#while cross would have the same period but more in an urge to not bother him or draw his undue attention (especially after rejoining)

[thedensworld]

Lover | Kim Mingyu

Growing Together

Lover Series 🖤🌼

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x FashionEditor!Reader (Ft. NonBiologicalBrother!Joshua)

Genre: angst, romance, fluff, series, established relationship

________________________________

Mingyu found himself often irritated by the uncertainty surrounding your whereabouts and activities. He felt a pang of frustration whenever he didn't know how you were doing, where you were, or what you were up to. He once turned to Joshua, your brother, seeking advice about your tendency to ignore calls and texts due to your habit of leaving your phone unattended. Joshua's response, however, didn't sit well with Mingyu. "Don't worry about her, she'll reach out when she can," Joshua quipped. Mingyu disagreed with this perspective, not because he doubted you, but because he wanted assurance that your communication was thriving amidst your busy schedules.

On occasion, Mingyu playfully addressed your phone habits, teasingly remarking, "You should really start replying to my texts, babe." Other times, his frustration would seep through his words as he jokingly pleaded, "Can you at least check your phone?"

Interestingly, this very trait of yours, the ability to focus on your work, was something he should have been grateful for, especially during his hectic days. The longest stretch without communication between you two lasted a week. It happened when Mingyu was on tour and you were engrossed in a significant project. Resisting the urge to reach out during that period was a challenge for Mingyu, but he held back, ultimately calling you when he believed you'd be free. His craving for your voice outweighed his annoyance.

"Didn't you want to call me?" he inquired, his attempt at anger overshadowed by how much he missed you.

"Sorry, I was caught up. I thought about calling you, but I didn't want to disturb you," you explained, prompting him to reassure you that bothering him was perfectly fine and that he hoped you'd reach out more in the future.

Nonetheless, you never quite embraced the idea of bothering him. While you did initiate conversations with a few questions, update him on your life, and share amusing memes, these interactions only took place when you were apart for a couple of days. Mingyu desired more—a late-night call before sleep, tantalizing texts during his practice sessions, or a simple photo from your daily routine. Was he asking for too much? Maybe from your perspective, it seemed excessive, but all he wanted was to know you were okay.

Lately, meeting each other had become a rarity due to your conflicting schedules. Late nights at work and his demanding practice sessions left little room for your paths to cross. Mingyu understood that by the time you returned home, your energy for socializing was depleted, making checking your phone or replying to his messages difficult. However, as days turned into almost a week without contact, despite being in the same city, Mingyu couldn't help but wonder why it was so challenging to coordinate a meeting or even a conversation.

At times, he even wondered if he was dating a president.

Once in the past, he had surreptitiously gathered updates about you through your personal assistant. However, you discovered his covert efforts and insisted he delete their number right before your eyes. He didn't want to resort to that tactic again.

As fate would have it, he found himself finishing a shoot earlier than usual one day. This rare occurrence ignited a plan to surprise you by visiting your apartment. Armed with late-night snacks and a disregard for both your and his diet plans, he envisioned the warmth of holding you close. Imagining the expression on your face as he recounted his work-related challenges brought a smile to his lips. He even found amusement in predicting how you'd withhold details of your week, fearing it would only tire you further, as if trapped in a cycle.

Mingyu didn't bother ringing the doorbell; instead, he swiftly entered using the password he knew. His arrival was announced by Min, your fluffy guardian, and the sea of shoes at the entrance. He inwardly cursed his lack of discretion and promised himself a mask for future visits. Shyness accompanied him into your apartment, transforming him into a bashful puppy following Min. His presence, however, did not go unnoticed; your jaw dropped at the unexpected sight of Mingyu in your living room. A room full of colleagues sent silent inquiries, questioning the identity of the unfamiliar face.

"That's the director's boyfriend," your personal assistant Soobin chimed in, introducing Mingyu in your place.

"Hello, I'm Y/n's boyfriend," Mingyu greeted, omitting his name. Greetings were exchanged, and excitement bubbled among your colleagues upon discovering that the seemingly busy you had a boyfriend all along.

"Kim Mingyu?" one of your colleagues recognized him, coaxing Mingyu to reveal his face from beneath his hood for more introductions. Gasps and whispers reverberated as they connected the dots. Meanwhile, you sighed, signaling for Mingyu to retreat to your bedroom in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

His unscheduled visit had caught you off guard, as he typically informed you beforehand to ensure you were home. Presently, you and your team were deeply immersed in an anniversary project for a renowned South Korean designer. Unfortunately, an unexpected power outage in your office building had driven you to use your apartment as a temporary workspace. It was a situation you hadn't anticipated.

"Sunbae, you've been dating The Kim Mingyu?" a curious team member asked, setting off a chain reaction of inquiries and conversations that compelled you to wrap up the night's work. Once your colleagues had left, you embarked on tidying up your living room.

In the midst of your exhaustion, Mingyu's voice emerged from your bedroom doorway. "Has everyone left?" he asked, his head appearing as he surveyed the situation. You responded with a tired sigh, confirming that they were gone.

Noticing the weariness etched on your face, Mingyu inquired, "Working from home now?" A simple nod from you confirmed his suspicion, and you murmured about the ongoing office electricity repairs. Mingyu settled onto the couch, unpacking the snacks he had brought and motioning for you to halt your cleaning efforts and join him in savoring the treats.

"I'm too tired to eat," you admitted in a mumble, continuing to tidy up your papers and secure them in a box, out of Min's reach.

Mingyu's efforts to encourage you to eat were met with resistance. Disappointment flickered across his face at your refusal.

"Y/n, one bite won't ruin your diet," he insisted, seeking to persuade you.

With a deep breath, you sighed out your reluctance, prompting Mingyu to interpret it as a sign to continue. "Why are you here without giving me a heads-up?" you asked, your tone kept deliberately subdued.

Mingyu's feelings were slightly wounded by your query. Wasn't he a regular presence here? Why the skepticism now?

Before he could respond, you clarified, "It's not that I mind you being here. I just wish you'd let me know beforehand."

Mingyu placed his chopsticks on the table and sighed. "Even if I texted you, you wouldn't check it," he pointed out, looking you in the eyes. But you took his gaze the wrong way.

"Everyone is finding out now," you confided.

"So what?" Mingyu countered with a dismissive tone.

Your sigh revealed his lack of comprehension. "It's complicated. If only you'd messaged or called before coming, things would be different."

"You haven't replied to my texts for nearly a week. And you expect me to reach out? Y/n, is it really that difficult to check your phone and respond to my messages?"

"Let's not delve into this," you muttered.

Mingyu chuckled sarcastically, his intent clear. "No, let's actually talk about it. Confront this situation like adults," he quipped, landing a figurative hit.

Exhaling once more, you shared, "Mingyu, I'm immersed in a significant project. Your texts somehow get lost in my phone. I come home around 2 AM every day and head back to the office at 9 AM. Checking my phone isn't on my priority list."

"That's the issue—your lack of phone checks. Why is it so challenging to spare five minutes, scroll through our chat, and respond? If you'd just explain your situation, I'd understand. But you seem to go about your life, working and pretending you're not in a relationship."

"I'm not pretending," you defended, taking offense at Mingyu's words.

"You think I haven't noticed that even your colleagues aren't aware you're taken?"

"I've told you, it's complicated," you sighed.

"Then explain it to me!" Mingyu's outburst hung heavy in the air. A tense silence enveloped both of you after his sudden shout. With a regretful sigh, Mingyu realized his mistake. In contrast, you stood in silence, exhaustion etched onto your face, wearing the same clothes since morning.

"Why do you always push me, Mingyu?" Your head shook as your eyes remained fixed on the floor. "Why does everyone keep pushing me?"

"What do people expect from me?"

"Why do people only think about themselves?"

"I know you're frustrated, and I'm sorry. But life doesn't always go as you wish. I'm striving hard as well, but could you please ease off? I've been running and pulled in every direction constantly. I'm tired, Mingyu."

Mingyu fell silent for a moment before rising from his seat. He headed towards your bedroom, moving with determined purpose as he bypassed the door, hoodie-clad. "I'm being overbearing, aren't I? I'm sorry. Let's talk again once you understand the effort I'm putting in to grasp your complex thoughts." And with that, he left your apartment, leaving you and a startled Min in his wake, the sound of the door's closing echoing in the silence.

The apartment felt emptier than before, the weight of the conversation settling in the air. As Min, your faithful feline companion, approached you with a tentative nudge, you sank onto the couch. The events of the conversation replayed in your mind, a mixture of frustration and guilt swirling within you. With a heavy sigh, you realized that perhaps you hadn't been fair to Mingyu either, not fully considering the strain he was under.

As the days seamlessly flowed into weeks, the relentless demands of the project continued to engulf your every waking moment. Amidst the whirlwind of activity, brief intervals of introspection emerged. The dialogue you'd shared with Mingyu took center stage in your thoughts, each syllable echoing with newfound significance. His words became a haunting refrain, ceaselessly reverberating in the recesses of your mind. A stark truth had been unearthed – you had been an absentee participant in the relationship, the mask of busyness merely masking your struggle to harmonize the realms of work and your personal life.

In the cavernous expanse of your mind, his voice lingered as a constant reminder, prodding at the heart of the matter. The notion that you'd let time slip away without making room for Mingyu and your connection weighed heavily on you. The relentless dedication to your career as a fashion editor and artistic director had been both a blessing and a curse. The intense devotion you poured into the creative tapestry of your professional life was mirrored by the emptiness that tugged at your heartstrings in quieter moments.

Navigating the complex world of haute couture had been your passion for as long as you could remember. The thrill of orchestrating runway shows, the art of curating striking editorials, and the elegance of transforming raw materials into awe-inspiring pieces of art was your lifeblood. However, as your career ascended to new heights, the price it exacted became increasingly evident. A multitude of obstacles lurked beneath the surface, challenging your equilibrium at every turn.

Days stretched into unrelenting nights as you became a maestro of intricate timelines and meticulous details. Your role demanded that you embody perfection – from selecting concept that whispered stories to envisioning the very essence of a collection. The pressure to stay ahead of trends while simultaneously shaping them fueled a constant hustle. Yet, amidst the glamour of runway lights and camera flashes, there existed a different kind of struggle.

The demands of your profession often meant being ensconced within a whirlwind of brainstorming sessions, last-minute changes, and meticulous revisions. The sanctity of weekends was invaded by impromptu meetings and discussions with designers, photographers, and models. At times, it felt like you were orchestrating a symphony where harmony remained elusive.

The digital age had made it easier to stay connected, but paradoxically, it had also woven a web of intricacies. Notifications from countless platforms flooded your devices, and in a sea of messages, it was easy for even the most well-intentioned communiqué to get lost. Your failure to reply to Mingyu's texts wasn't due to a lack of interest or care, but rather a byproduct of your constant juggling act.

While your love for the industry was unwavering, you had encountered moments of isolation. The weight of decisions, the expectations of stakeholders, and the burden of staying ahead had woven a tapestry of stress that occasionally eclipsed the exhilaration. Amidst this emotional labyrinth, you struggled to find solace and moments of respite, resulting in your absence from Mingyu's world.

The conversation that now echoed in your mind held within it a mirror to your own fears. The undeniable truth that you'd unintentionally distanced yourself from Mingyu pierced through your heart. The external glamor of your profession belied the internal turmoil that played out beneath the surface. It was a battle of commitments, a contest between passion and love.

As you stood at the crossroads of reflection, you recognized the need for change. The compelling narrative of your career journey would no longer serve as an excuse to neglect what truly mattered – the genuine connection you shared with Mingyu. The path ahead wasn't devoid of challenges, but it held the promise of a harmonious coexistence, where the symphony of love and work could play in tandem. It was time to transform the rhythm of your life, orchestrating a melody that resonated with both your professional achievements and the person who had quietly waited for a more present version of you.

Late one night, as you were hunched over your laptop, your phone buzzed. A message from Mingyu illuminated the screen. "I've been doing some thinking, and I want to apologize. I shouldn't have lashed out like that. Let's find a way to work through this together."

Tears welled in your eyes as you read his words. The sincerity in his message struck a chord within you. It was time to face the situation head-on, to have that honest conversation you had been avoiding. With a determined resolve, you typed out your reply, acknowledging your shortcomings and expressing your desire to change.

Days later, Mingyu showed up at your door, his expression a mix of nervousness and hope. As you let him in, you both settled on the couch, facing each other. The air was thick with the weight of the unspoken, but this time, you were both ready to listen and understand.

"I'm sorry I've been inconsiderate," Mingyu's words trembled with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability. The weight of his admission hung in the air, and you could sense the sincerity in his tone. "Joshua had warned me, but my ego was so immense that I blindly believed the assumptions running rampant in my mind. Yet, when I retrace my steps, I see you—steadfast, patient, and a constant source of solace. You've been the unwavering pillar I lean on whenever the world wears me down. You're the haven where I can peel off my masks and be my true self. And I'm sorry, truly sorry, that I've fallen short of being that haven for you. I... I've been so terribly selfish." Mingyu's words flowed from his heart, like a river of emotions he'd been holding back.

His confession was a bittersweet symphony of vulnerability, a melody that echoed with the resonance of unspoken regrets. It wasn't just the timbre of his voice, but the raw honesty that stirred something deep within you. It was as if the layers of his pride had peeled away, revealing the core of his remorse. This was the Mingyu you'd been longing to reach, the one who could see past his own assumptions and face the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

As his words settled between you, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions yourself. It wasn't just a sense of validation, but also a pang of sympathy for the struggle he'd been grappling with. You knew that this wasn't an easy conversation for him, and his willingness to open up was a testament to the depth of his feelings. The walls that had once stood firm between you were crumbling, making space for something more profound.

With a deep breath, you began to speak, revealing the layers of your own battles. The torrent of pressure that came with your role as a fashion editor and artistic director, the overwhelming deadlines that gnawed at your every thought, and the constant push and pull of expectations—it all came tumbling out. Your voice wavered as you recounted moments when it felt like the world was resting squarely on your shoulders, threatening to crush your spirit.

The vulnerability you both shared in that moment was a catalyst for an unanticipated catharsis. As tearful confessions gave way to shared frustrations, a bridge was constructed between your hearts. You'd unlocked the door to a realm where truths flowed freely, a sanctuary where masks were discarded in favor of authenticity.

The night transformed into an intimate haven, a haven that nurtured not only honesty but also laughter. It was in those shared stories and stolen chuckles that you discovered the remedy to your struggles—communication. As the moon gave way to dawn's gentle light, you found yourselves weaving tales and weaving dreams. It was in those quiet hours that you realized that the storm hadn't shattered your bond; instead, it had polished it, revealing the resilient gem that lay at its core.

In the weeks that followed, you and Mingyu learned to find balance. You carved out time for each other amidst your busy schedules, making deliberate efforts to stay connected. It wasn't always easy, but you both understood the importance of patience, understanding, and compromise.

With time, the two of you discovered that relationships, much like life, are complex and require effort from both sides. The ups and downs, the misunderstandings, and the apologies—all of it made your connection stronger. And as you looked back on that pivotal conversation, you realized that sometimes, confronting challenges head-on was the only way to move forward, together.

[mays-simping-for-leona]

braid it, herbivore

characters:

leona kingscholar, fem!reader⏤͟͟͞͞★

information:

nothing, just a cute and lovely scenario i wrote because im delulu⏤͟͟͞͞★

prompt:

you brushing and braiding leona's hair, according to this post

⏤͟͟͞͞★enjoy!

"knock knock"

the sound of your fingers knocking on his door early in the morning was frustrating the man, but he knew that it was you at least, not someone who will bother him or something

Your relationship has developed a lot over the past period. You began to feel more comfortable around Leona and he seemed to be the same way. He did not mind when you approached him and touched him. He did not mind when you held his hand and pulled him with you quickly because he walked slowly. He did not mind when you helped him put on his suite because He will be late for class -after you urged him to come with you, you didn't want to sit alone in class-

You acted like you didn't see anything when you saw his tail wagging behind him every time you were close to him, and you acted stupid when you saw his pupils dilate..making yourself excuses like "nah this guy has a rock heart why would he ever feel anything for me?"

this day was a bit different..

"come in" He said boredly and slowly, He gave you permission to open the door and enter the room

Ruggie was standing by the bed preparing clothes for Leona, while Leona seemed to have just come out of the bathroom, a long towel was wrapped around his body and he was standing in front of the mirror drying his hair with another smaller towel

"Good morning!" Was what you said as you quickly skipped over and sat on the edge of the bed, swinging your legs and looking at Leona and Ruggie with a smile

"Why all the excitement, herbivore?" Leona sighed as he looked at you in the reflection of the mirror and threw the towel somewhere on the floor. The sight made you a little surprised when you saw Leona applying some oils and products to his hair

"Because I will be participating with you in club training today... Forget about me, tell me, did Vil threaten you or something and give you these products for your hair?"

"what?" Leona turned to you, furrowing his eyebrows

"pftt.." Ruggie tried to suppress his laughter when he heard your comment on Leona's hair routine

"No, no one can threaten me with anything. Why are you surprised to see me taking care of my hair?"

"Because you look like someone who only showers once a month"

"Please don't use your brain to make predictions about people again" he rolled his eyes, walking to the bed and wearing his clothes, getting ready for the club training

You sat there curiously, quietly looking at Leona's hair. You don't know why, but it's the first time you noticed his hair - it's thick and looks very soft and shiny. It's unfortunate that he keeps one boring hairstyle for every day. Your inner thoughts started imagining Leona with a different hairstyle

ruggie was standing in front of Leona, combing his hair and talking to him about the usual dorm matters, but out of the corner of his eye, Leona was looking at you. Your all sparkled eyes did not leave his hair, watching ruggie's fingers moving and braiding his soft locks. he can feel how intense you are looking..

as ruggie was talking to him, he was suddenly cut by leona raising his hand, pointing for him to stop and let go off his hair

You sat up straight and looked at what was happening with surprise. Leona stood up from his place and sat on a chair in front of the mirror and gestured with his hand

"come here, herbivore"

huh? You did not understand what Leona wanted, but you quickly went towards him and stood behind the chair, so he surprised you by giving you the comb while he opened the braids that Ruggie had made for him

"The pleading hamster looks on your face as you look at my hair, you are dying to touch it, don't you?"

"i-" He didn't allow you to finish your sentence, he just put the comb in your hand and crossed his arms while closing his eyes and throwing his head back on the chair in relaxation

"i know you can't resist, i will be magnanimous and allow you to comb my hair this time..go ahead"

You stood there in amazement for a few seconds. Leona himself allowed you to comb his hair for him? Will he give you this rare opportunity? It's not like you're going to get a prize for combing his hair or something, just the idea seems inviting and it made you very excited

You were lost in your thoughts and fantasy and smiling to yourself in a stupid way, until your train of thought was interrupted by Leona's voice, growling "herbovire, Won't you start working? I will change my mind if the comb doesn't touch my hair in the next 5 seconds"

"oh im sorry!!! i was just-i..ok" You quickly began to run the teeth of the comb through the lion's soft locks, which made him relax again

As you expected, his hair was very soft and thick. It was clear that he took great care of it. You were excited to make a new hairstyle for Leona, you have been simping on a guy you saw on magicam having braided long hair, now you want nothing but see leona in the same hairstyle

Gently and softly, you were combing his locks that were ready to be braided. You started with his bangs and you were standing in front of Leona now to get a good look. He was looking at you calmly, never breaking eye contact...which made you a little nervous. You are used to touching with Leona as a kind of Fighting or joking, but this situation seems...somehow intimate

After you finished nailing his bangs, you stood behind Leona again and he closed his eyes and let you work in peace. Your tension eased when his seductive eyes moved away from you... Maybe this is an opportunity..You took a lock of his hair and started smelling it and kissing it. You acted as if you were braiding his hair, but you just loved his hair so much and wanted to get a good sensation of it

He didn't seem to notice what you were doing...or that's what you were trying to convince yourself of. Leona was purring while you thought he was snoring. He was enjoying himself...the beastman felt that you liked his hair and wanted to touch it, caress it and comb it...what else could he ask for? he just let you do whatever you want, he knows that anything your gentle hands and soft lips do will please him anyway

It seems that you were a little late - or perhaps a lot - in combing Leona's hair. It was supposed to be an easy and quick task, but you were late on purpose, and he didn't question it. You were playing with his hair more than you were combing it. Leona did not seem to object to that. He was enjoying the feeling as well. He was later surprised by the hairstyle. What a wonderful thing he got

"open your eyes!" you said with excitement, waiting for his reaction

"?..oh! You have good hands, herbivore, great job" he had his usual smirk on his face, looking sexy in the mirror and admiring your professional work, You stared at him excitedly after he got up from the chair and started turning around and examining the many braids you had made for him

"Herbivore...I'll make sure you style my hair for me every day from now on, keep that in mind"

maybe..

just maybe..it's not about braiding his hair, but about how good and pleased he felt at your loving hands played and slid in his locks..this made him shiver, and he will never admit it, even under torture..but he really enjoys the feeling of being taken care of by you..his silly herbivore

man😭😭im so happy i really enjoyed writing this!! it is so cooollll, btw there's this drawing i made for leona with a new hairstyle, you can check here

-thanks for reading!

[outercrasis]

Maybe It’s A Sign

Pairing: Modern!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 9.3k+

Warnings: alcohol, implied age difference, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming

Summary:  You and Mando have been driving across America together for months. You're happy to be with him but part of you longs for something more.

A/N: I don’t really know the time period for this, probably like anything pre-2010s. There’s no use of y/n and let me know if I missed a warning :)

Read it on AO3

The breeze from the open truck window is cool against your heated skin. It's your only relief as the sun beats down on you through the windshield, the busted A/C offering no help. You're headed down some freeway in the middle of nowhere America, riding shotgun in an old beat-up truck that's seen better days.

You've been keeping your eyes on the flat landscape surrounding you, watching as field after field passes you by. They really weren't joking when they'd named them the Great Plains. Music filters through the air, some classic rock song you've heard a thousand times before. You still hum along mindlessly, enjoying the small amount of entertainment.

Bored of the vast sameness outside your window, your eyes drift over to your companion, driver, and owner of the truck. Mando. You study him, finding him far more interesting than the fields outside.

His worn baseball cap has been pushed up, presumably from scratching his scalp underneath and not bothering to fix it. Soft brown curls peek out around the edges of the hat. He has his sunglasses on and his eyes are firmly fixed on the road ahead, as they should be. The patchy scruff along his jawline has grown out a bit from your recent days on the road and you can see a few gray hairs mixed in with his darker natural color.

He shrugged off his jacket earlier in the day, leaving him in a worn gray t-shirt that hugged his lean muscles all just right. His faded blue jeans are on and you wonder how he can stand to wear them in the oppressive summer heat. You gave into shorts days ago.

All in all, he was a far better sight than anything outside the truck. As you look him over, you muse how everything he owns seems to be worn in. His rusty truck, his old hat, his distressed clothes. They all carry a sense of being lived in, nothing new and shiny on him. Well, except for his jewelry. His silver necklace and rings always shine brightly, a dramatic contrast to the rest of him.

"Stop staring," Mando suddenly says, breaking you from your observation of him. You're a little embarrassed to have been caught, but you aren't going to let him know that.

"Why? Nothin' else to look at around here."

That rewards you with a chuckle. At least he isn't irritated by your staring then.

"Don't you have a book or something?" 

You look over at the book you had thrown on the dashboard. A used copy of Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger that you picked up a couple states back. You aren't sure you like Holden, but it's a good read at least. "Yeah, but I can't read it for long before I start feeling sick. So I guess I'll just have to look at you instead."

"Sure that I won't make you sick?" Mando teases.

You smile. He's in a good mood today. There are days where conversation with him is like pulling teeth, but it makes days like today all the more worth it. 

"Nah, you aren't so hard on the eyes." You say it cool and casual, genuine but not needy. As though you don't often think of his looks when you have the time and privacy to satisfy your needs.

Mando shakes his head slightly but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Sure, sweetheart."

He never seems to believe you when you compliment his appearance. It breaks your heart a little. Sure, he has some years on you, but you aren't blind. You know a good-looking man when you see one and Mando? He was it. If the man wasn't oblivious, he'd notice the looks plenty of women and some men throw him when he strolls into town.

Not sure of what to say next, but not wanting the conversation to end, you take to a habit that's been slowly forming over your months with him. It had begun out of boredom one day, but continued due to a desperate urge to learn anything and everything your mysterious companion will tell you about himself.

"When's your birthday?"

Mando isn't surprised anymore by your random questions. "May eighteenth."

Your eyes go wide at his answer. It was July now, meaning he'd let the day come and go without telling you. You had just assumed his birthday hadn't come around with you yet. "Mando! Why didn't you tell me? I would have at least said something if I had known."

He shrugs. "Birthdays aren't a big deal where I grew up."

"Were you raised Jehovah's Witness or something?" you ask.

"No, nothing like that." His fingers drum slightly on the steering wheel. You noticed a while ago that he did that when you got close to something he didn't want to talk about. His childhood always seems to be a touchy subject.

You want to know more, want to learn all of his secrets, but you don't want to jeopardize his good mood. Mando had shared bits and pieces of those more intimate details with you over your shared months with him, but always on his own time. His own terms. You won't push it now. Instead, you pivot to something more innocuous.

"If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?" 

You're surprised when he barely takes any time to consider the question before answering. "Tacos."

You raise an eyebrow. "Tacos? I took you for more of a burger and fries kind of guy."

"Nothing compares to a good authentic taco from down by the border." He says it with such confidence that you can do nothing other than believe him.

"I wouldn't know," you say.

Mando cocks an eyebrow at you now. "We'll have to fix that then."

A warm flush runs through your body at his words. You know he isn't looking to get rid of you, but hearing him make plans for the future with you, no matter how tentative, makes you happier than you care to admit. Small promises that you know he'll make good on eventually given the time and opportunity.

"What about you?" he asks.

"Easy. A full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast. Doesn't matter how they're cooked or the specific options, you can't go wrong."

You stretch yourself out in the cab as you answer, throwing your feet up on the dash. Your eyes close for a moment and you miss the way Mando's eyes rake over your extended frame.

"You're never awake for breakfast," Mando comments. He's right. You enjoy your sleep and when left to your own devices you easily dream through breakfast hours.

"That doesn't matter," you retort. "Breakfast food isn't only good in the morning."

You continue that way for a while, gathering small bits of information about him and sharing your own in return. You learn that he prefers hot weather over the cold, soft pillows over firm ones, showers over baths, and most surprisingly that he has a soft spot for musicals. That fact had made you giggle, imagining Mando singing along to The Music of the Night. With all of his mystery, he wouldn't make for a bad Phantom you think.

As the afternoon wears on, you can feel yourself growing tired. Between the warmth of the sun, the lulling rumble of the truck, and the comfortable environment of the cab, you're fighting to keep your eyes open. Mando notices your struggle and reaches a hand out towards you.

You aren't really sure when this began, but you aren't complaining about it. Mando would hold your hand whenever you fell asleep in the truck, thumb gently rubbing against your skin. His hands were rough, callused from years of work, but they felt nice. They felt strong, comforting. In those moments nothing else in the world mattered. And if you thought about his hands later, touching places other than your hands, then that was your business and no one else’s. 

You wake up a couple hours later, Mando calling your name to pull you from your sleep. The sun has moved down in the sky and you guess it’s somewhere close to five o’clock. You’d check the time on the radio, but Mando never seemed to bother keeping it right due to regularly changing time zones with all the cross country traveling. 

You’re sitting outside of some 24 hour diner on a random roadside. Mando seems to be fond of these little dives, preferring them to any of the big chain restaurants you always pass. Fast food is the only exception to that rule and even that’s rare, these food stops often being one of few chances to stretch your legs when you’re on the road.

“What do you think? Do they have the best pie in America?” you joke, pointing at the sun-worn sign hanging below the restaurant’s name. You can’t count how many ‘best blank in America’ signs you’ve seen at this point. While you can’t credit their authenticity, it usually did mean there was something good waiting for you on the menu.

“I suppose we’ll have to be the judges of that,” Mando replies.

You tug on your socks and shoes that you pulled off earlier in the day and hop out of the truck. The easy conversation and warm nap have you in a great mood, one that makes you a little bolder than you might otherwise be. Walking into the diner, you grab onto Mando’s arm, smiling at him when he looks down at you in surprise. He doesn’t pull away from you though and your heart beats a little bit faster.

The diner has plenty of open seats and you seat yourselves, grabbing one of the booths. The stiff vinyl isn’t the most comfortable, but you can’t say you’re surprised. The place looks like it hasn’t been renovated in a decade. If the smell from the kitchen is anything to go off of though, the food will be just fine.

A waitress comes over to take your orders. She’s exactly what you would imagine a waitress to look like in a diner like this one. Slightly heavyset, a kind face, and a big smile to offer you. “Hi there, what can I get the two of you?” she asks.

“I’ll take a coke, ma’am,” Mando says. He seems oblivious to the flush on the waitress’s cheeks at his baritone. 

“I’ll take a coke too.”

“I’ll be right back, folks.”

You reach over to grab a sticky menu from the end of the table. The stickiness grosses you out a little, but it really does add to the ambiance of the place. Your conversation from earlier drifting back into mind, you immediately look for the breakfast section. Perfect. Their ‘two eggs and more’ option is exactly what you were looking for.

The waitress returns with your drinks and takes your orders, Mando getting himself a burger and fries. You smirk at him, taking the wrapper off of your straw. “I thought you said you weren’t a burger and fries kind of guy?”

Mando watches as you carefully make a wrapper worm, dropping the smallest amount of soda on the paper to make it move. “I just said tacos were my favorite, never said I’m a guy who doesn’t enjoy a good burger and fries, sweetheart.”

“Fair enough,” you say with a shrug.

You fall into a comfortable silence together at the table. Silence isn’t an uncommon occurrence between the two of you. When you first joined Mando you talked all the time. Trying to fill up the empty space, feeling like if someone wasn’t talking then the situation was awkward. Slowly you learned though. The silence was never awkward until you made it that way and unless Mando had something to say, he’d stay quiet. He’s not incapable of conversation, he just doesn’t like to force it.

You softly hum a tune that’s been stuck in your head, looking out the diner window and enjoying the sunset. It’s a gorgeous one today, the sky looking like an oil painting with its gradient of colors. The flat plains allow for a good view of it too, only a small building in the distance blocking any part of the horizon. You kick yourself for not picking up that disposable camera at the gas station this morning. The photo would never do it justice, but at least that way you could have a small piece of the gorgeous sky to hold onto.

Plates being set down on the table brings you back down to earth. You happily dig into your meal, pleased to have been right about the quality of food here. Nothing could beat a good meal at a greasy diner. Mando seems to enjoy his burger as well, scarfing it down well before you finish your plate.

He always ate like that and you aren’t sure why. It’s as though he thinks if he doesn’t eat it fast enough then someone is going to come and steal it from him. Early on you’d tried to speed up your eating, feeling awkward every time he finished and was forced to wait on you. Now though, you don’t care. Mando rarely ever stops moving and a meal with you is a time you can be certain that he isn’t doing anything for once. You hope that eventually it might encourage him to actually enjoy his food as well, but that still seems a long way off.

Mando picks at his fries and sips at his coke while you finish up. The waitress comes by to refill the drinks, another flush on her cheeks when Mando thanks her. There must not be many attractive men who roll through here if a simple thanks has her blushing, you think. Poor lady, she seems quite nice.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask Mando between bites of egg and toast.

“Plan?” 

“Yes, plan. We’ve been driving west for two days now and you seem to have some destination in mind. So, what’s the plan?” What plan, of course Mando has a plan. He always does. Was it always well thought out or complete? No, but there is never a time where he doesn’t have some sort of plan, some idea of where he’s off to next. You’re the one without plans, content with travelling alongside him.

Before Mando can reply, the waitress returns to the table and clears his now empty plate. “Can we get a slice of your pie?” Mando asks.

“Of course, what flavor would you like?” she replies.

“Whatever flavor you think is best, ma’am.” That garners yet another blush on the waitress’s cheeks. Wow. Things must be really bad around here then. One good-looking customer shouldn’t have that big of an impact on anyone, much less a woman who’s clearly made this job her life’s work.

She leaves and you prompt Mando again. “So? Plan?”

“I’m going to meet someone tonight, pick up a new job. Then we’ll go from there,” he finally tells you. 

You aren’t pleased by his half-cryptic half-telling answer. He’s always doing this to you, giving you answers but never quite the whole thing. You bet he already knows what the next job is, he’s just being coy about it for some ridiculous reason.

You decide not to push it and slide your plate over to Mando. There are some hash browns left and he won’t just ask for them despite the fact that you’re clearly done. He doesn’t say thanks, just picks up the fork and shovels them in. This by now is routine too so it doesn’t bother you, but it’s still odd. Mando is just weird about food.

He finishes the last of your meal and the waitress returns with the pie. “Blueberry, winner of the county festival five years running,” she tells you.

You grab a fork and dig in, suddenly finding the room in your stomach for dessert. Best pie in America might be a stretch, but you believe their claim to the best pie in the county. It’s delicious, eliciting a small but satisfied groan from you on the first bite. You go to take a second bite when you realize Mando hasn’t moved yet, he’s just watching you with an expression on his face that you can’t quite make out.

“Earth to Mando?” you say, waving your hand. “Try the pie, it’s delicious.”

He breaks from his stare and takes a piece of the pie. “‘S good,” he says around the mouthful.

You laugh at his terrible manners. “Gross, finish chewing before you talk.”

He doesn’t have a witty retort, but he gives you a grin that makes you feel like you’ve won a million dollars. It’s one of the ones that reaches his eyes, making them just shy of sparkling. Now you really wish you had bought that disposable camera.

Finishing the award-winning dessert, you and Mando go up to the counter to pay. He’s left a tip on the table, a sizable one in your opinion, but you aren’t going to say anything about it. Mando is always leaving big tips at places like these.

You take in the diner for one last moment, not paying attention to Mando’s conversation with the waitress until she says something that catches your ear.

“-shift ends in a half hour.” Did you hear that right? Was she really propositioning Mando right now? Christ, things must be downright desolate around here. 

Your heart stops as you wait to hear Mando’s reply. He could easily accept. She’s an attractive woman with that classic middle America charm about her. Any other man would probably take her up on the offer. Would it shatter your heart into a million pieces if Mando did? Most likely. But do you have any right to feel that way? Most likely not. 

Mando isn’t tied to you, at least not in that way, and he’s certainly still a man. You haven’t known him to chase after any women the whole time you’ve been with him, but surely he has needs and the waitress is beautiful and willing. You wouldn’t be able to fault him for it. 

“I’m flattered, but the lady here and I need to be getting back on the road,” Mando says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. You do your best to keep your face neutral, not wanting to come off as rude while also trying not to make it obvious the way your heart swoops at Mando’s reply. You know he doesn’t mean anything serious by it, but the implication is still very much there.

Embarrassment washes over the poor woman’s face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I just assumed…” she trails off, not finishing her thought. You want to feel bad for her, but you can’t help but feel sorry for yourself.

You have a good idea of what she assumed. You’ve heard a multitude of mistaken relationships by now between you and Mando. Everything from some kind of family relation, to something more perverted that’s assumed by greasy motel attendants who cast odd glances when you ask for a double instead of a single. It’s never any less uncomfortable.

 Mando brushes it off. “It’s fine ma’am, no harm, no foul.” The waitress doesn’t blush at his words anymore.

Bill paid, you and Mando leave the diner. His arm leaves you and you climb back into the truck. The radio flickers back to life and neither of you speak. You wish you could know what’s going on inside of his head. Probably just thinking about the next job. That seems like him, always focused on what’s coming next.

You can’t help but be consumed with thoughts of him. Situations like the one with the waitress always left you distracted. There’s no real way to describe your relationship with Mando. You had helped him with a deal and he had helped you with a way out of your one-horse town. Originally neither of you planned on staying together for this long, but at some point Mando stopped asking you where you wanted to go and you stopped asking if he was going to leave.

You’re comfortable around each other, content to drive across America while Mando picks up job after job. At some point your feelings deepened for him, you aren’t exactly sure when, but now you can’t imagine leaving Mando. It’s no longer just about the adventure of it for you. It’s something more, a deeper tie than you’ve ever had to anyone. However, you have no idea if he feels the same way and you don’t intend to find out. Better to love your mystery man from afar then reveal yourself and get left in the dust.

Fifteen minutes into the drive, Mando reaches over and turns down the radio. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable back there.”

You’re a bit surprised to hear an apology. After all, he had nothing to really apologize for. The waitress had come onto him, not the other way around. You know Mando isn’t the type to flat out refuse and insult someone like that. What he had done was… fine. You had hardly even considered it.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Mando,” you tell him. “If anything she did, propositioning you like that.”

A small, relieved smile works its way across his face. “It was quite bold.” 

That makes you laugh. “I’m not surprised, she was sizing you up since we walked in.”

“She was not,” Mando argues.

You shift in your seat to face him. “Are you kidding? You really didn’t notice her blushing every time you spoke to her?” If Mando was this oblivious maybe you didn’t need to worry about him catching onto you.

“Now you’re just lying, sweetheart.”

“Am not. You just don’t pay attention.”

Mando rolls his eyes and turns the radio back up. He mumbles something but you can’t make it out. You let it slide and allow yourself to relax. Your hand falls to the center of the bench seat as you look out the window. The stars are coming out now, another gorgeous sight in the vast expanse of the sky. So far away from the city, it feels like you can see every pinprick of light the universe has to offer. It’s a bit disorienting honestly. Nothing makes you feel smaller by comparison and yet, you don’t really mind.

You startle as something wraps around your hand. Looking down, you realize that it’s just Mando, holding your hand as he does when you’re close to falling asleep in the truck. You look up at him, confused. You aren’t anywhere close to nodding off. He should know that, so why…? 

Mando doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. His thumb softly rubs against the back of your hand. You relax into his touch, turning your eyes back to the stars. Confusion about Mando’s actions doesn’t compare to the way your stomach flips at his gentle touch. It feels nice, domestic almost, if one can consider a life lived out of the front seat of a rusted out pickup domestic. His hand doesn’t leave yours until he pulls into the pothole filled parking lot of some dive bar.

Mando parks and turns the truck off. You move to get out of the truck with him when he squeezes your hand to stop you.

“Stay in the truck,” Mando says. His hand leaves you and he opens his own door, jumping out onto the cracked asphalt. 

You look over at him, incredulous. “Excuse me? You know I am old enough to go in there, right?”

“I know. Stay in the truck.” Mando closes the truck door, giving you no more room to argue with him. It pisses you off. 

What is this? Soften you up by holding your hand only to leave you behind? You hate when he does this, treating you like a child that’s just tagging along with him. You suppose you are tagging along, which stings a bit more, but you could be helpful, useful even if he would just let you in. Instead he keeps you at arm’s length at times, treating you like you can’t take care of yourself. He has no right to boss you around like that, telling you where you can and can’t go.

You watch his figure enter the bar, temper rising. If this place was good enough for him, it was certainly good enough for you. A bar like this had been where you met Mando months ago, working as a bartender and server. It didn’t bring back the best of memories, but you can handle yourself. At worst a fight might break out or patrons might get a little handsy. You can avoid the first and as for the second, it’s not as though Mando would need to put someone in the hospital for getting a little too flirty with you.

After fuming in the truck for a couple minutes, you make up your mind. You look yourself over in the mirror, trying to fix your appearance to look like you hadn't just spent the last two days in a truck. Pleased with yourself, you pull your shirt down slightly to reveal a bit more cleavage. The discovery of the power a pair of tits held in dive bars was one you made a long time ago. You flip the mirror back up and get out of the truck.

You practice your walk as you approach the bar door, trying to keep it calm and confident. Mando is going to be pissed at you for this, you already know, but you refuse to be treated like a child. If coming in here without his permission is what it takes for him to view you differently, then so be it. Younger you might be, but incapable you are not.

The moment you walk in the door, you spot Mando. He’s in the corner, talking to someone with his back to the door. He doesn’t even notice as you walk in and stroll up to the bar.

The man behind the counter is old, his white shirt spotted with stains and a towel thrown over his shoulder. It’s almost too stereotypical a look and you want to laugh. The stiff look he gives you though stifles your amusement.

“What can I get you?” he asks gruffly as you take a seat at the bartop.

“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks.” 

Whiskey is not your favorite drink. Not by a long shot. Really, you would have loved to order something fruity that you can’t taste the alcohol in, but whiskey is something you’ve learned to tolerate. You know that appearances matter in a place like this and a fruity drink would mark you as someone lost, not as someone who belongs here. You aren’t looking to get trashed anyway, just something to calm your nerves.

It doesn’t take long before someone is sidling up next to you at the bar. You don’t acknowledge him right away, instead staring up at the small CRT TV that’s playing the local news above the bar. Some murder case from a couple towns over is currently being highlighted. Lovely.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?” he asks you.

You glance over at him, enough to get a look, but you don’t let your eyes linger. Lingering eyes would mean an invitation that you certainly don’t want to give. You have to admit, as far as seedy dive bar men went, he isn’t hard to look at. Not much older than you, clean shaven, bright blue eyes. Another time you might have gone for someone like him. Not now. These days your thoughts are only occupied by scruff, dark hair, and warm brown eyes.

“Came in for a drink,” you reply simply.

He leans in a bit closer. “Can I buy you another?”

You take a sip of your drink. “I think I’m alright, thanks.”

He pushes in even further, placing a hand on your thigh. This guy didn’t take no for an answer apparently. “Aw, come on now, don’t be that way sweetheart.”

Hearing him call you sweetheart makes you want to punch him more than him touching you does. It sounds wrong coming out of his mouth, harsh and manipulative, not the smooth and warm way Mando says it. For a moment, you do seriously consider punching this guy square in the jaw before deciding against it. You came in here to prove a point and not being able to handle a pushy guy would just prove the exact opposite of that.

You turn in your chair to move your thigh away from him. He has the decency to let his hand fall at least. “Don’t call me that,” you tell him.

“Alright then, what do I call you?”

You turn your attention back to the TV. Now they were highlighting a feel good story about an animal adoption from the nearby shelter. Odd shift in tone. You don’t reply to Blue-eyes and hope he gets the message. 

“Playing hard to get, that’s fine,” he says. You take another sip of your whiskey. The news shifts to the weather. There’s more warm weather on the way for the next week, no storms in sight. That’ll be nice to drive in you think.

Blue-eyes’ hand returns to your thigh, creeping up higher than it was before. “I don’t mind hard to get, sweetheart.”

That one garners a slap. You do it before you even give it a real thought. It’s a good one at least, making a very solid sound as his head spins. It’s a testament to the bar that no one even spares it a second glance. Blue-eyes turns back to you, furious.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch,” he hisses at you, roughly grabbing your arm.

“You’re going to regret it if you don’t take your hand off of her.” 

You’ve never been so happy to hear Mando’s voice in your life. Could you handle this guy? Probably. Do you want to? Absolutely not. You know on your own there's a near certain chance you'll end up with bruises before this guy gives up.

Somewhere in your mind you register the very real possibility that Mando is pissed at you right now. You shove it down, choosing to focus on the fact that he did just come to your defense. 

Blue-eyes is more stupid then he looks and doesn’t read the very obvious threat Mando poses. Instead he doubles down and tightens his grip on you. “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it, old man?”

You can't say you're surprised when Mando punches him in the face instead of answering the question. You also can’t say that you feel bad about it either. The surprise and hurt of the sudden punch makes Blue-eyes release his grip on you, giving you enough time to move out of the way as Mando moves in. Mando grabs a fistful of Blue-eyes' shirt and pulls the guy in towards his face. 

“Do you regret it?” Mando grits out. Blue-eyes sputters something that sounds like an apology and pushes himself away. 

Satisfied, Mando now turns on you. You were right, he's pissed. His typically soft, warm eyes are hard on you now as he pulls you away.

You flounder to tell him you haven't paid for your drink but he just ignores you, dragging you out of the bar. If you were smarter, you would think to be a little scared about making a man like Mando mad at you. Instead, your thoughts are occupied with how he's barely even trying to overpower you and yet you couldn't break free of his grip if you tried. You wonder if there's something wrong with you for how much it's turning you on.

Arriving back at the truck, Mando releases his grip. "Get in," he demands.

You do as you're told and climb into the passenger seat as Mando goes around. Nerves finally settle in. Mando would never hurt you, you know that, but he could decide to ditch you somewhere. Whatever this situation is with him, it's far from formal. He has no obligation to you and could easily choose to end it. With the trouble you’ve just caused, you wouldn’t be surprised if this all comes to a swift and sudden end.

As Mando climbs into the cab, you stare down at the floorboards, terrified that he's going to tell you he's dropping you off somewhere and leaving you behind for good. You can't imagine your life without him now. There's nowhere for you to go, nothing for you to do without him. Right back to square one.

He doesn't speak right away, which only makes you more nervous. He peels the truck out of the parking lot, headed back in the direction you came from. You still don't look at him. It's obvious you fucked up and there's nothing you can really say to fix that. Your only hope is that he forgives you.

You're headed back through the small nearby town when he finally speaks. “I told you to stay in the truck.”

You don’t say anything in response. Anything you can come up with sounds childish in your head. The exact opposite of what you'd been trying to prove. Thankfully, Mando takes your silence as an answer.

“Why would you even do something like that? Do you know how stupid that was?” His hands are tight on the wheel, glancing between you and the road as he yells.

You mumble back to him. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“He called me sweetheart,” you say a little louder.

“What?” He isn't going to let you off the hook with this and it gets under your skin. Some part of you thought he might be proud of you for smacking that creep and here he is berating you for it.

“He called me sweetheart, alright?” you half-shout.

Mando gives you a confused look, clearly not the answer he was expecting. “Do you- do you have a problem with that?” The heat is still present in his voice, but you can hear a little worry in it now. Shit. This is not what you wanted out of this whole ordeal.

You've never wanted the ground to come up and swallow you more. Why didn’t you just say that you smacked him for touching you? That would have been simple. How do you answer this without making everything weird? No, Mando, I don’t have a problem with that. I smacked him because I only like it when you call me that. Sure. That won’t be weird or awkward at all. 

After cursing yourself for a few seconds, you manage a response. “No, I- I just didn’t like it when he said it.”

"Oh." That's Mando's only reply.

You know he's still angry about you coming into the bar, but apparently your answer has sidelined him. If it wasn't so embarrassing, you might even be rejoicing at his reaction. Instead you just feel like a fool.

The silence remains as you pull into a little local motel with the vacancy sign lit up. Mando hands you forty dollars, way more than you need, and tells you to get a room.

Okay. So he isn't getting rid of you… yet.

You barely even listen to the attendant as they tell you they only have one single available for the night. Now is not the time to be arguing about sleeping arrangements. You take the key, room 104, and make your way back to the truck. 

You grab your bag from the flatbed and let Mando know the room number. He nods and goes to pull the truck around. You kick yourself as you walk over to the room. Why didn’t you just stay in the truck? Why didn’t you just lie to Mando about your reasons? He’s smart and it won’t take long now for him to put two and two together. Especially if he asks anymore questions.

You have no idea how Mando might react. If learning about your feelings towards him combined with what happened in the bar might be enough to leave you. He’s certainly not cold with you, but you’re not sure you’d call any of his actions romantic either. Holding your hand after the diner today is the closest he’s ever come. You wish you knew what that meant to him. You know what it meant to you.

Mando parks the truck outside of the room as you unlock the door. It’s not a fancy room, just one big square with a bathroom attached. There’s a full bed, a dresser with a TV on it, and a small table with a couple chairs. You toss your bag on the table and sit down on the edge of the bed. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t upset, Mando can always see through your lies. Might as well just get this over with.

Nervous, you hide your face in your hands, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. You’re ready to deal with it, but not while actually looking at him. You can’t handle seeing his face as he figures things out; the way he might look at you while he rejects you. Suddenly you feel a wave of sympathy for the waitress earlier today. You hope Mando will let you down easy like he did for her.

You don’t look up when Mando comes into the room. His boots enter your line of vision and you close your eyes. You can’t look at any part of him right now. It’s too painful.

Mando says your name softly and you can sense as he kneels down in front of you. You don’t reply. Gently, he moves your hands away from your face. You still refuse to look at him and he cups your chin, lifting your head up to his.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You wish you could resist, but you can’t. Not when he speaks to you in that soft tone. Not when he calls you that.

You meet his eye and see all the concern and worry he holds there. “I’m sorry, Mando. I should have listened to you.”

His hand slides up to hold your cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I could have at least told you why I didn’t want you coming in with me.”

You’re surprised at his apology. Two apologies he didn’t need to make in one day. This isn’t something you ever expected. You assumed he would still be full of heat and anger, not this careful kindness.

“Why didn’t you want me to come in?” you ask. You need to know the reason, need to know why it is he told you to stay behind. No matter how much the reason might hurt.

Mando sighs. “I didn’t want you to come in because I didn’t want anyone else looking at you.”

You pull back out of shock. “What?” Did you hear that correctly? Could that mean what you thought it might?

He takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand through his hair. “What can I say, sweetheart? I’m a jealous man.”

A thousand thoughts run through your mind. There are so many things you want to say, so many questions you want to ask, and yet none of them can find their way out. As a result, you do the only thing you can.

You lean in towards him, slowly, giving him enough time to stop you if he so chooses. He doesn’t though, instead following your lead and moving in closer. You carefully search his eyes for any answers they may hold. Your noses bump and you both pause. “Mando, I-”

He cuts you off. “Din. My name is Din.”

You close the gap and kiss him. The kiss is careful at first, as though you’re both still looking to confirm that yes, this is what you both want. Mand- Din’s lips are soft and sweet against yours and you melt as it’s everything you could have imagined and more. A small moan escapes you, one that you’re embarrassed about until it causes Din to deepen the kiss. Caution evaporates, quickly turning into passion as your tongues meet.

Din moves, getting up from the floor and pushing you back against the bed. His lips never leave yours, devouring you as though you might slip away at any moment. He gives your bottom lip a small nip, quickly soothing it with his tongue. You pull away, needing a moment to catch your breath.

“Is this okay?” Din asks, his voice low with desire. You respond by pulling him back down into another bruising kiss. Your positions shift as the kiss continues, Din’s knee finding its way between your legs as his arms wrap around you. Both of your hands have worked their way into his hair, something you’ve been fantasizing about for months now.

Din begins to kiss his way down your neck, leaving little love bites along the way. You gently tug on his hair, pulling a heavenly sound from him that only intensifies your pool of desire. Desperate for more, you move a hand down, seeking the hem of his shirt and slipping your hand underneath. His skin feels remarkable under your fingertips.

Din pulls away from your neck and quickly divests himself of his shirt. He allows you a moment to take him in, his lean physique flexing as he holds himself above you. Scars litter his body in various shapes and sizes, but you think they look beautiful against the glow of his honeyed skin. 

Taking the opportunity, you remove your top as well, leaving you in your basic everyday bra. You wish you had worn your other bra, the sexier one, but with the way Din is looking at you, you’re not sure it matters. His lips return to your body, working his way across any and all of your newly exposed skin. One hand splays on your waist, holding you, grounding Din against you.

“You’re so soft, sweetheart,” Din murmurs against you. His lips find their way up to your chest, placing careful kisses against the globes of your breasts. He pauses and looks up at you, seeking your permission. You arch your back, allowing Din access to slip a hand beneath you and undo the clasp.

He pulls the bra away from you and you flush under the intensity of his gaze. “Perfect, you’re perfect,” Din says before reoccupying his mouth with your breasts. It seems that he has a real oral fixation, not that you mind in the slightest. His warm mouth feels heavenly against you, licking and sucking wherever he can.

Din takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his fingers playing with the other. It’s the best thing you’ve felt in months, better than any of your late night fantasies when you would try to satisfy your growing want for the man currently giving you so much pleasure. As though your attempts could ever come close to the real thing.

Din releases your nipple with a pop and returns to your mouth, licking his way inside. His kiss alone is enough to make you see stars. It makes you forget any other kiss you’ve ever shared, enveloping you in him and him alone.

You pull back slightly from the kiss, unable to take more without further relief. “Din, please, I want you,” you pant into his mouth. Din growls, actually growls, at your words. It's a far hotter response than it should be.

“Yeah, sweetheart? What do you want me to do to you? Tell me.” His knee comes up and presses his thigh against you where you want him most, causing you to moan out his name. “Use your words, sweet girl.”

He’s trying to kill you, you think. Calling you a name like that. Sweet girl. It loops in your mind until Din’s fingers ghost over your nipples again. “I want you to touch me,” you tell him.

“I’m already touching you,” Din says. He’s a tease, you think, growing slightly frustrated with him. His thigh moves against you again though and he’s immediately forgiven.

“Please, Din,” you whine, hoping he’ll take pity on you. Thankfully he does, moving his leg away and quickly removing your pants. You already know you’re soaking, your panties feeling cold against you with the loss of the other cloth barrier.

Din pauses for another moment to take you in before moving. You’re nearly bare before him, almost entirely on display. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he compliments, his hands parting your thighs. “So perfect, so beautiful, and all mine.” You can feel yourself clench at his words. No one has ever made you feel this way before. His stare only relaxes you more, his words feeling like a warm blanket wrapping around your fears and quieting them.

Din’s fingers brush against you through the thin cotton. “Is this all for me, sweetheart? I can already feel how wet you are.”

He continues to tease you, only leaving you capable of nodding your head back at him. His eyes catch yours, watching your reaction as he pushes the near useless fabric off to the side and pushes one finger between your folds. Just the small touch sets you aflame, pushing yourself down onto his hand, wanting more. 

His finger leaves you and you frown until you watch as he brings it to his mouth and licks your slick off of it. Din moans at the taste. “You taste better than you do in my dreams.”

He leans down to kiss you, sharing the taste of yourself while he pulls your panties off completely. They’re thrown haphazardly into the room, lost to be found for later. 

Din then moves himself between your legs, slowly working kisses down your body as he slides back onto his knees on the floor. He grabs your waist and pulls you to the edge of the bed with ease and starts nipping and kissing your inner thighs. Your hands wind back into his hair, while you lie in disbelief that this is really happening right now.

Gentle kisses are placed along your folds, Din moving back as you try to grind your hips down onto him. His eyes catch yours again, mouth hovering over your clit as he speaks. “I’m going to taste you until you cum on my face and then I’m going to fuck you, okay?”

This time you manage a response, frantic to let him know that’s exactly what you want. “Yes, please, I want you so badly, Din.”

It’s all he needs to hear. His mouth comes down on your clit, carefully playing with the bundle of nerves, making you cry out and clench around nothing. He pulls away slightly and then licks a long stripe from bottom to top, pausing again at your clit to give it a teasing suck. Your hands pull at his hair from the attention.

He moves back down, teasing your entrance with his mouth. He moans, lapping up your pussy, acting every part a man dying of thirst who’s found oasis at your core. You buck into him and his hands quickly wrap around your legs, holding your hips in place. Din wants to pleasure you, but on his own terms, at his own speed.

You can’t make a coherent thought as he continues to eat you out. Small snippets of words make their way out of you, none of them making any real sense in conjunction with one another. It’s not until his thumb finds your clit as he continues to lick, suck, and nip at you that you find complete words to shout. “Din, oh god, yes, right there, I’m so close...”

Moments later you feel the tension within you snap, crying out as your body shakes from the overwhelming pleasure. Din continues to work you through your orgasm, only stopping when you physically push his head away from you. He trails hot kisses along your inner thighs again, telling you how beautiful you are, how good you taste, how perfect your pussy is.

As you come down from your high, Din removes the last of his clothes, finally freeing his stiff erection. Your breath catches as you take him in, your Adonis in the flesh. He’s gorgeous, you think, wondering what you did to get so lucky.

Then he’s back over top of you, kissing and sucking at your skin. Some of those are bound to leave marks for tomorrow but you don’t mind. You want everyone to see, for everyone to know that you’re his. No more mistaken assumptions about your relationship, you want it on display for the world.

You look down to catch a better glimpse of his cock, satiating the curiosity that’s plagued you for so long. He’s big. More than enough to fill you, possibly even more than you can handle. As wet as you are, you know you’ll need him to go slow, to slowly stretch you out before he can truly fuck you.

You tilt your hips, bumping against him, letting him know that you want him. “Do you want my fingers first?” Din asks. You know you should say yes, but you can’t imagine another moment without knowing what he feels like inside of you.

“No,” you tell him. “Just go slow.”

Din places a quick searing kiss against your lips and positions himself. The head of his cock presses against your slick entrance and you feel like you’re already seeing stars. Din is muttering in your ear, holding you tightly against him as he pushes into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good sweetheart. So tight and wet for me. I can’t wait to fill you up, to feel every inch of your sweet pussy.”

You nearly forget to breath as he slowly pushes in further. You can feel every inch of him and you only want more. Din’s stream of compliments are interrupted when he finally bottoms out in you, holding himself still as your walls clench and stretch around him. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

You turn your head and pull him into a blazing kiss, loving the way he feels filling you up. You wonder how you were ever satisfied with your fingers before when this had been next to you for so long. Din is apparently thinking along the same lines, whispering to you, “I’d have done this long ago if I knew you felt this good.”

You don’t even have time to consider the words as he slowly begins to move in you. The pleasure borders on agonizing as you begin to move your hips, encouraging him to move faster. Din responds quickly to your urging, setting a furious pace as he begins to lose all control. You know you’ll still be feeling him tomorrow and the thought makes you smile. You never want to go another day without a reminder of how he feels.

His thumb returns to your clit and you don’t have time to warn him before you’re thrown into another orgasm. Your walls clench around him and you lose yourself in the feeling of cumming on his cock. Din quickly follows, pulling out of you just in time to paint your stomach with ropes of his spend. You mourn the loss of him, but once Din finishes he buries himself back inside of you, causing another shock of pleasure to zing through your body.

Din rolls the both of you over, keeping himself sheathed in you, and allowing you to collapse on top of him. You’re both sweaty and panting, trying to come up with words. Din’s fingers lightly trace along your back, causing goosebumps to erupt across your flesh. You lift your head up from his chest in order to look at his face.

He’s completely debauched, sweat causing hair to cling to his forehead, the rest completely wild from your hands. His eyes are still blown wide, happily looking back at you. His lips are pink and swollen from all the kisses and licks he’s pressed into your skin. You know you can’t look much better than him.

You give a small clench around him and smile at the expression that runs across Din’s face. “I love the way you fill me,” you tell him. Din presses a loving kiss against your sweaty forehead.

“I never want to leave this perfect pussy of yours.” You can tell he means it too. If he could, he would stay buried in you forever. You love the way that sounds. His eyes flutter closed, reveling in the feeling of having you surround him.

“Din,” you say.

His eyes pop back open and refocus on you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

A smile blooms across your face. “Nothing, I just wanted to say it. Din. It suits you.” 

His name suits him in a different way than Mando does. Mando is the rough exterior, the front he puts up to the world. The one who punches men in bars for touching you and calling you pet names. The one that strikes fear into others, knowing that if he’s hot on their trail that they’re screwed. Din is the soft inside, the place where all of his ‘sweethearts’ originate, the cause for the hand holding and sparkling smiles. The man behind the armor that he presents to the world, the one who kisses and fills you up just right.

Din’s arms wrap around you tightly, clearly intent on never letting you go. You’re fine with that, letting it sink in that you’re finally laying in bed with the man who’s consumed your thoughts for months. A small, joyous giggle escapes you.

“What’s so funny?” Din asks.

“I thought you were going to leave me earlier. Now here I am, laying on top of you with your cock still inside of me.”

Din chuckles and you can feel it rumble in his chest. “I’m never letting you go sweetheart, no matter how much you piss me off.”

You fold your arms across his chest, letting your chin rest on your hands. “I am sorry. I just wanted you to notice me. I felt like you were treating me like a child,” you confess.

Din’s eyes widen a bit at your admission. “I always notice you, mesh’la. I never meant to treat you that way. I only want to keep you safe.”

“I know that now. Honestly, I feel so silly about it all.” He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair back from your face. 

“Next time, I’ll take you in with me. I’ll show everyone that you’re mine.” He grinds his hips up into you to prove his point. It makes you squeal, causing a smirk to settle on Din’s lips. You give his cheek a small flick in retaliation but make no attempt to move.

You lay there for a little while longer, laying your head back down against Din’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat beneath you. His hands trace anywhere he can touch on you, intoxicated by having you so close against him. Eventually though, you feel the call to use the bathroom and can no longer ignore it.

Din is almost painful sliding out of you, but you’re more upset about the loss of having him buried in you. Your legs are shaky as you stand, managing to make it to the bathroom on wobbly knees. You take a moment to clean yourself up, running a damp cloth across your body. Exhaustion hits as you return to bed, crawling under the covers and into Din’s arms.

You begin to drift off when Din asks, “Why’d you get a single? Not that I’m complaining.”

“All they had left. Maybe it was a sign,” you mumble back.

Din chuckles and presses a kiss against your head. “Yeah, maybe, sweetheart.”

[arielxlazarus]

I almost forgot about that fanfic appreciation week, but I wanted to at least do something for it! So here's a rec list for some of my favorite fics in the one piece fandom!

This list is not at all exhaustive btw (there's still loads of other fics in the fandom that I love), so please don't feel bad if you weren't included! Also if anyone wants more recommendations from me, you can check out my bookmarks on my ao3!

Who Knows (what could happen) by Chromi

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to set out to sea as an adventurer. His father, unfortunately, dictated that he was to follow the family tradition and become a doctor instead.

Following a lifetime of hurt and sorrow at the hands of his family, he eventually breaks free and takes to the sea alone - determined to keep it that way. Fate has other ideas in store for him; fate crosses his path with Portgas D. Ace's, a brand new pirate.

And what does he hate more than pirates?

Nothing.

Or: from Sixis to the Moby Dick - the lives of the Spade pirates.

First Time by Chromi

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: "Because it is Ace, and it will only ever be Ace, that he wants to see like this, and he wants to be responsible for unravelling him down to his core and loving him to his very center."

In which Ace and Deuce go all the way for the first time.

@chromiwrites

Seabound by AnkhPosts

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace is a selkie, making one of his periodic stops on land to catch a breather and get some ridiculously tasty human food, maybe see some sights if there are any. His pelt is safely hidden, he'll stay a day or two at most and be on his way.

Deuce is a mer, alone on the sea and traveling as he pleases for the first time in his life, and while he might not be terribly interested in actually interacting with humans it's hard not to see them as fascinating.

Ace meets Deuce. Deuce meets Ace. Neither knows the other isn't human.

@ankhposts

Death is only the beginning by Chizyk

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Ankhreshet?” he whipped his head round at the sound of a raspy voice so fast he almost got whiplash. He could feel his body going completely cold as he saw the mummy’s empty eye sockets staring right at him.

@chizyk

I'm Still Here (part of a series) by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace (also Izou/Sabo later in the series)

Summary: "When I do die, don't bother burying me in that empty grave. Put my body in a boat and set me out to sea. Let me sleep eternal on the ocean that my father loved so much; because before everything else in this world, I am a child of the sea, and when I die, I want to return to it. Put me in a boat and set it aflame so I can go down in the same fire I lived."

Forget-Me-Not Fall by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Izou/Sabo

Summary: “Most of the nobles I’ve met tonight look meticulously put together. They look like they were built to portray a certain image paralleled a hundred times over. People who were copied and pasted. Flawless clothes, flawless faces, flawless makeup, flawless hair.”

“Not me though,” Sabo stated, and Izou hummed.

“It’s comforting.”

“Huh?”

Izou met Sabo’s eye. “Everyone else in this place hides their worst attributes with a mask they modified to fit their faces. They don’t seem to comprehend that those perfect masks only make their worst characteristics more pronounced and defined.” His expression was terribly gentle as his eyes wandered across Sabo’s face. “It’s comforting to be approached by someone not trying to be something else.”

Sabo tilted his head. “How do you know I’m not manipulating you like some common Goa aristocrat?”

Izou smiled. “There are a few reasons.”

@theprodigypenguin

A Light To Guide You Home by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In a world that despises mutants, Ace lives purely to protect his little brother.

Until the flames inside him find their perfect match and opposite, and he doesn't know what to feel anymore.

The Phoenix's Mate by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Marco is a handsome man. Ace really can't be blamed for being attracted to him. Nobody minds, either.

But Marco isn't always a man. Ace still loves him regardless, and his sexual urges are catching up to that fact.

Marco indulges him, but he might just find himself enjoying it more than he thought he would.

@evvazi

ASL in Red (series) by Kereea

Rating: G-T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law (both asexual), Koala/Sabo, Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Benn Beckman, Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante/Aokiji | Kuzan, Roronoa Zoro/Sanji, and several other minor ones

Summary: In an alternate universe, forces conspired to put Ace, Sabo, and Luffy in the care of the Red Hair pirates as children.

The Grand Line would never know what hit it.

Mates (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Deuce just wanted to go searching for plants! A nice walk in the woods. Except, he ends up becoming the mate to a very persistent naga

His First Mate The Mermaid (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Instead of finding another person on Sixis, Ace finds a mermaid

@masked-writer

Being Human by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E (no smut)

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between Marco, Whitebeard, and the rest of the crew as they form)

Summary: The line that differentiates human from object appears to be clear, but sometimes it blurs to the point where it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

The Unknown Devil by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace hadn’t expected his last week of imprisonment before his execution to be any different from all the years preceding it. Then again, he hadn’t expected to have Marco the Phoenix as a cellmate for that week, or that Marco’s presence would shake his bleak world so much.

Ripple Effect by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: After the incident with Shanks, Garp didn't take Luffy to Dadan's, unaware of how much that would change the life of his other grandson.

@maisstories

To Build a Home by endlessblankpages

Rating: G

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between the ASL bros and the Whitebeard Pirates)

Summary: The ASL pirates are used to being accused of crimes they didn't commit. But when they're accused of destroying a small village in the New World, it sends them hurtling toward a deadly confrontation with the strongest man in the world, Whitebeard. The results are not what they were expecting.

Persistence & The Impossible (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In order to keep himself from losing his job, Ace takes on an impossible story. Get an interview with the ever-elusive Phoenix. Guess he might as well kiss his job goodbye.

Self Discovery (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: E

Pairing: Izou/Sabo (sort of, it's technically masturbation)

Summary: Sabo has been waiting for a day like this for a while but it doesn’t go quite how he planned it.

@clockworkpanic

A Breach of Intention by Depths

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It was unspoken, but some pirate crews and mermaids had an unspoken solidarity. Pirates throw their enemies overboard, and the merfolk will take care of them.

mer!ace au

@leviathiane

Running on All Sixes by lunarshores

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Izou/Thatch

Summary: The Whitebeard gang might be one of the most influential in the city, but to Marco they're just his family. Though he sometimes wishes they'd just leave him alone, especially when Izo's playing matchmaker, and Ace is his usual oblivious self. When a brother betrays them, they'll have to fight to show why no one ever messes with their family.

nothing is impossible with you by lunarshores

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Five times Ace and Marco accidentally mixed their flames on accident and one time that was entirely on purpose.

@lunarshores

I Want You to Look at Me by shockandlock

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: One night, Marco is missing from dinner, so Ace decides to bring dinner to him. He's surprised to see Marco wearing glasses and now he can't stop thinking about the way he looks. Now with additional chapter(s) including more miscellaneous MarcoAce PWP!

To My Dear Fire (part of a series) by shockandlock

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Living in the city is a new thing for Ace. After being raised near a cozy coastal mountain town through his childhood, it's definitely a change of pace, but it doesn't help when he loses his new job after an unfortunate encounter with actor Marco Newgate. He just wants to live-- and meet his long time pen pal, Phoenix.

Marco knows that being an actor is hard, so he takes the little things when he can: writing his pen pal (and honestly one of his best friends) Fire Fist, flirting with the cute new waiter at his favorite café-- not that he has a chance after a disaster on social media. But maybe fate really does give him a second chance when Ace shows up at Four Emperor Studios...

@shockandlock

Uncharted Territory by silverwolf_fox

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: This was by far one of Ace's most ridiculous ideas.

When Deuce keeps getting flustered everytime he tries to dominate Ace, they created an opportunity where he didn't have to be afraid of messing up.

Now he's free to do and try whatever he wants...

...so long as Ace doesn't wake up.

Watching the Sunrise (part of a series) by silverwolf_fox

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Many years have passed since Rouge gave up her life for her son’s...except she didn’t die, but she thinks Ace did. Living her life on Baterilla, she’s mourned each and every day until the morning she receives his bounty poster. She sets off immediately to find him, but finds their meeting isn’t as easy as she’d imagined.

@the-devil-fruit-tree

never shall i forget, how you climbed out of a dream by siojo

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Kaido,” Ace smirks, flames burning around his feet as he shifts in preparation for Kaido’s next attack, already trying to decide what he’s going to do in response. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You’ve seemed to have been enjoying yourself here.”

“I thought you would be smarter than this, Portgas. You’ve never tried to fight another Yonko before, your bounty won’t matter much when you lose.”

Ace barks a laugh, his teeth bared in a facsimile of a grin, “You must have missed out on the brawl I had with Big Mom after she sent two of her daughters and a son for me to consider marrying. This is a bit more personal than that.”

@wordsdrippinginink

Reborn in Fire by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Fireman Marco has earned the nickname 'the Phoenix' by saving numerous people from a certain death. After an accident however, he has to relearn to walk and gets a new job as arson inspector at a different fire station. There he gets confronted with a boy from his past, now all grown up and gorgeous.

Three's a Crowd, Four's a Double Date by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace (main), Izou/Thatch (secondary)

Summary: "We're not dating," Marco said definitively. "That we're sharing a bed tonight is a total coincidence."

@aerle

Universal Dive by EmpressKira

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace had been making his way through the city to go to one of his favorite cafes. Well, that was until this hole ripped in the sky and some pirate fell out with the flaming bird guy following. Getting targeted, he is dragged into a different world with pirates and everything defying the reality he is used to. Will he make it home? Will he go back when the time comes?

@empresskira

Blue moon (series) by de_Winter

Rating: T-M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Urban fantasy AU, werewolf Marco and witch Ace

Red Velvet by de_Winter

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace already knew their routine by heart, just from observing them for a couple of mornings when he had early delivery, and from Izou’s daily long winded—and probably sexually frustrated—rants. Big Blond would come out of the bakery wearing a shirt too tight for him and too thin for the weather as soon as he was done setting up the tables inside the storefront, holding a take out cup and a small box in his big hands. They looked really, pleasantly big from where Ace was standing, and he honestly wished he wasn't standing that far away.

@dee-de-winter

We'll Look Back and Laugh at Ourselves by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Gol D. Roger/Portgas D. Rouge

Summary: Between his new boyfriend and his workaholic boss, Marco felt like he was surrounded by family issues of the father and son dispute variety. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Or maybe he should've listened to the office gossip more. Maybe then he'd figure it out sooner.

Gratitude of the Phoenix (part of a series) by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: [Based on 'The Crane Wife' Folklore]

One day, he saved a bird from freezing to death in a trap. Then, a stranger saved him from suffering the same fate, and a request to stay for one night turned into having someone to fill the void left in the small cottage and in his heart ever since his brothers left.

These two incident doesn’t seem to be related to one another, but they both changed Ace’s life in ways he could never have imagined.

Watashitachi wa Roger kaizoku desu (we still stand proud) by stereden

Rating: T

Pairing: None (heavy focus on Buggy, Shanks, and Crocus)

Summary: The Roger Pirates disappeared after their Captain's death, and were happy enough to let the Marines forget about them.

Until the Marines decide to execute their Captain's son, that is.

@stereden

This Bites! by Xomniac

Rating: M

Pairing: None (heavy focus on a main character oc and the strawhat pirates)

Summary: Sea Kings, sea-sickness, sunburns, a 95% genocidal Navy and more than a million and one other assorted ways to die. It's official: Being inserted into an anime sucks ass... Buuut I guess it could be worse. I mean, look on the bright side: At least I'm sailing with the future king of the pirates.

A Fortune that Never Grows Old by imperialmint

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It's one thing to get butterflies in your stomach when you seen an attractive person but it's another thing entirely for Marco to want to stomp out a courtship ritual and lay foundations for a nest when he meets the navy's new (hot) secret weapon.

@imperialmint

Most of the authors on this list have many other excellent one piece fics I'd definitely suggest checking out! Enjoy your reading and try to show them all some love if you can!

[jimlingss]

i have a request for something Taehyung! maybe taehyung christmas/holiday??? OR taehyung and the prompt "Give me attention"??? honestly i will take anything taehyung 🤩

↳ The Best Friend’s Older Brother Cliché

2.3k || 99% Fluff, 1% Angst || Kim Taehyung || Best Friend’s Older Brother!AU

Taehyung is your best friend’s older brother. 

It’s so entirely cliché that you cringe whenever you think about it, but it’s true and it happened…..you had the tiniest crush on him in high school. Okay— it was a big, fat crush. But you weren’t willing to admit it, not then and certainly not now. Mostly because it’s weird. Plus there’s the fact that it would be breaking the code of honour between besties. Sisters before misters.

The last thing you would want is to make Joy upset. 

But when you came home from college in the summer and Taehyung returned from his own studies abroad...you didn’t expect him to look like that.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“H-Hey.”

Taller. Leaner. Better dressed.

Maybe it had just been a long time since you’ve seen Taehyung. Maybe you had gotten desensitized but the long period away from him made you hyper aware of his existence again. Either way, seeing him made you realize that he had very much become a man.

He was no longer just the unattainable, cool teenage boy that you swooned over but left behind nonetheless in your coming of age years. And that fact slapped you across the face.

You didn’t expect for him to be like that either.

To smile at you like that. To strike up conversations. To be interested in what you were doing, where you were going.

“What are you majoring in again?”

“Anthropology.”

“Really? That’s super cool. I took one anthropology class when I was a freshman. Do you like it?”

“It’s not too bad. I think it’s interesting.”

Taehyung smiles faintly. “I always knew you were smart.” 

It was one date. 

You came over. Joy was abruptly called in to fill a shift at her summer job at the ice cream parlor.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I swear I’m going to choke Jimin.”

“And then who’s gonna have to bail you out? Get going before you’re late.”

“Promise we’ll hang out more tomorrow.”

“Have fun at work!”

Taehyung happened to be there, hanging around the house, and he offered to drive you home.

“You really don’t have to.”

“I’m not going to make you take the bus in this hot weather, you know that right?” The corner of his mouth tugs easily. “Just get in the car.”

Except you both stopped to grab a small bite. A burger and fries. While sitting out at the park.

You’re not sure if that even constitutes as a date — there was nothing said about it, no mention made, all entirely too casual to be considered one. But it was the first time you and Taehyung were alone together.

Okay, if that counts...then technically it was two dates.

You and Joy went out to Jungkook’s party. She had a little too much to drink and the pair of you needed a ride home afterwards. Naturally, Taehyung was the one who picked you up in his car, begrudgingly, as Joy fought him before she laid down in the backseat, but he still flashed you that smile.

“Had fun tonight?”

“It was alright.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t end up going home with him.”

“Who?”

“You know. That guy with the glasses you were talking to on the lawn.”

“Namjoon? Oh no, we’re just friends.”

“Hmm. Is that so.”

After Joy was put to bed and tucked in, Taehyung asked if you wanted to stick around to watch a movie. You might or might not have cuddled into him during those three hours, but really was it cuddling? He just slung his arm over the couch where you were sitting and you leaned into his chest.

The two of you were just getting comfortable.

Alright, if that counts, then it was three dates but just three!

Taehyung asked you out personally, but it was to help him pick a gift for Joy’s birthday. He drove you downtown and you walked together in the streets, checking out boutiques before parading around the mall.

“What do you think?”

“Joy hates camo print and she doesn’t need another backpack, Taehyung.”

“Perfect! So she’ll love this then.”

He ended up getting a sweater she’d been eyeing for months.

When it became dark and you got hungry, instead of being dropped off at home, you went to the night market together on a whim. You snacked, had conversations and exchanged numerous stories. You still remember the laughter and how much your cheeks ached when you finally jumped into bed that night.

But before the summer ended, before you both left for your respective colleges, he wanted to talk.

“I had a lot of fun this summer.”

You eye him. “What did you even do this summer?” 

“Hang out with you.” Taehyung grins, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I liked it.”

“Good. I might be hurt if you thought this entire time was awful.”

“I like you too much to ever think that. But...hear me out. What would you think we made things offici—

“We’re going to be super busy,” you interrupt in a panic, having a sense of where he was going with this. “...going to different schools and all that.”

You search his expression while schooling your own. Taehyung stays silent for a second and tries to read you. You’re not sure how successful he is.

“Right.”

“I’ll contact you, Taehyung.”

He smiles at that and eases. “Okay. Yeah. Sounds good. You can call or text me anytime.”

“Anytime?” You try to lighten the mood by shooting him an incredulous look. “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“If it’s you, it wouldn’t be a bother. Trust me.”

Except when you got back, you didn’t call him. You didn’t text him either.

You only saw him briefly when Joy would occasionally facetime him in the same room as you, when you were merely a figure in the background and Taehyung would ask who it was.

“Y/N, of course, who else?”

And you would give a small wave.

There were no conversations, no small talk, no exchanges of laughter. But it was better that way. Otherwise, you wouldn't know what Joy would say, how she’d react. You don’t even know if he’s serious about you. And you’re too scared to find out the answers to any of these questions.

It didn’t matter anyway. Deep down, you know Taehyung should be kept at a distance. You know it would be better if these feelings could fade away as a sweet, brief summer romance.

What you didn’t anticipate is to come over to the Kim’s for the holidays a few months later.

“Where are you going?”

Taehyung’s following after you, trailing at your heels like a lovesick puppy. “And don’t tell me you’re showering because you already used that excuse to avoid me today.”

You spin around, masking your startlement at just how close he is, and you frown. “I’m not avoiding you.”

The corner of his mouth tugs. “We shouldn’t lie to each other, sweetheart, even if you have the tendency to do that.”

You feel hot in your face from the pet name. “I never lied to you.”

Taehyung raises his brows. The both of you know then and there it’s a lie.

“My empty phone says differently.”

You cross your arms defensively. “I never promised I’d remain in contact. I was just...busy with classes.”

“Oh. Another lie again.” Taehyung grins, and he exhales softly causing a hundred goosebumps to raise along your skin when you feel the warmth of his breath. “You should really stop your bad habit, Y/N.”

You take a step back and he steps forward.

Before you know it, he’s cornered you in the dark hallway, staring at you intently before his half-lidded eyes flicker to your lips.

You swallow hard. “Go annoy your sister instead.”

“Why should I?” His mouth slyly curls. “I like you way better.”

For the entire duration of the break so far, the both of you have been sneaking around the whole time. From Taehyung instigating a game of footsies under the dinner table to whispering in your ear when no one’s looking to winking at you from across the room so quickly that you’d miss it if you blinked. You feel his affectionate hand on the small of your back when he slides by you, feel his gaze when his shoulders graze yours, and you feel the tickle in your tummy when his voice lowers into that seductive, husky pitch. 

During the summer, he was kind and friendly Taehyung. Cautious when it came to you. Hesitant to look your way.

But this time, he’s intensified. Flirtatious. Bold. Pulling out all stops.

Maybe it’s because he’s pissed that you didn’t contact him like you said you would. Maybe because he doesn’t understand why you’re restraining yourself, and he feels the need to push to know. Maybe because he suspects you know he likes you, and you like him — he wouldn’t be wrong. 

But either way, his new brazen approach was making you weak in your knees.

“Your mom’s coming,” you mutter while pressing your hands to his chest. You don’t know how or why he feels so firm.

“She isn’t. But even if she was, she’d be more than happy to know we’re together.”

“W-We’re not together, Tae.”

“That could change right now.”

“I...I can’t.”

His thick brows furrow. “Why not? I like you, Y/N, a lot.”

You swallow hard, feeling scrutinized under his heavy gaze. Taehyung’s beauty is lethal when he’s this close and you feel an urge to brush away the dark strand that’s fallen in front of his forehead from his neatly styled hair. It was a contrast to the casual hoodie and sweatpants he was wearing. He was handsome and cozy, ready to stop hearts or be hugged like a teddy bear.

It didn’t help that he was saying these kinds of things either. “I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” His voice drops a pitch. “For the past few months, I’ve been thinking about the summer and you. The entire time, I was waiting for you to call me, to text me. Do you know what that’s like?”

“Taehyung.”

“We can make this work. I want to make it work, so don’t make me wait anymore.”

You gaze at him, breath hitched in your throat and your self-control meets its limit. You practically leap onto Taehyung, heart thundering against your rib cage, standing on the tips of your toes — all to kiss him.

It’s soft and unhurried. 

Taehyung is caught off guard, but then you feel his wide smile against you. Immediately, his strong arm reaches for your waist and he tugs you in. A yelp escapes your throat as your bodies become flush against one another. Taehyung’s other hand presses against the wall behind you and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue licks into your mouth and you groan, wrapping your arms around his neck. He tastes like sugar cookies, smells like citrus, and absolutely makes your knees weak.

You’re not sure how long you and Taehyung make out for, swapping spit like horny teenagers without experience.

It’s not until you hear a— “what the hell!” — do you break apart.

Joy is standing at the end of the hall and you shove Taehyung away from you, wide-eyed. He stumbles back, equally surprised.

“I-I can explain!”

Joy’s jaw has gone slack and you realize she’s waiting for said explanation.

“I….I…we….umm….”

Taehyung looks at you and then at his sister, opening his mouth to rescue you from this mortifying experience. But his sibling beats him to the punch—

“Look.” She raises her hands and you brace yourself. She wouldn’t end your years of friendship over this, would she? Then again, you can’t blame her if she did. “You don’t have to make this weird. It isn’t weird unless you make it weird. So I’ll just pretend I didn’t see anything.”

“Wait.....what?” That was certainly not the reaction you were expecting. You think you’re more taken aback than she is. “You’re okay with this? You’re okay if we’re dating?”

Joy nonchalantly shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. You’re adults, so you can make your own decisions and I kind of had a feeling there was something going on anyway.” She smiles and looks at her older brother. “Taehyung, you’re way too obvious. The biggest gift under the tree is for her from you.”

He grins. “You caught me there.”

You’re shell-shocked at how unconcerned she is and seemingly supportive at that.

“You knew?”

“Of course I do. We’ve been friends for what, ten years? I knew you had a crush on my brother back then. So if anything, it’s about time.” Joy raises her fist at Taehyung. “You better not make Y/N cry or I’ll make you cry.”

He snorts. “Wow, thanks.”

“Anyway, continue.” Joy lazily gestures. “But we’re watching a movie in five so be quick.”

Your best friend leaves to the bathroom where she was heading to in the first place and you turn to Taehyung who has an amused grin. “Well?”

“I don’t know.” Your mind is reeling at everything that’s happening and how real this is becoming. “For some reason in my mind, I thought that would go way worse.”

“Is that why you were so worried? You didn’t need to be. Joy likes you way more than she likes me, so if anything I’d be the one getting the flack.” Taehyung smiles and leans in. “But does this mean we can finally make it official? Can I call you my girlfriend already?”

You sigh and lift your arms to loop around his neck again. He leans in for another kiss, but you stop short an inch— “Depends on what that gift under the tree is.”

Taehyung grins and before you can pull away, he tugs your waist into him once more. 

This time you kiss each other unabashedly. 

[mrkis]

just a fuck

pairing: yuta x reader genre: smut, angst wc: 2.7k warning(s): explicit content, swearing, oral (giving), hair pulling, spanking unprotected sex, daddy kink, kitten kink, yuta is a asshole in this 

REQUESTED by @mireyth: ooh i’ve seen that your questions are open for nct and i wanted to ask if you could write a smut with angst for yuta? something like y/n being his mistress or y/n being in love with him but him not feeling the same way, i really love your writing <3

i went for the “y/n being in love with him but him not feeling the same way” route coz my knowledge on mistresses is whack and i didn’t wanna embarrass myself :D i hope you enjoy

yuta: i’ll be there in 10. be ready for me

The simple message sends a shiver down your spine. Your feet instinctively move around your bedroom, picking up items of clothing that were thrown carelessly on the floor and shoved them away in your dresser, tidying up the room before you rush into the bathroom to prepare yourself for what’s about to come.

Yuta has been your fuck buddy for the past year, a arrangement that was made between the two of you when you were tired of being a virgin and Yuta kindly offered himself to be the one that would take you through your sexual desires, fantasies and to let you experience new things.

Truthfully, it was supposed to be maybe a one or two time thing, but it progressed into something a lot more serious when you both realised how good it felt being with each other, how easy it was to hookup together rather than going out and finding someone different whenever you felt the urge for a release.

Also, you would definitely be lying if you said you didn’t catch feelings over the period of time you had spent together. Each moment was different after the other; more intense, more passionate, more real. You noticed from the fourth month into your hooking up that it wasn’t treated like a regular hookup anymore. 

Yuta stayed over after sex, whether it was to cuddle or to sleep. He would take you out to expensive restaurants and serenade you with music and roses. He kissed you one night in the middle of fucking you against a bathroom stall and he’s never stopped since, considering kissing wasn’t apart of the original arrangement. 

You never questioned him on the sudden affections and you weren’t complaining either. In fact, you like it. You like him. Would you ever admit it to his face? Maybe, whenever there was a right time and place to do so. But you never found that right time or place and even if you did, you’d always forget when Yuta is balls deep inside you. 

It takes you a few minutes to shower and make your body feel smooth, applying the best smelling lotions and spritzing his favourite perfume on your neck.

“Shit” You curse at yourself as you clip on your new lacy lingerie set, frowning at the tear on your bra that you see as you stand in front of the mirror. Frustrated was an understatement. You bought the lingerie set a few days ago while scrolling through a website with Yuta beside you, where he states that he finds the lacy ones the prettiest out of them all.

And of course, you bought it. 

“Fuck it. No bra” You unclip it from your body and throw it inside your dresser for the time being, making a mental note to throw it away after spending the night with Yuta. 

You sit down on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your arms and pushing out your chest as you wait for Yuta to arrive, glancing at the digital clock on your bedside table to check the time before a wide smile spread across your face as you hear your front door open.

You hear his footsteps coming up the stairs and you quickly check your appearance in the mirror before settling into a seductive position, crossing your leg over the other just in time for Yuta to open the bedroom door.

“Hey, kitten” Yuta greets you as he toes off his shoes, kicking them to the side as he shuts the door behind himself. His eyes drink in your appearance, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he beckons you over with his finger and points to the floor in front of him.

You fight back a smile as you slide off of the bed, crawling on your hands and knees towards him at a slow and sensual pace which has him smirking, watching your every movement as you finally kneel in front of him. 

“Are you desperate for daddy’s cock, kitten?” Yuta growls as your fingers toy with the zipper on his pants and you nod, tugging his jeans down his legs with his boxers. You take his cock in your hand and massage his balls with the other, licking at his tip as you stare up at him.

Yuta’s hand rests at the back of your head and pushes you forward to take more of him into your mouth. You happily oblige, bobbing your head on him and trying to ignore the urge to gag every time his cock hits the back of your throat.

You love the noises he makes, stomach whirling with arousal as he gasps and grunts when you use your hand to massage his base while sucking and slurping his cock. His fists grips your hair as he guides your movements.

You happily let your jaw go slack as he uses you for his own personal pleasure, tears spilling down your cheeks as he continues hitting the back of your throat. You’re unable to hold back your frequent gags and chokes, breathing through your nose and looking up to meet his eyes.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking gorgeous, kitten” Yuta praises you, his movements slowing down as he feels he’s about to bust, caressing your tear stained cheeks with a free hand. His cock twitches on your tongue and you realise he’s close to cumming which makes you eager to go faster, to feel him spill his load in your mouth but he pulls at your hair in warning, taking you off of his dick.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, daddy” You pout as his tip bumps your top lip. “I want to please you”

“It’s not about what you want, kitten” Yuta tuts with a shake of his head. “I want to cum in the sweet little pussy I love so much… doesn’t that sound better?”

“Yes, daddy” You nod your head frantically, ignoring the stinging sensation in your scalp from the fast movement as his hand is still gripping your hair. 

Yuta smirks as he releases your hair from his grasp and reaches for your arms to pull you up from the floor. You let out a shriek as he throws you down on the bed and climbs on top of you, instantly covering your mouth with his own in a heated and sloppy kiss. 

He trails his lips across your cheek and down your neck, smothering your shoulders with wet kisses before he reaches your bare chest, squeezing your tits and rubbing your nipples with the pad of his thumb. 

You gasp as he takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardening bud. You push your chest forward, desperate for more of his touch and he softly bites down on your nipple in warning, raising his eyes to glare at you. You cry out at the pain, fingers gripping the roots of his hair out of instinct and Yuta slaps your hands away.

“Behave” Yuta demands as he moves his attention to the other nipple, repeating his movements. You moan this time as he bites down on the flesh of your tit instead of the bud itself, focusing on his hand that moves down from your chest to your panties.

Yuta yanks the material down your legs and carelessly throws them over his shoulder. Your eyes narrow at that, feeling a little irritated that he didn’t bother to take notice in the lingerie that you bought specifically for him but it soon went away as his fingers make contact with your clit, rubbing you at a pace that has your hips twitching. 

“Daddy” You whine, closing your thighs around his hand. “Faster, please”

“Don’t be so needy, kitten” Yuta shakes his head as he forces your thighs apart. “I can’t please you the way you want to be pleased… I don’t have enough time today”

“Huh?” You make a noise of confusion, watching as Yuta pulls away from your body to grab your hips, flipping you around on the bed so your face mushes against the cushions and ass in the air. You turn your head to the side. “Do you have somewhere to be later?”

“Yeah” His answer is blunt and it made you want to question him more but the feeling of his cock rubbing against your folds makes you forget so easily, gathering your slick juices with his tip before he pushes into you without any warning.

The sound of skin slapping, swearing and moaning echoes throughout the room, your fingers tightly gripping the bed sheets in front of you as Yuta rails into you from behind. He has a tight grip on your hips, controlling your movements and squeezing your ass cheeks as it bounces against his thighs.

“God, I love seeing you like this… Dripping down my cock and moaning my name” Yuta licks at his lips, quickening his movements as he feels you clench around his pulsing length. 

You try to push your hips back to meet his thrusts, desperate noises falling from your lips as you get closer towards your orgasm. Your fingers touch your clit and it’s enough to send you over the edge, a loud cry escaping your throat as you cream all over his cock, Yuta groaning at your pussy squeezing his length.

He’s quick to throw you onto your back, his cock still remaining inside of you and he pushes your knees against your chest, reaching deeper inside you as he sends a particularly rough thrust to your core, chasing his own high eagerly. 

Your thighs burn at the new position, looking up at him and watching his expressions. He bites down hard on his bottom lip, piston his hips at a pace that has the headboard slamming against your walls and you mentally apologise to your neighbours, already knowing you’re going to get a noise complaint in the morning.

“Please cum for me, daddy” You whine in his ear, fingernails scratching at his back. “Please fill my pussy”

“You want daddy’s cum, kitten?” Yuta asks you between pants, his hips stuttering as he nears closer to his high. “You want me to fill your little pussy?”

“Please, please, please, please!!—”

“Fuck” Yuta grunts as his cum spurts into you, filling your insides white and you lay still, legs trembling as you come down from your own intense orgasm. You whine as he grinds into your throbbing pussy, milking the rest of his high and you clench around his length as the oversensitivity kicks in.

You push him as a warning to stop and Yuta chuckles, pressing his lips hard against yours while he slowly pulls himself out of you, his cum spilling out of your hole which neither of you cared about at the moment, too into each other as his lips continue to smother yours.

Yuta’s the first to break the sloppy kiss, rolling to your side and throwing an arm around your middle, resting his cheek upon your shoulder as the two of you try to calm down your erratic breathing, allowing yourself to lay in silence for the first time. 

This is it. This is your chance to let it out into the open, to be truthful about your feelings. This is your moment.

“There’s something I gotta tell you” You pause, nervously twiddling with Yuta’s fingers that rest just above your belly, twisting the rings and tracing the pretty nail polish that decorate his nails. “It’s pretty…. serious, I guess”

Yuta hums softly as he delicately kisses your shoulders. “What’s up, baby?”

“I, uh…” You hesitate, second guessing your decision on admitting your feelings and letting the multiple narratives run through your head, all with completely different outcomes that make you tense with fear. 

But Yuta is quick to comfort you as he notices your hesitation, tangling his fingers with your own and squeezing your hand tightly. This was it. This was your moment.

“I like you”

“What?” He snaps, ripping his hand from yours and shooting away from you as if you were some sort of disgusting creature or a deadly disease, putting a decent space between you both as he stares at you with wide eyes.

“I like you” You confess again, but quietly this time, afraid of the reaction he was going to give you as his current one wasn’t the reaction you had hoped for. He’s quiet now and you hesitantly reach out for him. “...Yuta?”

Yuta dodges your hand, moving completely off of the bed. “Why?”

“Because of everything that’s been happening” You give him a tight lipped smile, hopeful that your small gesture would make him ease up. “I… I thought we were closer than fuck buddies. I thought we went over that line when—“

“What are you talking about?” Yuta hisses angrily, hastily pulling up his boxers to cover himself as he stares at you in disbelief. Your smile immediately slips from your face. You felt utterly embarrassed, gripping the bed sheets beneath you to try and calm yourself, tears of frustration threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, we’re fuck buddies. We agreed to fuck each other not… like each other”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing” You mutter softly.

“Because it is!!” Yuta retorts, running his fingers through his hair as he paces back and forth with a sour grimace. Your stomach twists and turns at his expression, quickly throwing yourself out of your bed to retrieve your robe from the bathroom, wrapping it around yourself to cover your nude body.

“I’m sorry” You pathetically apologise as you watch him reach for his jeans. “But… you gave me the impression that what we had was more than just a simple fuck!! You told me you liked me the other night—”

Yuta scoffs at that. “Not in the same way you like me”

“Yuta, you’ve stayed after sex multiple times to either cuddle or to sleep… you take me out and buy me things!!” You look down at the ground as you avoid his gaze, nibbling on your bottom lip as the tears build up in your eyes. “You… you’ve kissed me”

“Because that’s what we do!” Yuta exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “We’re comfortable enough around each other to do those kinds of things! Fuck, you knew from the start of this arrangement that I didn’t want a relationship!”

“I-I thought it would’ve changed after a year”

“Yeah, well, you obviously thought wrong” His words punch you straight in the gut. You’re mortified at what’s going on right now, struggling to calm down your erratic thoughts and heart rate. 

You’re uncertain if Yuta knows how much of an impact his words are to you or even if he knows what he’s actually saying, but you never get the chance to ask as he rushes around your room to try and find his clothes, obviously eager to get away from either you or this situation.

“I can’t believe you’ve fucked this up for us” Yuta sighs as he pulls his shirt over his head. “What we had was good and then you… fuck”

“I’m sorry” You whisper out another apology, fists clenching at your sides so tight that your nails dig into the palm of your hands. Yuta hurriedly puts on his shoes as he takes a few brief glances at you every so often, disbelief and disgust obvious in his face while makes you feel sick, wanting the ground to swallow you up so you wouldn’t have to be in this position any longer.

“This, what we had, is done” Yuta gestures between the two of you, shaking his head. “It’s over, completely. Unless you come back to your senses and get your head screwed on properly then—”

“I think it’s over for good” You cut him off, rubbing away the tears in your eyes. “I can’t be with you and act like I don’t have any feelings for you. I can’t pretend… that’s not me”

“That’s a shame” Yuta admits as he walks towards your bedroom door and yanks it open, remaining in his spot for a moment before he turns to look over his shoulder, emotionless eyes staring into yours. “Delete my phone number. Don’t contact me, ever”

“Okay” You whisper quietly, watching as he leaves out of your life forever, slamming the door shut behind him.

[jae-yoonie]

So your bio said requests open so imma request. Can you do a fluffy first time with Mark where obvsiously the readers virgin skin breaks and bleeds a little and Mark is like panicking like omg i killed her i hurt her and so on but the reader explains to him that like it is all normal and that she wont die.

Cherry Sweet (M)

Pairing: Mark x Reader

Genre: Fluffy Smut

Word Count: 2230

“This movie sucks,” you groaned as you let your head plop onto your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I thought it’d be good,” Mark replied defensively, “The ratings were high.”

“It’s not your fault, I’m just disappointed,” you pouted.

“Did you wanna do something else?” he suggested since it was unlikely that you were gonna sit through the rest of the movie.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit and cuddle,” you replied as you snuggled into his chest.

“Okay, I like that idea,” he hummed as he pulled you close and rested his head on top of yours.

You enjoyed having these pure, wholesome moments with Mark and found the sound of his heartbeat rather calming, but for some reason, whenever you guys were physical for long periods of time, your mind would always end up drifting to dirty thoughts. The two of you had been sexual before, but a lot of the time, you tried to control yourself so you wouldn’t give him the wrong idea; you loved him more than words could express and it wasn’t just for sexual gratification.

You hadn’t gone all the way with him yet, but you couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed your mind more times than once. Since Mark never really mentioned much about sex to you other than making dirty jokes, it was hard for you to bring the topic up to him. He was a boy, but no matter how hard you thought about it, you just couldn’t convince yourself that he thought about it as much as you did.

“Mark...” you mumbled nervously, finally growing desperate enough to attempt having a conversation about the topic with him.

“Yes?”

“Um… have you ever thought about… it?”

“About what?”

“Y’know… ‘it’…” You could feel your stomach folding into knots as you thought about what you should say next. You didn’t want to say it out right, but at the same time maybe it wasn’t a good idea to assume he’d know what ‘it’ meant.

“It?” he asked again, urging you to sit up before throwing you a concerned look, “What do you mean? If there’s something bothering you, tell me.”

“Er… well…” you started, breaking eye contact with him, “It’s just… uh…”

“Is it bad? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No! Not at all! It’s… ugh…” Out of frustration, you cupped your face in your hands and tried to calm yourself down so that you could start over and try again.

“Hey…” Mark said worriedly as he pulled you in for a hug, “I didn’t mean to upset you, sorry… you can tell me when you’re ready to.”

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you briefly looked back up at him before pressing your lips against his. You came to the decision that asking him verbally was too difficult, at least in that context, so you would ask him through actions instead. It’d been a while since the last time you’d done anything sexual with him so you felt it’d be okay to let things escalate a little bit today.

As you continued to move your lips against his, one of your hands found its way down to his stomach, slowly drifting lower and lower down his body. Before you knew it, your fingers slid right over the waistband of his sweats and landed right on his crotch, the feeling of his already hardening member under your palm making your core ache with desire.

He let a moan slip into your mouth as you started to stroke him over the thin material of his pants, his hand going to your waist and pulling you closer to him before he broke the kiss, letting his head fall back against the back of the couch.

“Is this the ‘it’ you were talking about earlier?” he asked breathily, as you continued to palm at his erection.

“Um well… possibly…” you trailed off, the movement in your hand starting to cease as you lost confidence amidst the topic that Mark had suddenly resurfaced.

“Are you scared to talk about ‘it’?”

“Maybe a little…”

“Why? It’s normal for couples to talk about these kinds of things. So what was it you were trying to ask me?”

“Um… okay,” you started, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Have you ever thought about… having sex with me?”

“Are you kidding me?” Mark laughed in disbelief, “Of course I have! All the time! What kind of boyfriend doesn’t think about that?”

“I don’t know… you never mentioned it before…”

“Well, I didn’t wanna be the one to initiate it or pressure you into it, so I figured it’d be safer to wait until you told me you were ready.”

Suddenly, you felt embarrassed that you were so worried over something so dumb, but at the same time you were relieved. You were thankful to have such a loving and considerate boyfriend who’s been patiently waiting for the ‘okay’ from you, but now you kind of regret waiting so long to bring up the topic. Communication is important in a relationship and you shouldn’t have been so scared to express how you felt.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before speaking with a new burst of confidence, “I’ve been ready.”

Mark only smirked in response, carefully laying you down on the couch before getting your permission to remove shorts and panties. He was gentle as he removed each article of clothing, and once he had full access, his thumb went straight to your clit, skillfully rubbing over the sensitive bulb how he knew you liked it. “You’re so wet already,” He gawked as his other fingers wandered down to your wet folds and teased your entrance.

“I’m always wet for you,” you muttered before taking your lower lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as Mark slipped a finger into you and curled it up against your g-spot. Occasionally between curls, he pumped his finger in and out of your slick lips and when you least expected it, during one of those moments he surprised you by sneaking in an extra finger. “Mark!” you moaned out, toes curling and fists clenching at the newly intensified sensation.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to handle the real thing? I’m only using two fingers right now,” he teased before leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

“S-shut up! I— can—” You struggled to make out between breaths, “It f-feels— good—”

With the combined feeling of his two fingers thrusting into you, stimulating your g-spot and his thumb continuing to toy with your clit, it wasn’t long before he had you shaking beneath him as you tried your best to fight back your oncoming orgasm.

“Cum for me,” Mark whispered as his fingers continued to work wonders between your legs.

The sheer sound of his raspy voice resonating in your ear was enough to push you over the edge, pleasure erupting throughout your body as you hit your first climax of the night. When you finally opened your eyes, Mark had quite a pleased look on his face as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and briefs, pulling them both down in one go. Your mouth watered seeing his erection spring free, the tip already glistening with his essence. He gave himself a couple pumps before positioning himself to your entrance, nervousness etched into his features as he looked up at you for approval before proceeding.

“Wait,” you interrupted as you reached down to grab his cock, gently urging him to scoot closer to you, “It’s my first time y’know… a little extra lube might be a good idea.” With that, you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you slid your lips down his length.

“Fuck,” he cursed at your unexpected advance, “Don’t make me cum before we even start though.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, unintentionally adding to the sensation you were already giving him and forcing a throaty moan out of him. He only let you continue for a little longer before he withdrew himself from you, repositioning himself to your entrance again.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, reaffirming that you meant what you said earlier about wanting to go all the way.

“I’m sure,” you replied confidently, giving him a small grin for extra assurance.

“Have you been taking your pills regularly?”

“Yes, I have!” you chuckled, “Are you stalling? Don’t tell me you’re more nervous than me.”

“Of course I’m nervous! I wanna make this a good experience for both of us… it’s a lot of pressure…”

“Don’t think about it too much. If you’re too stressed you won’t be able to enjoy it as much” you cupped his face in his hand as you spoke, “I’m nervous too, but we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

He gave a small nod in response, taking a deep breath before slowly trying to ease himself into you. “Oh my god, you’re... so tight… A-are you okay?” he asked, noticing that you were wincing a little.

“Mhm…” you nodded quickly, “It just hurts a little… but it’s normal...”

“Okay… just… tell me to stop if it hurts a lot okay?”

You nodded again, smiling lovingly as you looked up at him through half lidded eyes. The moment you’d been fantasizing about for so long was finally happening and you couldn’t be happier. You knew it’d be a little bit of a bumpy ride given both of your lack of sexual experience, but the fact that it was with the person who meant the world to you and understood you more than anyone else was what made the experience so perfect.

“Oh my god,” Mark gasped, quickly snapping you out of your thoughts, “Y-you’re bleeding…” When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide and he was completely frozen, like a deer in headlights. “What do I do? Oh my god… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I was just—”

“Keep going,” you interrupted him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “We agreed that I’d tell you to stop if it hurts a lot… and I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“B-but… you’re bleeding?!”

“And it only hurt a little! It’s normal, don’t worry about it. I promise I’ll tell you if something doesn’t feel right.”

“You sure? This just seems so—”

“I’m sure! You’re doing a great job so far, Mark, stop worrying so much, okay?” You felt the tension in his body dissipate once you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, your chaste gesture finally convincing him that you were really okay. After what felt like forever, he continued to cautiously guide his full length into you before slightly retracting and snapping his hips again.

“You feel… amazing, by the way,” he puffed as he continued to meticulously control each of his movements.

“So do you… but go faster,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist for increased proximity.

“I’ll cum if I go faster,” he smiled at you playfully.

“Shut up,” you giggled, lightly slapping him on the shoulder.

Soon after, he complied, his pace gradually starting to pick up filling the empty living room with the sounds or raw sex, the coarse moans falling from both of your lips muffled by bare skin slapping against skin. “Y’know…” Mark started, his voice shaky as he tried to speak between pants, “I was only half joking earlier.”

“Ah— it’s okay, I- I’m close too,” you struggled to speak over how good he was making you feel. Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe something else, but you didn’t even realize when the initial pain you’d felt had gone away; you just felt like you were on cloud nine and your whole body was buzzing with anticipation as your peak quickly neared.

As Mark chased his own high, he didn’t dare let down the quick and consistent tempo he managed to maintain up until that point, especially knowing how close you were to cumming. In no more than a minute and a handful of thrusts later, a second and more intense explosion of bliss filled your body making your back arch off the couch and toes curl as you uncontrollably fisted at the back of Mark’s shirt.

The feeling of your walls pulsating around him brought him to his climax shortly after you, leading him to quickly pull out and lift up your shirt just enough for him to release his hot seed onto your stomach. He hung his head as he hovered above you, taking a moment to catch his breath before reaching for some tissues to clean up the mess he’d made.

“Why didn’t you cum inside of me?” you asked wearily as you watched him gently wipe up the last of the sticky substance.

“I was too scared to risk it,” he admitted, tossing the used tissues into the nearest trash can, “Especially for our first time.”

“You’re lame,” you mumbled jokingly.

“That’s what you say after I make you cum twice?” he scoffed as he squished himself onto the couch to lay down next to you.

“Thank you for always being so considerate of me,” you mumbled as you snuggled into him, “I love you.”

“Of course, I only want the best for the best girlfriend in the world. I love you more.”

[texanredrose]

Prep and Goth

Day 1: Enemies to Lovers/Secret Library Time

---

Weiss stared at the clock, mentally urging the second hand to move faster. The transition between this period and the next always took the longest- or at least it felt like time slowed down around this point in the day. She hated how the end of the period never caught her off guard; she was always keenly aware of the clock, with her work done and backpack already packed and ready for her to leave the classroom. She was usually the first one out the door.

“Hey, if I give you five lien, could you get me a redbull?”

“No, Ruby; for the last time, I don’t have a release period next, I’m a library aide.”

“Oh, come on, everyone knows you just show up, sign in, and disappear!” Her fellow senior slumped in her seat. “It’s not like you’re going to get in trouble! Ms. Goodwitch knows you ditch and she doesn’t say anything!”

How she’d become friends- perhaps even best friends- with the school’s most energetic track star was beyond her; it involved an ill fated chemistry lab and the fire department but, honestly, she couldn’t remember specific details beyond that. While Weiss would love to say she merely put up with and tolerated Ruby, the truth was that she still hadn’t entirely adjusted to the concept of having someone who would be with her through thick and thin. She was being… persuaded to open up to the young woman but she still kept more secrets than she probably should from her best friend.

“I swear, Ruby Rose, if you keep spreading such slander about my character, I’ll be forced to take drastic action!” She tore her gaze away from the clock to glare at the woman. “I do not skip class!”

Rolling her silver eyes, Ruby rested her head on her desk and groaned. “Just because you’re the Valedictorian doesn’t mean you have to be perfect, Weiss. No one’s going to care if you ditch one period.”

“I care!” The bell rang a moment later and she forgot about the argument entirely as she quickly grabbed her pack and fast walked to the door.

The walk from her class to the library was a blessedly short one, made slightly longer by classmates and underclassmen getting in her way as other students emerged into the hallway for the passing period. A cold glare managed to persuade some of them to move but not all of them- those blessedly ignorant few she stepped around or nearly barreled through if she could get away with it. It probably contributed to her reputation of being a vicious, cut throat type of person like her sister but her patience had worn too thin and she needed to get to the library.

A few steps from her goal, a hand suddenly landed on her shoulder and spun her around, and only two people in the whole school would dare put their hands on her like that, and only one of them for no good reason. “YANG-”

“Calm down, Princess, this’ll be quick, promise!” With hands on Weiss’ shoulders, she guided them away from the throng of students to a small alcove next to the library doors. “Just got something I need to say real quick.”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” Weiss scowled at the blonde, annoyed that she seemed to get taller every time they talked, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Last I checked, I didn’t have anything to do with the girls’ basketball team. Or the weightlifting team. Or the boxing team. Or-”

Yang clapped her hands together in front of Weiss’ face, smiling that do-you-really-think-they’ll-expel-me smile of hers. “Hey, do me a favor? Drop the frigid bitch act for, like, five minutes, okay? Because I really don’t have the time for it; if you wanna go toe-to-toe in the bitch-out-lypmics, we can schedule that another time, but right now, I need to have a serious talk with you. It’s about Blake.”

At the namedrop, her blood ran cold and her heart lodged in her throat, eyes growing wide as a genuine tendril of fear began taking root in her chest. “Is she okay?”

“Well, that depends,” Yang replied, looking around at their classmates walking past without paying them any mind. “Look. I don’t get it, okay, the whole secret girlfriends thing, I don’t even know how you two got together… but what I do know is that Blake deserves better than someone who’s ashamed of her-”

“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth,” she hissed, worry turning to fury in the blink of an eye. “I’m not ashamed to be dating Blake. If it was safe, everyone would know!”

“Yeah, can you define ‘safe’ for me in this context? Because I’m having a real hard time convincing Blake you’re being sincere when you don’t want anyone knowing the two of you are dating.”

“You know we’re dating!”

“Because I refuse to let things go and I knew she was acting weird!” Yang growled in frustration, fingers flexing as if she was seriously debating throttling Weiss. “Listen, I figured it out and I bullied her into telling me weeks ago, but not even Ruby knows beyond that. Not a fan of keeping secrets but I’ll do it for a friend. Now, answer my question, please, because with the rest of the school convinced you two hate each other, this whole ‘don’t tell anyone we’re dating thing’ is clear as mud, and it’s really starting to get to her.”

Weiss’ shoulders fell as she looked away, her anger abating in the face of the situation presented to her. “It’s… complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it for me.” Yang made a gesture with one hand. “Just give me a straight answer!”

“I can’t!” She stamped her foot, speaking before she could think about her word choice. “I can only give you a gay answer!”

Yang stared at her for a long moment. “So, that’s what Blake meant when she said you have the worst sense of humor.”

“I’m done with this conversation-”

Yang grabbed her arm and stopped her, expression turning serious. “Listen, you don’t wanna talk to me? Fine. But talk to Blake. If you really care about her, she deserves to hear that.”

As the blonde stepped away, the bell rang, making both of them late- not that it would matter. Ms. Goodwitch wouldn’t count her late and even if she did, a single tardy wouldn’t be much of a blemish on her record. There was a time when it would’ve bothered her but she’d grown past that a few years ago; perfection was, in some sense, in the eye of the beholder. Blake would notice, though, and she hurried to the library to keep her ‘secret girlfriend’ from worrying.

When she got to the library, she dropped her bag behind the counter and signed in, highly aware that Blake was somewhere among the rows reshelving books. 

The librarian gave her a small nod. “I presume you have good reason for being late but don’t make a habit of it.”

“Of course, Ms. Goodwitch.” With that, she grabbed a few leftover books that needed reshelving and went into the stacks to reshelve them. As soon as she was far enough away from the front desk, she spoke in a soft voice that Blake would be able to hear regardless. “Blake? I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Is everything alright?” She’d long ago grown accustomed to the faunus’ silent steps, which really shouldn’t be possible given the amount of glistening chains and bits of metal hung from her ensemble but it was one of those things Weiss had accepted about Blake at first and had grown to admire. “It’s not like you to be late.”

“I… got pulled into a conversation.” She debated, briefly, if she should mention who the conversation was with but ultimately decided against it. Yang would likely bring it up herself at some point but she didn’t want the distraction at present. “Blake… you know I care about you, right?”

“Yes, Weiss, and I care about you, too,” she replied, her voice holding that special lilt that Weiss used to think was snideness. Now, she recognized it as a gentle sort of teasing and, sometimes, a deflection. “What brought this on?”

“I’ve been thinking about some things… and I find myself curious about some… other things.”

“Truly, you have a way with words.”

“I’m trying to be serious!” Weiss whined, putting a hand to her head as she tried to think of a way to word what she wanted to say. In the next moment, Blake stepped up and wrapped her arms around her waist, resting her chin on Weiss’ shoulder in a silent show of support. This was, partly, where they differed, because even when words escaped Blake, the faunus could somehow find a way to convey what she needed; Weiss, in contrast, simply clammed up entirely if she didn’t begin insulting whoever was nearest. “You know the only reason we’re not dating publicly is because of my family, right? That, the moment I turn eighteen and gain access to my funds, I’ll shout it from the rooftops… right?”

Blake took a step back but one hand lingered on Weiss’ hip, a soft assurance that she wasn’t leaving but that they should probably have a conversation like this face-to-face. When she turned around, she searched shining amber eyes and found a touch of disbelief hiding there. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think it was the only reason.”

“It really is…” Weiss sighed, running a hand through her bangs in frustration. “I… I don’t know how to prove it, I don’t know if there’s anything I could say or do that would, but… I don’t want you thinking that I’m ashamed of dating you… that’s… that’s the furthest from the truth.”

Feline ears flicked towards one end of the row and both of them quickly focused on shelving the few books that remained as a group of students went back to one of the study rooms. Once the coast was clear, Blake sighed heavily. “I told Yang to drop it.”

“She’s trying to help.” Begrudgingly, she continued. “Ruby’s the same way. They meddle when they can but they have the best of intentions.”

“Still… she wasn’t too… forceful, was she?”

“She only threatened to throttle me, so no, she wasn’t too forceful.” Weiss tilted her head. “And, arguably, she has a salient point. I… I perhaps took it for granted that you would… that I made my feelings about you clear to you.”

Blake ducked her head, her ears flicking back briefly to blending into midnight black hair. As per her usual, the faunus was bedecked in all black save for the silver of the chains hanging from her pants and the snake bite piercings on her bottom lip. Whenever they were making out, Weiss found that flicking either of the piercings with her tongue would always result in a soft groan from Blake.

“So… when you turn eighteen…basically, when we graduate?” Blake took a step forward. “That’s… a long time to be a secret from everyone.”

“Well… not from everyone. Yang knows.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Ruby will know… when I tell her…”

“Right.” Blake came a bit closer. “I guess that means we won’t be going to prom together.”

Weiss raised a brow, then caught onto what her girlfriend was doing, a smile tugging at her lips. “You? Go to prom?” A soft chuckle. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead at… what was it you called it? A useless party for empty headed idiots?”

“And a waste of money. I said that, too.” Blake stopped just a hair’s breadth away and very nonchalantly shelved a book just behind Weiss’ shoulder. “But you’ve got a crown to win, right? Prom Queen to go with your other honors?”

“There’s only one crown that I care to claim,” she replied, reaching up to bury her hand in midnight locks between the faunus’ ears and pulling her down into a kiss. Normally, they didn’t indulge in such outside of Ms. Goodwitch’s office, which the librarian granted them access to once they’d reshelved all the books. If she suspected what they did in there, she remained silent, probably because while reshelving the books they would also fix what other aides did incorrectly and she appreciated the help more than she cared to curtail PDAs.

The kiss didn’t last too long- just long enough to drive her point home- but the look in amber eyes almost made her too weak to move.

Weiss gathered her courage. “I do love you, Blake.”

Not ‘care about’, not ‘fond of’, not any other arrangement of words she’d used over the past year to describe how she felt. Fear that caring too much would make her careless had prevented her from saying the words before. Now, though, she couldn’t go another moment without Blake understanding exactly how much she cared.

After the shock passed, Blake smiled softly, ears canting forward. “I love you too, Weiss.”

It took a moment for them to part but they returned to the counter and finished reshelving the books.

“Blake?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I’d look good in black?”

---

Hi, yes, please join me in picturing Blake as a late 90′s/early 00′s goth girl.

[vdlest]

Turning Point

Characters:

BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Reader

Summary:

You were out with your girl friends, Nat and Wanda, but when you got home, your boy best friend, Bucky, isn't so happy about you coming home late.

Warning:

None

You, Wanda, and Nat just came home from your girls night out. It's almost two in the morning and you didn't mind the time since the three of you were having fun. You haven't spend some quality time with them, so you're making the best out of it while you still can, while the call of mission is not yet on the line.

"Oh, we should do this more often," you said while you are walking towards the front door of your house.

You and Nat live in the same house, but Wanda will stay for the night since she's already too tired to drive.

Wanda chuckled, "I know right! Next time, we should bring the rest of the gang with us," she excitedly suggested.

"You mean, Steve, Vis, Bucky, Bruce, Tony, Clint?" Nat asked.

"Yeah! That is totally so fun!" Wanda answered.

Just when you're about to give your reaction about Wanda's suggestion, you were stunned and surprised to see Bucky in your front porch. Nat and Wanda saw him too.

"Seems like your best friend's been waiting for you," Nat whispered to you.

You gave Nat and Wanda a glance and they gave you a "you're-in-trouble" look.

You moved your eyes back to where your best friend is and youaw Bucky staring at you and you can clearly see in his eyes that he's mad, but you have no idea why he's mad. You are clearly in trouble.

Before Wanda and Nat went inside, they greeted Bucky but the latter only gave them a nod.

For unknown reason, you were nervous to approach Bucky, but you have no choice but to walk towards him and ask him what he's still doing in front of your house despite the time, and also to ask him what his problem is.

You walked towards Bucky, who is standing near the front door and who is just staring at you. You can't even read his mind and the meaning of his stare.

"Buck, what are yo--"

"What time is it?" he cut you off.

Now you get it. He's mad because you went home late.

You massaged your temple as you answer him, "It's 2 in the morning."

"Oh, so you're aware of the time," he clenched his jaw as he cross his arms in front of him, "Do you even know how dangerous it is to be outside this late? It is not safe, especially you, Nat, and Wanda are all by yourselves."

You have no idea why he has been acting like this whenever you are coming home late. This wasn't the first time you went home late and he confronted you.

"For Christ's sake, Bucky, are we really gonna have this conversation again?" you asked him and you rolled your eyes at him.

"Don't you ever roll your eyes at me, y/n," he said in a warning voice.

You shook your head in disbelief.

"Can we just have this "same-old conversation" inside?" you sarcastically asked him, "I don't want to bother the peaceful sleep of my neighbors. So, let's go."

You didn't wait for him to react or what, you grabbed his hand and you went inside.

When you entered the living room, you heard the heavy thud of the front door as Bucky slammed it behind you, realizing you've just had enough of his attitude.

"What is really your problem?!" you faced him and you throw your bag on the floor, "You have been acting like this for quite a while now, Buck! I get it, it's dangerous out there but we can handle ourselves!"

"You can't just make me stop worrying about you just because you're assuring me that you guys can handle yourselves!" he shot back at you. "My mind has been torturing me knowing that you are out in some kind of filthy bar and I don't know, maybe you were dancing with an asshole who is making a move on you!"

He is clearly mad at you.

"And I won't ever forgive myself if I'll ever find out that something bad happened to you," his voice became calm. He walked towards you and in every step he make, you are stepping back, "I want to protect you in any possible way I can."

You felt your heart beating fast. You were just listening to his words and staring at his blue eyes, you can clearly see in his eyes how concern he is to you.

You and Bucky have been best of friends since you were kids, and he has always been there to take care of you. When your parents went out of the country for holidays, you spent your holidays with his family. When you had your first menstruation period, Bucky was the one who bought you your sanitary napkin (you could only imagine the look on his face while buying you napkins in the store). He joined the Avengers and when Hydra kidnapped you, he and the rest of the Avengers went to rescue you and he was the one who trained you to be part of the team as well. You got to know your strength and yourself because of him and you joining the avengers. You owe him that.

When you felt the wall behind you, you realized that you are already caged between him and the wall.

"Buck," you finally had the urge to answer him and speak up, "You have to trust me, okay?"

"I trust you, y/n. I just don't trust those men looking at you like you are their last meal here on earth. I don't like them drooling over you," he looked down and avoided your gaze. You felt that he is nervous to the point thag he can't look at you in your eyes, "I can't let them have you. You are precious and they don't deserve a woman as precious and as special as you."

You had to admit to yourself that you were silently hoping that he would finally see you more than just his best friend. You accepted to yourself years ago that you have been in love with him, but you chose not to do something about it because you don't know what might happen if you confess your feelings for him.

But in times like this, you would like to believe that he also feels the same way for you.

"Oh, Buck," you put your hand on his cheeks and caresses it, "The only person who deserves me is you."

His eyes met yours and you saw how his face lightened up.

You put your other hand on his nape and you slowly pull him towards you. When your lips met his, you remembered the first time you had a crush on him, you remembered the first time you wanted to hold his hand, the moment you realized that you are in love with him. All these years, you've been wanting to kiss him and show to every girl he dated that the only person who deserves Bucky is you. You wanted to own him.

When you pulled away from your kiss, you realized that what you did was embarrassing.

"I'm sorry," you immediately said and try to avoid Bucky's gaze. "I shouldn't have done that."

"I've been wanting to do that with you."

Your eyes travaled to his as you felt his hand caressing your cheeks.

"I love you, y/n," he confessed.

Those were the three words that you've been wanting to hear from him for a long time now. You can't believe that it's finally happening right now.

"When you dated the douchebag that Tony set up with you, I wanted to tear his head off from his body. When you and Thor got stranded in that debris fall, I wished I was there with you, so I could've protected you. When you and Wanda went to a double date with Vis and Bruce's neighbor, I got jealous," he continuously said. "And whenever you are out and you come home late, I kept on asking myself how many guys drooled over you."

You've had enough of his cocky attitude so you decided to just confess whatever you are feeling for him, clearly you feel the same way for him.

"I love you too, Bucky! Okay, so just shut up and kiss me again!"

-v.dl

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Seven

Summary: In which Pretty Girl and Flip take things to the next level after dating 6 months. 

Warnings: Smut, language, talk of period sex, copious amounts of fluff. WC-5,507

A/N: Ah! I can’t believe this is the final chapter-just the epilogue to go now! Thanks so much for enjoying this story, it’s been wonderful to share. [Just to be clear, I’m a cis female and speak from experience in regards to the embarrassment that occurs around period sex. That scene is basically inspired by my own incredible husband. We celebrate menstruation on this blog!]

“I think we have to break up.”

A soft breeze blew in the window over the sink, the promise of summer in the air. He was wearing an old t-shirt and jeans and a frown that contrasted against the warmth in the air. Flip stared across the kitchen at (Y/N), eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Now why the hell is that, exactly?” He questioned, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms.  

She gestured at him wordlessly for a moment, then pointed her finger at him accusingly, “I just don’t see how we come back from something like this, Flip. I really don’t.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, darling, come on!” He pleaded, giving his head a shake in disbelief.

(Y/N) marched to the fridge and flung it open, her back to Flip for a minute as she dug out what she was looking for, then spun around to face him. She had a can of soda in each hand-one Coca-Cola, one Pepsi, her expression indignant.

“These. Are. Completely. Different.” The pucker between her brows appeared as her frown deepened upon seeing him begin to laugh. “Flip! They taste entirely different!”

“Darling, they really, really don’t. It’s all the same, sugar and carbonation. That’s it.”

Setting the pops down on the counter, she huffed stubbornly, mirroring his crossed arms pose and glaring at him. Flip pushed away from the counter, no longer able to resist her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed the top of her head as he let out a rumble of a laugh.

She was pointedly not hugging him back.

“I can tell the difference.”

Flip leaned back and met her gaze, “You want to bet on that, pretty girl?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity at his suggestion.  

“Go on then.” She replied, grinning up at Flip.

Inwardly, though it had been a playful disagreement, he was happy to have her smiling again. Six months together and he still couldn’t stand to see her anything but happy, his daily mission to ensure she smiled and laughed more than anything else-something he was often successful at. He felt like he pulled in oxygen from her laughs and giggles.

“Hmm, well how about I pour each of them into a cup, and you don’t know which is which, and then you taste them and tell me which one is Coke.” He tucked some of her loose strands of hair over her shoulder, simply an excuse to touch her. He watched her consider the offer, warmth and affection shooting through him.

“That’s easy,” She replied with a nod, “And what does the winner get?”

“What do you want?”

He hadn’t meant for the words to come out as suggestive as they did, but (Y/N) simply rolled her eyes, giving him a playful wink. “Well, if I win...then I want to go to your place after lunch and purge your closet!”

Flip groaned, releasing his hold on her, though she remained leaned against him, to run his hands through his hair. “Of all the fucking things, darling!”

Giggling, (Y/N) reached up and stroked Flip’s jaw. “It needs to happen, detective. And since we’re both off this week, there’s never been a better time!”

Flip scoffed, “We’re off because we’re on vacation, pretty girl. Why the hell would I want to clean my damn closet on vacation?”

“Because you won’t do it any other time, you big grump,” Patting his cheek, she arched a brow at him, “Now, if you win?”

He considered for a moment. Initially, he was just going to use this as an excuse for spending the afternoon in bed with her. But now, high stakes were on the line and Flip wanted to match her offer. “Ah, I know,” He said with a grin, “If I win, you’ll let me take you to the gun range to train you on how to use my gun.”

With an exasperated sigh, (Y/N) stepped back from Flip, “Not this again, Flip, I don’t wan’-“

“It’s not about wanting, darling. It’s about safety around firearms, you should at least understand the basics of the one I have on me, just in case.” He reached out and cupped her soft cheeks, thumbs stroking gently. They often bickered about his insistence on keeping her safe, and this was a point of contention for them they had yet to work through.

“Uhg, fine!” She stuck her hand out, and Flip took it in his own to shake, sealing the deal. “I’m going to wander outside and check the mailbox while you pour, I guess.”

Spinning, she barely took a step before Flip smacked her affectionately on the behind, “Trust me, it’ll be fun at the gun range!” He joked, watching her retreating figure with admiration.

Without turning, (Y/N) continued toward the front door and called over her shoulder, “Funny, I was going to say the same about purging your closet, detective.”

With a bark of a laugh, Flip shook his head and turned to the soda’s, grabbing a couple of glasses and setting to his task. Noting which one was the Coke, Flip set them back on the counter and moved the cans to the table, where a delicious looking lunch spread was waiting for their argument to end.

It had begun innocently enough as they prepared lunch together in (Y/N)‘s comfortable kitchen, until he let slip that he didn’t see any difference in the two drinks and his girl lost her damn mind. 

Flip had to admit, in addition to being a wonderful baker, she was a talented cook as well. But years of living alone and not wanting to clog his arteries from eating out constantly led Flip to become a decent cook himself, and he insisted on sharing kitchen duties, regardless of whose home they were at. And so, most days they would find themselves in the kitchen together, cooking, baking and chatting. They tended to spend more time at (Y/N)’s place, for various reasons including the proximity to the station, the overall warmth of her home and her formidable bathtub. Flip was a big fan of ending their days with a long soak before bed, whether he stayed the night or not-though, he mostly stayed the night.

Reentering the kitchen, (Y/N) tossed the mail onto the counter and glanced around at Flip, eyes twinkling. “Ready?” Flip responded by gesturing a hand at the drinks, his eyes sliding down her figure when she turned to them, admiring her curves in the high waisted shorts and a black band tee.

“Go on then, impress me.” He rumbled, watching her closely.

With a smirk, she took a sip of the first drink, loudly and unnecessarily smacking her lips. Her intent was probably to be obnoxious, but Flip found himself becoming semi-hard at her performance, eyes on her plump lips. She set the drink down and picked up the second, already smiling, and took the sip.

“Easy, detective,” She bragged, setting the second glass back on the counter. She pointed to it, looked at Flip over her shoulder and proudly announced, “This is the Coke.”

Damn it, she was right.

He didn’t even need to reply, as the expression on his face gave him away, and (Y/N) let out a gleeful shout before bouncing over to Flip, standing on her tiptoes and throwing her arms around his neck. One hand splayed out and pressed, urging his head to lower and meet her lips. She tasted especially sweet from her taste test, but Flip didn’t return the kiss, though his hands did settle on her hips instinctively.

“Yeah, yeah, you won,” He conceded grumpily when she pulled away to peer at him with a smug little smirk.

“Oh, come on Flip,” She breathed, rolling her hips into his slightly, “I can feel how not annoyed you actually are.” Groaning at the sensation, Flip shook his head before pointing at the table, ignoring his arousal.

“Lunch, then we’re getting this purge over with, and then maybe I’ll consider this,” He slid his hand between their bodies and patted his erection. “Maybe, if you’re a good girl.”

Cheeks blazing at his words, (Y/N) simply nodded at Flip with a small grin and then pulled away from him, moving to the table.

They let lunch stretch along, not rushing as they enjoyed relaxing together. (Y/N) did spend most of it explaining how the process of this clean out would work. Flip just knew he was going to be bagging a lot of clothes for donation or garbage at her insistence because she was right that he hadn’t done a proper tidy out in years. He hadn’t seen the point.

Though now, unbeknownst to her, he did have an idea of why it might be good to do one-in addition to the joy she would gain from doing it, that is. He just needed to ask her.

All in good time, he thought.

+

Four hours later, four, and they were still working away and Flip was starting to lose his patience. (Y/N) held up an old plaid shirt that had some minor tears in it, her face scrunched, “Well, how about this one?” He wasn’t sure if he was bothered more by her endless enthusiasm and patience for him, or her determination to seemingly leave him with little remaining clothing.

“I don’t see why I can’t keep that. It’s good for yard work.”

“Flip,” She deadpanned, “It looks like a bear mauled you while you were wearing this, it’s not suitable for anything.”

With an annoyed huff, Flip wordlessly gestured at the ‘dispose of’ pile. He grabbed a large garbage bag to put that pile into, knowing it would do no good to argue. (Y/N) was smiling away as she hung up a section of shirts he was keeping, ordering them by colour which, he had to admit, was visually very pleasing. After stuffing the throwaways into the bag, Flip had cleared enough space on his bed to lay down, stretching out the wrong way across, his joints clicking in places.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed for a moment, content despite the loss of many, he felt, quality pieces of clothing. Though when (Y/N) had made the point that, due to his overall largeness, his clothing would most certainly benefit men at the shelter who normally couldn’t find donations in their size, he had relented on many items that he didn’t wear anymore.

When he felt a couple of pieces of clothing hit his legs, tossed somewhat carelessly by (Y/N), Flip’s eyes snapped open and he sat up in protest, “Now what are you-Oh.”

Oh.

The clothing had been hers, shorts and shirt on the ground at his feet, (Y/N) stood in a simple white cotton panty and bra combination that instantly had him growing hard. It never ceased to amaze and disarm him, how fucking beautiful she was. Glowing skin, soft curves, plump lips, she was devastating. He often wondered what he'd done to deserve her.

Six months together meant they’d been on plenty of outings, either errands or dates, and he’d see the way others would admire her. He always kept a hand on her lower back when they walked together, both to keep himself steady, and to remind others that she was his, and he was hers. And maybe to remind himself, as well.

“Christ, beautiful, you getting a little warm?” He growled out, unmoving on the edge of the bed. With a coy smile, she walked over to stand in front of Flip, eyes only looking down slightly into his. He’d discovered pretty early in their relationship that she found their size difference just as much of a turn-on as he did.

“A little...worked up,” She admitted, closing the gap between them. With practiced ease, Flip lifted (Y/N) into his lap, her legs straddling his. Her fingers sunk into his hair as he latched his mouth to the curve of her throat, kissing her, then dragging his tongue along her skin. With a moan, she ground her hips down, rolling her heat across his hardness. “Maybe a lot, actually.”

With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her and twisted, depositing (Y/N) on the bed before jumping up to rip off his clothing, eyes never leaving hers as he did. When he pulled down his boxers and he sprang free, her gaze lowered and she licked her lips in anticipation.

“Pretty girl,” He growled, crawling over her and caging her body beneath his, his length resting against her thigh. “Do you think you’ve been a good girl, that you deserve to be fucked?”

(Y/N) gave a keening whimper, struggling to wrap her legs around him. Flip didn’t let her, he braced one hand on the bed next to her head, the other he used to still her hips. He began his assault on her neck and chest then, licking, biting and laving his tongue over the skin to soothe it, leaving light marks just how she liked it.

“Please, I’ve been good, so good, it’s been days, I need you,” She breathed out desperately, writhing under him.

Flip snorted, “That’s your own fault, darling, we could have been doing it every day this past week-“

Still whimpering, (Y/N) cut him off, “No, I told you, I was on my period.”

“And I told you,” Flip pulled back and met her eyes, his expression serious, “Unless it hurts, I don’t care what’s going on down there, it’s natural and it doesn’t bother me.”

They’d had this conversation a few times before, as spending so much time staying over at one another’s meant that, eventually, he’d been with her while she was on her period. And Flip didn’t mind, didn't care, going so far as to call his mother and ask if women were okay to have sex in such a state. After she spent five minutes roaring with laughter, she assured him that yes, with certain precautions taken, and it wasn’t on the worst of cramping days, it was perfectly fine.

But (Y/N) had shut down each time, insisting a few days without sex wouldn’t hurt all the while appearing shy and embarrassed. He hated that she felt that way, but he didn’t pressure her. He simply reminded her it was on the table, whenever she might be ready.

“I know,” Her small hand moved to his cheek, caressing it, expression softening, “Perfect man.” And then her lips found his and the sweet moment was over because it was fierce and possessive and Flip could feel her trembling with anticipation, with need. For him.

With the countless amount of times they had come together, Flip still felt an intense sense of rightness, of home, whenever he was inside of (Y/N), pulling sounds and curses from her lips as he moved. Whether it was a quick and passionate release like this or a night of never-ending pleasure, each and every time was always perfect. Exhilarating. Because they were made for one another, and every kiss or moan or touch only proved it; it was easy, so fucking easy to sink into that feeling of perfection, of irrevocable love so intense it was like taking a hit of a drug every damn time.

“Love you,” He murmured into her hair, his hips pounding into her relentlessly as her legs only encouraged him, tight around his waist to urge him closer, deeper.

Her response was automatic, “Love you more, Flip.” And then she was jerking beneath him as she crashed over the waves of her release, crying out as her walls fluttered back-arching, fingers digging into his shoulders.

His own orgasm washed over him, a long, low moan rumbling out of him as he filled her, his movements slowing, sloppy as he coated her walls with rope after rope of cum. “Fuck!” He finally cried, pulling out to jerk himself a few more times, another few spurts coating her stomach.

With a groan, he flopped on the bed next to her, careful not to push the pile of donation clothing off. Lazily, he draped an arm across her torso, kissing her shoulder. They stayed silent for a short while, catching their breath in the glow of the afternoon sun. These were always his favourite moments; when it was just the two of them blissed out and tired and content.

“I think we should move in together.” He blurted out suddenly. Inwardly he smacked himself on the head for His callousness. He had been thinking about it for a while now and had planned many ways to say it.

But of course, he just spewed out his thoughts with wild abandon. Christ.

(Y/N)‘s head jerked off the bed, and she leaned on her elbow, looking down at FLip with wide eyes. “Wait, seriously?” She was giving him a cautious but promising smile. His heart was pounding in his chest, harder than it had been just ten minutes ago.

Flip nodded, “Yes, pretty girl, seriously. Been thinking it a while,” He sat up, crossing his legs before reaching down to stroke her hair, “We don’t have to if you’re not ready, but I wanted you to know that I’m ready. I hate spending nights without you or coming here to an empty house. I love waking up with you, hell, spending all my time with you.”

He wondered why he chose this exact moment to ask her, when he was naked, his cock softening from their romp, her stomach coated in his spill. It wasn’t exactly romantic, though it did manage to increase the vulnerability he was feeling.

“I, wow, Flip. I’d love that, I hate spending nights apart too. I sleep so much better with you keeping me warm,” (Y/N) giggled, then sat up and took his hands into hers, “There’s a lot to discuss before we make a decision, but I’m ready too, Flip.” Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his.

“Well, can I tell you what I was thinking, and then you can tell me if we’re on completely different pages?”

(Y/N) nodded, a smile splitting wide across her face upon hearing that he’d put so much thought into it. “Let’s hear it, detective.”

Flip grinned, “Well, I’ll be honest I like your place much more, not just for its proximity to the station. And I was thinking, I could rent out this place pretty easily, make some extra cash. Pay half the bills and whatnot at your place, and then maybe when we’re ready, we both sell and get a place a little bigger. Maybe something with a large backyard?” He’d meant to say less, but the more he spoke, the wider her smile grew, eyes sparkling in delight. A warmth was growing within him, spreading through his body. He felt almost giddy.

Instead of replying, (Y/N) launched herself into Flip’s arms, toppling them into the donation pile of clothing, and started peppering him with kisses.

"I'll take that as a yes?" He asked through his wide grin.

(Y/N) giggled, "Oh, detective, it's definitely a yes."

+

“Christ, it had to be the hottest day so far this year, didn’t it?” Flip grumbled, wiping his arms across his forehead and considering removing his shirt, though he wasn’t sure all of his latest love marks had healed up, so he kept it on begrudgingly.

(Y/N), as if knowing exactly when Flip would hit his limit in the heat, suddenly appeared at the propped open doorway, a large glass of lemonade in hand. John and Ron appeared behind her, following her outside with their own glasses. He watched, grateful for his sunglasses, as she walked toward him, hips swaying in her linen shorts, breasts curving beneath the thin white T-shirt she wore. Though she usually kept her hair down at home, it was too hot today and instead had it pulled into a high, messy ponytail.

Patting his arm comfortingly, she handed him a cold glass, “Here, take a minute, you guys are nearly finished.” And her eyes surveyed the remaining boxes, the armchair and the stereo system, all that was left of the items he’d brought from his old house.

“Thank you, pretty girl.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead before gulping down the lemonade like a dying man, already imagining the cold bath he’d be climbing into later on. Preferably with his new roommate.

“Bailey’s got burgers and beers ready in the back, so once you finish up you boys come through and have a rest, alright?” She smiled around at them, Ron and John both nodding eagerly, just as ready as Flip to be finished.

It only took twenty more minutes to get the rest inside, and Flip was impressed when he came through the door the last time and saw how neat everything was. Evidently, while they’d been hauling things inside, (Y/N) had made quick work of organizing anything she could lift. Even though Flip insisted she not do any of the hard work, he could tell by the number of missing boxes that she had carried a lot of them to the rooms they were meant for, getting a head start on the unpacking process.

When he followed his helpful friends outside, he found (Y/N) and Bailey laughing together on the back deck as they plated the burgers. Next to the grill, they had a table set up with all the fixings, including potato salad and, of course, more of (Y/N)‘s baking, this time in the form of mini sugared donuts.

Before he could make his way toward her, (Y/N) caught Flip’s eye and pointed at the lounger, a silent order to take a seat. With a grin he flopped down onto the seat, grateful to be off of his feet and out of the sun. Under the shade, it was much cooler, a soft breeze playing across his sweaty skin.

John walked up to his wife and kissed her on the cheek, thanking her for cooking for them. Ron had copied Flip, sitting in another lounger, his eyes closed. The atmosphere was relaxed, the best part of a busy moving day.

With a beer in one hand and a piled-up plate in the other, (Y/N) plopped herself into Flip’s lap and handed him his reward. With a grateful groan, he pulled the plate out of her hands and immediately started devouring the burger with one hand, the other snaking around her waist to hold her hip. She took a sip of his beer, watching him eat with a happy smile, her cheeks flushed from the heat.

“You two are such an affectionate couple,” Bailey pointed out with a smirk, “Even with a burger you find a way to cuddle, it’s almost annoying.”

The elder (Y/L/N) sister was, in many ways, opposite to (Y/N). She had a cooler, calmer personality, her humour more sarcastic and her gaze a little intimidating at times. Flip liked her, and her husband, quite a lot. They often had dinners together on Friday’s, and Flip had even taken John to the gun range a handful of times, discovering that despite (Y/N)‘s hatred of guns, John and Bailey were a little less wary of them.

“Nah, it’s groovy!” Ron amended with a grin, taking the plate Bailey was handing him with a grateful nod.

“I don’t know,” John said between bites of his food, pointing his burger between Flip and (Y/N), “I think of all the couples I know, you’d be the ones who’ve had sex on every surface and piece of furniture.” Ron and (Y/N) burst into laughter, Bailey shook her head, a small smile on her lips.

Flip flushed, his hand squeezing (Y/N)‘s waist, but made no reply beyond a slight grin. With a bark of warm laughter, John nodded his head, happy with himself.

The rest of that early summer afternoon was enjoyed in good company, the group casually conversing as they lounged in the shade, until the setting sun was low enough in the sky to capture their notice. They all pitched in on tidying up, bringing the leftovers inside while (Y/N) wrapped up a couple of donuts for Ron to take home. Congratulations and thank-yous were exchanged, along with heartfelt hugs and cheek kisses.  

And then, it was just Flip and (Y/N), waving goodbye from the front door with wide smiles; alone at last. His mind on drawing a cool bath, Flip was caught off guard when he was suddenly pushed against the wall, and (Y/N)'s lips were crashing into his.

Flip was never one to question these types of moments, instead, his hands found the curve of (Y/N)‘s hips, pulling her close as his tongue licked into her mouth, and a moan escaped them both. They stayed like this for a few minutes, making out as they clung to one another, until (Y/N) pulled back and smiled up at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to go back to your place tonight, right?”

Flip shook his head with a smile, “No, I’m meeting the new tenants there tomorrow afternoon.”

Her eyes darkened considerably at his response, pupils blown with desire. Flip’s hands tightened on her hips in anticipation, eager to hear her next words.

“In that case, wait out here for about three minutes and then meet me in the room, okay detective?” She murmured, then pulled away and danced off toward their bedroom.

Flip stayed against the wall, considering for a moment and then deciding to strip off his little remaining clothing. He heard the sounds of the tub being filled as he pulled his shirt over his head, and his cock twitched in anticipation. He then wandered into the kitchen, helped himself to a glass of water, and then figured it had probably been long enough.

Making his way down the hall, careful to skirt around a few boxes piled somewhat precariously, Flip felt an overwhelming sense of joy; the stressful work was over, and now he was living with his girl full time. If anyone had told him last year that he’d come back to work after that fucking Klan case and meet the love of his life, he’d have scoffed at them, convinced he was an unlovable son of a bitch.

And then (Y/N) came along and found her way into his heart, shattering every doubt he had of himself and somehow, amazingly, fell in love with him. He’d never been happier, a sentiment that he knew he thought almost too often, but if the other shoe was going to drop, it missed its chance. He even liked fighting with the woman, for Christ's sake. Though they didn’t argue much beyond occasional bickering, especially since she apparently had an unlimited supply of patience for his various sour moods, they did sometimes had what Flip considered a ‘blow out’.

After each one of these intense fights, they would somehow meet in the middle, always willing to compromise with one another no matter how passionately they’d been arguing. And then, the sex that would follow was always mind-blowing, fast and powerful, and selfish. They’d each work to bring themselves off, which was never the case otherwise, usually striving to bring as much pleasure to the other as they could.

But Flip had always heard that makeup sex was on another level.

He had known for a long time now that he wanted to marry her. They’d spoken of it a few times, casually, each sussing out the other’s reaction carefully. Flip had learned that she hadn’t ever wanted a big wedding, something her sister had wanted, which had solidified the decision in her mind that it wasn’t for her. This suited him just fine, as he wasn’t one for big parties and it meant he could invest more money in the ring, get her something she could be proud to wear.

But first, there was tonight.

When he walked into the master bath, completely naked and already mostly hard, his cock stiffened further at the sight in front of him. Of her.  

(Y/N) turned to face Flip, and though his eyes swept over her beautiful face, they didn’t linger as he took in the sight of her, standing wearing his favourite buffalo plaid shirt, unbuttoned with absolutely nothing else on. She’d taken her hair down, and it fell in waves around her shoulders, brushing against her stiff buds.

He couldn’t even form words, he was so turned on, seeing her wearing his clothes, standing ready for him to do whatever he wanted with her. He came undone entirely when, upon seeing his leaking, hard cock, she fucking whimpered.

With a growl, Flip closed the distance between them, swiftly lifting her onto the bathroom counter, which happened to leave her dripping heat at the perfect height for him to thrust forward, filling her in one motion. Fuck, she was tight around him, and so wet already.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” He groaned as she cried out his name repeatedly, “So fucking wet for me already.” He adjusted his arms, putting each under her legs so that she was pressed back and folded, exposing her enough to find an angle that tore screams of pleasure from her as he slammed his hips into her, splitting her open most satisfyingly.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s so good, so perfect Flip.” She whined, trying to keep herself steady on the counter as he absolutely ruined her with brutal thrust after thrust. He could hear himself growling and groaning out her name each time he pulled back, living for the way she screamed his when he would slam back in.

Keeping his arms hooked under her legs, Flip removed his hands from the counter and pressed them into her lower back under the shirt, both forcing her body a little closer and helping her to stay upright. He was impressed at her flexibility, though he checked her face as he moved, ensuring she was comfortable. The way her eyes rolled back told him everything he needed to know.

“You take my cock so well, you know that? Perfect little girl,” He broke off and moaned as he felt her walls tighten further around him as he spoke, her orgasm closing in. “Fuck, you love it when I tell you what a good girl you are, don’t you?”

Her mouth fell open for a moment before she could find the ability to speak, “I love it, I’m such a good girl for you, you fucking fill me so well, Flip,” (Y/N) whimpered out, her body beginning to tremble. “Fuck, I’m going to come!”

He increased his pace, her words bringing him closer to the edge, “Go on then, cum all over me, pretty little girl, and I’ll fill you up. Fucking give you all my cum.” He growled out, and her eyes rolled back again as her body seized up, her walls fluttering around him and her cries unintelligible. When Flip looked down at where their bodies connected, he saw just in time as her juices squirt out for him, splashing him in the warmth and fucking sending him barreling over the edge, his movements slowing as he pushed himself as deep as he could and releasing his cum into her.

It took several moments to come down from their high, the combination of the happy, emotional day, and the two days they hadn’t been able to have sex because of the busy work that was moving, made it so that their peaks were nearly debilitating. Flip could have sunk to the floor, he was so exhausted. Just able to remain standing, he instead slowly slipped himself out of (Y/N), both of them watching as their combined fluids seeped out of her deliciously. He was careful to let her legs down slowly, and she groaned in a little discomfort as he did.

“Bath time,” He whispered, helping her off the counter and to the toilet first. Once she finished, he stepped into the lukewarm water and helped her in after him, lowering them slowly until they could cuddle up, (Y/N) between his legs, her back on his chest. The water was a sweet relief to both the heat of the day and their sore muscles. They laid together for a long time; until the sun was gone and the twilight light was too dark for them to see anymore and sleep was a whisper away.

“You ready for a nice long sleep, detective?” (Y/N) asked him as they dried off, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion that he was certainly was mirrored on his face.

“In our bed, darling.” He replied, with a sly smile. She giggled happily, tossing her towel into the hamper.  

When they climbed into bed together, still naked, (Y/N) laid her head on Flip's chest. One hand trailed lazily along his flat stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I love you so much, Flip Zimmerman.”

His heart stuttered. He brought the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her to tilt her face up, meeting her tired gaze. “I love you more, pretty girl.” And he leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a goodnight kiss.

Both of them fell asleep easily mere moments later, wrapped up in one another in all of the best ways.

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[nafeary]

Napoleon, Theodorus, and le Comte’s Reaction to MC saying “I love you” first

Anon asked:

Hey there! I really like all the stuff on your blog, so could you do the suitors reactions to you saying I love you for the first time (like, if the route plots didn’t really happen). If all of them are too much, maybe just Napoleon, Theo and Comte. Maybe also include a little scenario? Thanks in advance.

✧✎ A/N: Heya, sweetest anon! Thank you so much for this request (and for including three of the daddy line), this was really fun to do~

Theo’s got... slightly longer than the others (almost a whole scenario by itself whoops). Don’t worry Napoleon. I have a WIP of yours. Thanks @juminly and @delicateikemenmemes for helping me out with Theo, and @marie-quentin for giving me a quick crash course in French. Drink water, y’all :))))

Warnings: slight suggestiveness, and implied sexual activities.

Napoleon Bonaparte

Pardon? Could you run that by him again?

It had been a morning like any other, welcoming the culprit who’d come to wake him up with his wonted kisses

However, this time around, he hadn’t met an interfering hand—which was by far his favored option. The other ones entailed pillows, fists, and even a certain someone’s foil

So when he met lips, molding together with his like a familiar imprint, he immediately shook off his fatigue, surprised to see his lover before him

His astonishment didn’t stem from the kiss itself (as you’ve done way more than just that), but you’ve never indulged in his habit before

Not only that, but it felt so much more...

Intimate. Passionate. Amorous...

Romantic. Purely romantic.

Your hands rose to his cheeks, cupping them in an ever so gentle embrace. Feeling almost weightless within your gentle expression, he sighed in the intimate comfort only one’s other half could provide.

“‘Leon?” The most idyllic melody made his eyes open, blinking a few times to adjust to the sun’s flaxen rays. He had to halt a few moments, for as his eyes managed to adjust, the golden glow hugging your form truly made you appear out of this world.

“Yes, nunuche?” Your loving and tender gaze almost made him melt, and it was a miracle that his question sounded as nonchalant as he was hoping for it to be.

“I love you.”

Napoleon couldn’t help the pounding of his heart. In all his years, no one had ever managed to make him feel so precious. Of course, he’s had his previous lovers, but as you stood before him like an angel of fortune, holding his head up in a pretense of it being the most wondrous diamond...

He couldn’t help the laughter spilling from his lips. At your affronted expression, he pulled you to his side, your cheek squished against his neck. Closing your eyes against his laughter’s shock waves—tens on the Richter scale—you couldn’t prevent the pout from conquering face.

Napoleon halted his laughter, although not completely, and his arms cocooned your midriff to lean in. Your toes curled as his lips brushed your ear.

“Je t’adore, nunuche.”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You might have to bring him to Isaac or Leonardo to fix, because you’ve completely broken this guy

He always expected to say it first, so he’s kinda mad??? But also really touched??? Fix him, please

It was no secret that Theodorus Van Gogh considered himself to be very domineering

Not because he wants the other person to feel save and protected... it was simply due to convenience pssst don’t tell him

Of course, he found it more than endearing when his girlfriend took the leash from time to time, and he genuinely enjoys her initiations of affection

Everyday, it took Theo all the self control he could muster up not to break into a smile at the sight of you, not to pick you up and whirl you around, not to throw you over his shoulder to carry you to his room...

Anyway, if you were to tell him the famous three words first, he’d be pure molasses in your hands

“Do you need more syrup, Theo?”

While the amount of liquid gold suggested the attendance of the entire mansion, it was only himself and his lover at breakfast. You had risen later than usual (due to certain nightly activities), and Sebastian was so kind as to allow you a day off.

“We’ll see,” he murmured, nevertheless thanking you when you brought him more with a disbelieving snort.

As you ate breakfast in the kitchen, not wanting to bother yourselves with setting everything up in the dining hall, he did not let your “inconspicuous” array of glances go unnoticed. Whenever he caught your eyes, you’d quickly avert your own, a faint blush dusting your skin. Perplexity marred his mind at your bashful actions.

Just when you stood up to do the dishes, he grabbed your arm, turning you around to trap you successfully underneath his form. Bewildered, you squirmed in his grasp, but that only made him pin your wrists in place. While this might not be your first time in this particular position, you could still only huff at his stern expression. “What did I do now? Do you always have to—“

“Quit your yapping, Hondje. Is there something on my face, or why do you keep on staring at me?” he spoke, as blunt and stoic as ever.

You chastised yourself— should have been aware that nothing could escape his detail-oriented eyes. Nonetheless, there was something... disparate about this morning: the hushed words of devotion, the warmth of nonchalant pecks—dare you say, it was almost domestic. It caused feelings of joy and felicity to ignite in your chest, and a certain sentence to cross your mind.

“...I love you, Theo.”

It was apparent that he’d been caught off-guard, a hand flying up to cover a short fit of coughing. And as his grip on you faltered, you flung your arms around his neck, urged by both embarrassment and closure.

“Y—you. Gadver...”

“Have I rendered the great Theodorus Van Gogh speechless?” You couldn’t help the teasing remark; eager to see his flushed expression, you peeled yourself out of the embrace. However, just as swift as he had faltered, his iron grip on you toughened once again, this time around closing the proximity to an intimate distance.

“Have you finally lost what little sense you had before?” His tone’s giddiness betrayed the harshness of his words, despite his best attempts to suppress that. As you tried to focus on anything apart from his breath caressing your neck, you espied the brilliant blush raging on his cheeks.

Deciding not to comment on his obvious joy, you pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Don’t you have to punish me, then? I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.”

When you pulled back to look at you love, you were met with his wild cerulean orbs. You’ve heard of people comparing them to ice, but you likened them to the tropic’s water; it might look trifling at most, but once you dive in, it would tell tales of colourful facets. Just like a big misunderstanding, crying out to be revealed.

You couldn’t care less that you were in the kitchen, that anyone could walk in on you, as he pulled you closer to himself, your legs finding their way around his waist.

Comte de Saint-Germain

He’d definitely be shocked at first, widening his eyes at your forthcoming admittance

After all, these three words might seem minuscule to a lot, but they held enough power to truly cement a relationship

Whenever he looked at his chérie, he felt the need to tell them to you 24/7, but he reconsidered that it was only right to give you more time to grow accustomed to him (and his period)

After a few months of living together, and a solitary trip back to the past (which proved itself vain as his offer was declined once again), he resolved to tell her these fateful words

He heard his amour before he saw her, the sound of your steps hurrying down the staircase growing more and more pronounced. Ere he was able to turn around to greet you, you practically pounched onto him, fingers clasping by his waist as you embraced him from behind. You squeezed his middle section gently in an effort to breathe in his scent.

Shock subsiding, he enbosomed your hands with his own, having missed your warmth—your devotion—as it crowned him with more than the sun could ever wish to.

“I have something—“

“—to tell you.”

Both of you spoke up at the same time, prompting you to smile in delight. Hearing composed, albeit joyful, laughter spilling from your lover’s lips, followed by the incessant remark of ladies-first, you uttered the words you have been longing to say, “I love you.”

The gentle rising of his torso came to a sudden halt, and he twisted around to face you. He might not have been gone for too long, but you’d missed each other regardless.

You knew the feeling was mutual as his golden eyes burned with desire, his walls coming down bit by bit, exposing a rare sight of the count’s vulnerability. With his hands inching just above your lower hip, the not so innocent innuendo of their barely proper distance to your butt was duly noted.

“I’ve been hoping to tell you these words myself, ma moitié.” His mouth traced the shell of your ear, and you felt him smile against your skin—as gentle as flower petals, yet just as seductive. “Perhaps we could arrange my reciprocation in private?”

Tag list: @juminly, @kisara-16 (I totally forgot that you asked me to be tagged quite a while ago... I’m sorry (*´Д｀*))

[ninnodesu]

“Can I See You?” ch 5 || Modern!Thomas

It's time, guys. We've reached the ending of this little thing I created! I will be writing an epilogue, but the mainstory is now over.

I so hope you liked this little story, and I appreciate every single comment, kudos and share I've gotten from all of you! It's been so much fun actually writing and ending my first ever fanfiction! Thank you, thank you thank you! Tipjar/sneak peek collection

The more you started to walk on your own, the more the atmosphere in the house had changed. You could feel it, it was heavier. Charlie’s eyes had become colder. He started following you when he noticed that Thomas felt safer leaving you alone for longer periods of time. His eyes had almost gotten… hungrier.

The feeling of eyes dragging over your body during times you’d been alone and doing simple things such as baking, doing laundry, reading, was becoming something unbearable. You’d also begun to notice how Charlie had been home more in general. He came home earlier from his patrolling, and left later than he usually did. That is, if he left the house at all.

At first, it didn’t really bother you. You guessed he just wanted to spend time at home in general. But then came the subtle comments from him. Those… hints. Whispers directed at you if you were close enough to hear them; “Your leg looks nice ” and “I wouldn’t be runnin’ yet, though”. It was always either those hints, or he’d come straight up to you to stand close and breath in your scent. Charlie wasn’t stupid, though, he knew to keep away when Thomas was close by, but even if you remained close to your self-appointed guardian, you could still feel a pair of - literally - hungry eyes following you. Today, however, you were blessed. Because Charlie had decided to leave you alone thanks to Tommy, who you had dragged out to sit under one of the big trees at the end of the yard with. The weather was cool, the sun wasn’t as much of a scorcher for once, so you’d taken the opportunity to relax.

Tommy was leaning up against the tree while you resorted to lay down, starfishing in the grass. “Tommy?”, you spoke up, and he grunted in response. So you turned your head to look at him, noticing he had his eyes closed and arms crossed behind his head. “Does your face still hurt?”. Your only response from him was a side glance and a cocked eyebrow. “I mean…”, you sat up. “Does your face still hurt where you cut it?”, at that moment his brows knit together, still not giving you a proper response. “I’m just saying… If your face isn’t in pain…”, looking down you shrugged. That’s when a deep sigh erupted from him and he proceeded to lean forward. He glared at you, annoyance clear as glass, and you knew; You pushed that particular button one too many times “I...I’m sorry I just…”, you stammered out. He was tense as he raised one hand to spell.

‘E’ ‘n’ ‘o’ ‘u’ ‘g’ ‘h’

And that was it. He left you sitting alone on the grass outside as he stomped off, hands clenched into fists. And you knew you’d gone too far. The front door slammed hard enough for you to hear it, even though you were a few feet away and you flinched slightly.

“Shit…”, you mumbled to yourself and laid on your back again.

Looking up into the sky, you traced the clouds as they slowly drifted by, and your thoughts started to venture into your life back home. Sure, you have your family. But the contact with them has always been sporadic. Not because you didn’t care for them, but only because that's just… how it’s always been. A natural occasional communication, which both you and your parents are comfortable with. Friends? That’s another deal. You have a few, and you keep in contact with them, but you’re not close to any of them. Most of them just being the “ I know you through that person who I met at a party ”-kind of friendship. But you always felt that was better than not having anyone at all.

All that thinking about home awoke a sudden urge to talk to your parents, and you patted the pockets on your jean shorts, cursing at the fact that you hadn’t brought your phone out with you. Groaning, you reluctantly got up from your place to head back in. You didn’t get far, however, before the apparent bloodhound Charlie had transformed into grabbed your arm and pulled you around a corner.

He gripped your upper arms hard enough to leave bruises as his eyes undressed you.

“So, your guard dog left ya, didn’t he?”, you just glared at him and scrunched up your nose as the smell of alcohol wafted towards you. "Let me go, Charlie.", you tugged your arms to try and free yourself, but his grip hardened, making  you hiss in pain. "It’s Hoyt to you, bitch. ", he growled. "What do you want, Hoyt?", you pronounced his make-believe name in a childish way, doing your best to get your face into neutrality. "Oh, hun'", he started as one of his hands came up to caress one of your cheeks, "I think we can arrange somethin’ real nice." You turned your head from him, you couldn’t look at him, you knew exactly what he meant by that, and the thought alone was enough to make you sick. But your reaction was not what he wanted, as he grabbed your chin in a hard grip to make you look at him before he continued; “If ya can open those pretty legs o’ yours to his ugly mug”, he started breathing deeper, a low moan escapes him as he continues, “then maybe you’ll do the same for me.”

You just stared at him, Doing your best to hide the obvious shock at what he had said. But if his grin was something to go after; he saw it. “Oh, I heard ya alright. You think you’re being quiet, but I heard him fucking ya.”

You frowned at the obvious breach in private life. You shook your head to get away from his grip. “You make me sick.”, the only words you could even imagine giving as a retort before you inhaled sharply, as you felt one of his hands drag itself over one of your breasts. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered;

"I'll make ya feel better than him." You whimpered at his words, doing your absolute best to ignore the prickling sensation of oncoming tears. "That boy doesn't know how to properly treat a pussy." "Please… Let me go.", you couldn’t help the pathetic plea. "Or…" "Or what, bitch ? You'll call your dumb guard dog to come rescue you?"

That disgusting grin off his returned before he made your blood run cold; " I can't wait to eat you. "

Meanwhile, down inside the basement. Tommy was leaning on his hands as he looked into a cracked mirror, Thoroughly inspecting his scars and deformities. He hated what he saw, always had. He didn’t have a nose and parts of his lips were missing. Your words rang in his mind as he let his head hang.

I want you, Tommy.

For some reason, he was annoyed. The fact that your leg is fully healed now means you could just get up and leave him whenever you wanted. But he wanted to believe, by God, how much he wanted to believe that you wouldn’t. That you’d choose to stay with him, become his and, maybe even… He shook his head. That was a dumb thought.

Looking back up, he was met with a darker shade of his usually light eyes. And he sighed as a storm began to rage inside him.

- I told you. - Stop. - No, you stop, Tommy. Open your eyes. - I have. - You haven't opened them for shit. She's leaving you. - You don't know that!

He punched the mirror, and glass rained down. Blood welled up from where the glass cut him.

- I do know that. And you do too. - No. She- - She what? Loves you? - … - Look at yourself, man. You're nothing to her. - We slept together. - She did that to get on your good side. She did it for survival. - No… - Look in the mirror…

Thomas glanced down at one of the biggest shards on the ground;

- And come up with one good reason she would stay for that.

He growled and crushed the shard under his heavy boot before buckling his mask back on and walking up to the main floor. With the feeling of hunger attacking his stomach he did his best to try and sneak into the kitchen, knowing mama is making supper. His plans got spoiled, however, as he was quickly shooed away from the kitchen by words such as "I don't need you eating everything before dinner!" or "Nuh-uh, Thomas Hewitt. Don't think about snacking before dinner!".  A towel getting smacked at his arm had him chuckling and raising his hands in defeat. So he decided to trudge to his upstairs bedroom instead.

A satisfied hum left him as he ran his fingers through the dirty locks on his head, his mask hanging loosely around his neck, before finally letting himself collapse on the bed. He grimaced a bit as he began picking on the bloody scabs that were starting to form.

Shit, these went deep…

He shrugged and proceeded to stare up at the ceiling. Again disappearing inside his head.

- Why don’t you go find her? - Why should I? - To tell her the truth. - Pssh. - Haha. See, I told you. - Told me what? - The truth. - That if you’re ever dumb enough to confess, - she’ll leave. - … - I’m just sayin’, since she can walk again. - I’ve told you to shut up. - Because you’re a pussy and can’t handle hearing facts. - She doesn’t love you. - She used you. Fucked you to get on your soft side. - Do you really think she would love you? Are you that dense? - What do you mean? - You think you could live a happy life? - Get married? - Have kids? - I… uh... - Jesus christ, you actually are stupid, Thomas. - …

He was jolted out of his brain as he heard a knock on his door, to which he tapped the floor with his boot in response. "Supper’s ready, hun.", his mama lit up the gloomy room when he saw her head poking in. He nodded and got up, tucking his hand away from sight. If she saw the cuts, he would just get an earful from her, something he was not in the mood for. The smell of food wafted through the main floor, and his stomach made one of the loudest growling sounds he’s heard; chili was on the menu. Looking around, he noticed you were nowhere to be seen… neither was Charlie. A detail that did not sit right in his gut. He tapped the table, gaining mama’s attention, and motioned to your empty seats;

‘Where are they?’

Luda just seemed to look at the chairs, then at Monty who just shrugged. "I don't know, dear." Thomas didn't like this, he couldn't trust his uncle alone with you. He knew Charlie was a creep towards women, especially so attractive ones. He had, unfortunately, both seen and heard it. But The funny feeling in the pit of his stomach began simmering down just slightly as he saw you both walk into the dining room. Your expression, however, made a chill run down his spine. You didn’t look at anyone. All you did was sit down in silence at the dinner table.

All of you hung your head and listened as Charlie began reciting the dinner prayer. Thomas nodded along as it ended with “ Amen ”. Tommy saw how you mainly just pushed food around with your spoon, mostly just taking the smallest of bites. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of eating human meat, but he did also know you actually loved his mama’s chili. Wanting your attention, he nudged your ankle with his boot carefully, hoping you would look up at him or at least give him a glance. But you didn’t react much.

- I told you - Fuck off.

It mostly looked like you tucked your feet behind the legs of the chair, if the way your thighs moved as he looked over you was anything to go by.

Dinner was silent, only a slight murmuring coming from mama and Charlie. Thomas finished eating first, but decided to stay seated and wait for you. He wanted to know what was up with you and why you looked so… out of it. Your expression relaxed, no smile. Your eyes looked empty, merely staring out into nothingness as you slowly forced yourself to eat. Something was up. But as you thanked mama for the meal and rose to stand up, with Thomas mimicking you; Charlie spoke up. “Thomas, sit down.”, The man stopped in a hunched over position, hands flat on the table, brows furrowed. He glanced over to you, who looked pale and your lips were pressed into a thin line as you left in a hurry. Clatter then came from the kitchen and it almost sounded like you basically threw your plate into the sink. He listened to your footsteps. And finally, a clue. The back door closed shut.

Back yard. Barn, probably.

“Thomas.”, Charlie’s voice rang out again, harder. He just looked over at his uncle with a cocked eyebrow, sitting across from him as he sat back down. “It’s time we talked, boy.”, slowly, Thomas’ breathing increased, brows knitting together as he signed.

‘About what?’

“About your friend, hun.”, his mama spoke out next to him and he snapped his head to look at her before mouthing the word “ no ” towards her. “Tommy, it’s time we talked about this. We agreed.”

‘I’m not killing her, mama.’

His hand movements were stiff, and his face twisted into a scowl. His mama sighed and proceeded to lean back and put her hands on her lap. “I know you like this girl, darlin’, but…”, he was breathing heavily, the thick leather of the mask making every breath sound like a huff. The look between his mama and Charlie made him sick. Banging the table with the palm of his hand he gestured for her to continue before inquiring;

‘But, WHAT?’

“She ain’t family, boy.”, with those words Thomas shot up from the chair, knocking it back on to the floor. He was furious. It was rare for him to get that angry at his own family, which made his motion all the more shocking to the rest of the people in the room. ‘ What do you mean she’s not family?’ In his mind, he knew it was a stupid question. The only one who knew you, was him. They didn’t. To them, you were nothing more than cattle. He stormed out, kicking one of the empty chairs out of his path and making it fly to the corner of the room. “THOMAS BROWN HEWITT!”, his mother called after him. But he ignored her. He couldn’t look at her. All those times she’d talked about grandbabies, and then she was talking about taking away the only person who… He just shook his head and headed off to the barn.

Thomas was off to hunt a specific kind of prey.

The barn was cool and damp, a stark contrast to the settling warmth of the evening sun. You’ve curled up behind an old rundown couch in one of the corners to try and hide from the world. Charlie’s voice echoed in your head. You just wanted to go home, to your apartment, most preferably with Tommy. The only person who could make this hell house bearable.  A sudden gust of cool evening wind hit you, and a shiver ran down your spine. “I don’t want to die…”, you mumbled into your arms as you wrapped them around your knees and sobbed. Heavy tears accompanied by hulking whimpers. You were crying loudly, almost screaming out your pain in a desperate way to drown out what Charlie had told you before dinner.

“I hope you said your goodbyes, girlie” “What do you mean?” His smirk, his disgusting grin plastered on his face and that breath that reeked of stale tobacco and alcohol. “You’re invited to our Sunday barbeque,” a tongue slowly dragging over your neck, “but you’re not going to like the menu.”

Heavy, shuffling footsteps alerted you of his presence and made you glance in their general direction before peeking up from the back of the couch. And there you saw him, that beacon of light of yours, how he knew you went out here, you weren't sure. But there he was, and so were you. Taking a deep breath, you swallowed down any remaining tears and hulking sobs. "I'm here.", you weakly called out and threw a hand up from behind the sofa to notify where exactly " here " is. You didn’t have to look up to know he was leaning over the back of the couch, because your entire form was cast in shadow. All you did was curl back up into a ball. "What do you want?", you mumbled, probably too low for him to hear properly, but then the robotic voice you’ve come to associate Tommy with rings out in the barn.

Talk

"About what?", you swallowed again, Fear of what might be about to come bubbling in your stomach.

Charlie

You grimaced as you heard that disgusting name, but you put on a childish voice and imitated Charlie. " Actually, it's Hoyt .", why you did it you weren't sure. But you figured it was because of the sheer fact that you couldn’t stand being mad around Thomas. And you smiled as you heard that deep chuckle of his come from above you. Suddenly, you felt a large hand come lay on the top of your head.  He smoothed your hair down, putting a stray strand behind the part of your ear he could reach. Looking up, you were met with those deep eyes of his. His hand pulled away slightly, but all you did was reach for it with your own and put it to your cheek, nuzzling into his rough and calloused but soft palm.

You closed your eyes while enjoying the feeling of his warm hand against your cheek. But then, the memories of what Charlie had told you crept back into your mind. You were invited to a barbeque, but not the way you'd like to be. Reaching up, you grip around Thomas' wrist desperately. Full of angst, fear, a grasp signaling he's the only thing holding you above water. But you couldn't look at him, if you opened your eyes at this moment, the floodgates would open. Because you were too scared of the fact that one day you’d never see his face again.

You didn’t want to look at the man you were going to leave in the worst way possible. Even if you did your best to swallow any and all sobs that wanted to escape, eventually you couldn’t anymore. And you cried. Fat tears running down your cheeks and over Thomas’ hand still resting on you, a big thumb coming to wipe one of them away. His hand disappeared from you before you heard shuffling and a low grunt. Shortly after, you found yourself surrounded by two big arms that lifted you up, only to be sat down on his lap.

His hold was warm, comforting, a castle of coziness and solace. You woke up one day, terrified for your life, looking up into the eyes of the man you’ve talked to online for months, maybe even close to a year, waiting to die by his hand. But now; those very hands were holding you tight to him, shielding you from the real monster, and all you could do was cry. You felt his chest start to vibrate before you heard a low and booming… hum. Thomas was humming a tune, a melody you hadn’t heard before, and soon after, you felt him ever so slowly start to sway from side to side. He was comforting you. 

He sighs as he rests his chin on top of your head, calmly swinging while humming the lullaby his mama always sang for him when he had nightmares, or came home after getting rocks thrown at him. He couldn’t be angry at you anymore for nagging on him to start talking. You felt as small as you did during the nights you’d had nightmares and asked him to come sleep with you.

Right then, and right there, he could stay forever. That was better than the first time you’d had sex. When he felt that you’d started to relax a little bit and when he noticed your sobs had started to die down, he swallowed, wetting his dry throat before clearing it with a faint cough. “Mine.” He lifted his head as you looked up at him with huge eyes. An unsure smile danced on his lips before he gave a small, discreet nod. Hoping you would get his message, what he wanted to convey.

You were his. In his heart, you had been his for a long time and Tommy could never live with himself if he lost you without letting you know that you were. He knew the conversation wasn’t over yet, due to the fact that Hoyt would still be on his ass about killing you. And if Thomas wasn’t careful enough; he would do it himself. You weren’t safe here anymore, and he knew that. The deal was that you could stay alive until your leg healed. What would happen after that? Tommy was truly scared that he would lose you, one way or another, and he made the decision to confess his feelings for you then and there. The look you gave him sent the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy. Carefully, he took your chin and turned your head slightly for him to easier whisper into your ear; “You’ve always been mine.”

He bit back a chuckle when you quickly turned your head to look him in his eyes. “What…”, all he did in response was smile at you and slide a hand under your jaw to caress your cheek with his thumb as he took your face in, making sure to remember it. His eyes travelled over your eyebrows, outlining the shape of your nose... Those beautiful eyes, and the shape of your cupid's bow, loving the fact that your lower lip was just slightly thicker than the upper one. He moved his thumb from your cheek to slowly let it drag on the edge of your lower lip. Your heart fluttered in your chest, butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach as you felt his lips land on yours. It’d been two weeks since you’d slept together. Neither of you had initiated anything more than just leaning up against one another - or mostly you using Tommy as a pillow - while watching late-night TV when neither of you could sleep.

His lips were warm, his raspy breathing fanning over your cheek as you entangled your hand in his dark locks of brown to pull him closer to you as you accepted his kiss. A small delighted hum came from him as you did. He surprised you, however, as he made the decision to deepen your kiss, a sign of dominance he hadn’t shown you before. His heavy tongue asking for entrance by tenderly dragging over your lower lip. And you happily accepted his question, parting your lips to give his strong muscle room to take the control he seemed eager to express.

You only gave him a quick taste, however, then moved around on his lap to instead straddle his big thighs and wrap your legs around his waist. Thomas, ever the shy man he was, reacted as you’d expected him to. His face turned a lovely shade of red, and his hands started to awkwardly hover over your hips. Every ounce of bravery he just had in his body seemed to have just seeped out through his very pores. Hands balled into fists only to unclench again.

You giggled at how fast he relaxed as you took his hands and put them on your hips. “Tommy… Relax.”, you whispered close to his face. “You’ve touched me before. Remember?”, you breathed out a laugh as you saw his eyes shoot open, his face becoming redder as he nods quickly, and his eyes dart around the barn as if trying to avoid you. Your fingers carded through his hair to find the buckles of his mask. After silently asking for permission to remove it, a smile grew on your face as he nodded, closing his eyes as you slowly unbuckled it and put it down next to him.

His shyness always got to you. He was such a hulking giant, covered in muscles made for manual work, muscles made for crushing bones. His mere presence had the ability to invoke fear, yet there he was, seated on the floor behind a couch. A blushy mess, with you on his lap. It didn’t take long after straddling his thighs before he pressed his lips to yours. Again, he asked for permission to taste you. And again you gave it to him. His tongue met yours, and you moaned as he pressed his against it. Tongues, curious to taste and to feel one another. To commit each other's taste to memory. Last time, every kiss you had shared while he thrust himself into you was hurried, Hungry, and in the heat of the moment. But now? The kiss had a meaning, it was a silent communication between the two of you. It was between two people, two hearts connecting. Both of you knew what the kiss meant, you were made for each other.

You’d fallen in love with a perfect stranger, long before he had shown you his face. The way he had talked to you, about his hobbies. The love he had for his family, the passion for his work. He was your shelter and your knight. All it took for Thomas to fall for you? Your voice. He still remembered when you accidentally sent him a voice recording, how you laughed at your dumb little miss click, ending the recording with “oh well, hi” . And to him, you fit perfectly into his arms, the spaces between his fingers made for yours.

A devilish thought hit you, and so you ground once over his crotch and laughed when he broke the kiss with a loud grunt, almost pushing you straight off his lap. An action only hindered by your hands wrapped around his neck. He glared at you and shook his head. “Why not?”, you replied in a sultry teasing voice. He refused with his head and nodded to the open space behind you. “Oh, no one will notice us here.”, his face reddened up again. He kept vehemently indicating “ No. No sexy times in here. ” But you wouldn’t back down. Again, you ground on him, causing him to groan and move his hands to your hips. You attacked his lips, hungry to taste his moans as you moved over his growing erection. After another hard grind, Tommy grabbed your hips hard and took control, Slowly moving you over his crotch while you ate up every sound he made. It didn’t take long for you both to end up in a frenzied dry humping session. At some point his hand had found its way up under your top, lightly pinching a nipple between his fingers. The barn was filled with grunts and heavy moans from the both of you, but a sudden high noise startled you. Your movements stopped. You turned to look towards where the sound had come from, both of you silently listening for more noises while Tommy reached for his mask and buckled it back on over his head.

A bang. And a scream .

Thomas was fast up on his feet, basically throwing you off his lap and bolting towards the house.

The scream belonged to mama.

Inside, Tommy was met by the frightened stare from a woman he had never seen before, something that wasn’t uncommon and Thomas figured she was one of Hoyt’s hookers. The drunk idiot had probably slipped up: he either accidentally told the woman what really goes on in this house, or she snuck off after he had passed out and ended up finding the basement. And so, that woman was holding his mama hostage with what looked like one of Charlie’s guns. She was terrified. Thomas' chest was heaving as he glued his eyes on the gun.

“Drop the gun, hun. And nothin’ is gonna happen to ya.”, Luda’s voice was calm, but Thomas could hear the faint undertone of fear in her voice. She’s terrified but refuses to show anything. ��L-let me go! A-and I won’t call the cops!”. When the woman spoke his eyes snapped to her, so Thomas took one step forward, but she quickly pressed the gun into mama’s temple, making him stop with a muffled growl. "S-stop! Or I'll… I'll do it!", he remained still, opting to look at his mother as she explained the situation with only two words. “She knows, Tommy.”, Luda Mae flinched as the stranger behind her scoffed and pressed the gun even harder into her temple. But her face was locked in neutrality, and he couldn’t help but admire the strongest woman he’s ever known. “Yeah! I-I know! Fucking crazy, inbred psychos…”, she hissed

Thomas raised a hand, spelling out;

'H' 'o' 'y' 't'

His eyes flickered down to her finger doing an upwards motion to the floor upstairs.

Fucking asshole

Was all Tommy could think before the poor woman’s eyes suddenly shot open in shock. Blood bubbled up from her mouth and she sputtered, covering mama's right cheek in crimson. The hand holding the gun fell to her side, and as it did, Tommy made an act at lightning speed to pull mama behind him. He just stared as he saw… you. He saw you pulling the knife out of the hooker's throat. You'd stabbed her. Straight into the jugular, and as she went down he followed her before shifting his eyes to you as you wiped a bit of blood off your cheek. Your face was unreadable. He wasn’t sure what kind of emotions you were conveying at that moment. Fear? Disgust? Anger? Sadness? He didn’t know. But the hand holding the knife was shaking, almost to the point where it would vibrate out of your palm. He listened to your raggedy breaths coming out in sobs before you suddenly dropped the weapon, then leaned over the sink and threw up.

The sound of rushing water echoes on the upper floor where you’re furiously scrubbing your hands while hyperventilating, hands shaking badly as you do. Your thoughts are in a whirlwind, trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’d killed someone. And knowing what will happen to her body now, that she won’t have a peaceful burial in a beautiful grove or surrounded by her family, makes you nauseous. You had essentially just handed them dinner.

Suddenly, your airways tightened and you couldn’t breathe, the room was too small, too hot. And with a bang, you slammed the water off and ran through the house, ignoring the angry voices that yelled after you as you shut the back door. You don’t care. You need air, now . Outside, you pressed your back against the tree that you early on shared with Thomas, before sliding down it as you feel air returning to your lungs. All you did was breathe for a few minutes, focusing on returning to your senses while staring up into the night sky, counting the stars. As you did, your mind wandered back to your apartment far away from here. Patting your pocket, you smiled slightly as you felt you had your phone with you, and pulled it up. You replied to a few text messages, answered the occasional neglected work emails, and finally opened the gallery app.

Looking through it you realized just how much you actually missed it. It was your home after all. You even missed those neighbors who always had loud hangouts, that old lady who seemed to have more plants than her balcony could fit, and then there was that old divorced man and his cat. That… stupid cat who always forgot where it lived and had ended up in your apartment too many times to count. “Dumbass cat…”, you mumbled as you remembered the first few times it had startled you when you got out of the shower or got home from work and suddenly there was a cat laying on your couch.

Then it hit you.

I should call mom and dad.

Before scrolling through your contacts to find your mom's phone number, you looked at the setting sun and sighed, while figuring out what to tell her exactly, but hoping it would go to voicemail. You took a deep breath as you pressed the green phone symbol. Each dial tone sounded heavier and heavier before you were finally connected to what you had hoped for, voicemail.

"Hey, mom.", you started, straining your voice to sound happy. "It’s me. I just wanted to talk to you, but it seems you're busy."

As usual…

"Uhm… I'm sorry, mom. For everything I've ever said.", you pulled a bit at a loose strand on your shorts, going quiet for a minute. "I love you. And I miss you. Please forgive me."

Ending the call quickly as you felt the telltale sign of tears start to emerge, you pushed your phone back into your pocket and brought your knees up to your chest. Hugging your legs you just sat there, with nothing in particular in mind as you leaned your head on your left knee and closed your eyes.

You didn’t remember actually falling asleep, but what you did remember was being enveloped in strong arms that carried you from a cold night's breeze into warmth, along with faint but angry voices spitting nasty words, and finally ending up laying on something soft. The familiar scent of Thomas’ skin invaded your nose as you nuzzled your face into his pillow. A soft hum escaped you as he laid the cover over you. The floor creaked, and you couldn't hide the tired smile tugging at your lips as the sound of a familiar sigh echoed around the room. Reaching your hand for the giant trying to sneak out, you beckoned him. "Tommy…", he turned. Looking at you from the doorway, his eyes flickered between you on the bed and your outstretched hand. "Come." At first, he shook his head. And turned again to let you sleep alone but stopped when he heard you ask for him again. "Please. I’m cold.", a lie. That's when he caved and closed the door before turning towards you. He loomed over you, his massive form shielding you from everything that went on in this house of terror. Carefully, you reached up behind his head, fingers gliding through his soft hair to search for the fastenings to his mask. Even if he’d had his mask off just hours ago, he seemed just as nervous as earlier when it came to you removing it.

But you loved him, even if he didn’t have a nose.

Tommy sighed in relief as he felt the mask leave his face, and though he still hated being without it, it always felt nice taking it off. He pressed his forehead against yours just to feel close, but couldn’t help to smile as your lips came close to his. "It's okay…", you whispered to him., your low voice sending shivers down his spine, and he nodded.

Looking down at you, he realized how much smaller than him you truly were. He knew his muscles would mean death to you if he ever were to lose control during encounters with trespassers. The mere thought of him not being able to distinguish you from any potential dinner victim and going berserk before you was something that scared him. Scared him to the point of sending a wave of anxiety through him. But now, it wasn’t time to hunt. You were here, laying under him on his dingy bed. The only ray of sunshine in the eternal night that was his cursed life. His heart swelled when he saw your smile as he leaned in to capture your lips with his own and he sighed softly as your hands returned to his hair to pull him closer to you. When he felt your tongue meet his, he hummed in appreciation.

Slowly, Thomas tested the waters. One of his hands slid over the side of your stomach under your tank top, feeling the softness of the skin before letting his hand travel down towards your thigh. He was nervous since he’d never taken initiative with a thing like that before. But you didn't stop him, so he continued. His hand reached your plump thigh, one firm delicious squeeze making you let out a pleased hum into his mouth, a sound he happily swallowed down. He wasn't exactly sure why, but you moaning against his mouth sent chills through his body, which made his cock tingle.

You giggled a bit when he suddenly wrapped the leg, which thigh he was in the middle of groping, around his waist, making it easier for him to snugly fit his hips between your legs. His mouth left yours, traveling down your jawline, his small gentle kisses turned into bigger open-mouthed ones as he got to your neck. Your breathing increased as you felt his tongue slowly drag over that one sensitive spot you had. His whole demeanor changed when you moved to get a better hold of his hair and pulled. As you did, he took your wrists and pinned your arms above your head in an iron grip, not leaving the spot on your neck that he seemed hell-bent leaving a mark on. He nipped at you to test your reaction. You gave him what he wanted and let out a quiet moan, a sound that made him buck his hips into the space between your legs. When he finally lifted his head to look at you, arousal raced through your body because of what you saw.

Normally blue eyes taken over by something dark, hungry, and almost… animalistic. The look his eyes held made need surge through you in a way you hadn’t meant for this to end in. You’d given Thomas a taste of pleasure, and all he wanted now was more. You could see it in those eyes. He wanted more, and he was going to take it. “Oh…”, was all you could say as he rose up, squeezing your wrists once and giving you a look that said, “ Try me. ”. He smirked as you looked at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. Letting your wrists go, his hands moved towards your breasts. A shuddering breath left your lips as his big hands cupped your plush skin, groping your mounds deliciously, before pulling your t-shirt up over them. One thumb came to run slow circles around one nipple, while he kissed his way to the other one. A low moan crept up your throat as you finally felt his tongue drag over the hardening bud.

You answered his action by slowly moving your hips, making your sex rub against his clothed erection. A shiver ran down your spine as you heard him groan against your breast at the friction given to him, a puff of hot air hitting your collarbone. Lifting his head, his eyes met yours, and you could see he was as turned on as you, stare glazed over by lust. "I need you.", you whispered out shakily as you moved your hips again. He smiled, and your heart melted.

Thomas moved his kissing down your body until the bed seemed to run out of length.

Only then did his fingers find the button on your jean shorts, clumsily unbuttoning them as he sat up. As soon as he'd gotten them open, they were thrown away, discarded on the floor somewhere. He took the previously broken leg of yours and put it on his corresponding shoulder, a hand running over it and leaving trails of kisses down to your knee. His other hand, not occupied with anything, found its place on your pubic mound. His thumb landed on your clit, a mischievous grin dancing on his lips as he pressed down firmly once on your sensitive spot. "Ah!", you jerked and he chuckled at your reaction. You just pouted at him before your face relaxed into pleasure, his thumb slowly rubbing in circles while his lips kissed your leg gently.

His digit traveled south and found its way inside your needy hole, the intrusion making you buck your hips to the best of your abilities as you groan. His eyes fixated on your face, the way your brows furrowed, your mouth slightly opened as a symphony of moans and gasps came from your lungs. He loved the sight and sounds you made, they only made him braver. Knowing he made you feel good, only him. That despite him being inexperienced, all his attempts bore fruit.

No matter how much his cock throbbed inside his jeans, or how warm he was starting to feel, he wanted to make you cum before him just like the first time. "T-Tom-Haah! Tommy, I'm-!", sweet sounds left your throat right before he stopped, grinning again as you shot him an annoyed look. "That's mean…", he chuckled in response and shook his head. Thomas suddenly lifted you up with no effort, replacing your body with his own as strong hands firmly grasped either side of your hips. And before you knew it, he had maneuvered you above him. His head takes a dive between your thighs, fingers wrapping around generous amounts of your rear and eyes glinting from below you as he dragged his tongue along the inside of one of your plush thighs, making you gasp. The closer he moved towards your aching cunt, the heavier you started breathing. But right as he was about to rub against you, he stopped. Again, you groaned. "Please stop teasing me, you ass.", you whined. One of his hands came into view and he slowly spelled out two words.

'B' 'e' 'g' 'm' 'e'

You silently did as you were told by sliding closer to his face, but all he did was grab your waist and lifted you away from him, shaking his head. That was not what he wanted. He wanted to hear you beg for him to eat you out. Your voice was low as you shakily gave him what he wanted; "T-Thomas, please. Please, please, please… eat me. " He smirked before slowly dragging his tongue through your folds. Relishing in your taste coating him, he hummed when he felt your thighs tremble against his arms as he held you tight, the countless videos he’d watched on various porn sites of this specific position running on a loop in his head. "Oh my God.", you said as you let your head fall back, a loud "Ah!" coming from you as he found your clit and flicked his tongue firmly against it, your hands coming to rest in his hair. The urge to rotate your hips hit you, though when trying it, you were met with a bruising grip on your hips and glaring blue eyes staring up at you. Silently daring you to move on your own accord, his glare told you that you were not in control. You whimpered at the sight but reluctantly stilled your hips.

You gasped as you noticed his tongue prod and tease your entrance, feeling how he moved it slowly, digging the strong muscle deeper into you.

Below you, Thomas found himself in heaven between your soft thighs as he pulled those sounds he loved hearing from your throat. Sounds he knew only he could cause. When he couldn’t hear them anymore, he only pulled you close to his face. And right there, right then, Thomas enjoyed having no nose, the absence helping him reach far into you. "Ah… To-!", your words are interrupted suddenly, your body jerking before tensing as he finds your clit again, sucking gently on it. "Fff-... Shi-.", you couldn’t form words as he alternated between sucking gingerly and massaging your nub with the flat of his strong muscle and moving his tongue in and out of you.

The coil tightened quickly, almost too quickly. Looking down, you met his eyes, glossed over with hunger and animalistic lust. His firm grip on your thighs kept you seated on his face when you were thrown over the edge in a cry, as he gave one hard suck over your clit. He moaned against you as you clamped your thighs shut around his head, lapping up your orgasm like he was actually starving. He then returned to slowly fuck you with his tongue to let you come down from your high. You panted as you looked down at him, fingers lightly scratching his scalp with a postorgasmic smile plastered on your lips. Thomas grinned as he licked your thigh to catch a stray strand of your arousal.

Shortly after you’d collapsed next to him on the bed, Tommy got up to finally take his own clothes off, his tank top sticky with sweat and the fly of his jeans rubbing uncomfortably against his raging erection. He let out a sigh of relief as his dick was finally released, the front of his boxers moist with precum. The bed dipped under his weight as he returned to position himself between your thighs again, letting your legs rest over his meaty ones. His hands gingerly went up and down your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles as he waited for your signal. His stare revealed his hesitation, wanting nothing more than to push himself into ecstasy, but not having the heart to take something he thinks he wasn’t allowed to. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you. His cock throbbed as it lay on top of your mound, and his chest swelled with pride as he saw the evidence of how good his tongue had made you feel as he waited for your approval to take you. You reached down to gingerly take hold of his cock with your soft hands, your fingers rubbing over his sensitive head and coating him with his own arousal. A thumb lightly pressed on his silver barbell, eliciting a throaty groan from him as you looked up to meet his eyes. "Wanna fuck me, baby?", you asked in a sultry voice as you dragged your hands over his length. You saw how a shiver ran through his body as he nodded, instinctively bucking into your hands.

"Take me."

You gasped as his length pressed into your waiting entrance, and you arched off the bed when you felt him bury himself to the hilt in a swift, desperate motion. "Ohh… oh.. God…", you scrambled to find his arms, needing something to hold on to. Tommy breathed out a laugh before hissing in slight pain as he felt your nails dig into his arms. Even with the wetness from both your orgasm and his mouth, it's a stretch.  So both of you needed a minute to adjust.

His breathing was hot over your face. An experimental thrust from him had him gritting his teeth, and you digging your nails deeper into his arms. Craning your neck, you got close to his face with a smile on your lips. "I'm fine, Tommy. Take me. " Upon hearing those words, he pressed his lips against yours, the taste of you still on him, just as his hips started to move. He lifted your legs up only to wrap them around his waist, and soon enough the movement of his hips began pummeling your insides. His cock hitting all those right places in your cunt that made you squirm and moan under him. Your mind went blank, not even trying to comprehend how he was able to so easily transform you from a rational being to only a mess of moans and limbs made off putty after only having sex two times. But not a single nerve in your body was complaining about the fact that he could. Incoherent sounds meant to resemble his name tumble from your throat inbetween loud moans. Down there, inside the room within the basement he was so used to dwelling, Tommy didn’t give two shits if his family heard you or not, he just needed to listen to every sound you made.

You yelped as he suddenly switched everything up. your legs were wrapped around his waist, making it easier to pull you up and onto his lap while he positioned himself on his knees. His cock buried deep into you as you clawed at his back, afraid you might float away if you don’t. His hands came to grope your ass, effortlessly holding you up as his strong arms moved you up and down his cock. The wet smacking sound of your soaking thighs hitting his echoed around the room, only adding to your arousal. His movements were deep and hard, hot moans brushing against your neck as he found your sensitive spot and lightly bit down on it. A loud grunt surged from his throat when he felt your cunt clench hard around him as a result from his biting.

He shifted again, pulling his cock out of you to turn you around and prop you on all fours, a position that gave him a perfect view of your ass and the way his dick stretched your pussy out as he re-entered you. Another shiver ran through his spine as a new kind of deeper moan comes from your throat. His large hands gripped your hips to make it easier for him to pull you onto his dick in rhythm with his thrusting. Your moans were muffled by his pillow as tears of pleasure streamed down your face. Your ears managed to capture the occasional deep baritone of “shit”s and “fuck”s coming from above you, causing your eyes to roll back into your skull.

You let out a whine as you felt a hand snake itself south and a pair of big fingers find your clit. His movements were fast, clumsy and almost desperate as he rubbed your most sensitive spot. The added pleasure making it so the coil in your lower belly tightened much faster. As Tommy leaned over you, you were pressed deeper into the mattress when he propped himself up on the hand not occupied with rubbing tight circles around your nerve bundle. A heavy puff of air coming from him made your hair billow exposing the ear he was looking for. His voice was strained and raspy when grunts and moans tumbled from his throat as he felt your walls clench around him.

He swallowed thickly, desperate to wet his parched throat before uttering one single word into your ear, a demand.

“ Cum.”

The delicious combination of his cock pumping in and out of you and his fingers massaging your clit gave you only seconds to fulfill his demand. The orgasm that washed over you was strong enough to make you scream into the pillow as you clamp down on his cock, your hands desperately trying to grab onto the mattress. Above you, Thomas let out a heavy moan that vibrated against your back as he felt the increasing tightness around him, his own orgasm quickly closing in. Four more hard thrusts into your then battered pussy had him gasping, the hand supporting him pressing into the mattress hard enough for his knuckles to turn white before cumming deep inside you. A satisfied hum came from you as you felt his dick twitch and pump his thick seed inside you, delightfully filling you up.

Thomas hissed as he pulled himself out of your throbbing core, then collapsed next to you with huffs and heaves surging from his tired lungs. You slowly slid your legs down to lay flat on your stomach and turned your head to look at him beside you. He had his eyes closed while running a hand through his sweaty brow, trying to catch his breath. You smiled at him and brought your right hand close to his face to stroke his cheek with your index finger. “Hey…”, you whispered, getting close to kiss the scars on his cheek before pressing your forehead to his temple. He hummed in response, signaling that he was listening to you before you continue; “ I think I love you. ” His eyes shot open and he turned his head towards you, eyes filled to the brim with a combination of emotions as they seemed to search for something on your face. Doubt, maybe? Or ridicule? Lies? But all you do is nod and smile again.

One of his hands came up to the back of your head and entangled slightly in your hair as he pulled you in for a kiss. It was soft, full of emotions he either didn't want to say out loud or couldn't. But you knew what it meant.

"I love you too."

You snuggled up against him, taking his right arm between your own, giggling as you felt him stiffen slightly when you pushed it between your breasts. Your hand reached down to lace your fingers in his before letting sleep take you.

You were abruptly woken in the night by screaming voices and hard bangs on the floor above you. Thomas was equally startled awake, and sat up, breathing heavily as he carefully listened.

" Thomas!", you heard Hoyt's voice yelling for your beloved, who reacted quickly. But you grabbed his hand and tried to pull him back to you. "Tommy, don't… please .", you pleaded. He gave you a look you've never seen before. You felt small as if a beast was staring you down with a threatening look that said " Let. Me. Go. ". And it was at that moment you realized you weren’t talking to your Tommy anymore, which scared you. The Thomas you’d fallen asleep with just hours ago is gone. And the Butcher of Texas is all that was left. So you listened. You let go of his hand and watched him dress up, holding your breath to avoid starting a fire within him. And finally, your eyes followed him to the door.

Curling up under the covers again, the bitter realization hit you.

It was your chance to leave, to go back home. The family would be busy with trespassers for a few hours, Hoyt most likely harassing some poor woman, Thomas off to ki-... hunt.

Getting out of bed, you quickly threw your shorts on, internally thanking Tommy for never removing your t-shirt. Even if you knew this meant leaving him for good, the man you just hours ago confessed your love to, it also meant you would most likely live, and a normal life at that. Besides, you could always contact him through the phone, and that thought made it easier for you to sneak up the basement stairs. The sliding door was heavy and screeched as you pushed it open. You heard Thomas' chainsaw roaring from somewhere close by, along with Hoyt's encouraging howls and a blood-curdling scream. You felt nauseous and wanted to puke as you knew what was going on, but tried to cast those thoughts aside while you walked on your path to freedom.

You hurried across the old dining room, but probably due to the fear-fueled trembling of your legs, you curse as you trip over your own feet, attempting to swerve around a puddle of blood. Hissing, you rub the knee that took the brunt of the fall. And when your eyes start to look around for any threats, you see him.

Hoyt. The last person you wished bore witness to your endeavor.

Your fall had seemingly alerted him of your presence. As you stood, you kept your eyes locked on him before noticing the sharp pair of scissors laying on a small side table. And upon grabbing them, you taunt him, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Come on, old man. You’ve wanted to kill me since I got here!" Before you knew it he was on you. The man knocked you to the floor and straddled your waist while pinning your arms above your head. "He ain't here no more to protect ya, bitch.", he licked his lips as you struggled to get him off you. Seeing him lean in close, you took the opportunity to bash his nose in with your own head, causing him to release your arms to grab it as it gushed out blood. You pushed him off you, straddling him instead. Breathing heavily, you grabbed the scissors in both hands and raised them above you, stretching your entire body to get as much power in your killing blow as possible.

Hoyt grinned as he looked up at you preparing yourself, his tongue reaching out to catch fat drops of crimson dripping from his nose.

Your blood ran cold as ice as a giant shadow fell over you. "To-", a huge hand gripped the main hand holding the scissors. His grasp was tight and you winced as a sickening crunch rings out of your joints before the sharp pain hits you. And you screamed, dropping the scissors. The pain was excruciating as Thomas forcefully lifted you up from his uncle and threw you into a nearby corner. You clutched your broken wrist close to your chest and cried as you watched the predator that has taken over your beloved Thomas slowly walk towards you. Both hands moved to grip his chainsaw. Your breathing started picking up, your heart rate going too many miles per hour and the rushing of blood deafening in your ears.

"Tom- Tommy, please. It’s me!", you pleaded as you saw him pull on the snare to start his weapon. "No… no no no!", behind Thomas you saw Hoyt standing up, hollering words of encouragement to him. "Fucking get her, Thomas!", you shook your head as you sobbed violently, berating yourself. Why did you think trying to kill Hoyt was a good idea? He was Thomas’ family, after all, something you weren’t. Something you would never be.

He pulled the string once, and the saw sputtered, then died. He pulled it again, the same result. He growled and pulled it a third time before realizing it had run out of gas, something you took as a chance to run away. But before you knew it, he'd grasped you by the throat, lifting you up against the wall. You cried out as his grip tightened, your good hand scrambling to grab his wrists in an effort to break free.

"Tommy… p- pleas- hck", he clamped your throat shut, interrupting your begging. Your vision started to blur as the air became sparse, and your nails dug into his arm in a desperate attempt to get Tommy back. Your lungs hurt, your brain was in a blur and your vision started to fade. You focused the last remaining strength you had to look at Tommy in the eyes, his usual sky blue irises now taken over by darkness. Hidden behind sweaty hair and the face of someone else. The last air in your lungs is spent on three words.

" I love you."

Crack.

Thomas watched as the dinner guest fell limp against the wall.

"Good job, boy.", Hoyt patted his shoulder blade. Thomas just grunted and threw the body over his shoulder to head back into the basement to finish his work. This was one of three bodies he had to cut up and he sighed as he knew he wouldn't get any sleep the remaining hours of the night. He grunted as he hung two of them up, saving the freshest one for last since that body hadn't been waiting for as long.

Heavy sighs came from him as he finished preparing to cut up the last body. All he wanted was to get back into bed with you and sleep the remaining hours. The last body was small, something he greatly appreciated because that meant sleep was imminent. Thomas removed his mask after he laid the dead cattle on his table as sweat started to pool and stream down his neck. Lumbering over to a bucket of water, he splashed water over his face to cool down.

When he turned back; his heart stopped, blood turning to ice and nausea rolling over him in big waves before he rushed over to the table. This wasn't a dinner guest or cattle. It… "No…" , he was shaking badly as he put a heavy palm on your cheek. A lump formed in his throat as he looked over your body, running his eyes up and down it, making sure there was no mistake, that he wasn’t hallucinating. You were just here moments ago. With him. Happy. Alive. He pressed two fingers at your neck, searching for a pulse. Tommy panicked when he saw the bruising on your flesh. He'd killed you. In the middle of hunting trespassers. The last thing he remembered from his killing spree was walking into the… the old dining room… and seeing someone sit on top of Hoyt threatening him with something sharp. And then there you were, an unmoving corpse resting before him, right on the same table he had sworn not to put you back on. He couldn’t remember anything else, couldn’t remember even seeing you up on the main floor.

How did all this happen?

But what he did know was that there was no going back. Nothing could bring you back now. He took one of your hands in his while mumbling desperate prayers that you weren’t gone. You were just asleep, and he wanted you to wake up. " Please, wake up..." , he sobbed. You were cold, so cold. Nothing like he remembered you just hours ago. When you'd hugged his arm before falling asleep, your fingers intertwined with his, your breathing even against his shoulder. You were warm then.

Not like the unmoving figure you had become. And he let himself cry, something he hadn’t done in so many years, his eyes burned, another punishment for ending your life. Stroking your cheek, he turned your head so you were facing him. His thumb traced your bottom lip as he thought back on the last kiss he gave you. Tommy has never cried for another person as he did now. You were the first one outside of his family that had shown him tenderness, that felt like home. The first one to show him, love. His rage took you away from him, something he had feared deeply since you set foot in his basement. You were supposed to be his forever. His wife. The mother of his children.

Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispered the words he never got to say earlier. " I love you too."

[yeahthatwouldbedark]

Yen per second

tropes: death trope, friends to lovers (if you have won a golden medal in squinting really hard), rivals to lovers, bully romance bestie, college au, friends with benefits, Oikawa and reader have known each other since childhood.

trigger warnings (for the entire series): child abuse, domestic abuse, sexual abuse, bullying, depression, child neglect, terminal illness at some point, broken home, mental breakdowns, panic attacks, anxiety, death, injuries (Oikawa’s bad knee for example), substance abuse

If you don’t read the trigger warnings… I am under your bed. Also, I’m keeping my prose messy for now because it fits. 

chapter 2 

wc: 11k 

Years of training her body and mind to wake up when the alarm goes off at 6 AM have finally paid off. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s not like she wakes up with a smile and ready for the day from the get go. In order for her brain to function, she allows herself ten copious minutes of staring at her white ceiling, scratching the underside of her breast, and sometimes check if she’s menstruating (she always forgets to install the period tracker app).

Y/n does get up… eventually. Breakfast is usually prepared by her because she’s the first to wake. She’s also used to making it so it’s no bother. It’s just eggs, olives, tomatoes, and some fried feta cheese. Sometimes she makes miso soup or omelet but that’s about it. When Kuroo spends his night in their apartment after fucking the soul out of Ayame, he insists on helping Y/n out so he can brag about it to his girlfriend. All in all, they have yet to complain.

But on days like this, when the sky seems to withhold its storm within the hoary clouds, she wishes her schedule were empty and she didn’t feel the urge to constantly fill it with research, studying, work, or even making food. On such mornings, Chiharu and Ayame let her run the pad of her index along the rim of her glass without so much as a word. Before she leaves home for her classes, she drops a ‘goodbye’ and heads down the stairs, stumbling as she goes.

The reason she doesn’t take the elevator is just so she’ll be slightly more alive upon reaching campus. Sometimes she even walks all the way there, but those days are for when it’s storming and she feels like getting drenched from head to toe (her friends have given up on fixing this habit of hers).

But it’s been five weeks since she’s started walking there every single morning. The money is tight, so that’s a reason. He is there, so walking has become an excuse.

It isn’t like he waits for her at the gates or anything. It’s the amount of time she has to tolerate his presence for after she crosses those gates. Because although she’s known for a while that Oikawa Tooru will go pro, he has decided to pursue psychology for some ungodly reason (that I know), therefore attending most of the classes she’s been assigned. Y/n wasn’t desperate enough to ask the people in charge to tweak it, but she’s been minimizing contact with the man for about six weeks since the new semester started.

As usual, she settles by the window, and he sits three rows behind her to the left. Oikawa Tooru isn’t idiotic enough to sit by her side, or anywhere close to her. He knows she’ll just ignore him just the same, if not with a demonic resolve, and he’ll be spending two hours itching to tease her or just speak to her. So he decides that some distance will do him some good.

However, he can’t stop (it’s part of his strategy really) her from bumping into him today. She seems lost in thought, as she typically is, and she seems to be struggling with her bag as she tries to cram her notes into one of its pockets. She would have an easier time doing so, Tooru realizes, if she just stopped holding on to her pen and freed one of her hands. It’s also unfortunate for her that other students are trying to pass through, whispering that she should have packed her bag before getting out of her seat. But the odds are in his favor, so he’s not complaining.

“There you go,” He says once he’s done steadying her, his lips quirking in a smug smile, “Always in such a rush, aren’t you?”

Y/n zips her bag. “Yeah. Bye.”

For the rest of the day, she makes certain to seal any opening for interaction. In the end, he watches her leave and then walks home. There, he finds a note from the house cleaner about where in the penthouse some random objects have been relocated. He checks to see if there’s any text and finds several from different chats. His father has messaged him about the dinner at his place, the one his step-mother has been planning for some time (the one he’s been trying to dodge like a bullet). Iwa-chan has reminded him to eat his damn three meals (as if Tooru, an athlete, could forget). Chiharu has threatened him with a beating in the case that he drinks himself stupid like he does every Friday (he forgets about her threat pretty quickly, pretty often). His mother has texted to tell him a neighbor of hers has given her some great pickled radish and that she’ll send him some.

Mom: It should be there in three days

He replies to all of these, adjusting his tone to each of them. Randomly, he starts thinking about the outfit she wore today; forest green sweater, baggy jeans and a black jacket. Her manner of dress truly has changed, he often finds himself musing. He does drink himself stupid, but at least he’s home, so his cousin doesn’t have to call him a cab and drag him to his bed. The next day he wakes up with a splitting migraine, so he takes a shower and tries his best not to let it get to him right before practice. In the evening, the group gathers at the mall, but she’s not present.

“She said she has a lot to study for.” Ayame answers him, taking a bite out of her mozzarella stick.

“Dumbass was drawing a whole brain from different angles.” She turns to Suna, grabbing his shoulders, “She said and I quote ‘Have to see it from different perspectives in order not to see a failing grade suddenly grabbing my ass’. Sometimes I hate her, I swear.”

Suna maintains a bored face as Chiharu shakes him. “At least she’s working hard.”

“The polar opposite of you,” she finalizes with a slap on his back. “So true.”

“All I’m hearing,” There’s a smile on Suna’s face as he says this, “Is that Y/n and I make a perfect match. Made in hell but a perfect match nonetheless.”

Suddenly Tooru can’t take another word coming out of the man’s mouth.

“We haven’t reached that chapter yet.” He arises from his seat, and the Chiharu stops trying to rattle Suna’s brain. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

When the sun has died and he’s lying down in his bed scrolling down on his photo album, Y/n is being questioned by her friends.

“The thing is that you don’t take a break.” Chiharu tells her, patching a pair of pants. “What’s so vital about one chapter that you don’t allow yourself to let loose.”

At this moment, Ayame has Chiharu’s back. “Tooru-kun said that you haven’t gotten there yet.”

Until this moment, Y/n has remained seated before the TV (finally taking a break, which seems to anger Chiharu even more), but the mention of his name has her nerves springing to action. She doesn’t let it show on her face, though. That would be problematic.

“Oh, Tooru-kun said that?”

Ayame shrivels a little at the mocking tone. “Ye-yeah. We were having lunch as a group and he asked why hadn’t come.”

“We told him what you told us and he said what he said.” Chiharu stops sewing and looks up at Y/n. “And he did well.”

Y/n fights off the urge to shout by tightening her grip around the remote.

“Maybe,” she says instead, “That doesn’t mean I owe you guys an apology. If I say I’m busy, doing literally anything or nothing at all, then I’m busy. I am the one who gets to decide how I spend my time.”

Ayame rests her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“But we… don’t want you to be alone.” She’s so soft-spoken, even now. Oddly, it frustrates Y/n to end. “You’re always putting such pressure on yourself, never taking a break, losing sleep over research, work, and projects. We-

“I don’t hear you complaining when you come to me after I’m done doing my thing to ask for my help with a field of study I’m unfamiliar with.” Y/n’s words are even, no variation of emotion detected in her words. Ayame lifts her head, the heat of embarrassment turning her cheeks pink. “All because you don’t make an effort the entire semester.”

Chiharu bites the end of the thread and puts on the sweatpants she’d pilfered from Y/n’s closet some months ago.

“Maybe if you didn’t go all hermit on us like you did last year,” Her voice was too loud for such a late hour. “We wouldn’t use literally any excuse to talk to you.”

“I don’t need to be around people.” Y/n states, rubbing her temples. “They tire me and I need time alone to recharge. Right now you two are pushing the boundaries I have set.” She pauses, “It’s pissing me off.”

“But… we’re not just people.” Ayame raises her voice slightly, but it’s still gentle and well-meaning. “We’re your friends.”

Unable to stare into her friend’s eyes, Y/n opts for the easier choice; studying the buttons of the remote. “Friendships aren’t exempt from boundaries.” She ends the conversation and goes to bed. 

Monday can’t come fast enough for Tooru. When it does, it starts and ends in a fashion similar to Friday (but he doesn’t get to speak to her). The next day isn’t much different. A week passes with her disregarding his presence and avoiding gatherings. Then another. Sometimes during lectures, when he’s bored out of his mind, he memorizes her outfits, sketching some of them as if to cement her aesthetic in his brain.

It’s another Friday, and he’s chugging a glass of vodka as he scrolls through his contacts. Oikawa Tooru isn’t shy or socially anxious, so it’s easy for him to text people. But it’s not Y/n that he texts.

Iwaizumi responds immediately, but not the way Tooru thought he would. Nevertheless, he accepts the call.

“Don’t do it.” His voice is too calm, nothing like what Tooru is accustomed to. “Leave her be.”

Leave her be? That’s what his best friend advised him to do after she left, and for once Tooru has listened. It had taken him a while to do so, but in the end, he did agree with the man on the phone. He didn’t look for her, determined he didn’t need to see her again. At his best, Tooru was calm. At his worst, when his mother would regard him with pity and discontent, he was unapologetic about his actions. There was no in between for him.

But leave her be, even now that she’s reemerged? He’s been doing this for a while now. It’s clearly halting his progress.

“She said something to me, you know?” He smiles just so Iwa-chan can hear it. “It’s been on my mind for weeks.”

There is a long pause, and then a grunt of frustration. “What did she tell you?”

Is it worth it, Tooru ponders, repeating her statement to his best friend? Is it considered a betrayal if it comes from someone she is barely even acknowledges?

Tooru brings the glass to his lips, takes a swig, and then sets it on the table.

“All you need to know is that she’s determined to pretend I do not exist, even though I sit just three rows behind her. To be honest, I’m impressed.” He supports his head with his fist as he speaks. “You’d think she’d crave some kind of closure, demand we meet up so we can clear the air between us. But she’s so nonchalant about everything.” Tooru chuckles. “She hasn’t changed at all.”

“She’s trying to move on, you idiot.” The speed at which Iwaizumi’s reply is delivered has Tooru’s eyes widening. He doesn’t breathe until his best friend finishes what he has to say. “Maybe in her case that means leaving your idiotic ass behind.”

Iwaizumi hangs up, and Tooru drinks himself to sleep.

  4 months later

Y/n no longer looks forward to summer breaks. She has to work long hours, worry about expenses, and the heat is insupportable. When she’s not working, she’s doing her chores. When she’s doing neither, she’s writing or researching. When she’s doing nothing, she claims she’s doing something, anyway. Chiharu and Ayame leave her be, but she can still hear them whispering about how cold, unfeeling, and aloof she is. They used to sound concerned. Nowadays, the words ring like insults.

So Y/n doesn’t look forward to summer breaks, and her friends don’t look forward to seeing her. At least, Chiharu and Ayame don’t. Kuroo still helps her out when he stays the night. Suna visits almost every day and shares his weed with Y/n.

She’s in her blue cotton shorts and striped spaghetti strap top, memorizing the motion of his pale fingers as he rolls the weed. Y/n doesn’t know this but her proximity and the way her breaths fall and fade on his shoulder have him envisioning moments that would have the annoying couple in the neighboring bedroom yelling ‘scandalous’. He’s just horny, really. The moment he’s done, Suna hands her his masterpiece and never asks for anything in return, which causes her to frown in displeasure.

“I won’t let you waste money on this cheap ass weed, Y/n.” He speaks before she can, eyes half-closed. “When I need your rusty coins, I’ll ask for them.”

Her frown deepens, but he just waves her off as he plops down on her bed, leafing through her porn magazines.

“Consider it a thank you gift for helping me pass.”

That makes her feel lighter.

It’s Kenma who texts her one night, demanding in his passive voice that she come to his house. He hangs up before she can ask what’s wrong. She speaks his name about three times, each time increasing in volume. Huffing and puffing, she shoves her feet into her white sneakers and takes the bus to his and Kuroo’s apartment.

She rings the bell, and a half naked, sweaty Kuroo Tetsurou flings the door open. She steps inside.

“Kenma asked me to come.” Y/n tells him before he can think to ask. “He didn’t even tell me why. Go figure.”

Kuroo looks just as confused as her as he closed the door. “You really came all this way just for him? At this hour?”

“Well,” she started taking off her footwear, “I thought he might be in trouble.”

Kuroo laughs. “He’s been holed up in his room for two days straight. Had to feed him like a caged beast this morning.”

She bids him goodnight and swings open the door to Kenma’s bedroom without preamble. A slice of pizza hangs from his mouth, the cheese obeying gravity up until the moment that he scoops it up with his tongue; the light radiating from the screen imparting a comical air to his expression. He’s in a white shirt and crimson shorts, both of which exceed his size. Y/n can’t judge him (doesn’t bother to). Not when she’s dressed in a purple shirt two sizes too big and lime green shorts that don’t compliment her figure.

“Oh, hey,” Kenma says. “You’re here.”

He gestures to the chair next to him. Y/n sits and waits for him to tell her why he’s asked her to come.

“I’ve been thinking,” He sounds cautious. Y/n nods her chin to let him know she’s listening, “About starting my own company.”

She reacts the way he’d expected her to; another nod, waiting for his next word. Upon realizing it is her turn to speak, she gets comfortable in her chair.

“You want my help with that?” She asks, and Kenma nods. Y/n starts fidgeting. “Don’t you think it’s better to ask Chiharu or Ayame? Ayame is majoring in economics and Chiharu knows more about gaming than me, so their criticism-

Kenma cuts her off, devouring the last bit of the crust with an aura of disinterest. “We had an argument last week.”

“Why?”

“About you.”

The world, life itself, seems to be made of whirlpools that insist on never allowing her a chance to breathe. Y/n wants to be shocked more than anything else. She wants to be caught off guard by the fact that her friends are talking badly about her behind her back, but as it’s already been established, this knowledge is one she already possesses. Most of the time, when one possesses something, that thing holds no power over them. She wishes memories worked the same way.

She wonders, momentarily, if Kenma wants her to act. Does he want me to be sad, she asks herself as she bends one leg on the chair, or is he just answering me honestly. He isn’t looking at her, but Y/n knows he’s watching, waiting for her to say something.

“I’ve been reading up on how to build an empire.” This makes Kenma’s head turn. Y/n continues. “Different books that say basically the same shit over and over again. Anyway. Bottom line; not every starting point is everyone’s starting point. Do you work better with words or images or charts or something else?”

He is quick to answer. “Images.”

“Okay, I’ll cook something up. But first I’ll need you to lend me one of your devices for research.”

Y/n hears the tiny wheels of his office chair turning as propels himself to the right.

“Use this one.”

“Also, Kenma?”

He tears his eyes from the screen to look straight at her, which is uncharacteristic of him to do for most people. “Yeah?”

“Will you teach me how to play?”

Kenma Kozume would be a mega fool to let such an opportunity go to waste. Considering that Y/n is a beginner (or noob as he likes to label them) he picks an easy one. He clicks and types away, explaining as he goes. She’s a quick learner. He already knew that, but it’s different to see it happening right before his eyes, especially when it’s his passion she’s devoting her body and mind to. Even if she doesn’t continue to play after she’s done helping him build his company, Kenma doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget her smug smile or the yelp that lurches from his throat the instant she passes the first level.

She plays some more, taking notes after each completed task. He introduces her to different games, some of which are old (she asked to him to show them) as well as the newest editions of his favorite games. She asks him to give her some pointers as she sketches, and he obeys her as if it’s second nature.

It’s 3 AM, and it’s so hot that they have to turn on the AC because opening the windows isn’t enough. He tells her to eat, and she reluctantly accepts. By now, she’s finished fifty three sketches all from different angles. They sit in silence and she asks him what he hopes to achieve.

“Aside from profit, I mean.”

“I love games.” His answer is as quick as a lightning bolt. Y/n almost smiles. “And… I want other people to be as happy as I am when they play the games I create.”

So they start with recruitment; how many teams he’ll have working with him, what kind of people he’d like to have on these teams, the motto and aesthetic. She presents him with imagery that personifies each of his expressed desires. They’re not perfect, not by a long shot. But her strategy and diligence make up for her lack of expertise.

Needless to say, Y/n doesn’t go home that morning. She goes to work, then straight to Kenma’s bedroom. She showers and eats there (always insisting that they go dutch).

Y/n is grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge (Kenma ran out of them) when a wild Kuroo speaks from behind her.

“Are those Kenma’s clothes?” He sounds almost giddy.

She glances down at the white shirt and grey shorts she’s wearing. “Um… yeah.”

Unable to repress his excitement any longer, Kuroo starts shaking her as he all but shouts.

“Are you two fucking?!”

“Keep it down, will ya?” Kenma appears out of nowhere, helping her out by carrying some of the bottles. “And no, we aren’t. Stop making her uncomfortable, Kuroo.”

Once they’re done putting all the bottles in Kenma’s mini fridge, she speaks up.

“Hey, just so you know,” He’s already seated before the monitor when her voice has his ears perking up, “He’s going to tell the others. So… if it makes you uncomfortable, I can go home.”

“The reason I called you here is that I need your help. You don’t drain me, so you’re good company.” He shrugs and this is another mannerism they share. “So if he tells them, and they believe him, that’s their fault. If they make it awkward the when we meet on Thursday, we can just leave them there-

“Wait, wait, wait,” Her hand shoots out as if to stop him, and Kenma freezes a bit, “Thursday? We?”

Kenma wants to take back what he just said. Instead, he blushes and lowers his head.

“I told them you’re tired and busy, but Kuroo wouldn’t hear it.” His gaze flits from Y/n’s face to his knees. “Sorry. It’s because I asked you to come.”

She regards his appearance in the monitor-lit room. The bags under his eyes mirror hers and his hair is two inches short of brushing his shoulders. Out of the blue, her fingers itch to gather his hair in a ponytail or small bun so that it doesn’t obscure his vision as he plays. She’s also resentful that her staying here has been used as a free pass to utilize her time for their rendezvous. This isn’t Kenma’s fault.

“Don’t say things like that.” Y/n holds up a hand, desperately hoping the joke clicks with him, “Kuroo might barge in waving condoms.”

Suppressing a smile, Kenma tells her to shut up before drinking from a water bottle.

For the next two days, Kenma and Y/n calculate the money they’re going to need to found the company (some loans are necessary), the advertisements they’re going to insert online, as well social media accounts once it’s all set. Though the nights have become cooler, the days are still sweltering, which is why the AC stays on from 11 AM up until 7 PM. On Wednesday, Kuroo comes home carrying three flowerpots of cacti, yellow rose, and amaryllis, and Kenma waters them as she identifies the species and the characteristics of each, something that surprisingly doesn’t bore the two of them to an early grave.

Whenever Kuroo forces them out of the bedroom to eat something a bit healthier, he makes no mention of Ayame and Chiharu. Y/n thinks it’s in order to avoid conflict, and she’s right. That’s when he informs her about the gathering the next day, telling her she’s coming since she’s already here. Next to her, Kenma releases a sigh.

“Okay,” she says, already dreading finishing the sentence, “Alright, I’ll come.”

In the evening of the following day, after Kenma has taken a shower and she’s done organizing the research in separate documents so they can find them more easily, she tells him she’s going home to take a quick shower and get dressed.

“We’re not going anywhere fancy.” He tells her, toweling his hair dry. “Just take a shower here and wear my clothes. Then we leave with Kuroo.”

Y/n snorts. “You’re running out of clean underwear because of my staying here.”

But she stays and ends up wearing his boxer briefs, a purple shirt she’s seen him wear a couple of times (hers is in the washing machine), and her lime green shorts. He‘s dressed in a similar manner, only the colors are slightly lighter, pastel. They dry their hair and for the first time in forever, Y/n speaks before she thinks.

“Want me to tie it up for you?” She says, pointing at her own half up-half down hairstyle. “So we match.”

He looks down at her, and it’s at this moment that Y/n realizes that Kenma is actually a bit taller than she is. He has to bend down a little for her to get to work. When she’s done, she loosens some of the strands and tucks them behind his ears.

“Don’t lose my hair tie, Kenma.” She says before she heads out of the bedroom. “It’s one of my favorites.”

The whole way to their destination, Kuroo keeps stealing glances at the two of them, no doubt weaving scenarios of them being in a sexual relationship. Y/n wonders why he hasn’t told anyone else about the goal he’s working to reach. She’s always assumed that he could tell Kuroo anything, seeing as they were childhood best friends.

Y/n: am I the only one who knows

Y/n: about the company

His reply would have come in a flash, considering that he’s playing games next to her as they navigate through the crowd, had it not been for the fraction of hesitation as his fingers hovered over the screen.

Kenma J: I don’t want them to make a big deal out of it

Kenma J: so you’re the only one

Kenma J: for now

Y/n: fair

The moment Ayame and Kuroo set their eyes on each other, the air is filled with squeals and a smacking of lips. Chiharu and Suna say ‘hey’ in unison, but even then Y/n can tell the difference. Of course, he is there as well. She’d almost forgotten about him these past few days, too involved in the process of strategizing to think about how he is always certain to be there whenever she decides to join the others. He’s dressed for a summer outing like most of them; shorts, shirts, and sneakers. The color scheme reminds her of sea foam and dusk.

Her palms are sweaty, so she rubs them against her shorts in a way that it looks like the most natural thing there is. Y/n wants to make herself scarce. But how can she when they’ve just arrived? Even Kenma is participating in the conversation that takes place (more like listening as the rest talk) as they advance towards a spot that Suna has picked out.

The whirlpool draws her further to the center. She can barely breathe.

“I shouldn’t have come.” Y/n mutters low enough so none of them can hear her. “It’s ruined now.”

But she stays and bears with it. They stop at an unpopulated area overlooking a vast part of Tokyo. There’s a shop some yards away from where they sit, so if any of them feel like snacking, they can just walk there.

At some point, the rest notice her hair and Kenma’s and, in their minds, they conclude that something is definitely going on between the two of them. Y/n wants to point out that their pattern of thought as well as their logic is faulty. Are they truly so starved for the sight of her or Kenma being in a relationship that the smallest of interactions or coincidences sparks their irrationality?

She has to give it to Chiharu for not becoming part of this. It’s not that she and Suna don’t have those looks of suspicion, but they’re at least silent about it. Ayame and Kuroo have no regard for how their friends might feel about their assumptions. It has Y/n’s anger spiking up to the point where she just inserts her air pods to drown out the noise.

Before she can pick a song, she feels something lightly brush her arm. Y/n recognizes him by scent (the combination of peaches and vanilla), by the energy he exudes. He doesn’t bother to conceal his presence or intentions, either.

“So this is how you used to tell whenever I was nearby. Memorizing my cologne,” He clicks his tongue, “You’re a real creep, aren’t you?”

There’s a gentle but cool breeze so Y/n bends her leg as if to feel the caress of the current along her inner thigh. Tooru catches the motion and thinks that maybe she’s into temperature play. This thought is so random and comes so abruptly that he barely catches her next words.

“This creep isn’t forcing you to sit so close to her.”

Her words ring true. Tooru knows this. He understands that his proximity goes against his expressed dislike for her entire existence. He acknowledges that what he said might not have been the ideal starting sentence, that he might have already killed the first conversation they’ve had in months. Oikawa Tooru doesn’t have to sit next to her, but he’s already here and the gravity of her presence won’t let him leave.

“What’s your favorite color?” The mediocrity of the question almost makes him want to choke himself to death.

He awaits her answer with fingers curled around the edge of the bench.

“I’ll keep treating you like a stranger, you know? It works for both of us.” That wasn’t the answer he had anticipated, but had expected it nonetheless. “Like… it makes no sense that we should interact when there’s no middle ground where we can meet.”

Tooru turns his face to the left, looking down at her.

“Little liar,” He smiles, “You don’t even want to find a middle ground because you’re too comfortable with things as they are now. If you truly wanted us to find it, you’d keep up a conversation and that,” He takes the fabric of her sleeve between his thumb and index, “Includes answering questions, within reason of course. And before you ask why, I’m making an attempt to have a conversation with you.” Her eyes drift to where he’s messing with her shirt, “Call it curiosity.”

The frown of doubt and confusion on her face makes him want to laugh. She’s so distrustful of him that it simultaneously entertains and discourages him. She won’t answer, Tooru thinks. But then she’s raising her head, taking out her air pods, and setting her phone down between them. A spark of triumph lights up in his chest.

“Purple or green. Maybe orange.” Y/n speaks slowly, as though she’s choosing her words carefully. She hesitates even more to return his question with one of her own. “What about you?”

Tooru twists his body slightly. “Take a guess, cutie.”

“Yellow?” she asks after she’s thought about it for half a minute.

At first, it makes no sense that she would say that. He’s never worn much yellow in his life. Not much logic behind it (there rarely ever is any behind one’s favorite color), just a lack of interest in the hue. Then a small voice reminds him that such isn’t the case.

Because, even if for the longest time Tooru forgot about it, he now remembers the yellow alien figure his mother had brought home one evening. For years, its place had been atop his nightstand. Then one day, during a visit at the age of twelve, his mother had asked her to wake him up from his afternoon nap. Her voice had been low and even, as it usually was, which meant millennia could pass and he would still be lying supine on his bed. But that evening he’d just been pretending to get on her nerves. He hadn’t thought she might acquire an interest in his precious yellow figurine. Tooru had put it away the moment his bedroom door had clicked shut.

He lets go of her sleeve and looks her straight in the eye, smiling for reasons he hasn’t quite figured out yet. He can’t put a leash on his enthusiasm, the urge to charm her.

“Bravo.” A laugh almost escapes him as her eyebrows shoot up, “You guessed it.”

For someone who starts conversations and tries to get in the last word, Oikawa Tooru finds himself retreating, moving to the other extreme of the bench even though this is the last thing he wants to do. In truth, he wants to tease her more, annoy her until she’s stomping away from him. But he’s learned not to expect this of her. Y/n doesn’t slam the door. She saunters out without bothering to shut it. So Tooru lets the conversation fade. He can build a middle ground another day.

But he’s still Oikawa Tooru, the boy whose face would contort in a scowl whenever the professor would have her be the setter during PE in high school, who would snicker whenever her teammates shunned her after she failed to set perfectly, who would catch glimpses of her practicing so she’d do a better job next time. Oikawa Tooru is the same boy who had, against the judgment of his inflated ego, admitted to himself that her skills had improved a little. So when the clock strikes 10 PM, he looks on as Kenma whispers something in her ear, too low for the rest to hear. The two leave soon afterwards.

   Two weeks later

There’s still work to be done, but Kenma is ready to speed down the path of success, so that’s enough for now. She still does her own thing (reading, writing, researching, working, and studying in advance for the semester to come), but she does pencil Kenma’s dream into her list of priorities. She decides that analyzing and strategizing could be worth her time and effort in the long run.

She spends more nights at Kenma’s than in the apartment she shares with Chiharu and Ayame. Not wanting to be indebted to neither Kenma nor her girl-friends, she pays rent for both places. Kenma refused and kept on repeating that she doesn’t have to since it had been him who had reached out to her for help, but eventually surrendered and let her pay 10% of the rent.

Two hours have passed since they started brainstorming names for his company as well as the main color of his aesthetic.

“Any color other than yellow is fine.” He asks her one night as she’s brainstorming company names. “It’s so… loud.”

Y/n hums. “Alright. I think purple and crimson would suit it since you’re going for city lights as well as bedroom-in-the-dark aesthetic-  

“Bouncing Ball.” He cuts her off, and her head slowly gravitates to the right. “That’s what I’ll name it.”  

“It’s cute and fun.” Y/n smiles a little as she applies the final touch on their work. “It’s great, Kenma.”

They sit like that for a while, eyes glued to the screen as the first episode of Devilman Crybaby plays. No comment is spoken, no looks exchanged. The credits roll. Before they hit the sheets, Kenma remarks that the club lights in the anime looked very appealing, that he wishes he could bring the aesthetic into his room. Only without the rambunctious atmosphere. Y/n hums in agreement.

      September

Work and college take up most of her time and she doesn’t spend as much time at Kenma’s. Kuroo and Ayame still think they’re fucking but are no longer as earsplitting about it as in the beginning. Chiharu doesn’t participate in the rumors, aggressively stating that she’s uninterested. Suna is too busy trying to get serious about his grades this semester to humor the couple’s attempts at gossip, while Oikawa Tooru just listens and tries to pretend that he’s enthused about the whole thing.

However, he’s not about to complain about it. After all, it’s because of whatever the two of them have going on that he does get to spend time with her in a friendly environment. Tooru could have texted her the night she’d reminded him what his favorite color was, but he hadn’t. Not because he was anxious or anything like that. He’d just been too busy draining the bottle of whiskey to remember he wanted to. In the days that had followed, he’d been too occupied with practice from 10 AM to 9 PM, so texting had been the last thought in his mind. He’d only remembered when, two days before the new semester started, Chiharu had sent him a message.

Chiharu: Yo

Chiharu: We’re meeting up at Kuroo’s this Saturday

Chiharu: Wanna come?

(This part is really boring because all they do is work, eat, shit, study, and meet up but bear with me because these are some of the moments you will remember when this is over.)

Tooru had agreed, hoping like a pathetic fucker that she’d be there. Shockingly, she’d been there for some time. Chiharu had said something along the lines of ‘apparently there are no limits with Kenma’. Five weeks later, and he still has no what the fuck his cousin had been groaning about. All he knows is that for a split second Suna carried the same disgruntled look about him, one that Tooru hadn’t been able to efface completely.

Tonight, he’s tired after bawling his eyes out at home for not doing that well on his Biochemistry quiz (courtesy of that diabolical professor Y/n and he both share) so when he catches a glimpse of her conversing with Suna on the floor he decides he’s not going to bother with overly affectionate greetings like he’d planned this morning. Not that Y/n cares much about the warmth he exudes in regards to her.

Her outfit is the one she’s been wearing all day; corduroy skirt the color of cedar, and black tights. Her wrist is visible through a small hole in her wine red turtleneck. It’s slightly different from Tooru’s black jeans and sapphire blue sweater, but he thinks the two of them would look good side by side. Her hair is down and her fringe has grown past her earlobes (her hair grows so fast during autumn for some reason), so she tucks it behind her ears constantly as she listens to Suna speak. Tooru has had years to study her body language, but that doesn’t mean he’s an expert at it. He believes he is, but that’s not true at all. He reads her mannerisms towards everyone but himself, which is why he doesn’t know that she used to listen to him joke around the same way she’s listening to the man that isn’t him.

The doorbell rings, and Chiharu tells him to get his ass off the couch and pay for the pizza (he doesn’t ask for them to pay him back).

They sit down before the TV; Kuroo sharing a pizza with Ayame, Chiharu with Suna, and Tooru with Kenma.

“Because.” Kenma responds, almost antagonistically, when asked why Y/n gets to eat a whole pizza by herself. Tooru nearly burst out laughing. “And she’s been helping me build my company from scratch.”

All heads turn towards the man, and he shrivels instantly. Having so many eyes on him is enough to drain him of temerity and energy.

“Huh?!” As expected, Kuroo is the first to exclaim. “Your company! Why am only hearing this now, Kenma Kozume?!”

Kenma slides his phone out of his pocket. “Keep it down, Kuroo. This is why I haven’t said anything.”

“But- but this is amazing, Kozume-kun!” Ayame joins Kuroo, waving her arms around as if to encompass the importance of this revelation. “We could have helped you!”

Kenma shrugs, and it reminds Tooru of her. “Didn’t want to raise everyone’s hopes in case it flopped.”

But Kuroo isn’t listening. He’s pointing at Y/n the way Tooru used to, only he does it in a joking manner.

“And you!” His voice is louder than it normally is, but lower than before. “How could you keep us in the dark like that?! You fiend!”

She shrugs, catching the cheese with her tongue. To Kenma’s never-ending dismay, the couple engulfs him in a hug. His eyes go even wider when Chiharu joins them.

“This calls for a celebration!” Kuroo says, ignoring the way his best friend is struggling to breathe. “We’ll double the amount of takeout for tonight!”

Kenma finally manages to crawl free of their hold. “Just say you’re still hungry, Kuroo.”

“Fear not, for I shall pay!” Kuroo, Ayame, and even Chiharu regarding Tooru with looks of adoration as he stands and slides out his phone to type down their orders in the notes app. “One must always show utmost consideration towards the less fortunate!”

To show their appreciation, the three of them kneel to show their gratitude towards Oikawa-sama and his magnanimous heart. Tooru closes his eyes, smiling and nodding at the praise. He takes their orders one by one. This includes Y/n, who is seemingly oblivious to Suna’s hand on her knee. She is painfully straightforward in stating that she’s no longer hungry. Tooru would feel offended by her assumption that he doesn’t recognize the symptoms of her unquelled appetite, if it weren’t for his awareness of how long he’s pretended not to see her.

He shoots her a smile, watches the glint in her eyes come to life. She’s waiting for something, he realizes, waiting for the moment he’ll say something to make her leave. In the end, he places her order as ‘shrimp pizza with extra olives’. That’s what she used to have when they were kids.

The delivery is quick, and they’re even quicker to devour the food.

“What’s that?” They hear Suna mutter as Y/n types away on her phone. “M-B-T-I… what’s that?”

She takes in her surroundings, only to notice how everyone has drawn closer.

“Oh, it’s something I found on Pinterest.” She shows Suna something on her screen. “A personality test based on cognitive functions. It’s fun.”

Suna pulls out his phone. “Link me.”

“Just take mine.” Y/n hands him hers. “I already took the test. Then I’ll explain the cognitive functions… if you want me to.”

They take turns finding out their personality types. Kuroo is an ENTP, Kenma an INTP, Ayame an ESFP, Chiharu an ENFP, Suna an ISTP, and Oikawa and ENFJ. She explains each cognitive function, even going as far as to sketch images in order to present her thoughts in a clearer manner. The more immersed in her work she becomes, the more she forgets about the hair tumbling before her eyes.

When she asks them if they understand a thing she’s saying, Tooru inquires about her personality type.

“INTJ.” she answers, retrieving her phone from where she’d placed it on the table. “Anyway, I’m surprised the test was accurate. It rarely is, so you have to check the functions to know you haven’t been hoodwinked.”

Tooru chuckles and leans forward. “Hoodwinked?”

“Yes, hoodwinked.” She asserts. “Because many tests type people based on the stereotypes. For example, Chiharu looks like a classic ISTP at first glance, but then you see she leads with extraverted intuition instead of introverted thinking. Likewise, you sound like a cocky ENTP but you don’t have extraverted intuition in your function stack because you lead with extraverted feeling, which allows you to understand the feelings of others, thus making decisions based on this. You’re like the glue of the collective.”

After she’s finished, Kenma says, “Each type seems to have two natural partners. Mine is ENTJ or ESTJ.”

Each of them checks theirs while she goes back to speaking with Suna, whose hand has now settled on her thigh. When the results of her natural partner show, Tooru presses down on the frustration that bubbles within him. He knows this test is worth nothing, that a friendship or romantic relationship can turn out amazing if both parties are willing to work on it. He knows he has no right to envision for soulmate scenarios, but for a moment, there he had. The fault is his.

Ayame’s sudden glare is full of envy and its target is none other than Y/n.

“Aw babe, don’t worry.” Kuroo gathers her in his arms. “It’s you I’m in love with, not Y/n.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Ayame,” Y/n assures her, nodding, “I don’t wanna steal your boyfriend.”

Kenma’s intervention cuts Ayame off before she can even begin. “It says here that you’re analytical, a natural leader, and a planner.”

She takes a sip of her soda. “Don’t know about the natural leader thing but I like to analyze yes.”

“I’m glad I asked for your help.”

The interaction between the two causes that last patient neuron in Chiharu to implode.

“Careful, Kenma,” Chiharu chimes in, setting her phone down on the sofa, “Careful or she’ll remind you of everything she’s ever done for you.”

The only sound in the room is Kenma’s videogame, even though he, just like everyone else, has stopped doing his own thing to observe the exchange between two best friends with bated breath. Y/n is a master at shielding her emotion, numbing them down until they lie flat in some forgotten corner of her mind. Everyone knows this about her to some extent. What they don’t know is that she denies their existence. It’s akin to a child cowering under the covers at night so the boogeyman can’t hurt them. She has perfected this coping mechanism to the point where it’s one with her natural response toward stimuli and events.

“I’m actually under no obligation to be of any help to anyone,” Her demeanor is nonchalant, which makes Chiharu go red in the face with rage, “Especially to people who cross the boundaries I have set, people who push my buttons then get mad when I react.”

Chiharu stands up abruptly. Thinking his cousin is about to lay a hand on her, Tooru yanks her by the elbow. She doesn’t advance towards Y/n but she doesn’t sit down either. Tooru stays alert in case the raging punk decides to change her mind, which allows him to discern the slight twitch of her right ear.

Throughout childhood, it had been his duty, as the elder cousin, to look after her whenever they played. She’d always been more adventurous than him, but he’d taught her to be more cautious, which has kept Chiharu out of trouble until this day. It’s true that she slaps him on the back of his head, but Tooru is the one who lets her because he knows this is no big deal to him.

Taking all of this into consideration, he has had years to collect and organize the character traits and mannerisms of those around him. In particular, the behavioral fractions of those he cares about. So when Chiharu’s ear twitches twice within two seconds, Tooru knows that whatever she is about to spout stems from concern. He’s not so sure Y/n will see it that way.

“We were just asking you to spend more time with us. It’s not like we asked you to hang yourself.”

Anger flashes in Suna’s green irises. “What the fuck-

Chiharu is having none of it.

“You’ve been like this since that boy you liked in high school, that fucking moron,” she raises her right arm, but there’s nothing to point at, “Who doesn’t deserve you, told you to go fuck yourself.”

There is a beat of silence. The tune continues to drift from Kenma’s phone. No one asks him to mute it or at least lower his volume, otherwise the silence would impose on them a tension thick enough to dull the sharpest of knives. Ayame is the only one staring at her lap as Kuroo runs his thumb along her knuckles. Suna’s grip on Y/n’s thigh tightens. In reassurance or possession? Tooru doesn’t know. At this moment, that’s the last of his concern. 

The boy you liked in high school told you to go fuck yourself. The sentence becomes a numb limb inside his head. All the while, he’s trying to get his cousin to put a leash on her fury and sit her ass down.

“Sit,” Tooru smiles as he whispers the words in her ear. “And calm the fuck down.”

She breaks free of him, pushing him backwards before she walks over to where Y/n is sitting.

“Choosing to waste away because of some insults?” Chiharu wishes Y/n would look her in the eye and display the same intensity of emotions as her. “Are you really that dumb?! You can’t be that dumb, Y/n. We wouldn’t be pestering you day and night to spend time with us if it was just an introvert thing. Don’t you realize that you’ve been in utter isolation for more than a year?!”

Ayame’s voice comes out weak. “Haru-chan-

“Don’t you?!”

Chiharu doesn’t expect much of Y/n when it comes to allowing emotions to play on her face. But she does expect an honest answer from some she considers a friend. All she gets, however, is absolute silence on the other girl’s part. Y/n’s response to criticism is unresponsiveness, a nonchalant stare that reminds Tooru of the way she’d gone back to watching TV after he’d attacked her over a bag of sour candy. Her attitude unnerved him to this day.

“I’m beginning to think,” He doesn’t think it’s possible for a person to be this tense, “I’m beginning to think that if this is how you’ve always acted around him, then maybe what that fucker did wasn’t enough.”

It’s all Tooru can do to curb his anger, to maintain that aura of diplomacy that seldom suits his persona.

“Please stop, Haru-chan!” Ayame shouts, tears spilling from her eyes, “Don’t say those things. That- that’s not right-

Kuroo begins to rub circles along her spine. “It’s okay babe, she doesn’t mean-

“Well, this has been boring.” Y/n drawls out as she stands. She heads for the hallway. “Talk to me when you lot aren’t this pathetic.”

As she leaves, Chiharu calls her a coward and Oikawa tells her to shut the fuck up. The little things aren’t lost on her as she puts her shoes on; Oikawa’s coat hung right next to hers, the scent of wet leather wafting from the leather boots discarded on the floor (something many people frowned at), or the burgundy hue her scarf had obtained as a result of the drizzle she’d run through on her way here. She commits them to memory in order to expunge her friend’s accusations.

This isn’t going to be her last time visiting this place, or seeing any of them, but it feels that way.

This is different from last January, she thinks after stepping inside the elevator, nobody is coming after me. She preferred it this way; no futile, insincere attempts at comforting that did nothing but paint what had transpired in a theatrical light. One thing that hasn’t changed is her inability to cry. Because again… she has no need for it.

So Y/n goes home. Regardless of the damages that the scalding water is certain to inflict on her hair and skin, she takes a hot shower. She rubs on the $9 moisturizer she ordered online three months ago, then opens her biochemistry textbook. She doesn’t realize this now, but for her, each piece of knowledge acquired is a block used to build a wall between herself and the pain that gets a little taller every day. It’s therapeutic. It’s also the worst form of ignorance.

The next day is Sunday, so she wakes up a little earlier than the day before to set her rhythm for the day to follow. It’s 5 AM and the first thing she does is turn her phone on silent (ignoring the texts from Kenma and Suna). She’s not even fully awake when she flips her laptop open and looks up shit that ranges from the symbolism of yellow to necrosis (causes, symptoms, and treatments). She remains unimpressed by the imagery and information available on the internet so she downloads some books on pathology.

After disemboweling her drawers, she finds a notebook she used a while back in high school and tears off the pages that are no longer of any use. She takes notes as she reads, too immersed in the process of acquiring new data to hear the soft knocks on her door.

“Y/n-chan?” Ayame’s voice is muted by the wooden barrier. “Y/n-chan, are you in there?”

If that’s truly Ayame outside her bedroom, then it must be late. After consulting her phone, she confirms that it’s 10:47 in the morning.

“Yes?” Y/n answers after a few minutes of consideration, “Yeah, what is it?”

“Oh, nothing!” Ayame squeaks out an immediate reply. “I’m just checking up on you. Have you had breakfast yet?”

Y/n ponders this as well. In the end, she decides, “Nah, not hungry. Go on and eat without me.”

She doesn’t eat all day, instead choosing to intern her body and mind inside the abstract and the macabre. She jumps from topic to topic, from crafting characters and plot to inhaling an entire article on FFI or whatever the fuck she’d heard glimpses of before and wishes to gain a more thorough understanding of.

It is 1 AM when Oikawa Tooru texts her for the first time in more than a year.

OT: Starting tomorrow I’m sitting next to you

OT: Better get used to it

She’s awake, of course, so she sees it since she’s scrolling through the dramione tag on AO3. Both of them are fools; Y/n for putting little faith in his declaration, and Tooru for thinking those two sentences can fulfill the role of a sincere apology.

    October the 12th

The moment she tries to wrap the woolen scarf around her neck, the wind swiftly yanks it off her hands and hurls into a puddle. For a moment, Y/n stares at her empty hands, perplexed. How is it that every time she’s remotely enthusiastic about the future, something similar to this happens? Water seeping into her footwear. Leaking faucets and broken shampoo bottles. Socks with holes she could have sworn she’d patched before. These phenomena popped up at her happiest moments, which weren’t even that quotidian or intense.

She picks up the scarf, which is now wet, and heads out the gate. At 9:17 PM, the campus is mostly empty, with the exception of the janitor and students like her interred in research. She is, for the most part, content to have had this evening to herself if it weren’t for the rain that had trodden the earth into absolute submission two hours ago. At the time, she had felt a sense of security, an excuse to stay in the library a little longer. Now, with her scarf dangling from her fist like seaweed… she could only curse it.

“You look uglier,” she tells the green scarf, and it suddenly feels heavier. It reminds her of Howl when his hair turned orange and he began to melt. “Ugly.”

“Hurting the scarf’s feelings now, are we?”

Y/n doesn’t need to lift her head to recognize the owner of the voice. For the past two weeks, he has become a constant, one she’s determined to be nonchalant towards. But try as she might, Oikawa Tooru is just as unwavering in trying to get her attention to pivot back to him. That’s why, after he made the mistake of leaning on the wrong side of the gate the first day, he’s started to do the opposite. And now it’s all Y/n can do to avoid his presence as he stands before her.

She pretends to busy herself with buttoning up her jacket to her throat, and carries on. This doesn’t work in her favor, however, because Oikawa Tooru puts a hand on her shoulder. Instinctively, she shoves it off and leaps three feet away from him.

He pouts the way he used to when they were kids, the lines of displeasure glaring through the film of charisma. 

“Would you relax?” He says, getting closer as he lifts his hand with the intention to unwind his scarf, “I’m not-

“Would you stop trying to touch me?”

Her clipped tone is only perturbed by the slight shake of nervousness. But it’s her stance― the defensive shrug of her shoulders, the slightly bent knees ready for dashing, and the curled fists― that stops him in his tracks and compels him to reason. Maybe she doesn’t like being touched on the shoulder, it’s his first thought. Because Oikawa Tooru wants more than anything not to believe he’s the only one to have earned her caustic scorn.

“Let me walk you home,” He offers, all thoughts of lending her his scarf now abandoned, but she ignores him and carries on like before. He jogs up to her side. “I will even if you don’t want me to.”

The streets are bustling but thankfully there is no traffic or the horns would be blaring from every car. It’s still noisy, as every city tends to be, but it’s a symphony that pedestrians and vendors can get accustomed to within four minutes or so. The damp that slithers into their lungs helps to soothe their senses, so it’s easier to wade their way through the crowd when the air they breathe isn’t contaminated with dust. Still, there is a sharpness to every gulp of breath that keeps them on their toes.

They’re passing by a store with stars and crescent moon decorations, its front awash with silver by the LED lights installed from one corner to another. Tooru catches her eyes lingering a second too long on the star-shaped trinket in the corner. That is, before she moves on like nothing has piqued her interest.

Tooru is the one who halts before the shop’s front, thus influencing her to turn around slowly.

“Do you like that?” He asks, pointing to the little purple-red star.

“Uh… no.” She responds a tad too late to sound convincing, but Tooru decides not to let on, “I was just… I think Kenma would like those and his birthday is in two days so I thought…

He waits for her sentence to claim that beat of finality. When it doesn’t come, he faces her, only for her to look down and then away.

“Never mind,” Y/n says, “We’re not friends anymore.”

Is she being serious, Tooru thinks. Because what he sees whenever Kuroo invites him over for volleyball advice, is Kenma refusing to acknowledge anyone other than his best friend and Suna. Ayame, he considers weak. Chiharu, in his eyes is the reason Y/n has shown no signs of being alive for the past two weeks. Tooru, of course, has become persona non grata by association.

It’s not like everyone has put their lives on hold for her. Chiharu has to work on that new technique she’s been screaming about for weeks. Ayame is trying to get her schedule to work… and failing. Every three days, Suna has Kuroo tutor him in chemistry in exchange for weed, which the latter accepts in earnest. And Tooru… he’s trying to one-up Y/n in every subject while doing his best at volleyball practice in the evening.

He’s aware that she knows this. What niggles at him is the fact that this seems to be the default. It’s what edges him closer to her, urges him to crouch to her height.

“You can’t afford it, can you?” He hopes the smirk is enough to infuriate him, and it does, momentarily, plant a scowl on her face, “Aw, it’s okay to be poor for I,” He stands tall, with his palm on his chest, “The magnanimous, gorgeous, breathtaking, not to mention humble Oikawa Tooru,” She snorts at this, “Am willing to lessen the burdens of your current financial state.”

“Good night.” She mutters before making to leave.

He wraps his fingers around her elbow, raising his voice for theatrical points.

“Oh, why condemn me to solitude when I am merely trying to compensate for the seconds you have spent in my presence.”

“Not by choice, Oikawa.” Y/n’s response is, once again, an intelligible mumble.

“Come with me, come on!” He can’t stop the grin that emerges as she struggles to yank herself free of his hold. In the end, she relents, but her scowl remains. “Please, stop making that face, cutie. People will think I’m harassing you.”

He catches her resigned ‘not far off’ and smiles indiscreetly as they cross the threshold, the bell announcing their presence within the store. He has to redirect his thoughts from the feeling of Y/n’s arm brushing against his side as he pulls her in, to the minute ornament put on display. He makes certain to greet the employee that receive them both with attitudes that differ drastically.

The man’s disapproving gaze lands on her wet scarf just as easily as it rests on Tooru’s charming smile. Tooru suspects that she’s paying the two of them as little attention as humanly possible, by studying the items organized in the shelves (from afar). This could also be the lack of awareness she has for her surroundings. If he weren’t in a hurry to get her that star-thingy he would have initiated a fight with the employee.

“I knew it was expensive.” She says after they’ve exited the shop, the gift wrapped and secured inside an elegant blue box, “But… 27857.96 yen?”

Tooru’s mouth is stranded in a permanent beam, because her concern is as infinite as his lack of it. “So specific.”

They say nothing the whole way to her shoddy apartment complex. Only glances are exchanged, along with e few sparse comments on the weather. At some point, he mentions the assignment that is due on the 21st of October and asks her who she would like to be paired up with. She answers without a beat of hesitation that she’d rather work alone. He calls her a true individualist, to which she takes no offense (he’s appreciative, because he meant none).

In the physical sense, he only remembers to take his hands out of the pockets of his brown jacket when they reach the front door. Y/n doesn’t invite him in, for there is no reason he should need your permission. He has already been granted that by his cousin and Ayame. So… Y/n is dismally outvoted.

“Better go inside before it starts raining again.”

His advice would have sounded like it if it came from somebody else. From him, he realizes it’s patronizing, similar to the many comments he used to throw at the sight of her. Tooru hasn’t the slightest clue about what he ought to do with his hands. Should he ruffle her hair, shake her hand? Maybe a little pinch on the cheek? Will she flinch?

How pathetic is it that he shoves his hands right back in his pockets and smiles in the hopes that it will put her at ease?

“Goodnight, cutie.”  

Letting the straps of the bag slide to her elbow, she bunches up her scarf and nods. It’s all she does before she leaves. It’s not all he remembers by the time he’s lying down in bed, but it’s all he thinks about. That and her ‘goodbye’ wave.

    Chiharu is sitting on the couch, Ayame’s head resting on her shoulder as laughter roars from the TV screen. They hear her coming, and say their greetings (Chiharu’s significantly lower). Y/n returns the gesture before entering her bedroom. Ignoring the smell of spicy octopus as she locks the door behind her, she shrugs off her jacket and dumps the scarf on the basket by the wall mirror where some of her other damp shirts have been discarded.

She has no intention of doing her laundry or dusting the furniture. She’s drained, exhausted. Because while Oikawa Tooru― with his big brown eyes, grins, smooth voice, chivalrous spirit when he deems it necessary to use― imagines himself to be charming and charismatic (he is), he is also an energy-vampire buffoon who refuses to take a hint. She sits at her desk and all but shivers at the memory of his hand on her shoulder.

Y/n doesn’t understand why he’d been surprised. Is it not clear that he is amongst the people she wishes to efface from her memory at all costs? That she doesn’t wish to see him, doesn’t he realize this?

But one look at the package and, like the tender feelings of a child, her resolve becomes mellow. Nothing as drastic as texting him a ‘thank you’. More of a ‘thinking about him doesn’t hurt as much now’. This confuses her all the more, because she remembers what she’d said to him before he’d dragged her into the store.

We aren’t friends anymore.

It’s true, in her head. Despite their attempts at keeping in touch, she’d spoken neither to him nor Suna since the night she’d walked out of Kenma’s apartment. Y/n figures they have forgotten about her, so she doesn’t mind opening the messages now.

Kenma J: Y/n (10:12 PM)

Kenma J: did you get home okay (10:12 PM)

Kenma J: text me… whenever (10:27 PM)

But she hadn’t, and she still doesn’t. Y/n taps on her chat with Suna (a train wreck of depressive jokes coated in self-deprecating humor that had never failed to lift their spirits at least two inches off rock bottom.  

Suna: hey (11:53 PM)

Suna: I can see you’re online and probably gonna ignore this (11:54 PM)

Y/n snorts.  

Suna: just don’t disappear on us again (12:36 AM)

She had, and she continues to do so. Drifting in and out of their lives is what she does best. She’s used to doing this- the ghosting, the blocking, and the obdurate refusal to grant herself or anyone else the finality they might need. It’s spineless but efficient, and if there is one thing Y/n makes her world revolve around, it is precisely this; the ability to avoid unnecessary trifles and cutting corners when such a thing is needed.

But Y/n is a little too tired, and her head hurts a little too much. She forgets to block them. The rain at once grounds and batters her focus, its impact on the shutters startling her and lulling her to sleep time and time again. Head resting on the paper-cluttered surface of her desk, she is all too aware of the remnants of consciousness dissolving into dust before her eyes, but she lets the stream of thought run its course. In the thin divide of reality and void, she struggles to find the dissimilarities between the two.

Chapter 3

[sup-hoes-its-me]

A Hero (Shinsou x Reader)

A/N: okay so shinsou is such a cool character, kinda relatable tbh, so here we go. Friends to lovers, lots of fluff, cuteness. It took a lot of strength to take a break from writing my fav bakugo lol.

tw: you almost get assaulted

word count: 4400

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three

So technically, Y/N wasn’t related to the Bakugos at all. She was the orphaned child of a family friend, who died a horrific hero’s death when she was only a couple years old. Without any other relatives in the area to adopt her, Y/N’s mother’s best friend took in the two year old, despite the trouble of raising two toddlers being quite daunting. Yet, her quirk wasn’t very dangerous nor special like Katsuki, so she wasn’t hard to manage in that area. Just a shy little girl, confused at the transition after the loss of her parents.

Y/N was never very strong willed like her new family. She was passive, the perfect representation of type B personality. Dependent, reliant, and fearful of adversity. The only reason she was never mercilessly bullied in her primary days was a result of her “brother’s” unrelenting defensiveness. He was an asshole, very much so, but he never let anyone pick fun at the girl. Not only did he kinda, sorta love her unconditionally as a silbing should, but his mother would murder him for not standing up for her.

But when they both got into U.A, suddenly the two weren’t equals anymore, nor would he always be by her side to watch out for her. Y/N was left behind in class C, while he soared into the top hero course. Y/N was support for the soon-to-be pros, not that she minded. The girl knew how weak she was, and unless she had a change of heart and decided to work harder on her quirk, she would never be able to succeed. She wasn’t motivated like those in Class A. Y/N never wanted the responsibility of being so good people relied on her, civilians putting all their faith into her. It was nerve wracking.

On the first day of class, Y/n said goodbye to her parents and walked to class with her brother. He carried both their bags, one on each shoulder, eyes staring straight ahead, brows furrowed with irritation as per usual. She kept her hands clasped behind her back, wandering slowly next to him, head hung. 

She was scared, admittedly. This school was huge and so prestigious. How could she ever compare to the others there? It was impossible.

“Stop being such a baby.”

“Katsuki-”

“You’re gonna be fine, and you know it. You’re more powerful than those losers anyway, if only you tried,” he grunted, turning the corner to see dozens of other students in their uniforms walking around and entering the school. She bit her lip and sighed, wringing her fingers out of nervousness. “Seriously, don’t make yourself out to be a weakling. People will target you if you do.”

She paused, not taking another step as she confessed, “I know what I should do, it’s just putting that ideal into practice that gets me everytime.” 

Time was running close to class starting, and he rolled his eyes down to her slightly quivering form. Handing her her bag, he told her calmly, “Listen, if anyone bothers you, I’m two doors down anyway. Just call me right after class if something happens, got it?” With a nod, he patted her on the head and walked away to the main entrance. 

Her eyes drew up the high building, taking in all the shiny windows and the huge shape of an H made out of the numerous floors. This place was bigger than she had ever imagined, and that only scared her more. Yeah, it was bigger because it housed a lot of students who needed room to exercise their quirks, plus they were a very wealthy institution. 

She had to tell herself that just because the building was scary certainly did not mean that the people inside were just as bad.

So she held her head a bit higher and walked through the crowds of students. She tried to remember where the counselor told her her classroom was, so she didn’t embarrass herself by getting lost on her first day. 

Yet, that was exactly what she did. The school was just too big, and she was too anxious about her first day to think properly. So, with tears gathering in her eyes, she watched at the time ticked by on the clock. Her nightmares were filled with this scenario. Showing up late on her first day and everyone in the class laughing at her. 

“Are you lost?” a voice deep and smooth spoke up behind her, and she jumped a couple inches in the air, placing a hand over her heart after it started to rapidly beat with shock.

She turned her head, brushing her loose hairs from her eyes. He stared down at her with an almost bored expression, just as his voice had sounded. He was tall, and very purple. Dark undereyes, wild violet hair in every direction. She didn’t really know what to think of him other than he was unique, dare she even say attractive in a strange way. He looked older than her, probably 16 or 17 even, based off his height and old soul aura he radiated. One thing she did notice about him though, was he felt gentle, passive and even a bit dismissive. It wasn’t the least bit intimidating, and she relaxed. 

“Yeah…” she mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seems we’re in the same boat.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Class 1-C,” he hummed, beginning to walk forward again. She told him meekly that she was going to the same class, and he raised a brow. “Really? What’s your quirk?”

“My quirk is kinda lame.”

A small smile crept at the edge of his lip, her embarrassment and shy attitude amusing him. “And what would that be?”

“Well, it’s kinda weird so don’t make fun of it. I can um- well, my blood is highly basic and burns any skin issue it touches,” the girl mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. Her cheeks burned so much she felt like she had a fever. This is why she never liked to talk about her quirk. It was just plain absurd and kinda disgusting. Every time she used her quirk she had to slice her skin and sprinkle blood everywhere. “But, like, it does so much damage to me to lose blood that often I can rarely use my quirk.”

He nodded. “That’s definitely strange, you’re right,” he stated bluntly, and her heart stopped beating for a moment. “But useful. Really don’t know why you’d be embarrassed about it. Just because you don’t have endurance doesn’t mean strategy and technique can’t make up for that.”

Y/N caught up to him, walking at his side now although his strides were longer and harder to keep up with. She looked up to him, feeling a bit at ease seeing as he wasn’t rude about her quirk. “What’s your quirk?”

He didn’t miss a beat, his gruff voice sounding bitter and angry with his next words, “Something I’d rather not talk about. Don’t want you to spread rumors and lies about me.” 

She had never heard someone so visceral about their own quirk. It couldn’t be that terrible, not to mention she wasn’t rude like the people he must have encountered before. She felt a pang in her chest, knowing that this reaction was no doubt from prior experience being hurt. 

With a short shake of her head, she replied, “It’s okay, if you don’t tell me, but I wouldn’t judge you for your quirk, and definitely not gossip about it. I don’t have the social skills to do that kind of thing.” She laughed awkwardly. The bell rang overhead, signalling the beginning of the first period. They were officially late. “Oh, crap. We better hurry.”

“For what? We’re already late, doesn’t matter if it’s by a minute or ten.”

“I-I don’t know about that one.”

As they entered the stairwell to head up the stairs, he turned to her and paused, staring into her eyes deeply. She blinked, seeing so much purple looking in her direction. Quickly, she averted her gaze, and tucked her hands behind her back out of nervous habit. 

“I’ll tell you about my quirk if you promise me one thing.”

She opened her mouth to agree but then shook her head. Don’t just make promises to strangers, Y/N, so stupid. “Um, depends on the promise.”

He took a deep breath, never taking his eyes off of her own averted ones. Waves of pain radiated from his form, hitting her square in the chest. “Just don’t call me a monster or shit like that.” And that was the moment she felt her entire heart crumble in her chest for this boy she had just met. He expected her to think of him like a monster for something as silly as his quirk? She wanted to cry for him, being as sensitive as she was. 

“I promise.”

He started walking up the stairs again, done with his intense observation of her face, except it felt to her like he was examining a portion of her soul, her compassion. It seems he saw something he liked in her. 

“My quirk is brainwashing, or mind control, if you want to call it that.”

Her eyes widened at the words, not believing that someone so powerful was right beside her, in the same class as her even. “Like, what do you do?’

“If a person verbally responds to me, I then have complete control over anything they do.”

“That is so sick,” she whispered under her breath, but he still heard her. His brows quirked up, and he gazed down at her.”Sorry, I just think that’s a really amazing quirk.” She smiled sheepishly, her eyes reaching his. He almost had to look away once he saw the sparkle of excitement and admiration in her gaze. Those emotions were directed towards him…

As they walked past a classroom, a loud voice called from inside the room. “Bakugo Y/N and Shinsou Hitoshi. I believe you’re late to my class.”

She rushed into the classroom in front of him and he followed. They conveniently were directed to the back of the classroom, two seats directly next to each other. She took a seat in hers and he slumped down in his, rolling his eyes at the glare the teacher had given him. 

He looked over at the girl beside him, who he now knew as Bakugo Y/N. She peeked over at him, and a small smile grew on her soft lips, the bit of sparkle still present in her gaze towards him. He smothered down the urge to smile back, just lifted the corner of his lip in return. 

Shinsou wasn’t exactly interested in making friends. He didn’t need them. This girl, though, he wouldn’t mind if she stuck around.

______________________________________

“So, uh, Y/N, do you need someone to walk you home?” Shinsou asked as they shuffled out of the nearly empty classroom save for a few stragglers. “Not that you aren’t capable of walking yourself home, it’s just that-”

“It’s fine. And actually someone already walks home with me, so no.”

He cringed, feeling awkward now. He shouldn’t have been so forward with this impending friendship. They had just met, she probably didn’t want some weirdo knowing where she lived either. “Oh, gotcha.”

“In fact, there he is,” she smiled, waving to a particularly angry blond walking down the hall with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his sagging pants. Shinsou cringed even harder at this point, not expecting her to already have a guy walking her home. She probably didn’t have much room for another good guy friend in her life, he thought, obviously overthinking things. “Katsuki! How was class?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Deku made a fool of himself as usual, but it wasn’t awful,” the boy replied as his eyes slid from his sister to the daunting guy beside her. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new friend, Shinsou. He helped me find the classroom this morning since we’re in the same class.” Katsuki blinked in surprise, definitely not expecting his shy little sister to already have made a friend. It took her years of middle school just to have a few close acquaintances. 

“I gotta get going. My mom is expecting me home soon,” Shinsou told the girl, even if he was lying. He could go home at any time he wanted, he just didn’t want to feel awkward anymore. This guy was obviously close to her, and was giving him the evil eye for a minute now. Possessive much?

“Wait, before you go, let me introduce you to my brother.”

“Brother?’ he asked aloud. They didn’t look alike, like, at all. Nor did their personalities seem to resemble each other in any way.

“This is my brother Katsuki. He’s a class 1-A hot shot.” A pang of relief turned his stomach.

“Yeah, uh, nice to meet you.”

The blond rolled his eyes, gruffly brushing off the purple haired boy’s greeting.“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Y/N, are you ready to go?”

Y/N sighed, waving softly to Shinsou, a smile ever present on her lips when she looked at him. She mouthed as she walked away, ‘sorry’, and he just waved. 

Maybe he was a creep for watching her as she left, waiting for her to turn a corner before he let out a breath of air. All he knew was that he felt as if he was sucked in a trance. His heart felt heavy in his chest, as if it were about to explode. The feelings were so foreign but pleasant, some of the best he had ever experienced.

It just felt so good to see someone’s warm smile directed at him, not an ounce of malice behind a guise.

Yeah…He really, really liked her. 

_____________________________

The pair were friends. Honestly, Y/N was the only person you could get him to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that she was his friend. They trained together, and he assisted her a lot with her quirk. There were times when they were training alone and she lost too much blood that she would pass out and he would carry her to the infirmary. Time and time again though, teachers told him in private to monitor her. It was unhealthy to constantly lose pints of blood, and she wouldn’t be able to do it on the daily even if she wanted to. Since he and her brother were the only people she truly listened to and appreciated advice from, Shinsou recognized it as a sort of duty to take care of her.

Yet, with a bit more encouragement at the new school from dozens of teachers and other students, she actually improved on her quirk quite a lot. It wasn’t as if she had a useless quirk; it was very powerful in fact. She could burn directly through someone’s skin and the bone if enough blood was spilled. Therefore, the quirk could only be exercised in moderation.

For the first time in his life, someone actually trusted him. Not once did he consider using his quirk on her. Not only was she perfect on her own, but if he betrayed her trust like that, he might lose his closest friend. She was kind, but he wasn’t sure where her limits lied.

“Are you sure you’re okay walking home alone?” he asked his friend, who sat beside him packing up her books. Katsuki was out for the day with the flu, so she would be walking back home alone. He was kinda worried about her. She never walked by herself, always having the protection of her brother. 

But she was a strong girl. There was nothing to worry about. He had seen her fight and she was definitely capable. It was just overthinking that sent his anxiety through the roof.

“Yes, I’m totally fine,” she laughed, finding his concern humorous. “You live in the opposite direction. I’m not gonna make you walk me 20 blocks out of your way.”

Although he nodded in understanding, he definitely did not agree. He would walk all over the city for her if she needed him to. Still, when it came time to part ways on the sidewalk, they waved and went in opposite directions. It was only after five excruciatingly long minutes that the lanky boy turned and started walking in the direction of her home. Even though he shouldn’t have, and easily could have texted her, he wanted to make sure she made it home. He knew the general direction of her house, and if he walked moderately fast, he could catch up to her. 

So what if she didn’t want him walking an extra 30 minutes? If that made her annoyed, so be it.

Y/N walked slowly down the street as she usually did, her feet tapping lightly against the sidewalk. If she were being honest, she was a bit disappointed in herself for refusing Shinsou’s offer to walk her home. They would have a lot more time to talk in person before the weekend, and she never wanted to miss a beat with him. 

Maybe it was stupid of her to be so attached but she thought of him as her best friend, practically the only true one she ever had. Dozens of people came and went from her life, but this friendship felt so special. It would last a long time she thought, and hopefully she was right.

Unfortunately, she was too lost in her own dreamy thoughts to notice someone standing right at the edge of the alley she walked by in a particularly deserted area of town. A hand reached and snatched up her arm swiftly, yanking her into the darkness of the alley and covering her mouth with his other grimey hand before she could make a sound.

Her back hit the cold wall behind her, feeling the rough bricks scratch her shoulder blades through her uniform. Her wrist felt like it was on fire, burning from the harsh grip of the snatcher. Using his knee, he pinned her other hand to the wall at her side,  completely immobilizing her. She could have used her quirk, if she was able to produce some sort of blood-pouring injury, only she was trapped.

“Don’t fucking scream, you hear me?”

He removed his hand from her mouth for a moment to reach for his pocket, and as he did so, she let out the loudest scream she possibly could. Just as the sound came from her mouth, a cold object pressed against her throat and her heart stopped beating in her chest from sheer terror. 

To think she was a hero in training at U.A., and she couldn’t even defend herself from a quirkless criminal on the street. She felt like crying, feeling a knife against her throat, wrists held down. If only she was just a little smarter or a little stronger; anything to get her out his mess. The air was tense and heavy, and she could barely get a breath in without feeling the bitterness of the blade against her skin. 

She prayed, closing her eyes and letting the hot tears drip down her cheeks. If only someone would come and help. All Might was always there to help people, wasn’t he? Where was he? She couldn’t hope for her brother to back her up as he was sick at home, and she definitely couldn’t text Shinsou to come get her. Her phone was tucked safely in her backpack where she couldn’t dream of reaching.

God, she was hopeless. 

The thug opened his mouth to say something else no doubt cruel or vulgar, but just as the first syllable fell from his chapped lips, a shocked voice echoed down the alleyway.

“Y/N?”

Her eyes widened at the voice, relief running throughout her entire body. 

“Dumb punk, kid, just run off now.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to mess with-”

That reply was all it took for Shinsou to take control. The thug felt all control of his body lost in the air and a sort of tenseness to take over. “Drop the knife,” the student commanded, and the man indeed dropped the rusty knife to the ground, a metallic clang rang out in the darkness. “Now back away.” And so he did. 

Tha man sputtered, not knowing what was happening to his body or why he was doing these things. His face turned a bright shade of red and he threw a dirty glare at Shinsou Hitoshi, hating him with every sense of the word for making him look this pathetic. 

“Now stand still right there like the piece of shit you are. Move, and I will kill you,” he said calmly. Before turning to Y/N. “I’ll be right back with someone to help. I saw an officer go into the coffee shop across the street.” 

When he left, she inched away from the man, watching as he couldn’t do more than just stand there and look completely bewildered. A mind control quirk definitely wasn’t something you see everyday. Plus, he probably was facing the realization that he would be arrested and sent to jail to get his ass kicked by quirk users there.

He came back with a couple officers and pointed out the situation, explaining what he saw when he came to the alley. They asked Y/N for a quick statement and she just reaffirmed what Shinsou had told them and added how she was walking home alone and he grabbed her when no one was looking. And so they took him away, thanking the kids for helping catch the guy, who apparently had tried to assault and rob other women in the area recently.

That was a close call, the closest one she’d ever encountered actually. 

As they exited the alleyway, she felt sick to her stomach from what had happened, stress filling up her chest and threatening to burst out in the form of tears, only she composed herself the best she could to be strong. There really was no need to be strong. Shinsou was her friend. He was kind and brave and very intelligent, but most importantly he was kind to her. If she cried, he wouldn’t shame her. But she still felt the pressure to keep them from falling. “Shinsou-”

“I’m so glad I turned around to follow you. I swear, it’s almost like I knew something bad was going to happen, I just knew it,” he mumbled more to himself than her, really. He looked down at her finally, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress. She looked terribly shaken up, but no tears were falling. “Are you okay? Did that guy hurt you or anything?”

“No, nothing else happened,” she told him. “I-I can’t believe you came to save me. I’m so grateful, I don’t even know what to say. I felt so helpless back there without my quirk at disposal.”

“It’s okay. It’s over now, and you’re alright. That’s all I could really hope for.” He looked down the street and then back to her, flashing a weak grin. “You wouldn’t mind if I walked you home from here, would you?” he asked, to which she silently shook her head. So, he began walking and she followed very closely behind, so close that he could feel her arm brushing against his. He figured she was scared enough, a little bit of  friendly comfort was going to help her out. She obviously didn’t want to speak, too shocked to say anything much.

After a minute or two of walking, he felt her hand slip its way sneakily into his own, tightly grabbing on as if he was going to yank it away from her. Although he could feel how shaky her hand was, it was so warm and soft against his cold and rough hands. Her fingers fit perfectly between his own. It was sappy of him to think, but jeez, it felt like those hands were meant to interlock. It just felt so fucking good. 

He shoved down those selfish feelings. Y/N was just attacked, and he was thinking about how he felt. He shook his head subconsciously, knowing that he was being rude. She was holding his hand because she desperately needed to feel safe and comfortable, not because it necessarily felt nice. She would probably hold the hand of any random dude that saved her like that. Jesus, Shinsou, so dumb. Get a damn grip, you sap.

He squeezed her hand back reassuringly. He wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but he hoped he was helping.

Her house was relatively close to the spot she was grabbed, so it was a short walk. Part of him wished it had been longer so he could have spent more time with her hand held in his. As they stopped at her doorstep, she dropped his hand and went to grab the strap of her bookbag anxiously, eyes hidden from his view. 

“Shinsou, thank you for stepping in back there. I really can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate that.”

With a wave of his hand absentmindedly, he brushed off her praise and thanks. “Don’t thank me. Anyone would have done the same, you know.” he didn’t feel like he deserves any thanks. He barely did shit back there except say a few words, and she was thanking him. Anyone would have done the same. He wasn’t special. He wouldn’t be special with the quirk he possessed. 

But god, the way she looked at him in that way, adoration and admiration staring into his eyes, completely entranced with him; it made him feel invincible, like he was on top of the world for a lifetime. He would never forget the shine in her beautiful e/c eyes in that moment, he swore it. That was a memory he’d hate to lose.

“I-I know- It’s just that…well…” Her words trailed off into silence before he felt her reach up abruptly to wrap her arms around his shoulders, falling to rest against him. He caught his balance last second, not expecting that of all things. Her head rested snuggly in the meet of his shoulder and neck, hot breath tickling his skin there. He tensed at the sudden embrace, but nevertheless wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer. He could feel her shaking once again, and her rapid heartbeat pounded against his quickening one.

“Hitoshi,” she whispered, “You are my hero.”

Shivers ran down his spine at those simple five words, laced together by the most angelic voice he’d heard before.

That took his breath right from his lungs. He was her hero. A real hero. That was all he wanted in his life, to show people that he could be someone’s savior. The feeling of the one person he cared for more than anything saying those words to him. The feeling was unbelievable.

She pulled away after a silent moment, and waved to him gently, taking a step up to the entrance of her house. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?” she said sheepishly, feeling something weird herself after that hug. Her skin felt all warm and gooey, like she was going to fall apart at any moment or her knees would collapse beneath her.

“Y/N, if you need anything, you know you can call me night or day, I don’t care,” he called after her. “I swear, anything for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Shinsou-kun.” 

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye.”

“You’ll call me sometime, right? So I can make sure you’re feeling better?”

“If you want.”

“Of course.”

“Okay. I promise I’ll call.”

“Yeah, well, bye then.”

“Yeah, bye-bye.”

She shut the door finally, catching the eye of her brother immediately.

Katsuki stood in the living room of their home, sipping some soup with a spoon, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He raised a brow when she peered over at him, obviously having seen what happened outside through the front window. “What was that about, Y/N? Care to explain why that boy was all over you?”

“Shut up, Katsuki.”

He grunted, rolling his eyes at her reply. “Hey, I’m just worried for you. You can’t trust teenage boys. Take it from me since I am one. ”His voice was quite hoarse from the sore throat he had that morning, and he sounded like a frog whenever he spoke. How could she possibly take him seriously? 

“He’s just my friend. You really don’t have to lecture me on anything,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Sure, sure.”

She waved off how annoying he was, and walked down the hall to her room. When she shut the door behind her, she finally felt herself heat up with embarrassment. Shinsou Hitoshi held her hand the whole way home. He saved her like the glorious hero he always wanted to be. The feeling of relief she felt when she heard him enter the alleyway and call for her, it made her heart melt. She would definitely take up his offer and call him over the weekend, just to hear his soothing voice in her ear. Just hearing him, or even thinking about him made a smile grow on her cheeks. 

She wasn’t sure what she felt for him. If it was simply a friendship or if her attachments were growing into something more.

Y/N just really, really liked him.

_____________ 

 Part two coming later this week. Should it be angst or fluff? I’m torn

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Secrets ~ 3

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Finished this before work! Hope y’all enjoy.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

There was a flurry of activity around the jet waiting on the tarmac. You sat in the car, still cuffed, trapped, as you watched the crew hurry. It was barely noon yet and you were exhausted. Barnes returned and slid in the other side. You ignored him and kept your eyes out the window.

“Shouldn’t be long before we can board,” He said. “You look unhappy, your highness. Is there any way I can help?”

“Uncuff me, let me go home and live my life,” You snapped dryly. “That would about do it.”

“Get it all out now.” He chided. “The king won’t stand for your lip.”

“‘The king won’t stand for your lip’,” You mimicked and grunted as you leaned a bit too heavily on your hands. “I really don’t care what he wants and I certainly don’t care what he thinks of me. All the better if he hates me.”

“This isn’t about feelings. He will marry you regardless of his personal bias,” Barnes assured. “It will be easier, however, if he has a reason to tolerate you.”

“Do you really live by the forgotten words just because they were written down?” You scoffed. “You know how absurd that is? I’ve seen the stories, he could marry anyone--”

“No, he can’t,” Barnes intoned. “Those forgotten words are not forgotten. The kingdom remembers the agreement. They remember how much we gave to the flagging country of Ecklun. They remember we were promised a princess.” He looked at you. “You. We paid our dues and we expect a return on it.”

You shook your head, finding it hard not to laugh sardonically. It was all backwards. This was the shit you read about in textbooks or fantasy novels. It was bullshit.

“Would it disqualify me to tell you I’m not pure?” You snickered. “To tell you I didn’t save myself for the king I never gave a second thought about?”

“It doesn’t bother me and surely not him.” Barnes shrugged. “He’s had his own fun, but I would advise you to not be so flippant about it with him. He is not one for cheek.”

“If I am who you say I am, I will do as I like.” You snarled.

“Very well. I can’t stop you. I can only warn you against it.” He pushed his head back and sighed. “You know your history, you recall how kings can be.”

👑

You sat on the plane in a plush leather seat, white and pristine like the rest of the interior. Barnes was across from you, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Once you’d taken off, he’d quit checking his watch and settled into the flight without a second glance at you. You couldn’t do the same. 

Aside from your anxiety and anger over all that had transpired, your hands remained bound behind you and kept you from leaning back or getting comfortable in the least. You teetered on the edge of the seat and glared at him.

“What do you want, Duchess?” He asked without lifting an eyelid.

“Can’t you at least take these off?” You grumbled. “My shoulders are killing me.”

He shrugged and said nothing.

“You can’t expect me to sit through this whole flight like this.” You hissed. “Shit, you don’t treat me like a duchess or whatever you claim I am.”

His eyes opened sharply and he uncrossed his arms. He sat forward, his jaw ticked as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“You will not use that language further,” He warned. “Understood. It is unladylike. Unseemly. I won’t tolerate it and neither will the king.”

“Language? I’m sorry I don’t talk in iambic pentameter.” You scowled.

“You know what I mean. No more shits, fucks, and all that.” He seemed disgusted by the words on his tongue. “If you feel the need to moan, pretend you are a child.”

“Oh, gosh, will do, mister,” You said dryly. He raised his brow and his nostrils flared. “If I promise to watch my mouth, will you undo these?”

He blinked and checked the time again. He seemed to weigh the option as he angled his head one way then the other.

“Well, I can’t have you arriving in cuffs, I suppose,” He stood and reached into his pocket as he neared. “But don’t think I won’t bring them back out if needed. You understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes, I swear to be a good little duchess,” You quipped.

He huffed and pulled you forward as he reached around you to grasp the cuffs. They came free and he drew away. He backed up as he put the key back in his pocket and dropped the cuffs in the empty seat next to him. He leaned an elbow on the rest and held his chin as he watched you. You sat back as you stretched your arms in front of your, turning your hands and rolling your wrists.

“We have a lot of work to do,” He ran his fingertips along his short stubble. “A lot.”

👑

Time seemed to stand still. When you arrived, it was morning in Astrania, the rest of the day lost in the difference. A man in black led you down the steps to the tarmac, Barnes behind you, and another man. You were taken into the airport, away from the general public, and guided through the corridors meant for employees only.

Barnes came up to walk beside you. A sudden tide of displacement washed over you. It was all real. You were far from home, stranded, trapped, in a land you didn’t know. With a title you didn’t want. For a purpose you dreaded.

The man in front of you stopped short before a door and turned back to look at Barnes.

“Cameras are here.” He said curtly.

“Already?” Barnes frowned. 

“They must’ve seen the royal jet circling,” The man replied. “Apparently, they’ve been on alert since your departure.”

Barnes sighed and nodded. He unbuttoned the single button of his jacket and pulled it off.  “Just make sure you keep them away.” He opened his jacket and turned to you. “Here.” He tried to shroud your head in his blazer and you dodged it. The man behind you blocked you. “Come on. There’s gonna be at least a dozen photogs out there and you far from ready for an appearance.”

“Are you serious?” You snorted.

“The longer we wait, the more will be there,” He said. “Now come on.”

He threw his jacket over you and you caught it. It smelled like expensive cologne and sweat. He wrapped it around you so that you could barely see and grabbed your arm to guide you onward. Unsteady, unsure, you let him usher you ahead and a heavy metal door opened, a streak of light visibly past the hem of the jacket as you could barely see your own feet.

A buzz of voices and the shutter of cameras greeted you outside and you clutched the  fabric tighter. Barnes kept on, a few warnings to the vulture-like photogs as the way was cleared ahead of him by your stalwart escorts. A car door opened and you were angled inside quickly. 

You caught yourself on the seat and felt a nudge to move over. Barnes climbed in as you righted yourself and the door closed heavily behind him. He pulled his jacket away and shook it out as the tinted windows flashed with the cameras outside. He grumbled and folded his jacket in his lap.

“Well,” He bemoaned. “That does change things.” He shifted on the seat. “Driver. Go on.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Your arrival will be a headline by the next hour,” He explained. “That means we have even less time to get you… ready.”

“Oh, such a tragedy.” You snipped.

“Trust me, duchess, while you insist on making a mockery of this, you do not want to face the media without preparation,” The car began to move and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “They will tear you apart. What matters is their perception not your intent.”

“Ah, is that your job then?” You wondered. “You’re supposed to make a lady of me.”

“I am to educate you,” He insisted. “A tall and no doubt foolhardy task,” He growled. “But my king gave me an order and I will do what I can to mold you into at least a semblance of a lady.”

👑

Lush green fields turned to rolling hills. You watched the scenery, almost forgetting where you were and why. The picturesque countryside awed you and sent a chill through you. It truly felt like you had stepped back in time; even as if you had arrived on an entirely different planet.

Trees planted in careful lines closed in around the road and led to a row of tall hedges and you stopped before a gate of curled metal, topped by sharp points. It opened after the driver gave a short honk. The long drive was laid with mosaic stones and curved before the rounded steps of a great mansion. The double doors at the top were decorated with golden knockers and the handles were wrought and twisted elegantly. The car came to a halt and Barnes, as was his habit, checked his watch.

Your door was opened by the driver as Barnes climbed out the other side. He rounded the vehicle and beckoned you towards the steps. He walked beside you and you could sense him watching you from the corner of your eyes. The doors opened as you approached the stairs and liveried servants appeared from the other side as they welcomed you with eager smiles.

“All is prepared duchess,” He gestured ahead. “The palace has been readied for your seclusion. You are the only task left.”

“What a welcome,” You sneered. “I might be unlearned in the habit of nobility, but I don’t think it is usual for one to speak to a duchess in that tone.”

He smiled and took your arm, hooking it through his as he urged you up the stairs.

“The king has permitted me full reign in your training,” He said as he guided you through the open doors. “He will forgive me my own missteps if I can prevent your own.”

You dragged your feet as you entered the vast foyer. The floor was of white marble veined with gold, the decor shared a similar color scheme, and portraits hung from the walls, vast likeness of women in garb dating from the earliest medieval periods to the last century. You detached from Barnes and looked around.

“This is the Palace of Regia,” Barnes explained from behind you. “These are your foremothers. The queens of Astrania, each of whom took their pre-marital seclusion here. Each who married and served their kings proudly.”

You recalled the tradition, common to many countries but mostly retired since Victoria reigned over England and much of the globe. You turned back to Barnes and blinked.

“How long?”

“Two weeks,” Barnes answered. “Two weeks to ready you for the king’s presence. You will be taken to the capital at the end and attend your engagement party so that you can acquaint yourself with your future husband. Your wedding is scheduled the next week.”

“Engagement party? Wedding?” You echoed. “That’s… three weeks. Not even a month.”

“Yes, so we should get to work.” He neared and grabbed your shoulders. He pushed them back. “Stand straight.” He poked your chin up with two fingers. “Head high, shoulders back.”

“What are you--”

He rounded you and his hand gripped your waist and squeezed. He shushed you and ran his other hand up your spine.

“You must hold yourself like a queen. Mind your posture, your highness.” He said.

You pulled away from him harshly. “What are you doing?”

You were shocked as you felt a slap on your ass and he swiftly caught your hips and drew you back to stand before him.

“I am trying to save you a lot of grief.” He said. “Stay.” He bid as if you were a dog. He released you and came around in front of you. “As I said, head up, shoulders back.”

He stared until you obeyed. You sighed and stood straight as you could. He grinned.

“Let me tell you, Duchess, the cameras, the public, they will judge you even more harshly so you want to give them as little ammunition as you can so that they cannot turn their muzzles on you.” He girded and grabbed your arms, adjusting them before his hands settled on either side of your neck. He tutted. “You cannot hang your shoulders like a hunchback.”

“I don’t--”

“You do.” He insisted. “Now,” He removed his hands and walked backwards until he was near the wall. “Walk to me.” You squinted and he lowered his chin. He chuckled and waved his hand to beckon you forward. “Come on.”

You rolled your eyes but took a step. He hissed. “Keep your head up. Shoulders straight. Don’t sway like that.” Each footfall had another comment until you were right before him. He gestured you to turn around and he kicked your feet closer together and again touched your hips. “Let them know you’re a woman but do not flaunt it. Walk as if there is a string running straight through you. Lift your feet.”

He nudged you and you began to walk again. He followed not far behind and you heard his displeased grumbles. He fixed your shoulders, your hips again, told you to keep your feet closer together, head up! 

You were growing more and more annoyed by the second. You were tired. You hadn’t even had a chance to register everything. You were in a palace, marching beneath the eyes of dozens of dead queens, far from home and all you had ever known. It was all so foreign, so different, so startlingly unfamiliar. You hated it.

“Enough!” You spun to face him and he stopped short. “Holy shit! I haven’t even--”

He grabbed your hand and smacked it like you were a child. “Language.” He warned.

You tugged your hand back and gaped at him. “What the fuck--”

He took your hand again and smack it harder. “Your highness, let us not be children.”

“Don’t touch me--” You tore yourself away. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“If you insist on acting like a child, I will bend you over and spank you like one.” He said. “Now, stand straight.” He crossed his arms. “And mind your mouth.” You stared at him, stunned. He raised his brows and nodded to you. “Don’t make me count, Duchess.”

[harrysweasleys]

speechless // h.p

Summary: Can you do a Harry Potter x reader where reader is exactly like Richie Tozier and she defends him from Draco and his Slytherins? And Harry falls in love with her from then and everyone is teasing him?

Warnings: language ofc!!!

Word Count: 6k 

A/N: ok first off I cannot express my love for Richie Tozier enough. he’s a precious baby and I love him. also I’m so close to my next hundred! thank you all! (gif isn’t mine) xxxx

—

“Oi, mum sent me a package!”

Ron peeled open the box in front of him, repeatedly hitting Hermione in the ribs as he ripped the paper off the box, his face lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.

“I hope it’s a wig,” you piped up, “Because something really has to change about your hair.”

Ron glared at you, tossing the wrapping paper to the floor and kicking it under the table, “Ha, hilarious.”

He continued to rip at the box, eventually managing to tear it open. His eyes widened, his smile falling shortly after.

“Oh, is it a picture of yourself?” you pursed your lips and nodded condescendingly, “That’s the only thing that could have made you look so depressed.”

Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, however Ron kept a solemn expression as he took out the contents of the box, which happened to be a very old pair of dress robes — the collar was off-white and frilly and the thick sleeves were clearly moth-eaten. You put a hand over your mouth to hide your laughter, not wanting to make Ron’s mood any more sour than it was at that moment.

“Mum sent me...a dress?” Ron’s voice was defeated as he stood up, holding the dress robes at their full length.

“Wow,” you struggled to hold your laughter back, “I didn’t think anything could get worse than your hair but that’s awful.”

“Is there a bonnet?” Harry joined in on the teasing and reached into the package, taking out what appeared to just be a frilly mess, “Aha!” You grinned at Harry’s pleaser reaction.

Ron scowled at the two of you, walking away from the table and approaching his younger sister, “Ginny, these must be for you.”

Hermione started giggling, catching Ron’s attention. He peered back at her, silently asking what her problem was.

“They’re not for Ginny, they’re for you, they’re dress robes.”

Ron’s face lost all colour, making the situation a million times more amusing for you. Harry continued teasing his friend, Ron becoming more agitated by the minute. You tuned out the conversation where Hermione explained to Ron that they were dress robes, and focused on the breakfast plate in front of you, loving how every now and then Harry would nudge you and make another joke.

Ron stuffed the robes back in the box, wanting to hide them from the eyes of fellow students. Most of the Gryffindor table had seen them by now, everyone had a good laugh, but the last thing Ron wanted was to catch anyone else’s attention.

So, naturally, that’s exactly what happened.

“Weasel, what was that?”

The four of you turned your attention towards Draco Malfoy, who sauntered over to your section of the Gryffindor table with his goonies by his side.

You immediately fought the urge to stand up and punch him in the face — a natural urge when around Malfoy.

“I guess considering how poor your family is, those awful dress robes are all you could afford,” Malfoy smirked at Ron’s flushed face, which was now facing the floor.

You stood up, “Oi, we didn’t ask for a conversation with an arrogant asshole today.”

Malfoy’s eyes shot daggers at you, Crabbe and Goyle flexing their ‘muscles’ as if trying to warn you, “How dare you—”

“—talk to me, yeah, I’ve heard the speech before,” you cut him off, crossing your arms across your chest, “Now, leave, thanks. Seeing your face made me lose my appetite.”

As if rendered speechless, Malfoy rolled his eyes and stormed off, followed by his two shadows. You smirked and sat back down, continuing to pick at your breakfast silently while Harry, Ron and Hermione smiled at you.

“What’re you all staring at?” you asked, not bothering to look up.

Ron shook his head, “I reckon I’ve never seen Malfoy speechless before.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s a gift, I leave people speechless.”

The three of them laughed, the conversation going back to normal as you finished off your breakfast, mentally preparing for another loooong day of classes.

— —

“There’s gonna be a ball?” you scoffed, turning to Hermione wide a bewildered expression, “We’re expected to dress up? Oh, the nightmare.”

She tried to stifle her smile so McGonagall wouldn’t call the two of you out, “It’s not horrible, is it? I think it’s about time we do something fancier here.” She glanced quickly over at Ron before turning her attention back to you. But, being as attentive as always, you caught her not-so-subtle glance.

You widened your eyes, faking a gasp, “You already know who you want to go with, don’t you?”

She shushed you quickly, trying to make sure no one heard your outburst. You could see the blush rise to her cheeks, already giving you the answer you needed. You knew damn well she had feelings for Ron, but she really did try her hardest to hide them.

“Y/N! Don’t just be blurting out stuff like that,” she forced a neutral expression, “And no. I don’t know who I want to go with. Nor does it matter.”

You nodded, not believing her, “Whatever answer floats your boat, I guess.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, “Well, who do you want to go with then?”

You turned away from her, eyes subconsciously darting towards Harry — who was so zoned out he didn’t even notice your glance — and turned back to Hermione, “No one. No one’s good enough, of course.”

She rolled her eyes, “I call your bluff.”

“Well call whatever bluff you want,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and turning away from her to face McGonagall, “Can’t fight the truth.”

She didn’t press the subject any further, but continued to peer at you through the corner of her eye, thankfully missing every time you looked over at Harry.

You couldn’t deny, Harry Potter was a catch. He was cute, fun to be around, and had recently fought off a dragon. I mean, the whole package, right? It wasn’t hard for you to develop a crush, the feelings came so naturally.

However, you were fairly certain the dark haired boy didn’t feel at all the same about you. He never showed interest, nor did he go out of his way to be with you. It stung a little when you’d catch him watching the perfect little Cho Chang make her way through the Great Hall, but you weren’t going to let it bring you down. He wasn’t yours, after all.

“Now, next time we meet I will be giving you dance lessons—”

You had finally tuned back in to what McGonagall was saying, trying your best to seem as if you hadn’t just floated off.

“—So, the rest of your class is a free period.”

You stood up hastily, grabbing Hermione’s wrist and walking over to where Harry and Ron were sitting, the two of them standing up and grumbling about dancing.

“Boy, oh, boy,” you let go of Hermione’s wrist and placed your hands on your waist, “A dance, huh? What’d ya think about that, Ronald? You gonna ask anyone?”

Ron’s face went blank and Hermione stomped discreetly on your foot, telling you that you had overstepped your boundaries. You hoped she’d forgive you for this.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Ron shrugged, looking between you and Hermione. You were destined to set those two up, nothing was going to stop you.

“You sure? C’mon, handsome lad like you’s gotta find a date. And you Hermione, you’re, ya know, smart and fun, don’t you want to bring a date as well?” you grinned, knowing damn well how uncomfortable you were making them. They both shifted awkwardly, stealing glances back and forth, none of them knowing what to say next. Ron’s feelings for Hermione were just as obvious, really.

“Well, I’ve made things weird, haven’t I?” you smirked, placing your arm around Harry’s neck. You ignored the way goosebumps formed at the contact, choosing to believe it was from how warm his skin was.

“Yes, you have, thanks,” Hermione spoke through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at you.

“Apologies,” you bowed slightly, “Let’s leave them be, Harry.”

Harry, laughing and sharing a confused expression with Ron, followed you out. You took your arm away from him, stealing a glance back to see that Ron and Hermione were still standing in awkward silence, and turned into the hallway.

“Nice work, maybe they’ll finally work up their courage,” Harry grinned at you, nodding approvingly at your set up, “You’re a natural matchmaker, Y/N.”

“See, they just needed a push, is all—oof,” you were cut off, bumping forcefully into a body of someone much larger than you. Your sight went dark, the only thing you knew was that the person tended immediately upon impact.

You pulled away, noticing the deathly glare Crabbe was now sending you.

“Oh, it’s just you,” you sighed in relief, “It went dark for a second, I thought I saw the end.”

Harry coughed to hide his laughter, pulling lightly on your sleeve to tell to you walk away. His tugging only became more aggressive once Malfoy stepped out from behind Crabbe, the same pissed off expression as always laced into his features.

“Leave us alone, Malfoy,” Harry glared at him, the tension between the two of them rising significantly in a short amount of time. He let go of your sleeve, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders.

“It was unfortunate, you know, that the dragon didn’t kill you,” Malfoy said lowly, clearly loving the fact that his friends laughed at his comment. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure what they had found funny. Was it a joke? What had he said that was so funny?

Harry rolled his eyes, motioning his head for you to follow him, and so you did so without question.

“You know, I was mistaken,” Malfoy’s voice echoed down the corridor, making both of you turn around once more. You were feeling both bored and angry — it was quite a strange mix. You were used to Malfoy’s taunts, having sat by while all of your friends — you included — fell victim, but a part of you particularly hated the way he spoke to Harry.

“Oh, yeah? About what? Please, for Merlin’s sake, enlighten us,” you snapped back, “We’re just dying to know.”

Malfoy’s eyes scanned your face before approaching the the both of you one more. Harry’s shoulder was pressed up against yours and you could feel his ragged his breathing had become. Malfoy always found a way under his skin and it bothered you a great deal.

“About Potter, I actually hope you do make it to the end, it’ll make your death that much more bittersweet,” Malfoy sneered, “For those who care, that is.”

“Gee, I always believed we Gryffindors were petty but that’s a whole new low,” you smirked, taking a step forward after pushing Harry back, telling him to let you handle the situations, “You know, I’ve come to a conclusion about you, Malfoy. The reason you’ve never said anything logical in your life is because you waste your breath insulting the people that you think care about your opinion.”

“Excuse me?” you had never seen Malfoy looked more appalled than in that moment. It was rather amusing.

“Was my English not easy enough for you to understand? Point proven,” you sighed dramatically, turning away from him and nudging Harry in the shoulder, “Oh, one more thing, Malfoy.”

You turned back to face him, “suck my dick.”

And with that, you turned back and walked away with Harry by your side, neither of you wanting to turn and gauge what Malfoy’s reaction would be.

Once you two were around the corner, Harry turned to you with wide eyes and his mouth broken into a wide smile. If this was the reaction you’d get for shutting down Malfoy, you’d gladly do it any day.

“That was epic, Y/N!” his hands grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly, “I’ve never actually had anyone stand up for me like that before, what made you do it?”

“Oh — I dunno,” you shrugged, feeling quite proud of yourself, “I stick up for my friends, I guess.” Friends. How you wished Harry could be more than just your friend.

“You’re incredible,” he grinned, taking his hands off of your shoulders and shaking his head in disbelief, “You know, I think I found the perfect friend in you. I love Ron and all but that was something else...”

As he trailed off, you noticed the way his eyes darted between your lips and your eyes. Although that should make you weak in the knees, a part of you instinctively pulled away, flushing brightly at the encounter. You told yourself it was probably just the heat of the moment, the thrill of the comeback.

“Eh, no biggie,” you shrugged, “Asshole needs to be put in his place sometimes.”

You nodded awkwardly and began to continue in the path you were headed, until you noticed Harry was no longer by your side, still standing rooted where you two were not five seconds ago.

“Harry, you—,”

“I’m good, yeah,” he cut you off quietly, a light smile on his lips, “You’re the best.”

“I’ve been told,” you grinned, trying not to let his words get to you. He chuckled, walking forwards and standing next to you, eyes still staring into yours with intensity you didn’t think you could bear.

Awkwardly looking away, your cheeks heating up, you motioned your head down the hall, “We should get going before Hermione and Ron come after me like an angry mob.”

Harry nodded, eyes wide and turning away from you, shaking his head like he was clearing his thoughts, “Good point.”

And so the two of you walked off towards the common room, the silence tense and unsure, but not comfortable. Did Harry really mean what he said? Calling you ‘the best’ and all? It was flattering, especially coming from him, but did he mean it the way that you wanted to take it?

Fighting a mental battle, you stayed quiet until you reached the common room. You flopped down on the couch, nearly being hit by a firework that Fred and George were trying out in the corner of the room.

“How long do you think it’ll be before—,”

The portrait door swung open and a very flustered Ron and Hermione stumbled in, both looking tremendously irritated and uncomfortable.

Hermione stormed up to you, dragging you up by your collar, “You and I need to talk. Right now.”

Shocked by her outburst, you nodded, “If you wanted to get me alone you could have just asked—,” noticing her expression, she wasn’t in the joking mood, “Yikes, sorry, okay, let’s go upstairs.”

She continued to drag you up, the anger fueling her sudden burst of strength. You did feel kind of bad about leaving her and Ron, but it wasn’t like you openly said anything about her feelings towards him.

Upon reaching your dorm room and noticing it was empty, she shut the door and pointed a finger at you accusingly, “You. Why would you do that? That was humiliating!”

“Oh come on,” you sat on the edge of you bed and brought your legs up, sitting criss-crossed, “It couldn’t have been that bad. Did he ask you to the ball?”

“No!” she seethed, sitting down on hers as well, “All he said was that he indeed noticed I am a girl.”

Your eyebrows shot up, “Four years in and he finally notices? I knew he wasn’t the brightest lightbulb in the chandelier, but wow.”

As if she agreed with your comment, the anger seemed to disappear from her face. She rushed off her bed and sat next to you, shoving you over slightly so she had space on the tiny bed.

“I think he’s already got his eye on someone. It’s not fun.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumbled before you could stop yourself. Hermione’s eyes shot up, giving you a quizzing look as you clamped your hand over your mouth.

“Oh! You like someone!” she grinned, lifting her hand to poke you in the shoulder, “You know about my feelings, I need to know about yours.”

“I don’t have feelings,” you defended, fighting back a blush and taking your hand away from your mouth, “Don’t turn this on me.”

“It’s Harry, isn’t it?” she smirked. You scolded yourself for having been obvious. Of course, the ever-so intuitive Hermione would catch onto who your crush was. It was an embarrassing attempt to hide it on your part.

“Listen, Hermione,” you pointed a finger at her, “Tell anyone and during the next dinner, they’ll be serving your head on a silver platter.”

She giggled, ignoring your threat and crossing her fingers over your heart, “I won’t tell a soul.”

Squinting at her, you figured you’d be able to trust her. She had been your friend for years and kept all your previous secrets. She might be able to keep this one as well.

“Fine,” you gave in, throwing your head back in frustration, “You’re right. It’s Harry.”

She gave you a toothy grin, wiggling her eyebrows, “Now, I have to set you two up.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you shot back, pointing your finger and shaking your head, “You’re gonna take his deep-rooted love for Cho away and, well, that’s just plain rude.”

“Oh, shut up, he’s barely ever spoken to her. It’s just an appearance thing,” she waved her hand, brushing off your comment, “Besides, I heard Lavender Brown say that Cho and Cedric Diggory are hanging out.”

Not overly shocked by the information, you leaned back onto your pillows, “Good for her. Diggory is a right catch if I say so myself.”

Hermione smacked your knee, “Sit up! Listen to me, you don’t need to pout, let’s just go down there and I’ll work my magic.”

You glared at her, not utterly convinced she was able to do much, but you followed her back downstairs nonetheless, figuring it was worth a shot. The worst that could happen was that Harry would not feel the same, distance himself from you, then you’d lose Ron and Hermione as well because they were his friends first and then you’d be left alone to suffer in self despair while they galavanted in friendship—

“Hey, Harry!” Hermione greeted a little too cheerfully once you two entered the seating area of the common room. Already embarrassed by her attempt, you didn’t notice the way Ron and Harry immediately stopped talking upon your entrance, sharing a look that could only mean ‘don’t say anything.’

“Er — hi, Hermione,” Harry smiled awkwardly.

You sat down on the couch next to Ron, who was eyeing Hermione with awe. He was so smitten, it was a miracle no one else noticed the way he looked at her.

“Ron, you’re pathetic,” you leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Ask her. Don’t make me threaten you into doing it.”

Ron shot you a look, “Not bloody likely.”

You turned away, shrugging, and stared into the fireplace. Harry was seated on your other side, not saying much, but the way he kept looking over at you made you think that he did actually have something he wanted to say.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, Cho is going to go to the ball with Cedric,” Hermione said, pretending it was no biggie but checking over repeatedly to see Harry’s reaction.

Upon noticed he didn’t say anything, she leaned closer to him, “Did you hear me Harry? Cho’s taken.”

Harry looked at her, eyes darting back and forth between you, Ron and her, “Yeah, I heard you.”

“Guess that means you can ask someone else,” Hermione grinned, leaning back.

You scolded yourself for telling her. She was being ridiculously obvious and it pained you to see her efforts. Did she think this was going to anywhere?

“Er — I guess,” Harry shrugged, glancing over at you for a millisecond before turning back towards the fire, “I guess I’ll wait and see how things go.”

Your heart did a slight flip. He didn’t mention having any other girl in mind, maybe that meant he didn’t. Which still gave you a shot, technically. Even if he didn’t see you that way just yet, maybe you’d have to turn on the charm. Flirt, make him see that you were actually interested.

Granted, flirting was never really your area of expertise. You weren’t good at it, nor did you really have any experience. But maybe, just maybe, with Hermione’s strange help, you’d be able to find a way to get him to notice you.

Plan Flirt with Harry was now in action.

— —

Over the next two weeks, things had been going relatively well. Hermione had toned down her strategy and was making you seem like much more of a natural.

You and Harry had even shared a few lingering touches, whether they be your hands touching at the table during dinner, or his elbow touching yours when you were sat in the common room. Nothing overly intimate, but enough to send sparks flying through your body at the feeling.

You had also noticed the way Ron and Harry seemed to drop whatever conversation they were having when you entered the room. Sure, they could have been discussing Hermione and Ron’s feeble attempts at his own flirting, but the way Harry would glance at you during meals and classes sent your head spiralling with the idea that maybe, just maybe, they were talking about you.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but it was hard not to when the ball was getting closer by the day and neither you, nor Harry, had a date and he still hadn’t shown interest in anyone else.

“He asked me!” Hermione stumbled into the dorm room in excitement, causing you to jump out of your skin and nearly drop the book you were reading.

“Ron?” you grinned, sitting up, “Oh, that’s great, Hermione! I knew—,”

“Not Ron,” she rolled her eyes, flopping down on your bed, on top of your legs, “Viktor Krum.”

“Ohhhh,” your eyes widened, “You go, girl. Have you seen his jawline? I’d let him cut me with it, hot ass—”

Hermione laughed, pretending to shoot you a glare, “That’s my date you’re talking about.”

“Right, sorry,” you joined in on her laughter, closing your book and placing it on your night table, “But I really am happy for you.”

“Thanks,” her cheeks went pink as she turned to face you, “Can we go sit in the common room? It’s just Ron and Harry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you sighed, flicking the warm blanket off of you and following her downstairs. She was radiating joy, and even though it wasn’t Ron that had ended up asking her, you could tell she was really looking forward to this date.

“Just ask her,” you heard Ron snap quietly once you two started making your way down the stairs, “I see the way she looks at you.”

“I can’t!” Harry snapped back, trying to keep his voice down, “She can do better anyways.”

“Yeah, bloody right,” Ron scoffed, “You fought a dragon.”

“It’s not the same, Ron, I— shush, I hear footsteps.”

The two of you walked into the room, noticing once again how Harry and Ron dropped their conversation upon landing sight on you two. So, Harry already had plans on asking someone to go to the ball. It hurt, you weren’t going to deny it. Of course he had someone else. He was Harry Potter, for goodness sake. Charming, funny, loyal, and brave. All the qualities to make a girl swoon.

“What are you two ladies gossiping about?” you pretended to be fine as you sat down on the opposite couch, placing your hands in your lap and trying to steady your now irregular heartbeat. Jealousy was slowly coursing through your veins and you hated it.

“Nothing,” Harry shook his head, a fake look of innocence on his face. Ron nodded along, neither of them being very convincing.

“Oh, hey Y/N,” Ron smirked, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging Harry in the ribs. Harry, glaring at his friend, gave him a nudge right back. You chose to ignore the comment, focusing more on the look Hermione was giving you.

“Hi, Ron,” you replied back, not sure why he was grinning while glancing back and forth between you and Harry. He was always very strange.

Hermione sat down on the armrest of your chair, crossing her arms and nudging you in the side, telling you to start doing something.

“Harry, are you trying to figure out the second task?” you blurted out, not sure what you could have said that wouldn’t make the situation weird.

“Of course,” Harry’s cheeks flushed slightly, his eyes avoiding yours, “I think I’ve almost got it.”

You grinned, “Oh, that’s great. I knew you’d be able to figure it out.”

Hermione seemed more pleased by your comment, leaning back and letting the situation unfold.

“Harry’s real smart, you know,” Ron nudged Harry in the side again, a teasing expression on his face, “One of the smartest.”

“Thanks,” Harry glared at Ron, speaking with gritted teeth before turning back to you, his face softening, “I had help, though.”

“Modesty isn’t gonna make you win, y’know,” you smirked, admiring his honesty, “Take credit. Be proud of yourself.”

Harry’s cheeks were pink and he brushed the hair out of his forehead, “Thanks, Y/N.”

You could tell he was flustered, but you figured it was probably because of the compliments. Harry never really knew how to reply to them — you had noticed that over the years. For someone who was the bravest person you had ever met, he sure didn’t know how to deal with people.

“Oh, Ron, Ginny wanted to talk to us,” Hermione sat up quickly, clapping her hands together. Ron raised an eyebrow, questioning her silently, before standing up.

“She did?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Yes! She did,” Hermione sent a discreet wink in your direction before turning to Harry, “We’ll be back shortly!”

“Well, Y/N, Harry, be safe you two,” Ron picked up on what Hermione was doing, smirking as he made his way to exit the room, “Have fun!”

Harry glanced at Ron, his eyes wide. The two boys shared a look before Hermione dragged the ginger boy out the portrait hole behind her.

“Head on a silver platter, Hermione!” you called after her, your heart beating violently, “Head on a silver platter!”

The portrait swung shut and the room went dead silent. The only thing you could hear was the thump of your heart and the sudden nervousness that spread throughout your body at being alone with Harry.

You wanted to seize the chance and make a move, but you had just heard him talk about asking a girl to the ball, so was it a good idea? Probably not.

But as you looked at him, watching the way the flames flickered across his face and the way his messy hair stuck out in different directions, it took everything you had in you to not rush over there and tell him everything.

“Can I tell you something? Don’t tell Ron and Hermione,” he piped up quietly, turning to face you, the blue of his eyes making you weak. You were thankful he spoke first, it prevented you from spilling your guts and making a fool out of yourself.

“Sure,” you replied, getting up and walking towards the couch he was sitting on, making yourself comfortable on the opposite end.

He sighed deeply, “I haven’t figured out the egg.”

“You haven’t?” you spoke, shock evident on your face. You felt bad for acting so surprised, but you couldn’t help it. He had seemed so confident when he told you he had.

He shook his head silently, shrugging, “I don’t know what to do with it.”

You blinked rapidly, turning over to face the golden egg that was sitting on the table, “Why didn’t you want to tell the others? Hermione could probably figure it out.”

He turned to you, face pale, “No, don’t tell them. I just thought I’d tell you, I don’t know, I trust you.”

You fought back a grin, hiding your smile behind your hair so you didn’t look like an idiot. He probably didn’t mean it as a compliment but you took it as such.

“Well, I’ll help you, then,” you nodded, holding out your pinky, “I know we’re not children, but I pinky promise.”

He grinned, linking your pinky with his. For someone who had been through so much, he really did have soft skin. It was annoying. Pleasant, but annoying.

“I’m glad I have you around, Y/N.”

His gaze was so intense and wholesome that you struggled to hold back.

“The sappiness is gross, but I’m glad to be around,” you beamed, pulling your pinky away and turning back to your corner of the couch, leaning your head back and enjoying the softness of the cushion, your mind going back to the conversation you had heard between him and Ron. Who was he planning on asking?

Now was your chance — now or never.

“So — uh — who are you asking to the ball?” you asked, so silently Harry had to lean closer to you to hear it.

He stammered, “Oh — er — I dunno, yet. There’s a girl I have in mind but I don’t think she sees me that way.”

Your heart sank, but you turned to face him with a neutral expression, “I call bullshit. Who wouldn’t want to go with you?”

He seemed to think over your words for a second, a glimpse of fondness on his features, but he turned away and shook his head, “She’s different.”

“How so?” you regretted it as soon as you asked, knowing Harry was about to gush about some girl when you wished more than anything it was you he’d be gushing about.

“She’s bold,” he said, a hint of a smile on his lips, “Not afraid to stick up for herself or the people she cares about. She’s smart, too, always has an answer for everything. A good friend — the best, really. And I know she’d be better off with someone who wasn’t me.”

You nodded, processing his words and trying to think of the girl he could be talking about. It completely crushed you, hearing him speak so highly of someone, but you knew that if anything, he’d be the one better off without you.

“Why’d you think that?” you began twiddling with your thumbs, avoiding his eyes, “Did she tell you or is it an assumption?”

“She didn’t tell me,” he quickly replied, shaking his head, “But she’s got such an incredible spirit, I’m worried I’d ruin it. You know, it’s funny. I always looked at her like she was just a friend, just someone that I’d got lucky to have around, but then one day, she did something, and it kind of clicked. After that, I couldn’t look at her the same. She was so much more beautiful, so much more radiant and lovely and I knew from then on that she was just... different to me. And I tried to tell myself she was never going to see me that way but the more I was around her, the harder it was.”

You bit your cheek, trying your best to hold back your oncoming emotions.

“Well, she’s lucky,” your voice was weak, shaky even, as you turned to face him.

His smile was clear as day and the love struck expression was still on his face as he turned to look at you, causing you to speak up one more, “What did she do that made you change your mind about her?”

The smile vanished from his face and the awkward expression returned. He raised his hand, rubbing the back of his neck and then through his hair, as if he wasn’t sure what to say next.

He dropped his hand and faced you, all traces of amusement gone from his face, “She stuck up for me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words echoing in your mind. You nearly missed his hand reaching across the couch and grabbing yours, linking his fingers and running his thumb across your skin.

Had he been talking about you? It would make sense, you had stuck up for him against Malfoy a few weeks back, but had it really impacted him to the point where he was falling for you?

You didn’t want to complain, but you couldn’t believe it. You thought back to what he said, about seeing you as a friend and then as something more, that you were different and beautiful, even. It was nearly impossible to believe him just off of his words, you had embarrassingly dreamt of him admitting his feelings and it felt too good to be true, but his gentle tough and soft gaze grounded you to reality. He was telling you the truth.

“I’m talking about you, if you hadn’t caught on,” he tried to smile but it came off as more of a grimace, his nerves evident in his shaking hand and pale complexion.

You still couldn’t forumulate the words to say. For years you had always been the one to make a comeback, leaving others speechless — but now, you were the one speechless.

“Me?” you stared at him with wide eyes, heart violently thumping against your rib cage, trying to burst out and reach his, “Me?”

He retracted his hand rather quickly, “Unless — you know, unless you don’t feel the same.”

“No, wait,” you reached across and grabbed his hand, finally finding the courage to flash him a smile, “I do actually. I do feel the same.”

Relief flooded over him, his face regaining colour and his shoulders slouching back, “Oh, thank Merlin.”

The joy that had spread through you was indescribable. You didn’t think there could be a better feeling. Your heart seemed to swell and the tingling sensation in your fingers was everlasting. It was like a high you didn’t want to come down from. God bless Hermione and her intuition of leaving you two alone.

Plan Flirt with Harry had been a success.

— —

Hermione and Ron had quickly been informed of the confession between you two, both of them saying they had called it years back. Which didn’t make sense considering you didn’t have feelings for each other years back, but you let them enjoy their moment.

You had helped Harry try and figure out his second task, as promised, spending many a nights up late in the common room and telling each other things you wouldn’t tell someone if you were ‘just friends.’ You were having the time of your life, really. He had grown comfortable being intimate — holding your hand on the way to class or pecking your cheek in the Great Hall. (Hermione and Ron teased you two to no ends about it.)

Eventually, Harry had asked you to be his date to the Yule Ball — which you responded with ‘well, duh.’ So, as the night of the dance came around — you were actually looking forward to it now — you had gotten ready with Hermione and strolled down to the Great Hall, ready to finally dance the night away with the boy you had fallen for.

Reaching the stairs, you noticed him and Ron standing at the bottom, both looking out of place. Ron — donning his ugly dress robes — had worked up the courage to ask one of the Patil twins. Which one, you didn’t remember. He had asked her out of desperation, it was rather sad.

“It’s embarrassing to be seen next to you, Ronald,” you tapped him on the shoulder once you arrived at the bottom. He spun around, his face laced with humiliation.

“They’re ancient,” he groaned, lifting his arms to show you the frills.

“Yeah, I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you,” you winked and ruffled his hair, turning to face Harry.

His eyes scanned you up and down in your dress, but you were too focused on how good he looked to feel at all self conscious. You had only ever really seen him in sweaters and his Gryffindor robes. This was a whole new level of glo-up.

“You look gorgeous,” he grinned, linking his hand with yours and pulling you closer to him, “I’m the luckiest guy here.”

You tossed your hair over your shoulder, grinning, “Well, what can I say? I’m a catch.”

“That you are,” he nodded, sticking out his arm for you to take, “We have first dance since I’m Champion.”

You nodded, linking your arm in his and standing by his side. You weren’t exactly a good dancer, but if you had Harry by your side you’d be too focused on him as opposed to the crowd around you.

“Shall we go in then, Champion?” you turned to face him, chin held high.

“We shall,” he replied in the same noble manner, chin up, and began leading you into the ball.

He was well worth the wait.