a little salty because I wanted to join in on the fun.” You shudder and moan, overstimulated.

It’s hard to focus on the conversation as yet another orgasm builds. You can barely focus on the fact that you just got caught fucking your childhood friend by his roommate, at least until two hands grab you by your shoulders and pull you against a firm chest.

“Kirishima! Wh—” You whine when one arm wraps around your neck, not squeezing, but keeping you pinned to his chest, the other pinching and pulling at your nipple,

“Kaminari here can’t keep a promise, so I’m just having some fun touching you.” He laughs, seemingly unbothered. Then he whispers into your ear,

“But don’t worry; I’ll give it to you later.” You squeeze and clench around Denki’s cock at the sound of that.

Kirishima’s hand trails down your body, leading a trail of goosebumps until his fingers pinch and tug at your clit. He activates his quirk, the rough sensation of his hardened fingers add to your pleasure until you’re creaming on Denki’s cock all over again. You whine, trying to pull away from the stimulation, but Kiri just holds you there, letting Denki rut up into you until he’s cumming, hissing through his teeth until he can’t bring himself to pull out anymore.

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that he isn’t wearing a condom, but you don’t dwell on it. You don’t have time to as you feel yourself falling asleep again.

————

When you wake up, you’re cuddled in Kirishima’s arms. He gives you a bright, toothy smile when he notices your eyes opening.

“Well good morning, sleeping beauty! Well, good afternoon now.” You groan, feeling a little sore.

“What time is it?”

“About 2pm. You didn’t actually sleep that long.” You grunt.

“Where’s Denki?”

“Grabbing some snacks together. Your phone finished charging, by the way.

He presses the device into your hands and you stare at it owlishly until your brain catches up with your body.

“Ah, thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

You set it off to the side, sitting up and stretching. Your face twists when you feel something leaking out of you.

“Ugh.. I should go and get cleaned up… well, as much as I can anyway.” You throw the blanket to the side, but you don’t have the opportunity to stand before Kirishima’s hands are on your hips.

“About what I said earlier…” he murmurs softly. It takes you a moment, but you blush when you finally remember.

“Wh-what about it?”

“Do you mind?” He squeezes his hands gently.

You chew your lip. Everything considered, he’d watched and helped Denki fuck you, and you certainly were curious…

“... alright, why not?” Kirishima grins before patting his lap, pushing his shorts and boxers down. Your eyes widen when his cock stands,

“Have you been hard this whole time??” As smug as he’d been acting earlier, he seemed to get a little shy at your question

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“You were!” He sputters, but pulls you into his lap.

“Look, of course I’m going to be hard.” He teases the sharp points of his teeth against your neck,

“Thinking about all those noises you made, the way you looked on his cock…” he growls playfully, biting down on your shoulder until you whine softly.

“Shit... just hurry up then!” You grumble, giving his cock a couple of good strokes.

He flips you around so your back is against his chest again, slowly sinking you down on his cock as you both groan.

“Christ... I see why he wasn’t keen on sharing.” Kiri raises you by the hips, slamming you back down on his cock with a hiss,

“So fucking tight baby girl…” he groans as you whine, falling back against his chest. Your body shakes with his laughter.

“Awww… already stupid from my cock stuffing your tight little hole?” He groans, but you can feel the way he grins against your neck,

“That’s alright, baby. I’ll take care of ya.”

Your whines and moans do eventually attract Denki, pulling him away from his task. He scowls at Kirishima, who only continues to lazily bounce you on his cock.

“You could have at least waited until I came back.”

“And miss a chance at fucking her cute little pussy? I don’t think so.” You whine when Kiri forces your hips to still, instead rotating your hips so his cock grinds deep inside.

You feel Denki grip your jaw with one hand, the fingers on his other hand slipping inside your mouth. You yelp when you feel him pinch your tongue, tugging it out and forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him.

“You’ve always had such a pretty little mouth too…” Denki says more to himself than to you, letting go of your tongue in favor of tugging his cock out of his sweatpants.

“Mind if I use it?”

He taps the tip of it against your tongue, groaning a soft “good girl” when you suck on it, only for you to choke when he pushes more of his length into your mouth.

“Hey, take it easy man.” Kiri starts to bounce you on his cock again, making you moan with each drop of your hips. Denki grunts, cupping your cheeks with his hands,

“She’ll be alright, won’t you baby?” You whine softly, too busy focusing on the rising heat in your core.

“Either way, I don’t think she’s coherent enough to even notice if my balls smack against her chin.” Denki says as he snaps his hips forward again, making you gag.

“Well… don’t make her sick.”

“She’ll be fine.”

You moan and gag with every drop and rise of your hips respectfully. In some ways, Denki was right when he said you’d hardly notice him shoving his cock down your throat; come later, it’ll be sore as hell, but for now, it added to the curling pleasure that only seemed to build the more roughly they treated you.

You feel Kirishima reach forward to pinch a nipple, making you gag out a yelp around Denki’s cock. Both of them hiss in unison.

“Shit, I think she liked that.” Kirishima gives it another painful tug, causing you to whine and your cunny to flutter.

“Fuck.. keep doing that.” Denki groans out, forgetting completely about your comfort for a moment when he shoves his dick all the way down your throat, making you choke when Kirishima buries himself balls deep.

You feel like your head is floating aimlessly by the time they start to lose control. Between Kiri’s thick, heavy cock splitting you open and Denki fucking your face, your eyes roll back as you cum hard, whining and moaning through your choked noises.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s it baby! Just tighten up like that!” Kirishima growls as he abandons your nipple, opting to rub your clit instead to keep you cumming.

Denki hisses and pulls his cock out of your mouth, instead leaving the tip on your tongue as he strokes himself to completion.

Both men are loud when they cum, and you can only whine when you feel your body turn to gelatin again.

You grimace when Denki pushes his cum around on your tongue, only removing his finger when he’s satisfied with the look of it. “Swallow for me, yeah?” He pets your cheek when you comply, smiling in satisfaction.

You can feel Kirishima’s cum leak out of you the second he pulls out. He lets out a low whistle, lightly patting your ass. “What a sight to behold.”

You flop back against Kirishima’s chest, groaning softly. “Now can I get cleaned up?”

“Of course. Just give us a sec, yeah?”

“Or you could just stay like this for-“

“No thank you, Denki.”

“Party pooper.”

[quicksilverrwrites]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it’s your first date with peter maximoff, and the tension between the two of you has been building for weeks. you share a passion like no other, and there's only one place this date can go: the dark back alley of the arcade, a place where no soul dare to go lest they bare the damned title of 'staff'. or quicksilver and scribe, i guess. you pick. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, sexual innuendos, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader (sorry americans <3), make out scene and sexual attraction 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: the character that features as y/n in my fics is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

Your date with Peter comes around the corner faster than you thought it would considering you’re not exactly the typical ‘student’ at Xavier’s School.

You’d thought it would take forever for the week to pass: typically, you spend your time waiting for your friend group to get out of lessons. You’re older, having graduated school when you lived in the United Kingdom, so the only lessons you attend are that of Power Efficiency, Mutant Physiology and Ethics, the latter two being optional and studied merely out of interest. The rest of your schedule consists of a lot of free time. You don’t work—with all the money you have, why would you? Uncle Charles keeps nagging you to do something with your time, something productive, but after what you went through in England with your father…

Making friends here was difficult enough. Dealing with your powers in a new situation—coming to this school—was enough. You’re not exactly an extrovert, either, which is why you’re so surprised that you and Peter click so well.

He’s eccentric and annoying and perfect. Okay, perhaps not perfect in a literal sense, but to you he is. Sure, his leather jacket kind of smells from age and sometimes he talks so fast that you find yourself struggling to keep up, but you find it endearing. And oh, those eyes—you could watch how they light up when he’s super excited about something forever, you think.

He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a while. You wonder if Charles knew what he was doing when he made Peter your buddy upon your arrival at this institute, but in reality, you know it’s because you’re both the oldest students—almost-students?—at this school. Besides, Charles has seen the two of you work together as a chaotic duo, and you’ve heard the sighs and mutterings of the man when he’s been most exasperated because of the both of you. Why, you think, grinning at your reflection in the mirror, would he ever put himself through that chaos if he could avoid it? The first prank you articulated together was the beginning of many, and you’ve practically been inseparable since you first arrived here.

First it was friendship. Then… yeah, it didn’t take much at all to blossom into something more.

You look good, you think, smoothing down Peter’s Rush tee as it hangs oversized on your body. You look really good. Your style is what would be expected of Charles’ niece even despite the fact that you’ve only ever met him a few times in your life: classy, 10% preppy, academic to a fault. You typically match your clothes to the colour of your powers: blue, but azure in particular. Sometimes pastel blue. You’re particular like that. But tonight you’ve opted for something different. Something a little more… Peter.

Your hair falls naturally past your shoulders, and the cool sleeves of a black leather jacket—your father’s leather jacket, the only leather jacket you own—hang from your shoulders while the jacket itself stops at your thighs. It's too big for you. You’ve paired a black skirt with the shirt, but it’s free flowing and a soft material that practically blends in with Peter’s top. Your boots are chunky platforms, black, and this is the darkest your outfit has been in a while.

It still feels… you, though. It feels right. Maybe because Peter feels right, and you stole this tee from him after you stayed over that night in his basement when it was pouring with rain. You both knew you could’ve opened up a portal to get back to your dorm, but neither of you wanted that.

You both want this, though. You both want each other.

The very acknowledgement of that fact forces you to take a steadying breath in, but the sound of a knock at your door makes your breath stammer. You look at the clock frantically. Is he here already? You both agreed on seven thirty, and it’s only seven. You had a schedule. Arcade, dinner, and whatever was left for after. Maybe a kiss if you work up the courage. Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought. But—

“Ah—hello?” A familiar voice sounds from the door. You breathe a sigh of relief: Kurt. “I came to see if you needed help with anyzi—”

You cross the room to the door and open it before Kurt can finish his sentence.

Kurt grins. As usual it’s a sheepish grin, but there is excitement in his eyes.

“Excited?” Kurt asks. “I vould be if I vere going on a date with ze magnificent Quicksilver.”

You grin at him and roll your eyes, ushering him in the room before you close the door behind you. “Don’t say that in the hallway!” You scold him, not entirely serious. “Anyone could be listening.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “Could it be that you are embarrassed?”

Your eyes widen, brows rising too. “No! It’s just—it’s nice now that things between us are private. And… I want to take things slow. I’ve been on dates before, and when you tell people about it it’s always the same thing: when are you going to do this? When are you going to do that? I don’t want to be pressured. And explaining my reasoning to want to take things slow is almost as tiring as actually working myself up into confidence so that I’m not nervous the entire time—”

“You definitely seem nervous.”

You scowl at your friend. “I am not nervous.”

“Your cheeks are red.”

At that, you know your face is starting to flush as red as a tomato. “You are insufferable sometimes.”

Kurt grins. “A few weeks ago, I vould have been hurt to hear you say this.”

You scoff, batting him playfully on the arm. “Are you going to walk me down to the common room or not?”

Kurt’s face takes on an air of confusion. “Ze common room? Why there?”

You shrug softly. “Peter is meeting me there.”

Kurt’s eyes light up with amusement. “Ah,” he responds, and you know by the exaggerated upwards tilt of his head that the next words out of his mouth are going to be sarcastic. “Very discreet, yes. I bet he will bring flowers.”

You scoff once more, parting your lips in playful annoyance as you turn to leave the room, but Kurt appears in front of you before your hand reaches the doorknob. He opens the door, extends his hand to you when his back is pressed against it, and the bow he delivers is nothing but formal. Gentlemanly. He probably learned it in the circus. You give him a teasingly formal nod as you accept his fingers in your own.

The door closes behind you, locks with a wave of your hand, and with a deep breath, the two of you venture down the halls of the manor.

***

You hear the sounds of people cursing at Peter before you actually see Peter.

You and Kurt turn to look at the double doors which lead into the common room at the same time, but Peter comes to a speedy stop in front of the both of you before you can even track his movements… and Peter’s eyes glaze over your appearance, your outfit, as his face pales.

You smirk at the sight of it. You know he likes it. Likes seeing you in his clothes. He looked at you the same way when you first walked out of the bathroom attached to the basement in his tee and grey shorts after that night in the rain. He had slept on the sofa then, had given you his bed, but he’d mentioned to you a couple of days after that his sheets still smelled like a mix of him and you.

You knew then that he couldn’t get the image of you wearing his clothes out of his head.

His outfit isn’t a change from what he usually wears, but he still looks amazing. Hot. The sight of him takes your breath away every time you see him. Silver-and-black jacket, white tee with a band insignia on it, and leather pants with his silver shoes. You can’t forget the goggles on his head, either. But—wait, no, there is something different. A sort of smell.

“What are you wearing?” You ask, the end of your sentence tinged with laughter.

Peter glances down at his outfit. “What?” He asks, confusion—and the slightest bit of worry?—in his gaze. “What's wrong with this?”

“No, silly,” you laugh, “your aftershave. What is it?”

It’s the very definition of seventies musk. It’s musky, leathery, and there’s the faintest smell of whiskey. He’s put way too much on, but your mother always used to complain about how much perfume you put on, too. You’re wearing it now: it’s sweet with the air of something more expensive. Valentino.

When you asked the lady in the store to let you try the ones which smelled sweet like vanilla, this was the first one she showed you. Out of the eight you had the choice of, you were sold on the very first one. You know that the best way to get a guy to fall for you is to smell sweet like candy—it reminds them of their childhood. Or in Peter’s case, you guess it might just remind him of twinkies. You know he loves those.

Peter’s cheeks flush red, and he lowers his head as he laughs. “Oh, man. My mom was right. I really stink, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh: a genuine laugh, teeth in your smile and all. You stand from the sofa you were sitting on with Kurt, and you realise only then that he’s already disappeared. You feel a twinge of guilt for not noticing earlier, but you forgive yourself for that: it is your date night, and Kurt is forever polite.

“You smell great, Peter,” you say, and it’s not entirely a lie. He doesn’t smell bad — it’s better than the leather jacket smell. “And I’m excited for our,” you glance around, whispering, “date.”

Peter’s eyes light up at that. “Right. Date. You mind if I—?”

He gestures to your neck. Whiplash. Right. You shake your head. “Just don’t mess up my hair.”

He blinks at you. “Do you realise how much of a challenge that is?”

Your smile is sickly sweet and riddled with sarcasm. “You’ll figure it out.”

His expression goes slack. He likes it when you do that; when you’re mean to him. You’re a lovely person typically—you reached the lucky end of the trauma spectrum, the opposite of which being the angry side which could’ve made you an arse—but it’s so easy to tease Peter. You like the power in being able to wrap him around your finger. You’ve never had this power over any man before, and after feeling powerless for so long, it's thrilling.

Peter clears his throat, steps towards you, and you swear he’s trying to use the lightest touch possible as he steadies your neck and places a shaky hand on your waist—

And then you’re off.

The world is barely more than a blur. You can’t keep up. Just as you think you’ve gotten used to it, Peter turns a corner—or at least you think that's what happens, because that’s how you would describe the sensation of being almost jolted to the side. And just when you think you can’t take any more, he stops. You’re in the mall, right outside the blue-walled and darkly lit arcade.

Peter’s hands move gently from your body and you lean your hands against your thighs to try to stop the world from spinning. You’ve gotten used to the nauseating feeling this sort of travel gives you now, but you’re not used to the dizziness.

“You okay?” Peter asks, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s assessing you for any potential damage. His hand hovers over your back as if he’s afraid to overstep his bounds, but you would lean into his touch any day.

“Yeah,” you breathe, slowly easing upwards. “I’m good.”

Peter glances over your face in another silent check before he nods. “You ready to get your ass kicked?”

You gape at him. Yeah, that sarcastic comment has knocked the dizziness right out of you. “Oh, you’re on.”

You’re less confident than you seem, but you don’t think Peter picks up on it as he grins and bouncily makes his way into the Arcade. You follow him, shoulder brushing against his as you catch up to his gait, because luckily you both walk fast. He turns to look at you and smiles, softer this time, and you almost get caught up in the softness of his eyes before your heart stammers, your throat closes up, and—

Oh, god. You’re not good with this. The romance. It makes you tense and nervous.

You turn away from him, hands wrapping around the controls of the nearest arcade game. “I call shotgun.”

Peter laughs and comes to a stop next to you. “I know you’re British and that makes you, like, socially awkward, but that only applies to cars.”

You nudge him in the side—hard, but not hard enough to really do damage. He hisses in annoyance, muttering jeez, lady, under his breath. You ask, “Are you really going to deny me my request on our date?”

Peter grins at you, fingers clenching around the neighbouring controls. “Depends. What do I get out of it?”

You smirk at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. “A kiss or two at the end of this, perhaps.”

You watch Peter’s adam’s apple bob. “Per—perhaps?”

You grin. “Depends how you behave.”

You don’t need to read thoughts like your uncle to know that Peter has to be telling himself to breathe. Because it seems like an awful lot of effort for him to successfully inhale and exhale, and he doesn’t say anything before he slams a coin—a quarter? you don’t understand American money—into the machine and the BEGIN GAME screen buzzes to life.

It’s pretty hard for you to catch your breath as you both play in silence, too.

Eventually, conversation picks back up again. A sarcastic comment. The occasional compliment. Peter’s good at these games, but so are you. Arcade stand after arcade stand, his teasing remarks make your heart flutter… as well as something deeper within you, too. You’ve never felt attraction like this before, and truthfully, it’s driving you wild.

“Dad wasn’t around much back home,” you reveal, your eyes glued to the avatar on the screen as it darts around, “so I had a lot of time to kill. The arcade became my home. So yeah, it’s safe to say I can easily kick your arse.”

“Arse,” he teases, mimicking the way you speak. “Trying to let me let you win with a sob story, Xavier? Nah, not going to work.”

You gape at him, taking your eyes off the screen for a mere second, but Peter takes the opportunity to kill your avatar for good. With mock outrage, you quip, “I was not trying to do that!”

He grins at you, his eyes glowing purple and red in the light of your dying avatar. “Ah,” he whispers, “victory tastes sweet.”

You press your lips together in defeat, and then you sigh as you take your hand in his. “Come on. I want a slushie.”

Peter lets you drag him away, and the two of you settle down at the food stand in the arcade as the lights around you buzz blue and purple.

You like the lighting in here, you think, as you step up to the worker. “Two slushies, please,” you tell him, smiling politely. “One red and blue for me, and Peter—?”

“All of them,” he says, nodding towards the flavours.

You part your lips in surprise. All of them? There are about eight flavours up on that display, and you know it’s all going to melt into a mess of slush that barely tastes like anything other than sugar. But the worker has obviously been asked for worse, because he just shrugs and gets to work. One pump, two pumps, three pumps—he goes through them all with the finesse of someone who has worked at a place like this for far too long, and when he hands you your simple two-flavoured slushie in comparison to Peter's complex one, you feel like a bit of a slushie fraud.

You go to reach into your pocket to grab your card, but Peter pays in cash before you can get it out. The cashier gives him a dollar and seventy two cents change, and your date nods in thanks to the cashier before he turns to you with a grin that’s more genuine than cheeky. “My treat.”

You lower your gaze to hide how wide your smile is as you laugh. “Thanks, Peter.”

He nods, and the two of you stand there awkwardly for a second, you sucking innocently on your straw as he stares at you, before he looks at the table and chairs nearby. He clears his throat. “Wanna sit?”

You shrug politely and he pulls out a chair for you. Gentleman. Did his mother give him a run-down of what to do and what not to do before he came here? Probably. You smile at him, your insides warming as you sit down in your seat. This slushie is good, you think, slurping it up through the straw as Peter takes a seat opposite you.

He takes a sip of his drink before he asks, “So the thing about your dad. I know it’s a sore subject considering…” He raises his brows, and you know he means the reason you came here. “But do you mind if I—?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You have too much slushie in your mouth, though, so your words are slurred and you smile bashfully as you cover your lips. Sorry, your look says, but he just grins at you.

Peter forces himself to look away, to turn serious again, as he scratches at a loose bit of film on the table. “Why wasn’t he around? Like, the deadbeat dad kind of thing, or…?”

You shake your head. This time, when you speak, you’ve cleared the slushie from your mouth. Your voice is a bit hoarse from the cold as you respond, “No. He worked a lot. He was either in Germany or the Middle East or—somewhere. Mom has a temper, so I found the arcade was a better place to be than home. It’s easy to lose yourself in the games here.”

Peter nods slowly, his head tilting up in a way that indicates thoughtfulness. It’s nice that he’s memorising your words. Nice that he actually cares. That means more to you than anything. “Well, that makes two of us. Absent fathers, I mean, and moms…?”

You grin at him. He's talked about his father before, but always in vague detail. You respond, “Almost-there moms. Just emotionally absent, at least for me. Maybe stunted is the right word.”

Peter lets out a sound between a noise like phew and a laugh. “Harsh, Y/N. No sugarcoating it there.”

You shrug softly, lowering your gaze to your drink. “Sometimes I wonder if…”

Your sentence trails off, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Peter tilt his head. But he doesn’t say anything. Just lets you take your time as he continues picking at the table.

You force a breath. “Sometimes I wonder if what happened… happened for the best. Between the three of us, nobody was happy. But then I think of what I did to him and it’s just—”

“Hey,” Peter says, and across the table, his hand reaches out to splay across yours. “For people like us—mutants,” he says, his tone lowering at the end of his sentence, “stuff like this is inevitable. But, uh… Charles has kinda helped me see that it’s the first step towards controlling this sort of thing. The first step to doing something better. And hell, Y/N, you’re already, like, rockin’. So you only have further to go.”

Your brows furrow in surprise at his words, your eyes turning doe-like at his reassurances. “You don’t think I’ve already hit rock bottom?”

Peter laughs. “You’ve got too much money for that. I've seen you blow two-fifty on curtains. Still don't know how I watched you do it."

You let out a laugh, and that’s when you properly acknowledge the skin to skin contact. His touch makes your body feel like it’s on fire. Your shoulders roll back as your thumb brushes against his knuckle, and Peter’s eyes dart down to your fingers before he looks right back up at you. He looks nervous, like his heart is thudding just as hard as yours.

“I like this,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Peter lets out a huff of laughter, though from the sound of it, it’s an attempt to hide his nerves. “It’s only a slushie, Xavier."

Your laughter mimics his own, and you press your lips together as your eyes dart between his eyes and lips. You want to kiss him. You’ve never wanted to kiss somebody more. It’s like you could push him up against the wall and kiss him here and now without caring what anybody thinks, and you’ve never had that feeling before.

Peter’s throat bobs again. He’s staring at you in the same way, and you can feel the tension between the two of you as your chest tightens. But you can’t kiss here—not with the table between you, not when one of you will probably spill a slush puppy or both of them, or—

“Another game?” Peter says, his voice hoarse.

You blink the lust out of your eyes. Another game. Yeah—another game, and your slush puppy will melt between and it’ll be easier to drink, and then—

And then you can both get out of here.

You’ve never wanted to leave an arcade more.

The tension cools down a little as you play more games, but it rises as soon as you make a comment about his frantic button mashing movements; something like—

“I hope that’s not the technique you use in bed,” you tease.

Peter chokes, and needless to say, you win that game.

You keep playing until your slushies are finished. Peter finishes his before you, but he lets you have a sip before in order to try it. It’s just as you expected—a sugary mess with the strongest flavour being lime. It’s disgusting, but Peter merely grins at the sight of your face as you grimace at its sour taste.

You’re well aware of the way his gaze rakes up and down your body as you try to finish the rest of your slushie as fast as you can. You’re lingering now; the two of you want to get out of here, dinner be damned. His gaze hugs the curve of your body and lingers on your bare legs, your skin smooth and shaven, the boots you wear only elongating them—

“You look great, by the way,” Peter comments.

You look up at him while still sipping from that straw, and apparently the motion and the eye contact is too much for him. He looks away and mutters something under his breath, something you can’t hear over the beeping of the games and the music playing over the sound effects.

You slam the slushie cup down on the table next to you both with an air of achievement. “What?” You say almost teasingly. You know you’re driving him insane, and even though you’re hardly doing anything, this has been building up for weeks.

“Nothing,” Peter says.

Before you know it, his hand is at your neck and you’re in a different spot entirely.

It’s a short journey this time so you’re not dizzy. You’re still in the arcade, surrounded by the same blue walls and purple-hued lighting. But this area is darker and tucked away, and there’s a door nearby. Probably a staff entrance. This is somewhere you shouldn’t be, but for once, you’re not afraid of breaking the rules.

“The cups,” you comment teasingly. “We should clean them up.”

Peter lets out a breath. “Y/N,” he says, “I—"

“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “Please.”

Peter wastes no time in fulfilling your request.

He’s on you in a heartbeat, lips pressed against yours as his fingers rest at your neck. Innocent, sweet, and yet filled with a sort of passion that sets your lungs and chest ablaze. You can’t help the noise of content that slips from your lips as he backs you up against the wall, and you can’t help but think that this is so unlike him, but—no. No, this is what he’s been keeping buried down for weeks. It's the same for you, too. This is what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

This is only half of what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

You gasp as his tongue slips out against yours, and your own darts out in response to the sensation. You press your body flush into his, the both of you heated and warm from the feel of one another, and your jacket is quickly getting too hot to keep on any longer. It’s cool in here with the air conditioning, but even so the two of you are ablaze and alive and—

“Y/N” Peter whispers against your lips, his nose brushing against yours as he pants for breath, “d’you think we could leave dinner for tonight?”

Your body talks for you before your mind can register what he says. "Yes," you breathe, and then you pull him back to you.

His lips are on yours and there is nothing either of you need to say as his fingers roam down your shoulders, your arms, moving to your waist. He avoids your breasts and you’re grateful for that; despite how much your body might burn for him, you know that would make you feel like an object, like he only wants you for sex—like your mother has told you countless times before.

But as you and Peter kiss in the belly of that arcade, you think you might have found the one. The first person you can finally trust.

It might be the first date and you might want to take things slow, but this feels too good to pass up. Too good to lose. And because of that, you don't plan on letting him go—

Not unless he wants you gone first.

Not until a member of staff kicks you guys out, at least.

[trashytoastboi]

Heya! May I please request an angsty comfort scenario for the 1000 follower event? For prompt 19, where the alpha reader has lost a past mate who had been their childhood best friend and it's the date of their past mate's death, so their mate, Aizawa who is a beta tries to comfort them? I think grief comfort would be really nice, it's rare that the alpha is ever comforted! thank you very much, have a nice day!

Heyya! Of course! So sorry this has taken ages for me to get around to writing 😿🍀 hope you enjoy ~

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(Gender Neutral)

1000 Followers Event!

"Cause I want to stay, but now it's time. So please don't cry, my love. 'Cause you know that it's hard when you look that way. Know it's hard when you talk that way, so...Please don't say goodbye” Please Don't Cry – Cigarettes After Sex

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Scenario: ABO AU! Beta! Aizawa x Alpha! Reader - Comfort and Loss

Note: {M/Name} = Mate name

Word count: 3,081 words

☕ Aizawa Shota☕

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Aizawa stopped by the store, checking his phone for the time and to see if there had been any other contact from {Name}. There were no messages, nor phone calls. If anything they had been quiet the entire day and it was making him slightly worried when considering what today marked for them. He had decided just to make a stop on the way and pick up some food, thinking that {Name} probably neglected their need to eat. “I hope they are doing okay.” Aizawa mumbled to himself, accentuating his stress with some pacing while waiting for his order number to be called.

{Name} sat on the floor, just feeling listless compared to their usual selves. The room left dark and filled with the smell of alcohol. {Name} was not a big drinker, sometimes socially and even then it was only a few. But to sit and drink alone was not a common occurrence for them. This particular day was an exception. {Name} needed anything that could help to just kill those lingering feelings, no matter how many years passed. This day never really hurt any less than the first time, {Name} wished countless times that they could just stop feeling the pain, or at least just feel well enough to deal with the residual emotions in a better way than they do. The floor was scattered with old photos at their feet, all part of the usual routine on this day. {Name} would wake up early, get donned in black attire. Make their way to the graveyard, clean the grave and leave fresh flowers while clearing away the ones from their last visit. Sometimes they would have a one sided conversation; one of which where {Name} would wish them well wherever they may be, saying that they are missed and loved as well as random tidbits {Name} shared about their life.

One of the things that {Name} considered a little difficult to tell {M/Name}, was about their new mate, Aizawa. They followed up by describing just how great he is, although {Name} still felt awkward in the endeavor of doing so. Whenever they feel the tinge of sadness that comes with the thought of moving on, they often recalled one of the last conversations they had with {M/Name}; one in which {M/Name} had told them they are not supposed to stay alone forever and should rather find a new love. Thinking back on everything now, {M/Name} already knew and refused to bond with {Name}. Bonding was something even more ironclad than marriage, it was a lifelong bond and {M/Name} already knew their life would not be so long and wanted to leave the chance for {Name} to be able to move on. Thinking about the foresight that {M/Name} had must have been very tragic. Even when faced with the prospect of not being able to stay with {Name} forever.

At this point was {Name} wallowed in their feelings. Opting to try drink more and emptied the current bottle in hand. They set it down beside them, wiping away the tears that continuously fell without an end in sight. Even with years past, {Name} still grieved just as painfully as the first time. It seemed the day just made them recall the memories of a lifetime, flooding in with thoughts as far back as they could recall of their old mate. For a long time, {M/Name} had always been there. In some way they had a huge impact and influence in {Name's} life, so their absence left a very big hole when they were no longer there. {Name} smiled faintly at the very old memories. Their relationship started as childhood friends, one who could have been considered annoying to a young {Name} at the time. {M/Name's} presence had always been there, going through the many passages and trials of childhood. Things at the time that seemed like bumps in the road from a child’s perspective. Staving off childish remarks, who would fend off the bullies of the playground and who would share snacks with whom. Silly little things when {Name} could think back on it. The promises of sharing all these adventures, experiencing new things together all seemed to be the most natural thing. Of course all these fond childhood memories were not without their difficulty. Having a weak constitution often left (M/Name} bed ridden more days often than not. {Name} lost count over how many days they would visit their sick friend, read stories and spent time just holding {M/Name's} hand.

Staying together throughout their school years, didn’t take too long into their high school careers before {Name} gave an awkward confession that finally evolved the relationship from childhood friends into high school sweethearts. {M/Name} could only laugh and offer the answer “What took you so long?”

It was a happy period, high school had its silly and immature little drama's, along with those ‘joys of youth' moments. The pattern of healthy days and days of relapse were less consistent, but {Name} never failed to be the one to help {M/Name} study or catch up on the missed classes. As well as giving them all the little news and tidbits from around school. The habit {Name} kept from childhood was the habit of holding {M/Name's} hand at their bedside while they were sick or under the weather. Some family and friends expected that the dedication and faithfulness to be a temporary thing with the whole idealism of “young love.” And that thought led many to believe the young relationship would fizzle down the line. Through the rest of high school, even throughout college, the two seemed just as in love as the first time. Soon the news of graduation was to be shared with another reason for celebration. Seeing that the couple had decided to get married. {M/Name} did explain concerns regarding things like their not so fantastic health that may lead to a shorter life. It was overridden by hope and happiness, soon after {Name} was married happily.

{Name} turned another page of the photo album, their hand shaking and pausing before the page turned again. The photos of all the memories they shared from children, to the awkward teen years to when they finally grew into themselves. The page that follows a happy wedding was a painful chapter when only small moments of reprieve and happiness could be found. As to why {Name} did this to themselves on every anniversary they never knew. Sometimes it was just sadness over the loss, and the emptiness that followed. The anger they had towards the tragedy that they couldn’t blame on anyone or anything. Sometimes {Name} felt guilt over finding a new mate when they had promised that {M/Name} would be the only one they loved. {Name} took a deep breath and turned the page. It wasn’t the most pleasant memory, but {M/Name} still insisted on taking photos with {Name}, something to look back on while they sat in the hospital day in and day out.

{M/Name} fell sick not too long after their marriage. Them getting a little sick wasn’t anything new. {Name} knew how to care for them at this point and did so with no complaint. They remained hopeful, fate was not so kind… since {M/Name} never showed any signs of getting better. Only worse, slowly and steadily deteriorating. The departure from home had arrived and {M/Name} had to find residence in a hospital instead. Religiously, {Name} would visit them everyday, tenderly holding that weak hand tightly and wishing away all the sorrows and sickness. The two of them were always so overly considerate to one another, sometimes it would be awkward seeing how they would try their best to disguise their pains and worries. Opting to show the other a happy, carefree face and smile to one another.

{M/Name’s} condition only saw a decline, at this point most days were spent sleeping. {Name} never uttered a word nor whisper of complaint and held their hand, listening to the steady rhythm of weakened breathing. For a little while {M/Name} seemed to be getting better, overnight and miraculously. It was such a beautiful illusion, {Name} held so much hope and promise with the sudden improvements. {M/Name} thought differently, they smiled and went along with {Name's} joy, casting their own solemn expression when no one was paying attention. The doctor was the one to deliver the bad news to {Name}, the matter of the fact came down to {M/Name} was not getting better. The “improvement” simply proved to be an indicator that it may be time to say goodbye. The doctors words were grave and proved true not long after, much to {Name's} dismay. Progression of the disease hit harder and faster than before.

{Name} read a book to {M/Name}, a calming voice but a tired smile seemed to show their exhaustion more than they wanted. Mindlessly they read the words that appeared on the page, sometimes making mistakes. “Promise me you won’t stay alone" {M/Name’s} voice spoke, quietly and was enough to cease {Name} from their reading. The conversation had come out of nowhere and {Name} felt too rattled to speak with what they had said. “I-…I don’t want anyone else but you.” {Name} gently protested against their words. “You must love and be loved, I don’t want you to hold onto me forever. I might not be here but that’s no reason for you to keep holding on.”

Logically…logically, {Name} knew what they said made sense. It was their wish, however, trying to sway the heart in a matter of logic is simply a hopeless feat. {Name} truly believed their heart only had room for {M/Name}, they were the first and only person they ever loved. Everyday, every night {Name} held onto their hand, helplessly begging and praying to help share the burden, to be the one in their place instead. Things, even those that are tragic are considered a cruel fate but something that was meant to be. Just because something was meant to be, did not mean those left behind could accept it. Even the last words uttered before their passing were words of love left for {Name}. The feeling shattered in them, crying miserably for days and sobbed at the funeral beyond being consoled. Everything became bleak and {Name} felt as if they lost their purpose and driving force, the empty space that their mate had left behind was far too great for anything or anyone else to fill.

Slowly, they could get back to normality. They could look fondly on their happy memories. They could speak about them without crying. Grief was reserved for this day, {Name} would happily celebrate {M/Name's} life everyday, they loved the good memories. Today was the day when all the bad memories would come creeping through and engulfed everything. Today was the day where {Name} could blame themselves, or get angry at any god just trying to find some reason as to why they had to go through the loss of the person they loved so much.

{Name} cried, and tried to stand up which was unsuccessful; and they slumped back to the floor. The house was a mess, they were a mess and {Name} wanted to gather themselves before Aizawa arrived home.

Aizawa walked into the dark house and could smell the faint lingering scent of booze, the sounds of softened sobs and sniffles that originated from {Name}.

Aizawa spotted them sitting on the floor, eyes swollen from all the crying that they obviously forced themselves to stop at the sound of him arriving. It was not a common sight, but one Aizawa grew used to on this date. He knew what today meant for them, and the memories and stories behind it. Setting the food down, Aizawa approached and knelt besides {Name}, gently grasping their hand. The faint warmth that engulfed their hand felt pleasant and reassuring. Such a natural affection they had finally grown accustomed to. Thinking back on it now, it was such a strange thing. {Name} didn’t feel too much hesitance to share their bed, their body or even their kisses although the idea of holding hands felt somehow sacred for them. It definitely seemed stranger seeing that most of the first affections and steps towards intimacy would start with a small affection like holding hands.

{Name} glanced at Aizawa, offering a sad smile “Hey love, sorry about the mess. I’ll clean up in a bit" they spoke with strain in their voice. Aizawa guided them into an embrace, his hands awkwardly and carefully patting their back in a tender manner “It’s alright {Name}”

He tried his best to offer any comfort he could, {Name's} expression always looked so painful when they were sad. It made his heart ache. “It’s really alright” Aizawa spoke with a tentative tone, taking the empty bottle from {Name's} hand. He stood up to grab the food from the counter before settling down on the floor next to them. {Name} noticed that the food Aizawa bought were all of their favorites, a welcome gesture considering they had not eaten the entire day. Aizawa handed them some food, just knowing that they hadn’t eaten and hoped they could eat together even in silence. He knew that grief could greatly change a person, and left lifelong scars on the heart. Aizawa can remember how he felt when he lost one of his closest friends, a relationship is always felt when lost. If people did not regard friends as deeply as mates, the pain of losing one must have felt awful. “A loss of any sort was still worthy of grief.” At least that was something Aizawa had been told.

“I’m sorry" {Name} apologized, they hated being seen in this state and yet, even in this state, {Name} still felt considerate and concern over Aizawa. Without fail they apologized time and time again, feeling an indescribable guilt for mourning. They believed it may have been awkward or even hurtful towards him to be seen grieving so much over a past mate. Aizawa never felt anger, nor sadness towards this. Loss is a natural course of life and everyone has lost someone. {Name} had always loved with their whole heart. That in itself is quite a beautiful thing, Aizawa knew that {Name} is always sincere towards him. Loving, kind and caring, they truly had a gentle and affectionate nature that made one feel truly loved. {Name} never held their feelings back and could be transparent, if anything could be said, it would be that {Name} had always been a little guarded. However, this was to be expected, seeing that every wounded heart will try its best to guard itself. If there is anything Aizawa regrets, or felt distressed over it is the fact that he feels he can not be of more help to his mate. Though still tried his hardest to ease and comfort them.

Aizawa helped {Name} to their feet, and led them to their shared bedroom in the hopes that they could rest comfortably. {Name} notably showed a more bashful side, thinking back to when they were sobbing like a child in front of Aizawa. They had enough to drink to be honest but not enough to lose their minds. Almost regretfully when they were plagued by embarrassing memories. Aizawa took a step away to let {Name} unwind and settle into bed while he went to clean up the kitchen. Throwing away the empty bottles and cans that were evidently scattered about, carefully collecting the photos and putting them safely within the album they had been pulled from. Aizawa made something warm to drink, and brought it to {Name}, who showed a polite smile and thanked him. Once again, in spite of the situation. {Name} still worried about Aizawa’s wellbeing over their own. He noticed this and just flicked {Name} on the forehead “You don’t need to do that” Aizawa almost appeared to be scolding {Name} and it wasn’t too far off from it. He only did this because he is worried about them, and watching them disregard their own wellbeing for someone else often made Aizawa feel a little sad to see them so restrained towards their own feelings. “I know…” {Name's} word faded out into a soft whisper. Aizawa signaled for {Name} to move up, after setting down the warm drink, Aizawa settled on the bed next to them. {Name} naturally leaned and nuzzled into him. “Thank you for being here with me. I know its not easy.”

Being an alpha by many people’s standards often put people into a position where they felt they had to be the sole structure to keep everyone afloat. Including themselves. Alphas were not seen as weak nor vulnerable and were forced into roles that demanded that, without reprieve for themselves.

Aizawa pressed a kiss to {Name's} lips. “It’s not easy to lose someone. Not for you, not for anyone. I really don’t see a reason for you to apologize or thank me.” Aizawa spoke matter of factly, with a fond hint of warmth to his words. They left {Name} thinking, “Isn’t obvious that I would be here for you. Not out of obligation but because I want to be.”

{Name} smiled “I know…still. I need to tell you that I’m thankful” {Name} replied, finally hearing some uplift in their voice. {Name} remained in Aizawa's arms. The unsettled and discontented feeling from earlier finally seemed to calm alongside the tiredness that set in. They felt soothed, warm and comfortable, from the feeling of having someone beside them, the warmth of his kindness and intentions. Paired with the now lukewarm drink Aizawa made for them earlier. {Name} closed their eyes, the calming motion when Aizawa ran his fingers through their hair and lulled {Name} into a light sleep. {Name} felt hesitant at first to be this vulnerable and show such a side to their mate. But it was thanks to Aizawa, that {Name} could have this one day to fall apart and let out all the bad feelings they kept bottled up. They could rely on him to pick them up on these days.

Tomorrow {Name} would probably apologize for the drinking, the sobbing and for being unable to plaster on that faux smile so perfectly as they could in any other given situation. Aizawa would tell them its alright and {Name} loves him so much they are inclined to believe that if he says things are alright, things will really be alright.

“When I wake up, the dream isn't done. I wanna see your face and know I've made it home. If nothing is true, what more can I do? I am still...painting flowers for you” Painting Flowers by All Time Low

[yourmidnightlover]

drivers license

Summary: based on this request. i kind of changed it a bit and made it the ‘story behind drivers license’ if that makes sense. the events that lead up to her writing this song in the future.

TW: fluff/angst, a bit of kissing, sad ending, i think that’s it?

WC: 4,349

masterlist

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there was always a certain kind of tenderness when you would return home to visit your dad. you rarely got to do so, especially being on your first national tour. so when any opportunity arose to see him, you took it as a blessing. 

your dad had told you about a guy your age he had taken under his wing and began to mentor, you had just never met him. sebastian? samuel? his name escaped you. your dad had just mentioned how he was a little older than you, and a bit different than most people you would meet at the fbi academy. 

because of knowing how much your dad liked this boy, it was no surprise that when you were dropped off by the taxi cab you took you saw a guy matching the description your father had given you a while ago. 

there he stood, a book in hand as he leaned against the post of your dad’s porch, completely unaware of the world around him. he was engrossed in the book, lost in another place you wondered if he would ever want to show you. 

“y/n!” your dad began making his way down the steps of his cabin to greet you. “spencer, why don’t you help her out a bit?” 

“oh-uh, ri-right. yes, of course,” he stuttered out before making his way to help you get the remaining bag out of the trunk. 

“hi, spencer i assume?” you squinted, extending your had to shake his before remembering what your dad had told you. “oh wait, i’m sorry. you don’t like hand shakes,” you laughed off, retreating your hand and opting to just wipe your palm on your pants. 

you finally got a good look at him.  his hair was slicked back neatly, almost too neatly for someone in the fbi. his eyes were a bit sunken in, but not in a worrisome way, more in a way that made you wonder what those eyes had seen to make them that way. his nose, an adorable button nose that was a bit upturned at anything beneath him. lips, the doors of breath, the plump pinkness of them as he softly bit the inside of it from... nerves? habit. what words would fall out of them that would engross your being entirely. 

he was attractive. maybe in a bit of an unconventional way, but in a way nonetheless. 

“th-that’s alright,” he smiled softly as he took both bags from you and began taking them inside of the cabin to the room he knew to be yours. 

“dad,” you smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, him returning the favor. “i’ve missed you,” you hummed against his shoulder.

“me too, sweetie. i’m glad your back,” he pulled back, grasping your shoulders firmly. “how long are you staying this time?”

“1 1/2 months,” you smiled. “that’s why there’s so much stuff,” you huffed out a laugh as you motioned to the rest of the taxi, grabbing the remaining two bags only for him to grab them from your hands. “i can carry my own things, y’know.”

“and i want to do something sweet for my daughter. let me live, why don’t ya?” he teased as you both went into your room, spencer following behind after you made it past the living room. 

it was similar to how you left it before college. there were pictures of your high school friends you weren’t in touch with anymore, some of you in the marching band and others of you at the lake with a group of people. there were banners of the college you had once wanted to go, now overshadowed by your dreams coming true. your old paintings were displayed on the wall along with some family photos you had taken with stephen. there was your guitar in the corner, along with a keyboard and ukulele you had learned to play when you were little. 

“i’m so sorry i’ve deprived you of being sweet to your daughter,” you raised your hands in feigned defeat. “how’ve you been?” you asked, plopping down on the familiar bed. 

“i’ve been good. spencer being around has been helping with you not being here,” he replied as he took the seat beside you. 

“wow, already replacing me, huh?” you chuckled as you nudged jason with your shoulder gently. 

“i’ll let you two get acquainted,” he pat your leg gently before he stood up and left you and spencer in your childhood room.

“i-i would never want to do that. if i’m overstepping i can tota-” spencer got cut off.

“don’t worry, spencer. i was just... playing around, y’know?” you smiled. “i’m glad you’re here to help out with this old man,” you laughed. “i’ve heard a lot about you. you’re pretty impressive, i hope you know that.”

“oh uhm, th-thank you. i think?” he smiled again, taking a seat in the chair at your vanity after turning it towards you. 

“you’re welcome, it’s not everyday i meet a doctor that’s under 20,” you chuckled once again. “sorry, i make terrible jokes when i’m nervous,” you looked back down at your hands. 

“i think i’ve caught on to that, yes,” he agreed. “why, if i may ask, are you nervous?” 

“um, i guess because i’m intimidated by you?” you phrased as a question.

“you’re intimidated by me? ho-wha-why would you be intimidated by me?” he questioned, leaning in closer to your bed in interest. 

“well for one, three phds. two, eidetic memory. three, have you looked in the mirror?” you returned the questioning, leaning in to mirror his body language. 

“what’s wrong? why would i need to look in the mirror?” he leaned back a bit, looking in the mirror at your vanity and furrowing his brows before you stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. 

“nothing wrong, spencer. you’re just... attractive, okay?” you chuckled as he settled into your touch. “oh shoot, i’m sorry,” you grimaced as you retracted your hand, surprised when he grasped it firmly.

there was a brief moment, one that made it seem as though maybe he had that same attraction to you. that brief moment held an impact on you. he wasn’t just looking at you. he was looking at you. it seemed like he was committing this moment to his everlasting eidetic memory. 

and just like that, it was over. in the blink of an eye that moment was gone. 

“s-sorry,” he let go of your hand quickly, you pulled it back to your side, not forgetting the touch of his soft hand, his fingers encasing around gently. 

“don’t be, spencer,” you smiled before your dad came back into the room.

you had talked with him throughout the entire night, both your dad and spencer. there were times when you were almost positive he had felt that spark. you thought maybe even your dad noticed it, but nothing was said or done. 

after your dad had gone to bed around 2:30 a.m., you had all decided it was too late for spencer to drive back to the academy. so, he would stay the night.

you had wanted to continue your discussion with him about popular study methods, being yet again entranced by his ramblings and the way his hands would motion about nearly anything he could. you were both on the couch, sharing a blanket as you began to doze off to the soothing sound of spencer’s voice. 

“sorry, i should stop talking,” he chuckled, his hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly before you grasped his hand with yours.

“no, no it’s not that. please, keep talking,” you smiled before releasing his hand. “your voice is really nice, is all,” you shrugged.

“re-really?” his voice raised three octaves.

“yea, really,” you chuckled. “can you just... keep talking?”

“uhm, y-yea. sure. i can do that,” he smiled as you curled in closer to him. your head rested on his chest as your hand wrapped around his side before your head shot up.

“i’m sorry, i-is this okay? you don’t even like shaking hands and here i am curling into you like i’m a koala. koala’s do that, right? yea sure they do that,” you rambled on.

“it’s alright. there’s more warmth, i think it’s nice,” he said as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling your body closer to his.

“alright, i just wanted to make sure,” you complied, your head resting fully on his chest with no reservations. 

“so there were many studies done in the 80s about how writing things multiple times helps the brain with muscle...” spencer trailed on talking, noticing the way your breathing steadied out with the welcoming of sleep.

you didn’t feel the kiss he pressed to your hairline once he was sure you were asleep. you didn’t know that’s the best he’d slept in weeks. you would never know. 

the week went on very similar. you would spend most of your time with your dad, and when able to spencer would tag along after he got out of the academy. you found yourself yearning for the times he would come over, and realized that he was the closest friend you’ve had since high school. and it only took two weeks. 

two weeks for the bit of attraction to develop into a crush. two weeks for you to realize how sweet and caring and boyfriendy he would be if he was officially yours. but you couldn’t say anything about it yet.  

unbeknownst to you, sometime before you had arrived your dad had told spencer about your driving issue, or more like the lack thereof. 

“so...” he smiled mischievously. “i heard that you don’t know how to drive yet,” he revealed as you chuckled humorlessly.

“nope. not gonna happen, sir,” you laughed as you rose from the bed, placing your notebook away on your shelf. 

“what? why not?!” he argued, remaining on the bed. 

“because, spence,” you huffed, turning back around to face him, pressing your back against your shelf. “it’s just... it makes me really anxious.”

“you? scared of something?” he incredulously replied. “no way,” he chuckled.

“hahaha, very funny,” you mocked him as you threw yourself down on the bed beside him. “i’m scared of a lot of things, y’know. i just don’t let people know about it,” you shrugged as you began playing with your fingers. 

“why not? it’s normal to be afraid of things,” he replied, laying all the way down beside you. 

“really? what’re you scared of then, doctor?” you replied sassily. 

“the dark,” he revealed quickly.

“the dark?” you turned your head to face him in confusion.

“mhmm, the dark,” he nodded as he looked down at you, staring into your eyes. “before you ask, it’s because of the inherent absence of light,” he smiled as you rolled your eyes. “but i still go into the dark all the time. metaphorically and physically.”

“it’s easier said than done,” you huffed out as you broke eye contact. 

“i’ll be there to help you through it all, y/n,” he reached for your hand and held it in his own. “i promise.”

there’s that feeling again.

“fine!” you groaned. “you win.”

“as i always do,” he grinned smugly before you pressed your palm against his face, shoving it away with a chuckle from the both of you. 

the next day, you were both in your dad’s car in the driveway. you were in the driver’s seat, spencer in the passenger side. you pressed on the brake as you switched gears to drive. 

“alright, slowly ease off the brake gently,” he guided softly. 

“the brakes are really sensitive on most cars, so you don’t need to be too aggressive with it.”

“slow down, jeez!” 

“okay, that was a really good stop.”

“not so sharp-” you hit the curb. “...on the turns” 

“okay, now pull in... just like that.”

“reverse, brake,”

“put it in park, perfect!”

“how’d i do, coach?” you smiled widely as you removed your hands from the wheel.

“not the worst, but you still need a lot of improvement,” he laughed.

“whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes as you removed the keys from the ignition. 

the next few days, you had driven around 20 times. you made simple trips to the grocery store, around the block, and to get food. you and spencer now had a road trip playlist, courtesy of you.

you also had a song you wanted to show him, one that wasn’t out on the radio yet. 

so the plan waited. and waited. and waited. 

“why don’t you sing us something?” your dad suggested while playing poker yet again, spencer clearly winning so far. 

“well that’s a bit random, dad,” you chuckled as you put down your card to fold.

“you should!” spencer agreed eagerly. “please?” he gave you puppy dog eyes. 

“fine!” you sighed, getting up to grab your guitar from your room. “just, don’t laugh. it’s a piece i’ve been working on since i got here. i haven’t found the right lyrics yet so bare with me,” you chuckled before beginning to strum.

you didn’t bother playing the lyrics, you knew they would reveal way too much far too fast. for now, the melody would have to do.

“wow, that sounds pretty good, y/n,” your dad applauded along with spencer. 

“thank you, thank you all,” you chuckled, taking a bow before returning your guitar to its respective place.

the next day you were driving, you decided to turn the radio on as a change of pace. you sighed as you rested your head on the back of the headrest, just listening to the music play until you heard a familiar sound. 

your head shot up, you looked at spencer with wide eyes before turning the radio up just to be sure. sure enough, it was your voice coming from the car radio speakers. your mouth dropped in awe as you froze in your seat, looking at spencer in the eyes.

“wait, this sounds like...” it took him a minute to realize. “this is your voice?!” he asked, his head shooting up with a look similar to yours as you nodded your head eagerly. 

he reached over the center console, wrapping his arms around you snugly. you embraced his arms, returning the favor gladly as you swayed to the song.

“that’s the first time i’ve heard it on the radio, spence,” you cheered into his shoulder.

“oh my god, that’s so amazing, y/n,” he pulled back. “i’m so proud of you.”

“thank you,” you smiled. 

you were still wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, just gazing into your eyes. suddenly, he was leaning in. his hand moved from behind your back to the side of your face, cupping it gently. you leaned in a bit in return.

suddenly, the door to your dad’s cabin shot open as he was shouting:

“you’re on the radio! you’re on the radio!” 

you both shot back to your respective places, you gave spencer a small smile before getting out of the car to go celebrate with your dad.

“y/n, i’m so proud of you!” your dad wrapped you in his arms. “congratulations.”

“thank you,” you huffed into his shoulder, breathing in the calming scent of home. 

you couldn’t help but wonder what might’ve happened if your dad hadn’t come outside. would he have actually kissed you? you would never know.

the week before you had to leave, you decided to finish writing the song. it wasn’t very hard, you’d written love songs before. but this one had actual meaning behind it. this one was for someone. it was for spencer.

a week before you had to leave your dad had gotten called out on a case, spencer had volunteered to keep you company for the next couple of days. spencer had called you ahead of time to tell you he was on his way.

when he arrived, he seemed a bit off. he wasn’t as... spencer as he normally was. his eyes didn’t light up, his smile was fake and only took up a small portion of his face. 

“are you alright?” you asked, closing the door behind him as he entered the house. 

“what? oh-yea, yea. i’m fine,” he pulled another fake smile.

“spencer, growing up with a father as a profile taught me a few things. what’s actually wrong?” you pressed as you sat down on the couch, spencer following suit.

“it’s really stupid,” he shrugged. 

“i don’t think it’s that stupid if it’s upsetting you,” you replied, scooting closer to him on the couch.

“fine,” he took a deep breath. “so... i’m clearly not as fit or muscular as most of the people in the academy. and i know i’ll be exempt from most of those physical attributes on account of my mind. but-well,” he sighed once more. “the guys there are just so rude about it. th-they laugh at me when we do our workouts. they don’t ever let me finish a thought. they call me chicken legs. it’s just... i’m tired of it. i thought that once i left high school i wouldn’t have to deal with people like them but i’m starting to think there will always be someone with something backhanded or rude to say about me,” he finished.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, allowing him to rest his head in the crevice by your shoulder and neck. his arms flew around your waist as you began rubbing light circles on his upper back.

“you’re right,” you broke the silence, not letting him out of your grasp. “there will always be someone with something to say, whether it’s good or bad. but what matters is how you hold yourself after they say something. you could hide away, which may seem like a good idea at the time, or you could ignore them, which seems really hard to do. and it is. but it’s easier as you learn to accept things they say.”

“what does that mean?” he questioned.

“it means, as cliché as it sounds, embrace your differences. if a guy calls you chicken legs say ‘yea, i have chicken legs. but at least my brain isn’t the size of a chicken’s.’” you countered, feeling a laugh against your shoulder. “and you know how much i love it when you talk. your mind amazes me every time i see you, spence. so don’t, please don’t, let them ruin you. you are perfect, just how you are.”

“thank you, y/n,” he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “i-i really needed to hear that.”

“anytime, doctor,” you smiled. “want me to play with your hair?” he nodded enthusiastically, plopping his head down in your lap as you began twirling and twisting his strands in your fingers.

you had managed to finish the song two nights before you had to leave. your dad still hadn’t gotten back from the case, so spencer was still going to hang out with you alone that night. you were going to play it for him. 

so when he got back from the academy, you grabbed his hands and led him into the living room.

“alright, i wrote this song, and i wanted to play it for you,” you smiled, playing with your fingers as you sat him down on the couch once more. 

“a-alright...” he said with a smile, his brows furrowing in confusion. 

“alright,” you ran to your bedroom to get your guitar, racing back to begin playing.

*i actually wrote this song so please be nice lol*

“i wasn’t looking for much

i just came back,

and then i felt your touch

and the way you smiled, 

made me think that maybe

this would be worth my while.

because i’m driving off the deep end

swear to god this isn’t right

you should be mine, 

i should be yours.

i heard your voice on that night,

the way that you held me tight

in your arms

and i never wanna leave

if it means i have to let you go

i don’t wanna let go.

the next day we were in the car

you made me feel safe inside

then i showed you my guitar

i let you inside my mind

but i’m scared you’ll be the one to say no

the one to go

because i’m driving off the deep end

swear to god this isn’t right

you should be mine,

i should be yours.

i heard your voice on that night,

the way that you held me tight

in your arms

and i never wanna leave

if it means i have to let you go

i don’t wanna let go.

i don’t wanna see you go

don’t wanna be the one 

to tell you so

because i can’t take the stress

of whether or not you’ll say yes

because... 

i’ve driven off the deep end

swear to god this isn’t right

you should be mine,

i should be yours.

i heard your voice on that night,

the way that you held me tight

in your arms

and i never wanna leave

if it means i have to let you go

i don’t wanna let go.”

you bit your lip as you set the guitar down, taking a seat beside him on the couch slowly.

“that sounded great, y/n! you said you just wrote this? it’s really good!” he replied, a bright smile on his face, clearly unaware of the gravity of the song.

he didn’t understand the song was for him. about him. 

“spencer... do you not get it?” you asked, closing your eyes in fear. 

“get what? the song was really good, what’s there to get?” he replied.

“it was... the song... nevermind,” you smiled, finally opening your eyes to face him “thank you.”

if he didn’t understand it, you could always tell him later, perhaps.

the last night of your visit, your dad had gotten back from the case and joined you and spencer for dinner.

“so, have you finished that song you were working on, y/n?” your dad asked curiously.

“uhm...” you trailed off, the subject still a bit rocky for you.

“she has! it’s really good, she played it for me the other night,” spencer divulged. 

“oh. that’s nice. care to play it once more?” he requested.

“right,” you took a deep breath. “sure, of course i can.”

so, you played it once more. you stayed focused on your strum patterns and the notes as you played.

“wow that was really good! are you thinking of releasing it?” your dad asked. 

“well i’d have to talk to my manager about it, but i might,” you shrugged as you took your seat back at the table. 

“what’s it about, if you don’t mind me asking,” you dad asked once more. “or... who’s it about?”

“why does it have to be about someone? maybe it’s just abut a feeling,” you sassed.

“well normally you don’t tell a feeling you should be theirs’,” spencer added.

“yea, yea, yea,” you rolled your eyes. 

that night, you and spencer fell asleep yet again watching another movie in your bedroom. part of you was surprised your dad allowed spencer and you to get this close... but maybe he knew that he didn’t feel the same for you and your dad knew.

the next morning you finished packing so you could leave. it was a bittersweet moment, truly. you wanted to stay with your dad and spencer but you also wanted to follow your dreams. 

you had already bid your goodbyes to your dad before he had to go into work. packing up the last of your bags in your car, because now you felt comfortable driving, you closed the trunk once more.

“y/n?” spencer called you back inside the house.

“yea, spence?” 

“i’m going to miss you,” he smiled fondly. “i uhm, i wrote you this letter. and i just... can you read it once you’re on the plane?” he asked as he hadned you the letter, tears filling his eyes at the thought of you leaving. 

“of course i can,” you smiled back. “don’t cry, doc. then i’ll cry,” you huffed out a laugh. 

“i just, i don’t want you to go,” he replied, not realizing the irony of him saying that.

“i don’t want to go, but i need to do this,” you bit your lip. “i need to follow my dreams. but... i did say goodbye. that song? it was about you, spencer,” you felt the tear leave your eye, drip down your cheek. “i like you a lot, and i just didn’t really know how else to tell you other than writing a song.”

“y/n, i... the song... you want to be with me?” he asked in confusion. 

“yea, i do. i really do,” you nodded sorrowfully. “but now i’m leaving and-”

his lips were on yours in an instant. his hands cradled your face like they once were as you sat in the car with him. you hesitated for a second before your arms flew around his neck, welcoming his lips once more. your tongue traced his bottom lip, seeking entrance which he eagerly allowed. it was harmonious, much like the song that brought you two to this moment.

until it was over. you pulled back slowly.

“wow,” you swallowed.

“yea... wow,” he replied not moving his eyes off of yours. “i just... i couldn’t let you leave without doing that at least once.”

“i’m glad you didn’t wait,” you smiled before removing your arms. 

“but you’re still leaving...” he remembered, quietly announcing it as though you had forgotten.

“mmhmm,” you nodded your head. “i am...”

“and we can’t be together. because i’m about to graduate from the academy. and be a member of the bau. and i won’t have time for...” he realized with a look of sadness.

“you’re right. i’ll be touring and i barely have time for my dad,” you shrugged.

“so we agree?” spencer added. “this would never work?”

“we agree,” you turned around and started walking towards your car. “this would never work.”

you boarded the plane, fresh tears piercing your eyes as you sat in your seat.

he didn’t want you. he didn’t think you were worth fighting for. he didn’t think you were enough for him. he would rather face death than be with you, want you. he kissed you only to want to leave. 

you felt terrible about yourself. part of you hated him. but every part of you couldn’t help but... love him.

but now it’s too late.

taglist:

@greenprisca

[hockey-fics]

When We’re 25 ~ Nathan MacKinnon 

Summary: Twenty-five seemed so old for two eleven year olds sitting on the grassy field behind their school. Who would have thought promises made 14 years ago could change everything?

Word Count: ~4,000

Warnings: None

Video Source of Gif

A/N: Unedited and based a lot in the past so I tried to put together an accurate timeline but please forgive me if I didn’t get years quite right. 

Nathan MacKinnon. People always asked about your relationship with him. People always had. Because you were inseparable from the day you met. It was when you were eight years old and your third grade teacher put him beside you while completing her seating plan for the year when you first met. 

A few days later Nate invited you to come play soccer during recess. You spent all of five minutes playing soccer with the boys before heading off to the edge of the soccer field, picking a handful of wildflowers. You gave them to Nathan while walking back into the school after the bell rang and they stayed in his desk until they were shrivelled up and dead. 

You started going to each others houses after school and on weekends. His parents and your parents grew closer through the frequent trips to each other’s houses dropping off or picking one of you up. 

In grade four you weren’t in the same class as Nate and you cried the morning of your first day back at school. But still you still saw each other at every recess and lunch break. He would occasionally swap out playing soccer to spend the break with you. Other times you would drag your friends up to the soccer field to hang out on the sidelines, simply to be near him. 

It started early, the teasing from your friends. They would giggle and talk about how they were certain you two ‘like liked’ each other. Your parents made occasional comments too. Comments that would make your cheeks burn and turn a dark shade of red. Through everything you had always denied liking Nathan. 

When you were eleven years old your older cousin was getting married and your family took a trip across the country for the wedding. When you got back to school you were bombarded with questions from your friends about the trip. You talked about how magical it all was, gushing about the dress, the cake, the dancing, and in true childhood fashion, that the hotel you stayed in had a pool. Jeremy, a boy in your class, was sitting nearby, listening in on the conversation. “Too bad nobody will every want to marry you,” Jeremy muttered when you had finished talking. 

“Jeremy, you’re so mean,” your best friend had defended quickly.

“it’s just the truth,” he had replied matter-of-factly. 

You tried your best not to let Jeremy’s comment hurt your feelings. But the tears that welled up in your eyes betrayed you and before anyone had the chance to say anything else you were on your feet and fleeing to the closest bathroom so nobody could see your emotions. 

You were in the bathroom for awhile before your friend came in, coaxing you out of the bathroom stall. “Nate punched him,” she had said, so simply, as if it didn’t mean anything. 

You were shocked when she told you, scared about the trouble he was going to get into. And he did get into trouble, a week of missed recess breaks. 

You sat outside on the grassy hill behind the school with Nathan that day after school. 

“Sorry you got in trouble,” you told him. 

“He upset you.”

“You shouldn’t have hit him.”

“He shouldn’t have been mean to you.”

You had looked over at Nate and knew in that moment that he didn’t even know why he punched Jeremy, didn’t know what Jeremy had even said, just that he had made you cry. “He told me nobody would ever want to marry me.”

“He’s wrong.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’d marry you,” Nathan had told you so simply that it made you giggle even at that age. 

“We’re too young,” you had replied, as if that was the only reason you two couldn’t get married. 

“When we’re older then.”

“You’re going to marry me when we’re older?”

Nathan nodded, pulling a tiny wild daisy from the ground and handing it to you. “If we aren’t already married to other people.”

“When?” You asked him, twirling the flower between your fingers. 

Nate contemplated the answer for awhile before saying anything. “Twenty-five?”

Twenty-five had seemed so far from that day. You were only eleven and you thought you would have it all figured out by the time you were 25. “Okay,” you had told him. 

The two years Nathan had spent playing hockey in Minnesota were incredibly difficult for you. You were 12 and going through so many changes in your life. The only thing you really wanted was to have your best friend around. 

When you were both 14 and Nathan had moved back from Minnesota to play in Halifax you went back to being practically inseparable. You went to as many of his games as possible. Even when you both had homework to do you insisted on being together, working quietly on separate assignments till it devolved into talking and laughing. Any opportunity to hang out together you would take it. 

When you were 16 you managed to convince Nate to come to a house party with you. One of the kids in your class had been left alone for the weekend which inevitably meant he was going to throw a party. Nate spent most of the night sipping coca-cola while you consumed jungle juice and cheap beer. 

Of course a game of truth or dare was suggested that night because you were all high school students who had access to alcohol and an unsupervised home. The lack of seating in the house had left you sitting on Nathan’s lap, his arms wrapped around your waist, your back pressed into him. 

“Y/N,” Lexie said. “Truth or dare?”

You had immediately opted for a dare. You were a bad liar sober, you knew there was no way you could have lied convincingly if they asked something you didn’t want to admit. 

“I dare you to kiss Adam.”

Adam was a year older than you, intimidatingly cool and attractive to you at the time. You had just turned 16 and you were beginning to feel embarrassed about the fact that you hadn’t had your first kiss. But that was not how you wanted it to happen. You hadn’t realized how long you had sat there in surprise till you felt Nathan run his hand over your arm. He knew. He knew that you hadn’t had your first kiss before and he had detected your anxiety immediately. 

“She’s not doing that,” Nate had declared a moment later. 

“Why not?” Lexie questioned, eyes narrowed and voice annoyed. 

“Because we’re dating.”

You had tried to keep your composure in the face of such a bold lie. You remembered the looks your friends had given you, even they were uncertain whether it was a lie or not because of how believable it would have been. 

“You’re lying,” Lexie had challenged. 

“Why would I lie about that?” Nathan slid his hands down to your legs, tugging you sideways on his lap and bringing one of his hands to the side of your face, turning your head to look at him. “They’ll believe us if I kiss you,” Nathan whispers. 

You swallow heavily, staring into his eyes. You wanted to kiss him, but you didn’t think this was how you wanted it to happen. You could feel the eyes of everyone playing the game in the room and suddenly the attention felt like too much. “I want to go,” you whispered back. 

Nathan didn’t need to hear anything else. He placed his hands on your waist, quickly helping you up before standing up himself. “We’re going to go home,” Nate announced as you walked out with him, hearing a chorus of ‘oohs’ in regard to you two leaving together after that announcement. 

You walked back in the direction of your house in silence for awhile until you passed by a park and you grabbed Nate’s hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Lets go on the swings,” you suggested. 

The two of you sat on the swings and talked for awhile, not about what happened at the party at first. “I just want it over with,” you finally blurted out. 

“Want what over with?” 

You had looked over at Nathan, fingers grasping the chain of the swing so hard your knuckles had gone white. “My first kiss.”

“If we’re going to get married we may as well try kissing now,” Nathan had said, laughing as he did. You knew the part about getting married was a joke so you assumed the rest was as well, giggling softly. 

Nathan stood up and walked in front of you, his hands moving to yours, gently pulling them off the chains of the swing. “I’m serious.”

Slowly you stood up, looking up at him with wide eyes. “What if I’m bad at it?”

“You won’t be,” Nathan had assured you, one hand around your back as he pulled you closer. “Do you want to?”

You had simply nodded, as if you were physically unable to say yes. Nathan had kissed you that night. Your first kiss ever. Afterwards you didn’t say much as he walked you home, waiting till you were inside before going back to his own house. 

Neither of you talked about the kiss again. You told everyone afterwards that you didn’t work out in a relationship that you were still friends. But a year and a half later, when you were almost 18 you brought it up again.

“You know how you let me kiss you to get my first kiss out of the way?” You asked, sitting on your bed with your school work spread out in front of you. Nate had been sitting beside you with his math textbook and a messy sheet of equations in his lap. 

Nate had looked over at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Well I kissed you, but yeah. Why?”

“Would you do it again?”

“You can’t have your first kiss twice.”

“Not my first kiss….my first…time.”

Nathan had stared at you blankly for a few seconds, seemed skeptical, like you were tricking him into admitting something. “Yes,” he had finally told you. 

“Okay,” you had replied, slowly moving all your books off your bed. And Nathan did exactly what he said, taking your virginity that afternoon. And he was gentle and kind and everything you were hoping he would be. You trusted him with everything and you were glad you had trusted him with this too. Even though it happened only a few months before he was drafted into the NHL and then moved to Colorado. 

You stayed close when he moved. You texted and called and visited each other as much as you could. And you always remained determined that you were just friends. But you never felt the same connection you felt with him as you felt with anyone you had actually dated. You never felt as comfortable, as safe, as secure. 

Nathan had always done his absolute best to make sure he was there for your birthdays. There were a few years where he couldn’t make it work because of games. A couple of those years you decided to go to him, celebrating your birthday with a few friends in a hockey arena watching an Avs game before dragging Nathan out for drinks with everyone. 

This year he was particularly insistent about coming to visit for your birthday. It was your 25th and he was making it out to seem like a much bigger deal than you thought it was. It was just another day. 

He had come up the day before your birthday and the two of you spent every waking minute together. The day of your birthday you woke up to Nathan making you breakfast, coffee already brewed. 

“This is pretty impressive,” you said, shuffling tiredly into the kitchen and wrapping your arms around him, your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“It’s your birthday, you deserve everything.” He wraps his arms around you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Now sit down.”

Giggling you pull away from him, taking a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. “Ally said you guys made plans later but that I need to dress nice,” you comment, watching as Nathan flips a couple pancakes onto a plate. “Will you tell me what we’re doing?”

“No,” Nathan chuckles, setting the pancakes in front of you. 

Glaring at him you pick up your fork. “Fine, but will you at least come with me and help me pick out something suitable to wear tonight?”

“Sure,” Nathan chuckles, getting himself some breakfast and joining you to eat. 

Later that day you step out of a fitting room in a knee length red wrap dress, glancing in the mirror before looking at Nathan. “What do you think of this one?”

“You look incredible,” Nathan says, leaning forward in the chair he was sitting in. 

You glance over as one of the sales associates comes into the back, looking between you and Nathan for a minute. “Anniversary dinner?”

Laughing softly you shake your head. “My birthday.”

“Oh,” she says, smiling softly. “You two are just really cute.”

“We’re going to get married,” Nathan chuckles. 

“We’re not,” you tell the sales associate quickly, glancing at Nathan through the mirror. “He’s joking, we’re just friends.”

“Oh,” she comments again, grabbing a few dresses from a hanger before heading back into the store. 

“Nathan, what the hell?” You exclaim, giggling as you turn back around to look at him. “Is this the one?” You ask, gesturing to the dress and changing the topic. 

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

After changing back into your clothes you and Nathan take the dress to the front counter. When you notice Nathan pulling out his wallet you quickly push his hand away. “No,” you say quietly. 

“It’s your birthday,” he retorts, pulling a credit card out of his wallet. 

Rolling your eyes you give in, knowing you weren’t going to get out of letting him pay for it. Once you two leave the store you grab a coffee, spending the day doing nothing but hanging out with each other. And to be honest there wasn’t a single other thing you would have rather been doing. Whenever Nate was in town or you were in Denver it felt like a missing piece in your life was filled. 

It was many hours later before you were fully dressed and ready for the night, heading out with Nathan who insisted on driving because he refused to tell you where you were actually going. But it wasn’t long before you realized it was your favourite restaurant which you didn’t go to often because of the price and fact that you needed to make reservations weeks in advance if you wanted to be sure you could get in. 

Glancing over at Nate you smile softly, watching his eyes focused on the road in front of him. I love you. It wasn’t the first time you wanted to say it. In fact, you had even said it before. But it was always followed up by ‘you’re my best friend’ to take away from what it really meant. Nate looks over at you, catching you watching him. 

“What?” Nate asks, looking back out the window as he slows down and pulls into a spot near the front of the restaurant. 

“Nothing,” you tell him quietly, reaching over and unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’m just really glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” he replies, quickly climbing out of the car. Your attention is caught by the speed with which Nate hops out of the car, hurrying around the front of it. 

You can’t help but giggle, watching as he gets to your side, pulling the door open. “Almost broke into a sprint there,” you tease, eyes widening as Nate grabs your hand to help you out of the car. “It’s my birthday, not my coronation.”

Nate chuckles, closing the door behind you once you were out of the car. “Anything for you.”

You glance down at your hands, Nate’s hand still locked with yours. But you don’t pull away, keeping the embrace as you two walk up to the restaurant and all the way to the table where a group of your friends were already waiting. 

“Happy birthday,” your best friend cheers, hopping up to wrap her arms around you. “You and Nate look cozy,” she whispers in her ear while her arms were around you. 

Laughing you shake your head, pulling away. “Just friends,” you remind her, for what felt like the millionth time. 

“Right,” she draws out, rolling her eyes with a playful smile. 

After a few more happy birthday hugs and hellos you sit down beside Nate. Chatter ensues around the table as drinks are ordered. Shortly after you have a glass of pinot noir in front of you and Nate has moved a little closer, his arm around the back of your chair.

The dinner goes by quicker than you would have liked. A few glasses of wine and a delicious dinner later your friends are handing over the gifts they had brought with them. After you had opened the gifts from your friends you notice Nate watching you closely, clutching a little box in his hand. 

“Happy birthday,” he whispers as he hands the box to you. 

Opening it slowly you look down at the gorgeous necklace in the box. You knew immediately that it cost more than all the other jewelry you owned combined and it was more than you could have ever asked for or anticipated. “Nathan,” you whisper, looking up at him. “Thank you so much…you didn’t have to.”

“Oh my god, put it on,” your friend comments, downing the rest of her martini. 

You slowly and carefully pull the necklace out of the box and Nate stands up, helping you put the necklace on without hesitation. “Happy twenty-fifth,” he whispers before sitting back down. 

As soon as the words leave his mouth it all comes back to you. 25. You look over at him, staring into his eyes to try and figure out if he knew the weight of 25 as well or if he was simply saying it because it was a fact, you were 25 now. But you know that he remembered too. 

You try to keep your focus on the moment, on the dinner and your friends. But you couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting the rest of the night. To Nate. To the necklace. To how much you loved him. To the fact that you were both 25 now. 

After dinner everyone heads outside and you can’t stop yourself from taking Nathan’s hand, pulling him a little closer. Outside you say goodbyes as everyone heads off in their Ubers. There was no question that you would be spending the night with Nathan. Your friends were around all the time and they knew when Nathan was in town you wanted to be around him as much as humanly possible. 

Once everyone was gone you turn to look up at Nate. The sky was dark, the evening cool but not too cold. The street was unbelievably quiet, as if the world had been put on pause. Everything felt perfect. “So we’re both twenty-five now,” you whisper. 

Nathan takes your other hand in his, pulling you a little closer. “And neither of us are married.”

Laughing softly you shake your head. “Twenty-five seemed so old at the time. I really thought we’d have it all figured out.”

“I do have something figured out.”

“Just one thing?” you tease. 

“One pretty big thing,” Nate tells you, voice quiet. 

“And what is it?”

“That I love you,” Nate says. “So much more than I’ve ever let you know. And I would marry you right now if that’s what you actually wanted but I don’t think a daisy when we were eleven is a great proposal.”

You inhale sharply, your lungs not seeming to be able to take in or exhale air steadily anymore. “Nathan,” you whisper, taking your hands from his and quickly lifting them up to wrap your arms around him. “I…I love you too. I have for so long.” Pulling back you look into Nathan’s eyes for a couple minutes before leaning closer. Nathan gets the hint quickly, closing the space and kissing you gently. It’s soft and passionate and so full of emotions that you feel a little dizzy, like you weren’t even on the planet in that moment anymore. Like it was all a fuzzy, incredibly dream. 

“Let’s go back to my apartment,” you whisper against his lips, still clutching onto him as if the second you let go everything that had just happened would vanish from reality. 

But you force yourself to pull away from him, to get into your car and go back to your apartment. 

You get to your apartment and you’re barely through the door before your hands are back all over him. He’s held you before, cuddled and hugged but when his hands slide around your waist this time it fills you with an unfamiliar excitement. Kissing Nate felt so natural, like you were made for each other. It’s not long before you’ve made your way into the bedroom, clothes scattered around the floor. 

While it’s not the first time you had slept with Nathan it’s the first time that it felt like it meant something real. 

The next morning you wake up wrapped in Nathan’s arms, a far cry from the mornings before when you woke up alone with Nate on the couch. The morning is slow as you climb out of bed, spending the morning cuddled on the couch watching tv and drinking coffee in nothing but Nathan’s t-shirt. 

“What now?” You ask after being up for a couple hours, back pressed to Nate’s chest, his arm draped over your shoulders. 

“What do you mean?” Nathan asks softly. 

“This…us. You’re going back to Denver tomorrow morning and we…,” you trail off, trying to hold back the fact that you were on the verge of tears. Blinking quickly you try to keep the tears from spilling from your eyes. 

“We what?” Nate’s voice is gentle but you can tell he doesn’t realize you’re about to cry, doesn’t realize how upset you are. 

You can’t stop the uneven inhale that makes your shoulders shake and Nate clues into your emotions. He reaches over, taking the mug of coffee out of your hands and setting it on the table beside him. He gently tugs your arm to turn you around and face him, pulling you into him. You rest your head on his shoulder as you let a couple tears slip from your eyes. “I don’t want you to go.”

Nate swallows heavily, running his hand along your back. “Come with me.”

A sarcastic laugh shakes your body as you pull back to look into Nate’s eyes. “I can’t just go with you. I have a job here, an apartment, and you live in a different country. I can’t just…leave.”

“I’d help you figure it out, you know we can deal with all that,” Nate whispers. 

“It’s so sudden, I don’t even know what we are. Are we together? Are we still friends?”

“We’ll always be friends,” Nathan tells you, leaning forward to kiss you gently. “But I think we’re beyond being just friends at this point.”

You kiss him back, you can’t stop yourself. Because it’s been years in the making. Years of developing feelings. It’s a few minutes before you manage to pull yourself back from Nate again. “What if I can’t find a job in Denver? Am I getting my own apartment? I can’t just move to a new country without some kind of, I don’t know…visa.” 

“Slow down,” Nathan says quietly, chuckling. “You don’t need it all figured out today. Come visit for a couple weeks, stay at my place, we can figure out the rest together.”

“Okay…I’ll go with you.”

“I love you,” Nate says gently. 

“I love you too.”

[trulivin]

Not What Everyone Thinks

A/N: Yay I got another one done! LOL. Anyways, to the nonny who requested, I hope you enjoy. I hope I did a decent job at portraying Rafe. He’s more down to earth in this one so I don’t know if I like it too much. We’ll see. I rewatched OBX and like I’m telling you he is ten times fucked up than he is in here. Pardon my language, but hopefully you all will forgive me if he isn’t really like how he is in the show. Anyways, enjoy, send feedback, like, comment, etc.

Rafe Cameron x Reader, Outer Banks

Warnings: implied sexual innuendos? uhhh language. That’s it.

*gif isn’t mine*

Upon the request of Sarah Cameron, Y/N was enlisted to help decorate her mansion for her birthday party. She tried roping the rest of the Pogues into it, and Kie was originally going to help but was needed elsewhere at the time, and the boys opted out. Even John B. 

“Sorry sweetheart,” he had said with a peck on the cheek. “Whatever,” Sarah rolled her eyes and turned back to Y/N. “Fineeeee,” Y/N sighed, earning a hug. 

So, when the day finally arrived Y/N found herself walking up to the oh-so-familiar house she had spent many days with Sarah in. 

Y/N was essentially a Kook by blood, but, much like Kie, she chose to hang out with the Pogues, much to her mother’s disappointment. Sarah Cameron, however, had been her best friend growing up and remained a very good friend even when Y/N started hanging out with John B’s crew. 

For Y/N, she stayed out of the whole Kook versus Pogue thing. It was never something she, quite frankly, wanted to be involved in and she was thankful neither sides made her pick. It was absolutely ridiculous that the boys were constantly getting into fights. And, it was especially annoying when Rafe Cameron always decided to mess with JJ, John B, or Pope all the time. 

Y/N never understood why he did it. She had known him her whole life becoming friends even, because of Sarah, and then she saw what drugs did to him. It was quite depressing to watch, so Y/N didn’t and went to hang out with the Pogues instead.

Luckily, though, that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed on Tanneyhill anymore. Especially now that Sarah had to decorate the entire mansion. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” Sarah said, opening the door for her. “I know,” Y/N laughed. Sarah playfully rolled her eyes and shoved her friend a bit before the two started their job. 

Y/N and Sarah were in the middle of stringing lights when she heard two approaching voices arguing down the hall. “Tonight is your sister’s birthday! Do not screw this up, Rafe! I’m sick of your inability to get anything done around here. You are almost twenty years old, it’s time to get it together son,” Ward chastised. 

“I told you, I’d get it!” Rafe argued back. “When?” Ward asked, extremely annoyed. “If I recall you were supposed to get the new parts ordered last week!”

“I know, but I swear I--” Rafe started but was cut off. 

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it anymore. I have to help get everything in order tonight. Just get it done,” Ward spat, before crossing the living room. Sarah and Y/N exchanged nervous glances before Sarah’s mouth turned up into a grin. “Sorry you had to hear that,” Sarah giggled quietly before stepping down the ladder. “It’s fine,” the other girl smiled back.

“I have to go grab more lights, you good?” she asked. “Yep all good here,” Y/N said standing up on her toes a bit. 

As Y/N was focusing on trying not to fall off the ladder, she heard Sarah say, “Shouldn’t have taken that money to buy that stupid bike.” “Piss off Sarah,” Rafe snarled as Sarah laughed all the way down the hall. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe snapped at Y/N. “Putting up lights. What does it look like genius?” Y/N bit back, making a face, but not turning to face the pissed-off Kook. “I don’t recall Pogues being allowed in the house,” he hissed. 

Y/N turned to face him. Rafe was glaring at her. Instead of cowering away from him, like most people do, she glared right back. “If you do recall Rafe, I was once a Kook. I practically lived here my entire childhood,” Y/N hissed. 

“Yeah well that was until you and my sister ran off with the island trash,” Rafe spat. Y/N just glared at Sarah’s brother. Truth be told, a long time ago, the two actually liked each other when they were friends. They were only two years apart in age, and yeah, Y/N was his little sister’s friend, but she was one he never minded. At least until she ran off with the Pogues. 

“Why do you have to act like this?” Y/N asked, catching Rafe off guard. “What?” Rafe replied. 

“Why do you act like such a dick? We were friends once you know,” she said. 

“I’m not a dick,” Rafe scoffed, his anger subsiding a bit. Y/N snorted, “Yeah, you are. And you’re a big baby too, oh my god.” 

“Oh shut the hell up, Y/N,” Rafe grunted, slumping in the lounge chair. Y/N giggled hopping down from the ladder and moving to the balcony that overlooked the room. Her new position also happened to be nearly right in front of the moody boy. 

Rafe glanced up from messing with his shirt as Y/N placed the ladder a few feet from him. He found his eyes wandering up her legs and to the skin that showed when she reached up to hang the lights across the railing. “You’re staring,” Y/N sing-songed, not looking away from what she was doing.

Rafe felt his face heat up. He was still of the male species after all. It didn’t matter how out of it he was or how angry he was: he still had eyes. 

Y/N let out another laugh, and glanced back down at him. Rafe was no longer staring at her but was extremely occupied messing with his sleeves. She watched his ring-clad fingers bunch the material up his toned, tanned arms, and found herself staring this time. 

His vineyard-vines button up fit perfectly across his broad shoulders and muscular arms. It was also fitted so perfectly that you could almost see the outline of his abs through the material. Y/N felt as though the room got quite hot even with the air conditioning on. 

Ever since she met Sarah, she always thought her older brother was attractive. There was something about him that caught Y/N’s eye. The best part was that she knew the real Rafe too. The one who wasn’t on drugs and acting like an idiot. Maybe that’s what always made her so intrigued by him. 

But, alas, he still acted out which stopped her from hanging around him. Yet, that still didn’t mean he wasn’t extremely hot for a Kook.

“Please stop rolling your shirt sleeves up, I am trying to focus here,” Y/N mumbled before she could even think. Rafe instantly froze and locked eyes with the girl on the ladder. He noticed how one arm was holding on to the railing while the other hung by her side. Her shirt was also still noticeably bunched up, and Y/N’s eyes were also partially blown. 

“Now who’s the one staring?” Rafe smirked, a hint of his old self in his voice. Y/N snapped out of her daze, rolling her eyes. “Hush,” she said, turning back to the last string of lights. 

Y/N finally finished and hopped down, Rafe following her every movement. “Listen,” Y/N started, standing in front of him, “You were a decent person before the drugs. This isn’t the way to get your dad’s attention.”

“You don’t know shit,” he snapped, his anger flaring again as he looked up at her. 

“Oh stop yelling at me, I don’t care what you think. I just know you weren’t like this,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Rafe, you and I used to be friends.”

“Yeah, until you ran off with those damn Pogues!” Rafe shouted.

“God! Enough with the whole Kooks versus Pogues shit! What does it matter? My parents are Kooks! I’m a Kook! So what? It’s the person, Rafe, not their social status. Sarah gets it! But that’s not even the problem! You’re the problem,” Y/N snapped. 

“Do you really want to associate yourself with a bunch of lunatics who put guns to peoples’ heads when they feel like it?”

“Rafe, Topper was drowning John B! What the hell was JJ supposed to do? Let his best friend die? Tell me this! If it were the other way around, would you have pulled the gun?” Y/N groaned. 

Rafe didn’t answer this time, but just stared up at her. He really only thought about her question for a second before studying her face. Her pupils were still slightly dilated yet he could see her sincerity as well.  

“Exactly,” she huffed. “Look, I’ve known you for so long,” she said softly, “You aren’t the bad guy. Drugs mess people up, Rafe. And it sure as hell won’t get your father’s attention the way you want it.”

Rafe was shocked to hear what she was saying, but he pulled his gaze away from her hard one. “I--I really don’t know what else to do though,” Rafe finally spoke, refusing to look at her. Y/N closed her eyes for a second taking a breath. “You can start by being present for your sister’s birthday party tonight. And not shitfaced and present, or on crack and present. Sober,” Y/N suggested, firmly. 

“Wow, you two on speaking terms again?” Sarah’s voice cut in as she strutted in the room. Y/N turned her attention to her friend and rolled her eyes, her normal relaxed look slipping back on her face. “If you count arguing,” she laughed as she took the lights from Sarah. 

“Oh of course,” Sarah shot back with a wink. Rafe watched Y/N as she and his sister laughed and joked with each other. To say he missed the easy-going conversations with Y/N was an understatement. He always found it was so simple to talk to her. She would never judge and would always somehow say the right thing. 

But, unfortunately, as he began working with his father more, Rafe found himself trying to impress Ward in any way he could to make his father proud. In the midst of all of that, Rafe managed to push her away and go down an even darker path. 

“Well, I will see you tonight, birthday girl,” Y/N said snapping Rafe out of his thoughts. “Thank you for helping me set up,” Sarah smiled. “Oh and tell your mother she does not need to bring me any gifts tonight!”

“No promises,” Y/N said, giving her friend a hug. “You know how she is at parties.” 

“I know,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “The whole island is going to be here tonight I swear. Leave it to Rose to throw a huge party. It’s like Midsummers came early.”

“It’s your seventeenth birthday. It’s a big deal. Just enjoy the attention,” Y/N giggled as she headed for the exit. “Bye Rafe!” she called down the hall. Rafe put a lazy hand up as he heard the door slam shut. He was still lost in thought over everything Y/N had just told him. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting those parts dad wants?” Sarah asked her brother with her hand on her hip. “Mind your damn business Sarah,” Rafe snapped. 

Sarah glared at her brother before rolling her eyes. “Whatever,” she responded, turning on her heel, leaving Rafe all alone. 

At 6:30, Y/N stood in front of her mirror with a horrified expression. “Why do I have to wear this mom?” she groaned. Her mother had decided it would be a good idea to wear a light pink dress with a neckline for a prude. “This is a party, not a church service!” Y/N complained.

“The dress is gorgeous sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/M/N replied. Y/N studied herself in the mirror for a moment. 

“I’m not wearing this,” Y/N concluded. 

“Yes, you are, Y/N,” her mom said strictly. “You’ve been running around with those street rats for too long. A bunch of your father’s business partners and their families will be attending Sarah’s party tonight. You need to look your best.” 

“But mom,” Y/N whined, “It’s still a seventeen year old’s birthday party. Not some business thing!” 

“Y/N, you are going to wear that and that’s final. You can wear whatever you want when Sarah throws her own party for a bunch of idiotic teenagers,” her mother said before walking out of her room. 

At least this stupid thing goes above my knees, Y/N thought to herself before following after her mother. 

“You ready?” Y/N’s dad asked as the two girls walked into the kitchen. Y/N’s father turned to his daughter and stifled a laugh. “Wow, sweetheart.” Y/N groaned and buried her face in her hands. “MOM!” she groaned. “No, let’s go.” 

When they arrived at Tanneyhill, Y/N slunk through the crowd hoping no one would notice her. She had a feeling her mother might pull something like this so she stashed other clothes in Sarah’s room. 

Y/N caught a glimpse of JJ’s blond hair and ducked behind a person. She wouldn’t hear the end of it if he saw her in a dress like this. The man she was hiding behind turned around giving her a questioning look. “Oh hi Mr. Daniels,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, straightening herself out and ducking behind another person. Fortunately for her, she made it out of the crowded room and to the steps leading upstairs. 

Just as she began her ascent a voice rang out from behind her, “Oh my god. What the hell are you wearing?” JJ cackled. Y/N closed her eyes and turned around slowly. “Har har guys,” she glared at all of her friends crowded around the steps. Both Sarah and Kie had nice casual dresses on while the boys wore what they would typically wear. Except JJ was in an actual t-shirt rather than one his tank tops. 

“Oh shut up I know I look like Peppa Pig. Blame it on my mother,” Y/N said sourly. “I’m going to change.”

“Hahahahahaha!” they all cackled. Sarah finally calmed down, pretending to wipe her eyes from her tears of laughter. “Let her go change,” she said, “c’mon.” Y/N shot her a grateful smile before they shuffled away. 

Just as Y/N was about to get into Sarah’s room, however, she heard a door close down the hall, and looked up to see Rafe approaching her with a shit-eating grin. He was still wearing what he had on that afternoon. 

“Just shut up, don’t say anything,” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. Rafe burst out laughing and Y/N’s face flushed. He was the last person she wanted to see while she was still wearing this damn dress. If she wasn’t so irritated right now, she would have even been happy to hear Rafe laughing so care-free. 

“Why are you wearing that? Holy shit!” he continued to laugh. “You look like Little Bo Peep just with your knees showing!” 

“Go awayyyyyy,” Y/N whined, banging her head on the door. Rafe put his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he grinned walking past her. “But if I’m going to this party, you have to show back up too,” he called before disappearing down the steps.

Y/N stood there in mild shock. Rafe wasn’t angry or wasted. He was just Rafe. 

Shaking herself out of her little daze, Y/N hurried into Sarah’s room and found her ripped jeans and black tank top. “Thank the lord,” she muttered to herself before stripping. 

Downstairs, Rafe gulped nervously trying to shake that urge for cocaine. It was his safety net that took his mind off the disappointment in his father’s eyes. He had almost done it though. Almost. Right before he came downstairs actually. But something told him not to. Well, someone really. Y/N’s words echoed in his mind from earlier. He noticed when she mentioned the word ‘drug’ she almost had that same look of disappointment in her eyes. And god, she was the last person he wanted to disappoint, for some reason. 

So, he didn’t do it. 

But, he still made a beeline for the adult drink table. Y/N would still drink if she could. Not shitfaced, but still, he thought to himself. Luckily, Rafe had managed to get through, sober, the whole awkward “you’re here” conversation with his dad too, so his drink was well-deserved. 

Rafe stood there allowing his eyes to wander all over the room. He saw Topper was trying to talk to Sarah again about her dating choices. “Idiot,” he muttered into his glass. 

Kelce was flirting with one of Sarah’s friends, a lot of the men, including his father, were huddled in the corner talking about some business thing while the women were gossiping about something, the Pogues were looking wildly out of place and little uncomfortable, keeping to themselves since Sarah was busy talking with Topper, and the rest of the people were breaking off into little groups talking amongst themselves.

This is stupid why am I even here, Rafe thought before his gaze caught Y/N’s figure. She had obviously changed into something more her style. 

Rafe’s eyes followed her beautiful hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back, across the skin revealed by deep cut in the back of her top. He let his eyes linger on her butt for a moment longer, before trailing them down her toned, jean-clad legs and to the floor. 

She was far hotter than he remembered. When did she grow up? 

Sighing, Rafe brought his eyes back up to her face and frowned when he saw a scowl on hers. He liked her much better when she was laughing like this afternoon. She appeared arguing with her mom who was gesturing up and down to her outfit. 

“That neckline is cut way too low, Y/N!” her mother hissed. “So what?” Y/N flung her hands in the air, annoyed. 

“That’s too inappropriate!” 

“I don’t care! It’s a birthday party! Plus! I can actually breathe right now! That neckline was too high!” 

“It was perfect!” 

“No!”

“Y/N!”

“I’m not having this conversation at my friend’s birthday party,” Y/N shook her head, rolling her eyes and pushing her way past her mom. She slipped through the crowd and disappeared out the back into the night.

Rafe watched as her mother went right back to her group of ladies and began complaining about her daughter. Ah, yes, he was very familiar with that one. His father had pulled that on him so many times. 

He sighed before pushing off his spot on the wall and grabbing one of the extra bottles of wine from under the table and followed Y/N through the door she just went out. 

Y/N sat at the end of the dock furiously picking some of the wood that was splintering. “I just wanted to enjoy my friend’s birthday party but NO! Always have to be the perfect little daughter you want me to be,” she mumbled to herself. “Just so I don’t mess up the stupid little reputation on this damn island.” Y/N groaned, allowing her anger to get the best of her.

“Well guess what?” she finally shouted, “I’m going to get off this damn island one day so I don’t have to put up with this bullshit anymore! How about that?” Y/N felt better yelling into the darkness. 

“If you leave then can I come too?” a familiar voice said in the darkness. Y/N whirled around in bewilderment and found Rafe standing a little ways off with a hand in a pocket and the other gripping a bottle of alcohol. Y/N’s face softened as he sat down beside her, handing her the bottle of wine. 

“You looked like you needed this,” he said. 

“Thanks,” she responded before putting the bottle to her lips. She sighed as the wine seemed to warm her body up and already started washing her irritation away. Y/N also became hyper-aware of how close Rafe was sitting next to her. Their arms were slightly pressed against one another. 

“It’s ironic you know,” Rafe started, “You lecture me about getting my father’s attention, but here you are pouting about your mother.” He let out a laugh. “Yes, yes it’s all very funny. She just expects me to be this perfect little Kook daughter and wear pretty colors and go shopping or some shit,” Y/N ranted. 

Rafe listened patiently until she finally let out a huff. 

“Well, you know, in your mother’s defense, you still looked good in that dress,” Rafe spoke after a moment still looking out at the star-covered marsh. Y/N snorted, passing him the bottle. “Oh please. I looked like Peppa Pig.”

“Yes, you did,” Rafe laughed a bit. “But still a pretty Peppa.”

Y/N felt her face go warm again at his compliment. They hadn’t spoken like this in years. Y/N remembered how kind Rafe could really be. She was devastated when he did a 180 and lashed out at everyone he cared about. Yet, could she really blame him? She saw how hard he worked to impress Ward, but his father still dubbed him incompetent. And yes, Rafe did some stupid stuff, but don’t all teenage boys?

“Thanks,” she smiled as he handed her back the bottle. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the small lapping of water and passing the bottle back and forth. 

“I’m surprised you aren’t scolding me for drinking,” Rafe sighed after a bit. “I never said you couldn’t drink when you got to the party. Just not before,” Y/N specified. “Oh right,” Rafe said. 

“I’m glad you came,” Y/N said quietly, turning to look at him. Rafe felt her gaze on him and turned to face her too. “Why?” he asked. Y/N shrugged a bit and looked down at her hands. “I don’t know really. I guess it was just nice talking to you today,” she said.

“We argued more than talked, you know,” Rafe grinned as she looked back up at him rolling her eyes playfully. “Well of course,” she smirked. “Who would we be if we didn’t argue all the time. Remember when we argued that whole ride up to the mainland with your dad and Sarah?”

“How can I not?” Rafe laughed. “You were so mad you turned bright red.”

Y/N burst out in a fit of giggles, and Rafe couldn’t help but find himself smiling harder at the gorgeous sound. 

Eventually, their laughs died down and they both stared out into the night sky. “This is what I was talking about earlier, you know,” Y/N said, breaking the silence again. “What?” Rafe was puzzled. 

“When I said that you weren’t the bad guy,” she mumbled. 

“You’re the opposite actually,” Y/N said more firmly, looking back up at him. He watched her, thoughtfully, as she continued, “I mean look how much fun we’re having. Yes, we’re drinking, but we aren’t completely wasted, and you aren’t high right now. You’re you again.”

“I can’t shake it though,” he replied quietly. “I know it’s hard, but there are ways to fix it,” Y/N said. 

Rafe didn’t say anything as he looked into her dark eyes. Through the darkness, he saw a flash of pain dance through her eyes. He hadn’t realized their faces had gotten extremely closer. “Rafe,” she practically whispered. He felt her breath fan over his lips. “You don’t have to do drugs to get Ward’s attention. You’re better than that.” 

Y/N finished speaking as their noses brushed up against one another. She heard her friends’ voices in her head, the voice that told her Rafe couldn’t just up and quit, but she didn’t care. His arm behind her locked her in and his skin burned on her back. She knew she shouldn’t, but she did anyway. 

With a slight tilt of her head, her lips met his in the night. Y/N’s body turned more towards him as he returned the kiss immediately. It was a slow burn that started in her chest and spread throughout her body as his soft lips melted with hers. 

Y/N felt Rafe gently tug at her bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from her. He instantly gripped her hips and pulled her on top of him allowing his tongue to explore her mouth. 

Inside, Sarah was wandering around looking for her friend. “Have you seen Y/N?” Sarah asked John B after looking around for her for the past ten minutes. “Nope,” John B shrugged and went back to trying to throw shrimp in JJ’s mouth. “Boys,” she rolled her eyes and went to the back door. 

Sarah stepped outside and squinted down the dock. It was fairly dark, but the moon granted her some light. A weird looking silhouette broke the moonlight a bit and Sarah called, “Y/N?” The dark blob split into two figures and Sarah heard a faint, “shit!” 

“Well that’s new,” she laughed when she realized the voice belonged to her brother. “Ok never mind!” Sarah called before ducking back inside. 

“Shit,” Y/N cursed, slipping the straps of her tank top and bra back up. 

“Oops,” Rafe laughed from beside her. 

“We should probably go back inside,” Y/N giggled a bit before standing up. “Or we could, y’know,” Rafe smirked, sitting up on his knees and pushing up her shirt a bit planting wet kisses on her stomach. Y/N resisted the urge to moan and tugged him up. 

“I can’t ditch your sister’s party as much as I really...really, want too…” she half moaned looking up at Rafe as he bit his lip and raked his eyes shamelessly all over her body. 

His mouth quirked up and then he burst out laughing, “Wow. How the tables have turned.” “Shut up,” she said, shoving him out of the way playfully. 

“Oh don’t be such a baby,” he shot back at her with a grin. Rafe caught up and slung an arm around Y/N as they started walking back towards the house. “Rafe,” Y/N said with a serious tone, stopping before they started up the lawn. He looked down at her nervously, afraid this moment would be ruined and it somehow would be his fault. 

Y/N took a deep breath and faced him. “I can only do this if you can promise me you’ll stop.” 

He knew what she meant. He felt the itch rise again, but easily pushed it away as he looked into her nervous eyes. He didn’t know what to do. Rafe knew he wanted her. God he wanted her so bad, but he didn’t know if it would be enough. “I-I don’t know,” he finally said. 

Y/N’s face fell slightly, but he quickly caught himself, “I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. Believe me, for you, I want to so bad. But the reality of it…” his words died in his mouth. This was the most sober Y/N had seen him yet. 

“Of course. I know how hard it would be and I’m not blaming you for that,” she said with a small smile returning to her face. “Please help me,” Rafe finally broke, bending down and wrapping his arms around her. 

Y/N stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tall frame as the wave of emotion passed over him. “Shhhh. I promise you I will,” Y/N whispered in his ear. “I want to make this right,” he said softly. 

“You will, Rafe. You will.”

__________________________________________________

Wow so proud of myself that I actually finished this tonight. Hope everyone liked it! 

[got-svt]

all the boys you’ve loved and lost during the course of our lives, we meet thousands of people, creating either a seconds long moment or memories that last a lifetime. some of them you’ll have the opportunity to know beyond their names and faces, some you may even grow to love. unfortunately, not all of them have the luxury of staying in your life forever. 

❥• one: the childhood best friend 

he’s the one you grew up next to, who lived in the house directly in front of yours. the one you’ll forever associate with popsicles on the sidewalk, bike rides at dawn, seesaws and swings at sunset. and you wish you could trap yourself within the memories, to never escape the hold of childhood innocence. but, just like everyone else, both of you eventually had to grow up. 

pairing: lee chan x reader genre: fluff, angst, childhood friends to ??? word count: 2062

→  it honestly seemed like you and him were meant to be friends: both your parents attended the same university, worked at buildings a few streets away from the other’s, and eventually ended up living in the same neighbourhood — buying houses directly in front of each other. you met chan at the ripe old age of eight months, when they decided that both of you were old enough for a little play date. sure, you mostly communicated in unintelligible babbles and spent the afternoon throwing plastic toys and stuffed animals at the other — you having to go home a crying mess — but your parents remained optimistic that you would eventually become good friends.

→  and they were right — of course they were. this had been their plan from the very beginning. you began to grow closer when both of you were old enough to understand that throwing toys at other kids was wrong and your communication skills evolved from babbles to simple sentences. alternating afternoons were spent at the other’s place, playing house, cooking fake food, tag in the backyard, blowing bubbles in the garden. looking back at it now, friendships were so much simpler. you never had to worry if they truly liked you or wanted to spend time with you, as long as you could laugh and play around, all was well.  

→  you and chan learned how to ride a bike together. your parents were there to guide you both along, but it was mostly both of you teaching yourselves. was it a good idea to have two eight year olds learning by themselves? probably not, but it introduced you to the basics of independence and meant that you spent a lot of your time with chan. he was the first one to have the training wheels removed, much to your dismay and his elation. 

“hah, yn, you’re still a baby who needs training wheels.” chan teased, pointing a finger at you with a smile.  

you could only huff and pout, gripping onto the handles of your bike until your knuckles turned white. that night, you asked your parents to remove the training wheels of your bike, determined to prove to chan that you were, in fact, not a baby. 

the following afternoon had him eating his words, not because you were blazing down the street, but because you fell off your bike. chan almost fainted at the scrape that marked your arm. it was small and had little to no bleeding, but that didn’t stop him from rushing to his mother with tears brimming his eyes, demanding that you be treated. even though you repeatedly told him you were fine, chan spent the next few days following you around.  

→  the following year had you asking your parents what it meant to love someone. 

your parents’ eyes widen at your inquiry. “what do you mean yn?” your father asked, tilting his head to the side at your inquiry. 

“you always tell me you love me, and i tell you i love you back. but how do you know you love someone?” you clarified with a pout, looking down at your feet as if you were ashamed of your question. 

your parents shared a fond smile at the genuineness of your question, though it faltered slightly at the thought of you only saying it back because you were taught to — not out of sincerity. regardless, they tried their best to explain. “loving someone means you care for them, not wanting them to be hurt or sick. you want to be around them, you think about them even when you don’t mean to. you’re happy when you spend time with them. things like that.”  

you nod, taking into account their words and how you’ve been feeling yourself. the next day, you sat on the curb with chan. the summer sun threatening to melt the popsicles both of you were intent on eating. it was rather quiet, nothing but the birds’ melodious singing and cars passing by. up until you blurted out, “i love you.”    

chan blinked back at you, it had been the first time someone outside his family had told him that. you panicked at his non-response, explaining quickly what your parents told you, “loving someone means you don’t want that person hurt and you’re happy when you spend time with them.” 

chan nodded, processing your words, “hmm. then i love you too.” 

→  saying i love you became a normal thing for you and chan. your parents found it adorable, the way it became a hello and a goodbye. with all the time you spent together, it was expected that both of you form some sort of attachment to the other.  

you sat on a swing in the playground five minutes away from your homes, chan stood behind you, gently pushing you forward every now and then. the sun was setting, turning a sky into a mixture of orange, yellow, and purple. “do you think we’ll be friends forever?” you ask, voice soft and tender as you felt his hands lightly on your back. 

“yes. we will.” chan answered without a moment’s hesitation, eyes still staring straight ahead into the horizon.  

“how do you know?” you asked, still unsure. you were to start middle school the next day. it was at a much bigger place than your elementary or kindergarten. at age eleven, both of you knew things were bound to change. you knew were going to meet more people, possibly be placed in different classes, join various clubs and organizations. 

chan moved to stand in front of you, the swing slowing down to a gentle halt. “because i promise we’ll stay friends.” 

you hold your pinky up towards him, a smile playing on your features, “promise?” 

he intertwined his pinky with yours, chuckling as he shook his head at your slight nervousness, “promise, yn.” 

“okay. love you.”

“i love you too.” 

→  but of course, promises aren’t always kept. even though both of you tried your hardest to do so. 

→  you and chan were inseparable throughout your kindergarten and elementary school days. despite meeting several other kids that were in the same age range, you still opted to be attached at the hip. eating lunch or snacks, playing, studying together. slowly, but surely, all of that changed when you entered middle school. 

→  it started with being placed in different classes, with different free periods. you had made friends with the students that sat around you, all of them bright and bubbly — eager to make new friends. you were slightly overwhelmed at the onslaught of new people, but you grew to like it, accepting their invitations to hang out after classes. chan had also found new friends of his own. kids he met when he signed up for the dance club, all of them just as passionate as he was. you were both happy for the other’s expansion of social circles, never failing to send a giant smile and an excited wave when you bumped into each other in the halls.   

→  chan walked with you to school in the morning and always met up with you for lunch, exchanging stories of his afternoons at dance classes and yours spent swimming at the town rec center with your newfound friends. you both still said your i love yous with a smile before you headed into your next classes, but as the months passed, they became more and more rushed, eventually more mumbled, to barely saying it at all. 

→  you would eventually join your middle school swim team, and chan never missed a single one of your games, just as you didn’t miss a single one of his recitals. always the loudest to cheer the other on, the first to congratulate and celebrate a victory, or pick up in a loss. but with the addition of new clubs in your schedules, it meant lesser and lesser time to spend with the other. hanging out together turned a daily activity into a weekly one. neither of you minded, you were happy and occupied, that didn’t mean you were no longer friends. right? so you pushed that concern to the back of your minds.  

→  high school rolled around more quickly than either of you could ever imagine. chan was now in the school dance team and you were in the varsity swimming team. back in middle school, you both managed to meet up at least once a week, now you were lucky to even spend a full day together once a month.  

you sat in chan’s room, watching him as he struggle to get past a level of a video game another friend of his had lent him. truth be told, you couldn’t recall exactly what that game was. was it a platformer, racing, fighting? you never really listened when he rambled on about. you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts, something had changed, you just couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was exactly. “hey chan.” 

“yeah, yn?” he didn’t take his eyes off the screen, “is something wrong?”

“no, um—” you were grateful that some of his attention was elsewhere, “we’re still friends, right?” 

chan paused his game so he could turn to look at you, “of course we are. why are you asking?” 

you wanted to believe him, so you nodded before shaking your head in slight embarrassment, “right. i’m sorry, i guess i’m just thinking about how we’d known each other for sixteen years now.” 

chan knew better that to think that was all there was to your question, but he couldn’t find it in himself to delve further or to ask more questions. instead, he gave you a small smile, his mind going back to that summer afternoon eating popsicles on the sidewalk. “i love you.” 

you offer him a weak smile back, your own memories taking you back to watching the sunset on the swings, “i love you too.” 

→  little did either of you know that would be the last time you would say those words to the other. as the months dragged on, you and chan only became busier, with academics, extracurriculars. communication became far and few in between, you didn’t mean it of course. you were tired from swimming laps, he was exhausted from practice. you had homework that you’d been putting off, his friends decided to surprise him. it just slipped both of your minds.   

“i’m free on saturday, how about you?” 

 “can’t, f/n is coming over. how about sunday?” 

“ i have a competition, you’ll cheer me on right?” 

“ i have a swim meet that day too…” 

“tuesday then?” 

“i have a huge test on wednesday. i have to study. ” 

conversations like these soon became the norm for you and chan, not that either of you wanted it to be. it just happened without either of you noticing. you both slowly stopped inviting the other to hang out after class, to watch a swim meet or a recital, thinking that the other might be too busy to even attend. in neither of you wanting to bother the other, you eventually drifted further and further away from the other. 

→  there was no dramatic falling out, no big fight that ended in tears, not even a single screaming match. things simply happened without either of you realizing what was going on. you still waved at each other in the halls, but he stopped walking with you to and from school. you still talked to each other when both of your families occasionally had dinner together, but it felt formal and impersonal — filled with more awkward silences than comfortable ones. both of you always felt the need to fill up the space, but it somehow only made it worse. you still said your goodbyes with a hug and a smile, but there was no longer an “i love you” that followed.  

❥•   but it was with chan you learned that growing up could also mean growing apart. and though both of you know you could’ve done better, you accept that it couldn’t be helped. besides, you’ll always have the memories of learning to ride a bike, playing tag in the backyard, swings at sunset, and that very first i love you. memories both you and chan will look back on with a wistful smile when you long for the days of your youth, and that was more than enough.

seventeen as all the boys you’ve loved and lost. next  ➤  yoon jeonghan, the academic rival