#i mean we all been making au verses like that for a hot minute
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Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
Word Count: 3.5k
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)
Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.
Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.
Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters
Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.
Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.
You can find my masterlist here.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
Enjoy!
If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.
He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.
He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.
For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.
A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.
Except...
For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.
He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.
Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.
Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.
You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?
But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.
He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.
But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.
He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.
You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.
The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.
Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.
"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"
"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.
Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.
“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”
"Bye honey."
“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”
“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.
“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."
Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.
Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.
For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.
And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.
Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.
So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.
But it had been. A huge shock.
His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.
Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.
But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.
Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.
See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.
Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.
Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...
Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?
Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.
Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.
...actually...
"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.
"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."
"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.
"I use one every time I'm in here."
"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."
"So?"
"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"
Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.
"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.
Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.
Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.
For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...
If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?
But that was a dumb thought to have.
Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.
He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.
"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.
He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.
He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.
The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.
Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.
It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.
"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."
He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...
While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.
He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.
Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.
By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.
It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...
He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.
"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”
He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.
When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.
He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.
His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.
Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?
Eddie groaned and rolled over.
What the fuck was this place?
There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.
This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?
He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.
Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—
“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?
Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?
He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?
Ugh it was too early to think about that.
Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise…shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?
He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.
His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?
Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?
Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.
“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”
Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.
That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.
Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.
He opened his eyes.
“Jesus H. Christ!”
Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.
“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.
Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.
Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.
He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.
He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.
So how did he end up here…wherever here was?
This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?
“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”
There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.
Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...
A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?
One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.
Bingo.
Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?
And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.
What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.
He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.
Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.
Only it wasn't...his reflection.
It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.
A wave, a turn, a funny face.
He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.
Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.
It was Eddie Munson's.
#Eddie munson x reader#Eddie munson fluff#Eddie munson stranger things#Steve Harrington x reader#Steve Harrington stranger things#Eddie and steve#stranger things fic#Eddie munson fic#eddie munson imagine#Steve Harrington imagine
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a lesson on style - iv . [ ljn | njm ]
pt. i, pt. ii, pt. iii, pt. iv., pt. v, pt. vi
you’ve always been content with being associated with one word and one word only: average. average in looks, academics and social skills, you’re just looking to graduate high school without causing disasters you’ll have to live with until you kick the bucket. when you’re paired with school king lee jeno for the semester-long physics thesis, you can’t help but think the entire situation has pretty much set itself up for failure. that is, until you strike a deal with your partner. alternatively: an au tale involving lessons in popularity, eleven consecutive B minuses, a secretly sensitive, chess-loving jock, and an amateur sex tape.
pairing: jeno x fem!reader, jaemin x fem!reader
verse: high school au { jocks!nomin ft. a super cute whiny ap physics genius renjun }
rating: M for sexual themes ( there are allusions to sex but no explicit smut! )
chapter warnings:
word count: 7.6k
author’s note: i went quiet for a hot minute because a ton of nice things ate up all my weekends and a ton of terrible things ate up all my weekdays but im BACK with gremlin energy stronger than ever !!!!
tagging @justalildumpling
Renjun, being the quintessential all-around nerd that he is, has told you a lot about what they talk about in his advanced placement physics classes. A huge part of their class’ previous term had to do with theoretical physics; it had been basically months of him trying to enthusiastically explain something wildly abstract to you, and you laying your head on his fairly tall pile of books checked out from the library, humming in agreement at opportune times, like when he’d catch his breath, to make it sound like you weren’t falling asleep on him. He’d told you about the uncertainty principle, the multiverse theories, the difference between loop quantum gravity and string theory — both of which, he’d said, had their merits, but he was ultimately a stringy universe kind of guy. A lot of the stuff he’d said hadn’t made much sense, and they mostly seemed impossible, which is why you’d stopped trying to pay attention by the end of the first month.
With all of that information in mind, however, you have to say that this is the most absurd thing you’ve heard thus far.
“That’s physically impossible,” you say without even thinking. Jeno, who has been grinning for the last two minutes leading up to his proposition, suddenly shifts mood, looking a little taken aback.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, this,” you gesture to yourself as a whole, trying to ignore the inappropriately timed wave of tingles that arises when his eyes follow your hand. “Is not a shapeless slab of stone you’re going to be able to sculpt into something magical. I’m… I’m as good as it’s going to get. Which is fine, by the way.”
“Not really sure about the analogy,” he muses. “But I’ll go with it. I’m not going to try to re-mold you, or anything. We can just spruce it up. Kind of like putting Calvin Klein boxer briefs on that ripped naked guy by Michelangelo.”
“Wh — okay, I’m not even going to bother asking about the underwear brand choice.” You wave the analogy away. “You know that… getting a good, stardom-esque reputation like yours isn’t easy in high school, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not impossible,” Vaguely, you note that he doesn’t reject the idea that he’s a high school superstar. “Remember Park Jisung?”
“The guy that stands behind you in games?”
“The running back, yes,” he confirms. “Two years ago, that kid was a total loner. He ate lunch under that big tree next to the teacher’s parking lot. Now he’s running for captain next year, and everyone in his level is friends with him. And he’s wearing contact lenses instead of glasses now. See?”
“I’m not sure how that last one fits in, but I’m also going to let it go for now. I don’t have two years,” you remind him. “We graduate this term. Well — hopefully.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “You don’t need two years. I’m just saying. You’re always with that friend of yours, but you could stand to widen your circle, and there are a lot of our classmates I know you’d get along with. You could get into some cool new things, meet new people, share new interests. Plus, we’d get to hang out a lot more instead of just, you know, doing,” he points disdainfully at the list of topics. “That.”
You stare down at the paper, but your eyes just stick to it blankly without reading, your mind trying to process everything instead. You don’t really care about climbing up the proverbial social ladder; average is pretty fine with you, and you’re not even sure what a better reputation is going to achieve at this point. Still, the most appealing part of this conversation is getting to hang out with Jeno — the one thing you’ve craved since puberty, probably. Honestly, it seems like a win-win; it’s not like you weren’t planning on doing the project, anyway.
For some reason, it just feels too good to be true, though; you think there might be a snag, but you also can’t figure out what it might possibly be. You look up at Jeno for any sign of him faltering, but he’s just staring back at you a little expectantly, and it suddenly dawns on you that he’s worried you’ll say no.
Which is, frankly, laughable.
“Yeah, okay,” you say slowly, setting aside any hesitation you have. He lights up, that grin making a comeback on his face. “Yeah — why not?”
“Why not,” he echoes, looking exceptionally pleased. “For sure. Okay, well — awesome. So, I was thinking we could probably get some more headway with the project this week. You know, get it over with, rip the bandaid off quick and early, that sort of thing.”
“I’m free any time,” you say almost immediately, not only because it’s true but because even if it weren’t, you’d happily cancel all of your schedules for this. Luckily for you, your eagerness comes off as a simple fact, and Jeno clearly takes it as such.
“Cool. I have practice after school, though, so can we do it over the weekend?” You nod, and he takes back the piece of paper, flipping it over while uncapping his pen with his teeth. “Here’s my number; text me on Saturday morning or whenever and just remind me about it. If I don’t reply in ten minutes, call me. I oversleep sometimes, or sometimes I let my battery die out because I forget to charge my phone. In that case, you can call my sister to wake me up. We don’t have a landline at home because, well… obviously.”
“Uh,” you’re not sure what to do with this sudden onslaught of information about his daily life, and it’s almost hilariously surreal that he’s writing down his sister’s phone number under his own. “That — okay.”
“Also, is it okay with your parents if I park in your driveway?”
“You know where I live?” You don’t even bother masking the tone of surprise.
“Well, yeah.” He looks amusedly perplexed. “You’re Jaemin’s neighbor. You’ve played Winner’s Really Really almost everyday since it came out. I can hear it from his bathroom.”
Right. Your lapse in memory makes you want to punch something — preferably yourself. “Oh. yeah. I should probably keep it down.”
“Nah. It’s a good song. Pretty sure that’s why Jaemin won’t stop asking me to play it in the car now.”
“Anyway,” you try to shift the topic back on track. “Usually, on weekends, my parents take the cars so the driveway’s empty, but their schedule’s kind of messy. They have, like, alpaca enthusiast functions sometimes, and sometimes they just stay home, so I can’t really promise a parking spot right now.”
“It’s cool. I can just park in front of Jaemin’s house, if that’s the case.”
“Is that okay with his family when you’re not even in their house?”
“Are you kidding? His mom invites me to their Seollal celebration like every year. I join their family for jesa like I don’t have my own family to do it with. She even calls me adeul. I could strangle Jaemin in his sleep, and she’d come in and ask me if I needed more heavy duty rope. It’s totally fine.”
You feel like a part of what he’s saying is a huge exaggeration, but it’s almost endearing that he and Jaemin have this kind of friendship. Briefly, your mind shifts to Renjun, and you wonder if you have the same kind of confidence in your relationship — then you remember you’re furious at him and shake the idea off before you start thinking about strangling him with some heavy duty rope.
“I’ll let you know if they leave anyway.” You take the paper back, index finger running idly over the dents in the paper that his writing his number had made. “Just in case.”
“Cool, just —“ He stops for a second as the teacher walks in, looking as disgruntled as ever. Jeno lowers his voice to a whisper. “Just text me.”
You nod, and he drops the conversation, turning his attention to the board where your teacher is trying to graph out a parabola. You try to focus on it too, opening your notebook to copy it down quickly alongside the equation he’s written to its right, except you have no clue where that figure came from and why he’s drawing it.
It also doesn’t help that you’re trying really hard not to stare at Jeno, who’s obviously not paying attention and is, inexplicably, smiling to himself, which is just giving you the worst (or best) kind of butterflies.
You don’t know why you’d expected things to change immediately, but whether or not they were supposed to, they don’t. The assumption was that because you’d be hanging out with Jeno, you wouldn’t need to worry about where to sit during lunch time, but he’s hardly in school for the last two days of the week; the crowd he’s with is still at their regular spot, and you understand that they’re probably friendly enough to accommodate you, but it seems like a stupid idea to approach them and say that you want to sit there because Jeno is supposed to be there.
It gets worse when you see Renjun at your usual table, eating his donkatsu, and you make eye contact. His expression is unreadable, and you suddenly feel the overwhelming need to either cry or throw miso soup at his face, so you deduce that you’re still not ready to approach him. It doesn’t help that his backpack and a stack of three, unbelievably thick books is on the chair where you frequently sit next to him, like he’s doing all he can to shun you. In the end, you take a cue from Park Jisung of two years ago and make your way to the big tree near the teacher’s parking lot, settling down under its shade.
It’s actually not as bad as it had sounded when Jeno had talked about it; the cell service is surprisingly great, so you get to wedge your phone between your legs while you’re Indian sitting and watch more Facebook videos featuring samoyeds and rescued kittens on mute. You spend maybe five minutes in between to check Jeno’s profile, but you’re unsurprised to find that the last time he’d been active was almost three days ago; the most recent post was a picture from last month that he’d been tagged in by who you assumed was his sister.
Halfway through the hour, a shadow grows over you, blocking out the sun. You look up, expecting that it’s Renjun, seeking you out after more than thirty-six hours of stony silence, but it isn’t; it’s Jaemin, looking a little sweaty and breathless. From your position, you notice that he’s in muddied cleats instead of the traditional casual sneakers that almost everyone wears, and there’s a little ring of darkness around the neckline of his navy blue shirt.
“Hey,” he sounds as breathless as he looks. “Can I sit here for a sec?”
You nod wordlessly, still in the middle of chewing your donkatsu, and he busies himself with tossing his backpack down against the tree before following suit, collapsing next to you with a huff. He even smells a little sweaty, like he’s been out in the sun for long; even if it isn’t exactly repellent, you inch away slightly. Thankfully, he doesn’t really notice, with him so busy trying to find the right place on his scalp where his hairline cuts evenly. When he speaks up again, his voice is exceptionally casual.
“You know this tree is infested with wooly caterpillars, right?”
“What?” Your mouth is half-full, though, so it just comes out as a garbled hnwaf?, and you jerk away quickly, precious bento box in hand. When you look back at Jaemin, though, he’s chuckling, back still pressed against the tree trunk.
“Kidding. Obviously.”
“Not funny.” You shift back in place, swallowing your food so that he can more clearly understand how unamusing that was.
“Sorry.” There’s a light twinkle in his eyes that says he isn’t though. “I didn’t have a better conversation opener. Anyway — why are you out here? This is literally the second least desirable place to have lunch.”
“What’s the first?”
“The boys’ bathroom on the third floor.”
You snort softly, putting the lid back on your bento box to avoid spillage just in case he decided to trigger panic again. “I’m just… enjoying the breeze and sunshine. Nature is such a thing for me. I also hear looking at greenery speeds up your metabolism.”
“Bullshit,” he laughs, and you’re amusedly taken aback by how comfortably he’s speaking around you. Then again, he doesn’t seem the type to talk any differently around anyone else. “Nice straight-faced lie, though. I would have believed you if I knew that definitely wasn’t true. I do hear it relaxes you, though — the looking at greenery thing.”
You laugh softly, leaning back (a little gingerly) against the tree, your bento box balanced on your knee; you can feel Jaemin’s gaze burning into the side of your face, clearly expecting an answer to his question, but the ideas of elaborating on petty fights with your only consistent friend or on petty desires involving his best friend both feel weird, so you just avoid the topic altogether, throwing your own question at him instead in an attempt to curveball the conversation into your favor.
“Do you know why Jeno isn’t in school today?”
Jaemin doesn’t answer immediately; you can tell he’s noticed you weaseling away from such a basic question, but, thankfully, he doesn’t push it after a brief moment of silence, simply reaching into his bag to extract a sandwich and an energy drink bottle. He takes his time popping open the bottle but doesn’t drink, twirling the cap between his fingers.
“He just does that sometimes, Jeno.” It’s clear in the tone of his voice that he’s choosing his words carefully. "He’s got… other stuff to do outside of school, so he suddenly ghosts. I’m sure he’ll be back on Monday, though. He usually shows up after the weekend, in my experience.”
“Other stuff?”
“It’s not really something I can explain or — you know. I don’t know how to, anyway. I wouldn’t know where to begin. Plus, it’s technically none of my business —“
“No — no, I get it. You don’t have to tell me.” It feels uncomfortable, anyway, suddenly prying into Jeno’s business, no matter how much a substantial part of your consciousness wanted to.
“But you want to know,” he takes a sip of his energy drink. “Because you’re nosy.”
“I’m not!” You want to cringe at how defensive your voice sounds, but it would just give you away more. “It’s just that, you know, he wasn’t around for class yesterday, and I haven’t seen him around today, so, I just…”
“I’m kidding, ________________. I know you’re not nosy. You’re worried about him because you like him.”
Horror creeps into your expression; you watch, frozen, as Jaemin takes a large bite out of his sandwich. You can see the spam between the slices slipping down at the bottom, threatening to fall into the plastic bag. You lock eyes with him; he stares at you, but you can’t tell if he’s smiling because his cheeks are puffed out by all of that bread and filling he’s munching so diligently on. Denial is the first thing that pops into your head; it seems so easy just to say no, I don’t!, but you can’t bring yourself to. In the end, you just sigh in defeat.
“Does he know?”
“Jeno? I don’t know. Maybe, but he also has this talent for not paying attention to stuff that seems obvious, so there’s the possibility that he doesn’t. We don’t really have a very in-depth feelings are valid relationship, so it’s not like we talk about it.”
“Is it that obvious, though?”
“Is Dongbangshinki’s Here I Am the best song in history?”
“Debatable,” you snort half-heartedly. “But I get what you’re trying to say.”
“I know you think Winner’s Really Really is the best song, but,” he pauses, swallowing down his food and taking another enormous bite. “You should really expand your horizons more. For both our sakes.”
“Really Really is a great song. Besides, Jeno says you’ve been playing it in his car these days.”
“It is an earworm kind of jam,” he admits. “But it doesn’t beat out the classics by a mile.”
“Here I Am was released in 2010!” You argue. “That was like ten years ago!”
“No, it was released in 2012.” He says as-a-matter-of-factly. “And Really Really should be thankful for all Here I Am sunbaenim has done for it.”
You don’t know why the sound of your laugh is so foreign until you realize you don’t really remember having laughed genuinely over the last week; between panicking over the strangely massive amount of attention Jeno had bestowed upon you and Renjun’s childish and, therefore, frustrating behavior, you haven’t found much humor in anything, and humor hasn’t really found you until now. It feels nice to just carry out a conversation without worrying it’s going to turn into a disaster or an argument, and you kind of like how Jaemin laughs even louder and a lot more obnoxiously than you do; some freshmen crossing the field in front of you actually turn when he starts guffawing.
The silence that you both lapse into is a little less strange; you get to resume finishing off your donkatsu, and Jaemin enthusiastically inhales the rest of his sandwich. He’s flicking the bread crumbs off his fingers into the grass when he starts talking again.
“So you and Renjun still aren’t talking?”
“Wh — now who’s being nosy?”
“Technically, it’s not hard to deduce,” he crumples the plastic bag and smushes it into his backpack again. “You’re not in the cafeteria with him like you usually are. Plus, he punctured three holes into his quiz a couple of days back because of how hard he was digging his pen into his paper. I had to give him a new sheet.”
“Yeah, well,” you blow out air in a sharp, annoyed huff. “I hope he failed.”
“He didn’t, but for the sake of my curiosity, why would you hope that?”
“Because he’s just — he’s being a pain in the ass. He has been, for a while. Also, he has this really bad problem of talking too much even though it’s obvious you want him to shut up. And he thinks he’s hilarious when he’s just being mean.”
“To Jeno, you mean?”
“You heard about that?” You raise your eyebrows. “I thought you guys weren’t into talking about feelings or whatever.”
“We aren’t. Jeno literally said you know that Renjun guy? What’s his problem?, and I just naturally put the pieces together.” He shrugs.
“Yeah, well, I wonder that sometimes too.” You pluck out blades of grass aggressively, feeling your face heat up with residual fury from the thought of Renjun.
“Haven’t you guys been friends for years?”
“Yeah? So? He can’t be a jerk to me after all these years?” Your snippy tone cuts through your trance of anger, and you look back at Jaemin, who’s surprisingly not at all taken aback. He’s just looking at the dirty blades of grass in your fist with some mild form of interest. “Sorry. That was rude.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I know what you really fought about. Although,” he adds as an afterthought. “If it’s about Jeno, I really don’t think he’s worth losing a friendship over. Don’t get me wrong; I mean, Jeno’s great. He’s my best friend.”
“Your mom loves him,” you interject helpfully, and he hums in agreement.
“But it’s not like you have only one position for a male friend in your life. You don’t have to trade Renjun for Jeno, or anything like that. Maybe you guys can just talk it out.”
Jaemin’s fingers are idly playing with the grass as well; instead of pulling them out, though, he’s just brushing his fingers through them like they’re the fur on his sleeping cat. It strikes you that Jaemin and Jeno are weirdly nothing alike; Jeno’s substantial physique totally eclipses Jaemin’s fairly leaner one, and they even talk differently, not to mention the fact that the latter is clearly lightyears ahead of the former academically. Still, they’re close — kind of like you and Renjun were. Are? Should be?
“Yeah — I guess,” you let go of the grass, watching them fall, crumpled, back into the dirt. “I guess you’re right.”
“Besides, if anyone were to replace Renjun as your best friend and confidant, it would obviously be me.” The light humor creeps back into his voice, and you smile slightly.
“Obviously.” It’s weird to think of Jaemin as coming close to the level of a best friend, but it’s also starting to hit you that he’s talking more like a friend than a casual neighborhood acquaintance, a particular relationship development that you didn’t think would be possible at the start of this school year — or, well, two weeks ago, actually.
You can see streams of people walking out of the cafeteria back into the main building; lunch time is nearly over, and this fact is confirmed by Jaemin suddenly tilting his head back along with his energy drink, downing its contents in swift, audible gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing rhythmically. He lets out a refreshed exhale once he’s done, popping the cap back on.
“I have to get the class’s quizzes back from the faculty before I go in. Want to walk back together?”
“No, that’s okay,” you watch him shrug on his backpack, reaching out to fix the zipper that leaves it half-opened. He mumbles a thanks. “I’m going to sit here and finish watching this samoyed ASMR video until the bell rings.”
“Cool,” he stands, brushing off the grass and dirt from his jeans. “Well, see you around, _______________.”
You give him a wave, and he starts trekking across the field; you almost turn back to your video, which has been on pause since he’d arrived, but he calls out to you, walking backwards now instead of stopping like a normal person.
“By the way, you should know that ownership of my jacket comes with great responsibilities. More information to follow,” he calls out.
“Oh, shit,” you mumble to yourself; you’d forgotten about it, even if it’s been sitting on the chair by the front door for the majority of the week. You raise your voice to respond to him. “I’ll drop by later and give it back!”
“Don’t worry about it,” he waves away your words. “Whenever you remember.”
“I’ll do it after school,” you’re practically shouting now because he refuses to stay still. He gives you a thumbs up that looks minuscule from the distance between the two of you.
“I’ll hold you to it!” He gives one last wave, turning back around and jogging towards the main building.
You can see the little sweat patterns that are almost dried up on the back of his shirt, even if he’s so far away now; weirdly enough, they remind you of tiny angel wings.
This is the first Saturday in your life on which you wake up really early; you’re actually up to see the sunrise, which is something you haven’t seen since a Thursday during your second grade when you’d woken up, startled, to a stray cat making a mess of the trash cans in front of your house. You’re already oddly feverish and more than a little jittery from the moment you roll out of bed, which leads to you taking an hour-long shower that you use to create multiple scenarios involving Jeno’s visit. None of them end particularly well, especially the one where he drives up to your house only to tell you that he’s found a better partner before driving away. It’s at that point — as well as the point where you notice that the tips of your fingers have significantly pruned up — that you decide you’ve wasted enough time and water.
Still, even with the hour above you’ve killed, it seems way too early on a weekend to call someone, much less expect them. Now is actually one of the rarer times in your house that it’s fairly quiet, with only a few footsteps in adjacent rooms breaking the silence, so you take advantage of the opportunity to prepare. In this case, preparation really means taking out the piece of paper that had Jeno’s number, adding Jeno’s number, adding Jeno’s sister’s number, taking note of the project Jeno wants to do very briefly before deciding you have no tools to prepare for it, and then contemplating whether or not you should call Jeno or his sister now.
Your final decision is to head down for breakfast and attempt to stop obsessing too much over the Jeno situation, and you’re surprised to see Jisoo at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him that looks only a fraction of a percentage touched. His eyes are glued to his phone, and he’s scrolling madly away. He doesn’t even notice you as you open the refrigerator and let out a small noise of defeat as you learn he’s taken the last of the milk.
“Hey,” you finally speak up, setting down your glass of grape juice way too hard on the table so he snaps out of it; he fumbles with his phone, almost dropping it into his bowl of cereal. “Who are you talking to this early in the morning?”
“None of your business,” he mumbles, locking his screen.
“Okay. Well, it’s also none of my business, but your cereal milk is curdling.”
He looks down at the bowl, like he’s shocked to see that it’s somehow materialized in front of him, but he doesn’t respond, opting to shovel soggy cereal into his mouth to avoid having to speak. You both consume your food in silence for the most part, until he’s only got the last dregs of milk and some cereal he didn’t manage to stuff into his face swimming at the bottom of the bowl.
“You can’t tell Sooyeon noona,” he starts suddenly, and you put down your half-empty glass of juice.
“That’s a promise I cannot make without knowing what you’re hiding.”
“It’s not bad. I swear. It’s just… if you tell her, she might do something about it, and I will literally never come out of my room again if she does.”
You wrap your fingers around the glass, condensation sticking to your skin. “Fine. I won’t tell her. For now.”
“I’ve been… I’ve been talking to Kim Minjeong.”
Your mouth forms a tiny ‘o’, finally cottoning on to why he doesn’t want you blabbing to your sister; Kim Minjeong is in the same year as your sister, and she comes over sometimes after cheerleading practice. You like her, mostly because she’s undeniably nice and also because sometimes she brings egg custard tarts for the family, but you do know both of your brothers tend to avoid going down when your sister invites any of her friends over. You’d always naturally assumed that neither of them enjoyed the awkwardness that comes along with hanging around older girls you don’t know but have no choice to play host to (which is a specific and odd type of awkwardness, but a real one just the same), but that seems to be true for only one of your brothers now.
“Since when?”
“For a couple of months now. She — I don’t know,” Jisoo’s hands squeeze around his phone. “She’s so nice. She doesn’t treat me like a kid. Plus, I found out she watches Battlestar Galactica. The original and the remake.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a keeper. So what’s the big deal?”
“I mean, I like her, but I think she just… you know, she’s just nice to me because she has to be — because she’s friends with Sooyeon noona? And I don’t know if I should tell her I like her. And if I do, how should I tell her? And what am I going to do if she says she doesn’t like me back? And what do I do if Sooyeon noona finds out?”
He lifts his eyes, looking at you expectantly, but you’ve been operating under the assumption that these questions are all rhetorical, and you have no response to offer. All you can do is shrug helplessly, which is extremely lame, and Jisoo looks even more devastated now.
“Well, how would you go about it?”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” you snort. “My signature move is stare and stutter. You having a conversation about Battlestar Galactica with a hot cheerleader is a lot, lot farther than I’ve gone.”
“Well, how did Jaemin hyung ask you out?”
“He — hang on — what?”
“How did. Jaemin hyung. Ask you out?” He chops up his sentence like you’re a baby, and you smack his forearm. He doesn’t even flinch.
“He didn’t ask me out because we’re not together, as I repeatedly told you guys earlier this week.”
“Yeah, but some girls from my level saw the two of you near the teacher’s parking lot making out. Which reminds me — I think you have a couple of new… enemies from my year level. You should probably know that.”
“We weren’t making out! We were just talking. I’m —“ You almost want to say you’re loyal to Lee Jeno, but even in your head, it sounds a little pathetic. “I’m not into him. At all. Please don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Fine,” he sighs in frustration, as if it’s your fault that you’re single and therefore useless as a source of advice. “Well, what do you think I should do? If you were her — would you be creeped out by me asking you out?”
“Yeah. Because you’re my brother.”
“I mean if I weren’t.”
“Look, I can’t predict what she’s going to do; even if I were her closest friend, I wouldn’t know what the future was. Why can’t you just ask her out? If you’ve been thinking about it this much, then you’re obviously ready to try, right?”
“What if she says no? I’m going to have to live with Sooyeon noona knowing about it.”
“You’re going to have to live with her regardless, because she’s your sister,” you remind him. “And sooner or later, she’s going to find out. Personally, I think you should tell her. Sooyeon, I mean. She might be able to help you.”
“She might blab and ruin me. Sooyeon noona gossips so much.”
“Hey, watch it. I accept you looking down on me, but I will not have you have any negative opinions on our precious sister.”
“But it’s true,” he groans. You smack his arm again. This time, a tiny ow escapes him.
“I know it is, but it’s her one and only flaw, anyway, and she’d never gossip if she knew it would affect you negatively. Talk. To. Her.”
“Fine,” he picks up his spoon, scraping off the soggy cereal that’s adhered to the bottom of the bowl. You flinch at the loud noise. “Fine, I will. But if this goes horribly, I’m blaming you.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” you say, raising your glass to your lips and finishing the last of your juice while your brother washes his bowl and retreats back into his room.
You can hear the rest of your family slowly waking up, and your mom is the next one to come down, announcing that she’s on her way to go to some quilt-making class that she’s been itching to go to for months. She asks you what you’re going to do today, and you talk about your project in as vague a way as possible so that she doesn’t continuously pry; luckily, she’s so excited about making a quilt today that she doesn’t even try to push it, simply promising to buy more milk on her way home from the class before heading out.
It still seems too early to expect Jeno, so you end up going up the stairs way too slowly, consequently annoying your youngest brother, who’s waiting to go down; he blows past you once you’ve reached the top of the stairs, muttering something about how girls always take their time. The end result of you trying to kill more time is you booting up the Sims on your laptop, making a new household and cheating your way into free real estate and a ton of money so you can move them into the fancier neighborhood. In the end, though, the yipping of the new dogs they’ve adopted gets to you, and you pause the game, finally picking up your phone.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t even ring; the operator voice just tells you the number is unreachable at this time. It takes another five minutes for you to muster up the courage to call Jeno’s sister, who, to your relief, picks up after the third ring with a sleepy ‘hello?’
“Um… I’m sorry to wake you,” you don’t know why you’re whispering, but it just seems appropriate. “I’m… well, Jeno told me to call you if his phone isn’t ringing, so I just… sorry.”
“Oh,” there’s a pregnant pause that makes you wonder if she’s hung up the phone for a short, scary moment. “Oh, right; you’re probably ______________, right?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Yeah. Sorry. Jeno told me you might call. He’s probably got his phone turned off. I’ll go wake him up and tell him to contact you.”
“Thank you,” you’re still whispering when you hang up, and all the extra air escapes you in the form of a relieved sigh once the call drops. You return to your sims with a significantly lighter heart thereafter, and you even get them into cool new jobs before your youngest brother sticks his head into your room without knocking.
“______________ noona, Renjun hyung’s downstairs.”
You press the pause button so hard it actually sounds like the key has cracked, swiveling around in your study chair.
“Renjun? Huang Renjun?”
“Who else?” He sounds annoyed, but that’s how he usually sounds anyway, so you just brush it off. You think about telling your brother to tell him to go away, but your brother is already gone before you can finish deciding if you really want to do this, leaving your door ajar. With a groan, you slip off your chair, only momentarily distracted by your text message alert going off.
[ from; Lee Jeno ] hry sorry. 4got to charge my phone. Battery died. omw to u.
You don’t take the luxury of cooing over how cute his text sounds in your head, running down the stairs instead to see Renjun standing by the front door, twiddling his thumbs. He hears you charging down, looking up as you do so, and you can tell he’s swallowing hard because his Adam’s apple bobs dangerously in his throat. It’d be kind of funny if you weren’t equally as nervous.
“Hey,” he greets, his voice sounding a little choked up, like he hasn’t spoken for days — which, you know, is physically impossible for him.
“Uh. Hey. Why are you — what… are you doing here?” So maybe it comes out a little more accusatory than you’d initially intended, and you see that Renjun recoils a little. You feel bad about it. Kind of.
“I… um… we haven’t spoken for a few days.”
“I know that.”
“Right. Sorry. I was just hoping to talk to you.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m… I… you know.”
“Here to make fun of me? Like you’re so used to doing?” This time, his cringing brings about the slightest wave of pleasure in you, followed immediately by a larger, much more all-consuming attack of guilt.
“No, no. I came here to, you know. Apologize.”
“Oh.” You nod slowly. “I see.”
You wait for him to say something, but he’s just watching you, like he’s waiting for some kind of bigger reaction, except there’s absolutely nothing to react to, so you just give him a look that urges him to keep going.
“Right. Sorry. I mean — I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said back then.” He sighs, and it’s clear he thinks he’s digging his dignity’s grave deeper and deeper as he talks. “I have my reasons for not really liking Jeno. I don’t really know how much that’s going to change in the span of a few days. But I do know that I embarrassed you in front of him, and I don’t want to do that to you, ever. I’m sorry for that.”
“It was kind of embarrassing,” you agree.
“And, more importantly, I… I want to support you. I mean, I really don’t think you guys should get together, if I’m being honest,” he notices you bristling and hastens to add to his sentiments. “But I also know it’s not really about what I think. If you like him, and you’re happy around him, then… I’ll be okay with it. As long as he makes you happy.”
“We’re not together, Renjun,” you reply quietly. “I just like him. One-way crush — that’s it. It’s really, really not that big of a deal. I don’t want to fight just because I have a crush. If you liked someone, just liked them, I wouldn’t stop you from having feelings.”
“I know. I know you wouldn’t because that’s what good friends should be like. I should’ve been a better friend to you.” He takes in a shaky breath. “_______________, I’m really, really sorry. I hate fighting with you like this. Eating donkatsu alone without anyone to complain to about the moistness of the breading was torture.”
You choke out a laugh, and it’s only then that you realize that you’ve been slowly tearing up. Even Renjun looks a little misty-eyed, which is weird for the both of you, considering that you only ever cry watching Ma Dongseok movies.
“It really was kind of soggy.” You agree, and he laughs loudly.
“So this is good, right? I mean… we’re good?”
“We’re good.” You and Renjun rarely hug, since there’s never any cause for it, but it seems appropriate to do so now; luckily, he must be on the same train of thought, because he envelops you in a tighter-than-usual hug. You spend a couple of seconds just standing in your living room, trying not to sniffle too loudly into each other’s ears.
“Anyway,” he starts up again when he pulls away, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “I have to go home and help my mom with her garage sale today, but I’ll see you on Monday?”
“Definitely.”
“Cool. Oh — one more thing. Do you… think you can tell Jeno I’m sorry, too?”
“No,” you laugh. “No way. You tell him you’re sorry yourself.”
“Aw, come on,” Renjun whines, emphasizing his reluctance to do so by stamping his foot childishly. “There’s no context in which I’d be able to get to talk to him alone, anyway.”
“He’s coming over here in a few minutes to start on the project with me,” you inform him, and he actually looks a little crestfallen at this new information. “You can tell him you’re sorry then.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, sitting himself down on the chair near the front door only to sit back up, looking up at you in mild disbelief.
“You still haven’t given Jaemin’s jacket back?”
“Oh, shit. Yeah. Well, I keep forgetting!” You defend yourself.
“He lives right next to you! You could even ask your brothers to do it if you promised to pay them 10,000 won!”
“Yeah, but giving it back through someone else when I could just do it myself just seems so rude, you know?”
“And keeping it even though you have no reason to is polite in your head?”
“Shu— oh, oh, he’s here,” you cut yourself off as you hear the crunch of tires on your driveway, signaling that Jeno had parked in the spot your mom had left behind when she’d gone for her quilting class. Renjun flies off the chair and presses his back against the door before you can fling it open. “Hey!”
“Can you relax for one second? He’s getting out of his car. If you open the door now, you’ll look crazy.”
“Oh,” you pause, considering his words. “Good catch.”
A few moments later, the doorbell rings, and you shoo Renjun away from the door to open it. Jeno’s form is literally blocking the view of the outside, and you briefly wonder if this is more of a testament of his physique or proof that your family is just made up of small people. Or both.
“Hey, sorry,” he pulls off his baseball cap, which leaves his hair adorably flat and messy. “I overslept a little. Also, just in case, I brought my g — oh.”
Jeno stops when his eyes land on Renjun, who’s now miraculously standing behind you, looking like he wants to disappear. The look on Jeno’s face is stony, but he tears his gaze back to you anyway.
“Is this a bad time? I can come back. I’m sure Jaemin’s awake by now.”
“No, it’s cool. Renjun just… dropped by.” You step back so that Renjun is in the forefront, and he shoots you a withering glare. “He actually has something to say to you.”
“Does he?” Jeno doesn’t even sound interested, but he focuses on Renjun again anyway. “What’s that?”
“Look, dude,” you’ve never heard Renjun call anyone dude before, and it makes you snort, a noise which the both of them ignore. “I’m sorry about the other day. It was totally uncool of me, and I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t mean any of it.”
“Oh,” Jeno clearly wasn’t expecting an apology, but he looks pleased anyway. “Okay. Well, apology accepted.”
“Thanks,” even though it’s what he’d wanted, Renjun doesn’t sound too enthusiastic about receiving forgiveness. “And I mean it. I give you both my blessing. You can… pursue this relationship without any more active, explicit judgment from me. Good feelings for everyone, and all that.”
“Okay,” you cut in, not missing the fact that he’d gone out of his way to add active and explicit to allow himself the sneaky sliver of opportunity to judge Jeno in silence. The latter is looking at him, befuddled again. “That’s all you wanted to say, isn’t it, Renjun?”
“I’m not even sure if all of it was what I really wanted to say,” he sighs defeatedly at you. "But yes; I’m good.”
“Cool,” you push him towards the door; Jeno steps aside to let him through, and Renjun walks out, looking a little dazed, like his body can’t handle the idea that he’d just apologized to Jeno and is in the process of going into total shock. “Bye, Renjun. See you on Monday.”
You hear him mumble something as he trudges away, and Jeno follows his movements in silence until he disappears down the sidewalk.
“Was that weird, or—?”
“Yeah, it was kind of weird,” you admit, ushering him in. “But he means well. Anyway, putting that aside, should we get started on the actual proposal?”
“Did he say he gave us his blessing?” Jeno suddenly starts echoing Renjun’s words like they’re only starting to sink in now.
“Oh. Yeah — I wouldn’t really think too much of it,” you wave it away as Jeno settles down on your couch. “Smart people tend to say crazy things. So, I was thinking about the topic you picked, and I think the physics lab has a digital multimeter. We can check if it has that option for measuring sound frequency.”
“Uh huh,” he still looks like he’s not latching onto the topic change, whacking his baseball hat onto his thigh idly. “Sounds good.”
“You know… I’m going to go and get my laptop first,” you announce. Jeno makes a sound of assent, and you run upstairs into your room again. Your Sims game is still going on, and your laptop’s fan is working on overdrive. You press quit a good ten times, not bothering to save the game and open up Facebook, typing out an angry message to Renjun.
You: WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU
Na Jaemin: ??????
You: oops sorry wrong send !
Na Jaemin: lol good morning to u too
You leave Jaemin on read, focusing on your mission to chastise Renjun and opening the right chat.
You: WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Huang Renjun: IDK WHAT HAPPENED THAT WAS SO WEIRD
Huang Renjun: I SAID BLESSING JDGJSSJSF
You: I KNOW I WAS THERE
Huang Renjun: I KNOW IM SORRYRIJSPJG
You: DOSIJGSJG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You almost make it out of your room before having to double back, realizing you’re leaving behind the laptop you came up to get, and run back down, finding Jeno in the same position with the same perplexed look on his face. He, thankfully, doesn’t notice how red your face is when you sit down.
“Okay. Sorry. Should we start?”
“What? Oh, yeah of course,” he shakes his head as through trying to break himself from a trance.
“So I was saying, we could probably borrow one of those multimeters from the lab, but we’d need a written request for that. Also, I think we need to figure out—”
“Sorry, I just really need to ask,” Jeno interrupts you, and your voice dies in your throat. “That thing Huang Renjun said —”
“I’m really sorry.” You sigh, realizing the topic is unavoidable. “It was weird. I’d say he’s not usually like that, but…”
Jeno nods, staring at the inside of his cap, which is now settled on his lap. His long fingers are playing with the backstrap idly, and you wonder if what you’ve said is enough to make him drop the conversation. Unfortunately, you can tell he’s still on it when he looks up at you seriously, leading you to a sharp, uncomfortable inhale.
“You… didn’t tell him we were dating, did you?”
#jeno x you#jaemin x you#jeno x reader#jaemin x reader#ficscafe#nct x you#nct x reader#jeno imagine#jeno scenarios#jeno drabbles#jeno#jaemin imagine#jaemin scenarios#jaemin drabbles#nct scenarios#nct imagine#nct imagines#nct scenario
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Seven Sentence Sunday
Thanks to my beloveds, @onward--upward for the tag and @jacksadventuresinwriting & @thebestbooksaround for enabling me. (Let's be honest, it doesn't take much.)
This is more than seven sentences but its the first substantial thing i've written all week, so indulge me.
Also, I wasn't kidding, this is for the Piano Player AU, but there are a million other things and at least 2 fics before we get here...so...sorry about that.
“All I’m saying, is that if you really want to make the thing breathe you’ll bring the baseline in the measure after. Let that first verse just fill the space you know?” Eddie says, trying to juggle the armful of takeout food and his room key at the same time.
“Its not that I think you’re wrong.” Karen says, taking two of the bags out of his hands with a fond roll of her eyes, they’ve been sniping back and forth about this for three days. “Its just that you’re wrong.”
“If that’s the pinnacle of your argument, I think I win by default.”
Karen opens her mouth to reply, but before she can another voice interrupts.
“You’re Eddie Diaz right? And Karen Wilson? Station 118?”
Eddie turns on instinct, one hand still balancing a tray of milkshakes. A man stands several feet away, and he’s looking at the pair of them with unmasked excitement so profound it’s almost like hunger.
Its still a new enough sensation that Eddie’s first reaction to being recognized is usually a weird mix disbelief and excitement. But something about this encounter makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. As subtly as he can, he shifts his weight, trying to keep the bulk of his body between Karen and the newcomer.
[Redacted for plot reasons >.<]
The man jerks his arm up, the gun swinging in a wide arc and Eddie is moving before he even has time to think, a decades worth of training kicking in like second nature. He has enough time to knock the shot wide but not to be sure it didn’t find its target anyway.
Please be ok. He thinks, closing his fingers around the other man’s wrist and using his body weight to try and twist the gun out of his grip.
It almost works.
Its impossible to know if the next shot is on purpose or if the man’s finger just slips. All Eddie can be sure of, is one minute they’re struggling and the next all the breath is knocked out of him as his back hits the wall of the corridor, his ears ringing with a sound he can’t remember hearing.
[Redacted because I’m mean]
It’s a lot of blood, too much. He can feel it sluicing hot and thick down his back, smearing across the wallpaper as he slides to the floor. There are voices, pounding footsteps, but he can’t wrap his head around any of it. It’s not like last time, then there had been too much sound and pain and fear, sand and smoke and the taste of blood in his mouth. Now its all...empty. This time there’s no pain, just the feeling of hot pressure in his chest, the buzz of static in his ears and behind his eyes.
I'll tag @messyhairdiaz, @elvensorceress and @ediediaz if they feel like it and haven't already.
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i’m still not over the fact that one) the human hybrid grim was a faunus and two) has silver eyes. ruby seeing that must have fucked her up so bad i’m just sitting here like *steeples fingers* shits crazy yo
#DISTANT STATIONS ;; ( ooc )#TBD.#spoilers#i watched it again and noticed more about the character model#it's so interesting#i mean we all been making au verses like that for a hot minute#but still#crazy#rwby spoilers#volume 8
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indulge me
indulge me: an arrangement
— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.
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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader
warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space
word count: 13,547
a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this
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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.
First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable.
There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’
You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.
Sex sucked.
But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!
Audios were better.
Words were best.
But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.
“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”
“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”
He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.
“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”
You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.
“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”
Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.
So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.
You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.
The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.
The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.
The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.
And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.
What was a girl to do?
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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits.
Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.
To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.
This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.
‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’
Solid.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.
You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!
“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions.
You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.
It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.
Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.
Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart.
Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.
Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words.
He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —
“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.
Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!
NO!
“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”
Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.
“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.
Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.
“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”
Nailed it.
Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll.
“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”
“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”
“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”
You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.
It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.
You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.
“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”
“Absolutely the fuck not.”
Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag.
“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”
You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.
“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”
“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”
“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.
His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.
Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!
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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”
Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom.
Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty.
But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.
“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”
Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list.
You wonder who you were gonna get.
“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.
You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.
Oh boy.
“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”
“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”
“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”
“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”
You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.
Y/l/n, Todoroki S.
“Would you look at that.”
“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.
“I’m glad it’s you.”
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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.
“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”
“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”
A smile.
“That’s perfect.”
And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”
“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”
Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!
Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.
He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.
“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.
“I believe so!”
And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.
The paper itself isn’t that hard.
It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.
“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”
“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”
“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”
“Dark.”
“You know it.”
“I’ll avenge you.”
“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”
Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.
Incoming call from: dd.
“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”
.
Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.
Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.
He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.
Weird.
The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.
Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them.
Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.
Was testing products on your own a thing people did?
Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—
“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.
Oh.
Ohh fuck.
.
.
.
“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”
“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”
You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.
A fucking poser at best.
Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.
“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”
Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”
You smile, slightly embarrassed.
“That’s true, um—”
“I think it’s time—”
The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”
Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”
“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”
Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”
You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.
Jesus Christ.
.
.
Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.
ddlg dynamics
↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”
...Interesting.
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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that.
You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.
Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.
You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.
There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.
The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’
But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety.
Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.
The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.
You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.
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“Do you want a sticker?”
That was the beginning of it all.
You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker.
“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”
It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.
Fuck.
Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.
You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now.
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“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”
You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently.
“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.
“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.
“What?!”
“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.
“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”
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“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.
You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.
“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.
“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.
“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”
You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.
“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”
“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”
“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”
The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.
But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking.
He would not embarrass you.
He would not.
“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave.
If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”
There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.
There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto.
You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”
“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.
“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”
Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.
“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”
You blink.
“Eh?!”
“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”
He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.
“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on.
Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!
“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”
Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say.
“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”
You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.
“Let me know.”
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Todoroki S.:
↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it.
[received Today 23:44]
Todoroki S.:
↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it.
[seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]
You:
↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible.
[seen now]
Todoroki S.:
↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too.
[received Today 20:44]
You:
↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now.
[received Today 20:48]
Todoroki S.:
↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around.
[seen now]
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It has been two months since the contract was signed.
Two months.
Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home.
It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.
“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”
“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped.
“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”
You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.
“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.
“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”
There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.
“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.
Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.
Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.
“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.
.
.
He was so good to you.
So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.
He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.
It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.
It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.
The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.
Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out.
You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.
“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.
Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.
But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.
You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty.
You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.
“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late.
“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.
Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening.
“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.
You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!
“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it.
Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.
“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding.
It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away.
Well, you try to, that is.
Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.
“You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”
The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).
You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.
“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”
There was no way you would cave.
“Two.”
The silence between the two of you was heavy.
“One.”
Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.
“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.
You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.
“No!”
“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”
“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”
“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”
“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.
“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”
“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”
“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”
“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”
The effect is evident and instant.
Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.
“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”
“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”
A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking.
“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”
There’s a shift in the air.
“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”
“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice.
“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”
You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach.
“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”
The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!
“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”
Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.
“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”
“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”
A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.
“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”
You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name.
His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position.
“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”
You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.
“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”
“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”
Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good.
“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”
SLAP.
“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.
Fuck, you wanted this.
THWACK.
“Again.”
THWACK.
“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”
SPANK.
“O-One, thank you, daddy!”
WHACK!
You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.
“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”
You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.
You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.
There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark.
“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.
“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”
You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!
“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”
His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan.
There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.
Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely.
Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good. Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”
Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.
Shouto took notice and hummed contently.
“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”
You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.
“One.”
Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.
“Two.”
Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.
“Three… four…”
Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.
“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”
You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.
“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”
You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.
“Ten.”
Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed.
“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”
Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.
“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”
“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly.
Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.
“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”
You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.
“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.
You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.
“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.
He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room.
Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.
Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.
“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”
You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.
Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.
You shudder.
“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”
“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”
“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”
Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down.
You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.
“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.
“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?”
“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.
With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.
Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.
“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response.
“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”
“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.
“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”
“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”
You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.
“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”
His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.
Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.
“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.
“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.
On your clit.
“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”
It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.
“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”
Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.
“What do you want, sunshine?”
“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”
“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”
You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”
“Was it—?”
Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth.
It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.
“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”
“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?”
“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”
“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks.
You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.
“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”
“In me?”
“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”
You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.
“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”
Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.
“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”
You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”
“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”
And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.
“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”
“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”
“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”
“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.
“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip.
Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth.
“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”
His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input.
But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.
“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”
“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”
“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”
“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips.
His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries.
It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more.
Intensifying.
Exhilarating.
The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.
You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.
“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”
“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you.
A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck.
His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.
You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.
.
.
.
You open your eyes to a dark room.
Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.
“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”
Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”
You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.
“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”
You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.
“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.
“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.
“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”
You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.
“I thought I was the only one.”
.
.
.
“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.
“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.
“Look!”
Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.
“Is that—?!”
“YES!!!”
“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”
“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”
Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”
There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning.
Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”
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stucky fic recs
here are some stucky fic recs! as always, be sure to read the warnings for each fic <3
one shots
finding home | @thedamageofherdays
cap steve x modern bucky
After he is caught in a terrible rainstorm while hiking, Bucky is glad to find shelter at the cottage Steve shares with his daughter and his dog. Bucky ends up finding so much more than just a safe place to spend the night.
x | @dreadlockholiday
steve x bucky
Request: Bucky looking through a glossy magazine and saying something like "God, can you imagine being paid for just looking cute?" And without thought Steve replies, "you'd be a millionaire" and Bucky just blushes furiously while Steve's all like 😳 *oh no, I just said that out loud*
x | @dreadlockholiday (18+)
steve x bucky
Bucky finds his BFF Steve's sketchbook... and it's full of nothing but sketches of Bucky... naked.
sweethearts | @musette22
steve x bucky
Steve confesses his feelings to Bucky using sweethearts
my moon, my man | @musette22 (18+)
steve x bucky (modern au)
AU meet-cute. Strangers on a Train, but with less murder and more sexual tension.
make it till you fake it | AggressiveWhenStartled (AO3)
steve x bucky
“Ned,” Peter said, like a drowning man sighting land. “Ned. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are fake dating right now and it is the most painfully awkward and obvious thing I have ever seen, all of us want to die, Ned.”
things my heart used to know | Nightwing11 (AO3)
steve x bucky
In a world where soulmates can communicate telepathically with their partners, Steve Rogers has always had Bucky Barnes with him, a calming voice in a sea of turmoil. And, when Bucky falls off the train during World War II, Steve experiences deafening silence for the first time.
Now, after crashing a plane in the Arctic to save the world and being frozen for 70 years, Steve’s still trying to figure out how to live without Bucky there. His new friends are trying to help him adjust, to move on. And he thought he was doing better, he really did.
So, why is he suddenly hearing Bucky’s voice again?
catfish | @buckmebxrnes (18+)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Steve Rogers is a famous movie star, known for his role as Captain America. Bucky Barnes is a bored law student who drinks too much wine. Bucky gets on match.com to boost his confidence. What he doesn't expect is a guy using Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating profile. Bucky decides to mess with the guy. After all, what idiot uses Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating site?
Not like it's really him, right? Bucky may need more wine.
let's go have fun | @sebastanbucky
steve x bucky
“Nat wanted me to-” Nat clears her throat and he rolls his eyes. “I wanted to tell you something.” He looks at Steve with a look he hopes says ‘play along’.
“Okay. What did you want to tell me?” Bucky has to take a deep breath to keep from laughing again, it helps with his performance as Nat nods encouragingly at him.
“I’m gay.” He says, making his voice sound shaky and weak.
the way you came around | sokaless (AO3)
steve x bucky
After a while, Bucky says, “You know, this song sounds like it was written for you.”
“That's funny,” Steve remarks. “I chose it because it reminded me of you.”
Steve gives Bucky an iPod full of his favourite songs from the 21st century to help him deal with his nightmares. Bucky has a new mission- to find out who Steve is in love with, because there are a few too many unrequited love songs on that iPod.
stuck on you | wearing_tearing (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”
Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.
you have the place next to my place | justanotherStonyfan (AO3)
cap steve x modern bucky
prompt: “We live in adjacent apartments and our bedrooms are on opposite sides of a very thin wall and one night I heard you crying and talked to you through the wall” AU
Captain America helps the Vet next door.
you’ve got (30) new matches | williamkaplans (AO3)
steve x bucky
When everyone finds out Steve's bi thanks to Bucky's recovering memories, Natasha kicks up her match-making into high gear. Steve has zero luck, but Natasha won't give up, especially when Sam (jokingly) suggests online dating. It isn't long before Steve finds someone, a someone who seems eerily familiar.
perfectly right wrong number | melonbutterfly (AO3)
cap steve x modern bucky
It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.
A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.
put your number in my phone | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Steve tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns back to the computer. He only has to click a few times before he finds the link to the questionnaire and opens it, inputting the participant number before hitting next. The beginnings of the consent form fills the page, and all Steve has left to do now is wait for the participant— one James Barnes, according to the website— to show up.
Thankfully, Steve doesn’t end up having to wait very long. James Barnes shows up ten minutes early and knocks on the door before cracking it open and peeking in.
“Oh, hi,” he says, when he spots Steve sitting at the desk. He pushes the door open all the way and steps into the room just as Steve spins in the chair to face him.
“Um, I’m, uh, a bit early, but I’m here for the decision making study,” James continues, clear blue eyes flickering around the room before landing on Steve again. The skin between his eyebrows crinkles up a little, and god, Steve probably shouldn’t find his uncertainty as cute as he does. “Am I in the right place?”
wouldn’t it be nice | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
"You are never going to believe what just happened," Bucky bemoans, shaking his head. He's at Steve's side in a moment and doesn't bother to give any warning before he dramatically falls into Steve's lap. Steve just barely manages to save his book from getting squashed.
"What is it?" Steve asks, matching Bucky's dramatic tone. "What am I not going to believe?"
"I just got off the phone with Natasha," he starts. "She cancelled on me!" Bucky throws his arms up, nearly smacking Steve in the face in the process.
Steve carefully places his hand on Bucky's forearm and lowers it away from his face.
"You're kidding," he says, a frown curving onto his lips at the news.
"I wish I was," he sighs. Bucky presses his lips together into a disappointed line and deflates against the back of the couch, slinking down Steve's thighs a little. "Who goes to Coney Island alone? How pathetic is that?"
Steve snorts, earning a glare from Bucky, and pats Bucky's thigh. "Aw, don't be such a sourpuss, Buck," he says. "Who said anything about going alone?"
all jokes aside | darksknight (AO3)
steve x bucky
"Before we know it Banner’s gonna be makin’ insinuations.” (Everyone "jokes" about Steve and Bucky being in a relationship until, eventually, they admit that they are.)
barnes & rogers and the goddamn truth
steve x bucky (teacher au)
There are three well-known facts at Shield High:
1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm.
2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.)
3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.
Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.
in the shadows | DragonWannabe (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky
Five times they thought they were almost caught, one time someone found out, and one time they didn't have to hide.
OR:
Bucky and Steve grew up in a time when people like them went to jail.
single and looking | Jaiden_S (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky
"Bucky held his place with his index finger and turned the magazine over to check the date on the cover. It was brand new, just out this month. An unexpected cord of anxiety tightened in Bucky’s chest. Single and looking? Frantically, he flipped back to the article. What exactly was Steve looking for? According to the article, Steve’s dream girl should be intelligent, altruistic, well-versed in current events and have a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and he had a thing for high heels and red lipstick. Bucky’s stomach churned as he re-read the article. Was that really what Steve wanted? Make-up and stilettos?"
A slightly sappy tale of two utterly besotted super-soldiers who excel at miscommunication.
these american dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) | kariye (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky
In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.
i’ve been careless with a delicate man | paraxdisepink (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky
Steve lets SHIELD think he and Bucky were boyfriends so they’ll let him see the Winter Soldier in medical.
knock on wood | 74days (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Steve Rogers lives a quiet, steady life, until his next door neighbour moves in and starts having incredibly energetic sex every night.
All Steve wants is for him to move his bed away from the wall so the damn headboard doesn't knock a hole through his wall.
progressively bigger keys | spinawren (AO3)
steve x bucky
“A very little key will open a very heavy door.”
― Charles Dickens, Hunted Down
Steve and Bucky, it appears, have less need for a key and more use for a battering ram in trying to come out of the closet.
(The one where Steve tries to do one thing (one thing!) without causing a national ruckus, but the press are determined to see Bucky as Steve's best friend. And nothing more.)
stucky discover gay rights | Alicia_Borealis (AO3)
steve x bucky
“Then, why-” Steve stopped himself and looked at Bucky, who had tears rolling freely down his cheeks. “We’re- we’re not sick?”
“Wait, what?” Tony asked.
“Being a homosexual, it isn’t… wrong?”
-
The story of how Steve Roger's loved and lost Bucky, then how he got him back and then how he realised he was allowed to love him after all.
thursday nights with bucky barnes | Ellessey (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Steve has a comfortable, well-worn routine for his Thursday nights, until the old man who runs the laundromat breaks his hip.
Then Steve has Bucky instead.
to seek a nood-er world | jehans (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky
Send noodz
Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?
Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.
But, wait—does that mean…?
No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.
Right?
tied ‘round your throat | sleepypercy (AO3) (18+)
police officer steve x serial killer bucky
Steve's a small-town police officer trying to track a serial killer who's been in Steve's bed the whole time.
much tattoo about nothing | Deisderium (AO3) (18+)
cap steve x modern bucky
Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.
Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.
the perfect man | Ellessey (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Setting up a dating profile is decidedly not in Bucky's skill-set, but against all odds he manages to connect with someone who makes the one-night stand he thought he wanted feel like not nearly enough.
kiss me and take off your clothes | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Steve Rogers is dared to send a dick pic to a blog which critiques dick pics (run by none other than Bucky Barnes). Hilarity ensues.
i can’t dare to dream about you anymore | steveandbucky (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Steve considers himself to be a pretty open-minded guy, which is why he can't quite understand why he feels so uncomfortable whenever he sees his gay roommate kissing guys. He's not homophobic, but how else can he explain the way his stomach twists at the sight?
It takes him a while to catch on.
exam room b | steveandbucky (AO3)
modern steve x nurse bucky
“Wait, what do you mean he asked for me?”
“He asked if the cute male nurse with the ponytail was working today. I assume he meant you.”
kickstart my heart | Kalee60 (AO3) (18+)
doctor steve x modern bucky
Bucky’s Wednesday wasn’t off to a great start. Not only did he wake up in a hospital with his annoyed best friend staring down at him, his treating Doctor just happened to be way too familiar, and the reason for that was slightly mortifying.
With misunderstandings in the air, a snarky nurse who is a pain in his butt and the ugliest neck brace known to man attached to his body. There was no way his Wednesday was ever going to improve. Could it?
you make me feel.. | kalika_999 (AO3) (18+)
cap steve x modern bucky
All Steve wanted was to take a breather, decompress after a mission and go out for a jog in the rain. He wasn't expecting to hide out in a bookstore filled with new and used books or that the employee that worked there thought he was an absolute loser and didn't even realize he was insulting Captain America.
nothing in the world that could stop it | rainbow_nerds (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Bucky just wanted to send his best friend a picture of his cat being an idiot while he was taking a bath. Was it really his fault for forgetting the full length mirror right opposite the tub?
rescue me and hold me in your arms | 74days (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Bucky is on the worst date of his life, and what he really needs of for this waitress to get the message he's sending her with his mind to rescue him.
She doesn't, but she does send someone to extract him from a night of torture...
odd ways | peterbparker (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
“And it would have been an amazing night with my son if he wasn’t distracted by the hot guy on the other side of the room,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “He’s been looking over at you for the past fifteen minutes.”
Bucky choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken.
“What?” he croaked. Things were starting to make a little more sense now.
“Right?” Sarah said, waving her hand towards her son. “He completely ignored my garden stories because he’s been making eyes at you so I decided to come over and introduce myself.”
series
rare is this love (keep it covered) | @musette22 (18+)
cap steve x modern bucky
It’s 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.
coming up easy | @musette22 (18+)
steve x bucky (modern au)
“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”
While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.
"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."
“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”
“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”
4 minute window | @cesperanza
steve x bucky
"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't."
swapped | writeonclara (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
if u wanted my number u couldve just asked
u didnt have to steal my whole phone ;)
Steve stared down at his phone, confused. He didn't recognize the number – except, oh wait, he really did. That was his number. On his phone.
He flipped the phone over, then slid one hand down his face. Not his phone.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
[stupid fucking] brooklyn hipster bros | relenaflanel (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Bucky's mother gives him an ultimatum. Bucky doesn't respond well.
All Barneses are stubborn assholes, Steve observes, as though he doesn't see the irony of calling someone else stubborn. Or an asshole.
And Bucky can't even deny he is a total asshole for lying to his mother about dating Steve just so he doesn't have to bring someone else to her wedding, but damn if he's not going to give the lie everything he has.
brought to brightness | eyres (AO3)
cap steve x modern bucky
Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.
When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.
slide to answer | relenaflanel (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
"What do I do?” Steve appealed into the phone. “I’m freaking out.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. Pay phones were old. Maybe this one wasn’t working despite the obvious dial tone when he picked up.
“Ok,” a stranger’s voice said over the phone. “First acknowledge the fact that you dialed the wrong number, but be quick about it because my cab is a few blocks away from my own plans and I’m about to drop some truth bombs on you.”
how to woo the winter soldier | writeonclara (AO3)
steve x bucky
“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.
“What,” Natasha said.
“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.
“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.
Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.
all these things that i’ve done | @not-withoutyou
steve x bucky
Steve was the patron saint of waiting too long. Bucky was atoning for his sins. Maybe they’d both been forsaken, abandoned by the light. Maybe they’d find a way back to each other again.
Post civil war, if things had gone differently.
find a way (to make it back home) | belwrites (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky (college au)
Fresh off a year abroad, Head Resident Assistant Steve Rogers finds his senior year of college to be full of changes, and he's not just talking about the growth spurt. He's more concerned with the fact that his best friend...isn't talking to him? Is dating his ex? May or may not be missing an arm?
In which Steve has no fucking clue what's going on, but he's trying, Bucky learns how to communicate with his best friend again, and everyone quietly panics about the future.
is it pretending if i already want you? | OhCaptainMyCaptain (AO3) (18+)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event
the roommate | layersofart, Niitza (AO3)
cap steve x modern bucky
In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.
It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.
dear mr. postman | odetteandodile (AO3)
steve x bucky (modern au)
Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend.
fate will play us out | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)
cap steve x modern bucky
Bucky has landed himself a job with Stark Industries. He doesn't know yet that the job is actually being the PR manager for the Avengers.
Bucky has also started dating Steve Rogers. He also doesn't know yet that Steve is Captain America.
Bucky's life is about to get a whole lot more exciting.
the avengers hate club | notebooksandlaptops (AO3)
pop star steve x modern bucky
Bucky falls hopelessly for Steve and starts an Avengers hate club with the lead singer of the Avengers.
songbird | chicklette (AO3) (18+)
modern steve x musician bucky
At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Well, one of them anyway. He’s a man who’s given up on finding joy in his life, and if it wasn’t for his kid, he’d have probably found a way to quit the world a long time ago.
Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is, other than some musician his mom liked a lot.
The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top.
Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?
the right partner | LeeHan (AO3) (18+)
cap steve x ws bucky
Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.
Date Bucky Barnes. Defeat the Winter Soldier. Bring down Hydra. How hard could it be?
#stucky fic#stucky fic recs#steve x bucky#steve rogers x bucky barnes#stucky#bucky barnes#steve rogers
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Just a Thought Away | Owen Patrick Joyner
Request: Could you do a soulmate au with Charlie or Owen, whichever you're more comfortable with, where they can hear each other's thoughts or the music they listen to?
A/N: Made it an Owen one shot since I don’t have many requests for Owen! Hope this is what you expected and you like it! :)
Pairing: Owen Joyner x Fem!reader
Warnings: Very minor swearing
Words: 4,175
Another note: Anything in bold and italics is a thought!
Songs used: Pump It - Black Eyed Peas
Growing up, Y/N’s mother told her these stories about soulmates and how every person on this earth would be assigned a soulmate by their guardian angel at 16. People would be able to hear their thoughts and the songs they were listening to or singing would be playing in their head as though it was just stuck in their head.
Of course, as a child, Y/N used to believe her every word and would be clinging to those words. She’d fantasize about her soulmate and where she’d meet them or what music they’d be into. She’d keep her eyes on every person in Middle School and even High School, trying to see if she could just find them. Not like there would be any physical notabilities, but she liked fantasizing about it.
By the time Y/N turned 16, she had almost forgotten about the whole soulmate thing. Her birthday was months ago and nothing ever happened. She never heard a song play in her head she didn’t know or hadn’t had any thoughts that didn’t belong to her. She was pretty certain all of those soulmate stories her mother told her were fake.
Until July 19th 2016. That’s when she first starts noticing some things. To start off the day, the song ‘Happy Birthday’ is stuck in her mind and it’s not even her birthday or anyone else’s in the family or friend group that could’ve provided that song in her head.
During the afternoon of that day, Y/N suddenly hears a humming in her mind that quickly changes into a full-on made-up song that no one close to her would ever sing.
“Mmh, Cake, cake, I like cake
Cake, cake, I like cake.”
She can’t help but laugh, though. She’d been studying for many hours without taking a break, it’s starting to mess with her brain a little. Y/N’s teachers have been giving so much work lately, she’s nearly drowning in it and it’s far from done. Sophomore year is possibly one of the hardest, in her opinion, and having the need to maintain a social life really doesn’t help with that. She hasn’t been to a party for weeks. She’s starting to crave human contact and dancing and having fun with friends and not sleeping until the sun rises.
Though that last part sounds very appealing when you’re at a party, it doesn’t when you’re in bed and trying to sleep. She’s woken up by loud music thumping in her ears. It sounds almost as though the neighbors are having a party next door, but when she gets up and walks outside the house, she realizes the house next door is completely dark. There’s no movement whatsoever. She must’ve hallucinated, but then why is she still hearing this loud music?
That’s when it dawned on her that the soulmate stories her mother used to tell are real. As a matter of fact, the songs she’d been hearing all day long were the songs her soulmate was listening to or singing. It must’ve been their 16th birthday, which they are now celebrating at a party. She always thought it’d be more fun and romantic to have a soulmate and hear them sing and think, but it’s actually pretty annoying. And it’s only the first day. This is going to be fun.
“Morning, sweetie,” Y/N’s mother greets when she stumbles into the kitchen the next morning. She hasn’t slept one bit. Her soulmate has been partying all night and only got home by 6am, which was two hours ago. “Oh, you look rough! Are you feeling okay?”
“I haven’t slept all night because my stupid soulmate was out partying all night.” Her eyes widen at this, as does her smile. “They turned 16 yesterday, so I guess that’s why I never heard anything yet on my birthday.”
“Oh, yeah! You both need to be 16 before the whole soulmate-thing starts to work,” she informs her daughter and hands a cup of fresh, steaming-hot coffee. “Do you know anything about them yet?” She shakes her head before taking a careful sip from the goddess liquid --as she and her siblings call it.
“No, I kinda thought it was my brain hallucinating from studying so much, so I couldn’t really think of a way to converse with them.” Her head snaps up as an idea crosses her mind. “How do you converse with your soulmate, mom?” She shoots her a tender, relieved smile, happy she can finally properly inform Y/N about it instead of those folklore stories.
“You just think what you wanna ask them and they hear it,” she replies.
“So, if I let my inside voice just yell ‘shut up!’, they’ll hear too?” Her mother chuckles, nodding her head in response. “Good! I ought to try that whenever they’re singing about their cake again.” Her mother laughs at that before leaving her in the kitchen, so she can get ready for work. Her soulmate is seemingly still asleep, which she would’ve been too if it wasn’t for work. Y/N works at a coffee shop on the weekends, just to get some experience and earn a little bit of money for her shopping addiction.
Maybe right now would be a perfect moment to avenge her soulmate for keeping her up all night last night. So, while getting ready, she puts on some music on her laptop. With the volume on maximum, she starts belting the One Direction song along at the top of her lungs.
“You and me got a whole lotta history!” It takes a while before a loud ‘SHUT UP!’ echoes through her mind. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she stops singing.
“That’s what you get for keeping me up all night, sweetie” she thinks, hoping it’ll come through. For a moment, she thinks it might not work like that until a boy’s voice floats through her brain.
“Who’s this?” She chuckles, pausing the music and taking a seat at her desk.
“Y/N Y/L/N. Ever heard of those soulmate folklore stories?” She starts doing her make-up whilst waiting for his response.
“Yea, my father used to tell me those. I thought they were fairy tales?”
“So did I. Turns out they’re real!” This feels so weird. “You just turned 16, right?”
“Yeah, yesterday! How’d you know?!” he asks, and it makes her realize he might not be the brightest tool in the shed.
“Because I turned 16 in January and I didn’t hear anything until yesterday…” A silence falls over the conversation. Either it’s not working anymore or he’s digesting all this information.
“You heard me singing to my cake, didn’t you?” he finally asks instead, and Y/N can even hear him chuckle.
“Yep! I thought I was hallucinating because I was studying so hard,” she lets out a chuckle too. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”
“Oh, thanks! I’m Owen, by the way. Owen Joyner.” She has heard that name before, but she’s got no clue where, though.
Making a mental note to Google it later, she grabs the mascara and adds the finishing touches to her makeup.
“Nice to meet you, Owen. I gotta get going though. Have to be at work in about…” She glances at the clock on her wall, her eyes widening when she sees the time. “Five minutes. See ya! Or… Hear ya?!” She hears Owen chuckle in her mind.
“Yeah, I’ll hear ya,” he says, then a yawn-like sound buzzes through her, giving her the urge to yawn too.
“Sorry for waking you up,” she quickly adds before running out of the house. Her mind’s going over a million excuses as to why she would be late to work, but none of them sound quite plausible. Especially not the truth.
“Go with ‘the neighbors had a party last night and I overslept’-excuse, Y/N,” she hears Owen’s voice again, “Now stop thinking, I wanna sleep!” She chuckles, shaking her head.
“Thanks, Owen. And I wanna sleep too, but I can’t, now can I? Me awake means you awake. Deal with it.” She can even hear a disgruntled groan, meaning he’s probably getting up because her thoughts won’t stop running through his mind.
That night, she figures out he's the Owen Joyner, aka Crispo Powers from “100 things to do before High School”, a TV-show she’d watched almost daily in the last two years. She asks him about that too, and he explains the whole auditioning and filming process and how much fun it was for a first acting gig. He asks about her life too, and the two of them bond over thoughts. This whole soulmate-thing is still very whack. But, to be completely honest, she kind of loves it. It’s like having an angel on your shoulder, telling you what the best option for your dilemma is. Though, most times, Owen is more likely the devil. Which is what Y/N needs most times.
The most fun thing about this whole Soulmate-connection thing, have to be the dance parties the two of them hold at night, unless she has to get to work the following day and Owen won’t stop singing at the top of his lungs. One night, he was singing Pump It by the Black Eyed Piece at 3am. She’d groaned at first, hoping that’ll subtly tell him to shut up, but it didn’t work at all. He just kept rapping the verses, keeping Y/N awake and annoyed.
“Come on, baby, do it”
She decides to finally give in, knowing he’s not going to stop until she starts singing along. So, she sits up straight in her bed, and belts the lyrics at the very top of her lungs, not even caring about anyone in the house hearing.
“La-da-di-dup-dup die dy
On the stereo
Let those speakers blow your mind”
“Blow my mind, baby”
She chuckles at his interruption.
“To let it go, let it go
Here we go
La-da-di-dup-dup die dy”
“C'mon, we're there”
“On the radio
The system is gonna feel so fine”
He stops singing then and a silence falls over the both of them. Y/N can’t lie, in the past couple of years as she’d grown closer to him, spending every waking -- and sleeping -- moment together, she’d started developing some feelings for Owen Patrick Joyner too. It’s ridiculous because she’d never seen him in real life. She knows everything about him and she knows what he looks like, but she doesn’t know what his hugs feel like, or what his cologne smells like.
“You’re a great singer, Y/N,” he finally breaks the silence, “I’m gonna let you sleep now, kay? Good night, baby girl.” Of all the pet names he’d given her so far, Baby Girl, Princess and Gorgeous were her favorites. All of them with a platonic tendency, though, much to her dismay.
“Good night, O-bear,” she whispers back before tucking herself into bed again.
Then finally, in 2019, Owen and a couple of people from the cast and crew of Julie and The Phantoms, his latest project Y/N was most excited about, decided to make a trip to New York City, her hometown. To say she’s excited would be the understatement of the year. She’d finally be able to hug him and talk to him properly and show him around her hometown and get to know the rest of the cast she’d heard so much about.
But among the excitement also hides a little bit of nerves. After years of talking to him by just thinking, she’d finally see him in real life. What if things get awkward? What if it’s not what she expects? What if he’s only so beautiful in her mind?
Y/N is walking around the coffee shop, wiping down tables and jumping up every time a new customer enters, thinking it’s Owen. He knows where she works on the weekends, and promised to find her there the minute he’d gotten settled in his hotelroom.
“Ooh, pretty girl over there.” Her stomach churns as she hears his thoughts. He forgets about the whole soulmate-connection thing sometimes and just lets it out unfiltered. She knows he doesn’t like her the same way she likes him, and he’s allowed to look at other girls and think they’re pretty, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. “All around the world pretty girls,” he sings the famous Britney Song. “Mostly at coffee shops, yeah I’m talking about you, pretty girl.” A soft rap on the window next to Y/N makes her snap out of her focus on Owen’s voice. When she looks up, there’s a tall, blonde man waving at her through the glass with the biggest smile on his face. A flutter erupts in her stomach whilst her mouth involuntarily curls up into the widest smile she’d ever managed.
She gestures at him to come in and hastily makes her way to the door herself. The second he walks inside, she launches herself into his arms. Wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, she holds him tight and inhales the smell of his cologne. He smells of the most divine combination of spearmint and musk. Just as she’d imagined him smelling like.
“I can’t believe this,” she hears him think, which makes her chuckle.
“You know you can actually talk to me right now, right?” she tells him, pulling away slightly so she can look at his face. There’s a slight stubble growing on his cheeks and chin, and his eyes look even prettier in real life than on a phone screen.
“Right, yeah,” he chuckles, Y/N’s new favorite sound in the world. “Old habits die hard.” She smiles down at him whilst the two of them just stare at each other, basking in the fact they’re finally meeting. “She’s even prettier up close.” YN/ blushes at the compliment, and combes her fingers through his hair. “Oh, fuck, you heard that. Sorry!”
“It’s cool. You’re pretty up close too.” This makes him chuckle. The whole thing is still bat-shit crazy. Both of them have gotten weird commentary whenever they told friends and family how they communicate with their soulmate. Most people just start texting and calling when they find their soulmate, but they didn’t. This whole new way of conversing was way too much fun, though a little annoying at times. And especially now that they’re in the same place together, it’s even more fun because no one else knows they’re talking to each other.
A soft cough behind Owen causes Y/N to snap back into reality. Peeking behind the boy’s head, there are three other guys, staring at the scene with wide smiles playing at their lips. Two of them are about the same age as them, but the other one is older. Older but very, very famous. Y/N herself is a big fan of his work. The legend, Kenny Ortega himself.
“You might wanna introduce me to your friends over there,” she tells her best friend. Owen takes a quick peek behind him, realizing he’d forgotten about his friends that had come along with him to meet the infamous Y/N. He puts the girl down on her feet again before turning to the three men.
“Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Gorgeous, these are Jeremy, Charlie, and Kenny.” He points to each of them when their respective names are called. Y/N offers them a wave and smile, not sure if she should go straight in for the hug like she’d done with Owen.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” says Kenny as he opens his arms and embraces the girl. Said girl is now completely starstruck in a way she’d never been before, and she’d met a few of her favorite actors or artists. None of them made her feel this way.
“You too, Kenny,” she manages to bring out when they pull apart, “Big fan of your work!” All she’s hoping right now is that she doesn’t sound too creepy.
“You’re all good, Princess. Breathe.” Owen’s voice calms her down just in time for Charlie to engulf her into a hug too, and then Jeremy does the same.
“Why don’t you guys take a seat, and I’ll make you some coffee before I’m off for today?” she suggests, and after hums of assent, the girl takes their orders and gets back to work. “There you go,” she mumbles as she places the coffees on the table and then distributes them correctly before sliding into the booth next to Owen. “So, what are your plans for today?” she asks.
“Just some touristy bits,” Charlie replies with a shrug, “Any recommendations for us?” Y/N thinks about it for a while, knowing Owen can hear her thoughts.
“Why don’t you come along?” Owen’s voice echoes through your brain.
“Why don’t I take you guys around to the best spots no tourist will ever find?” she suggests, earning a thankful smile from Owen. “I think I knew a few places I could take you to?” All three other men agree to your suggestion. So, after you all finish your coffees and you’ve given them your employer’s discount, the five of you leave the coffee shop and hit the streets of New York City.
“This is where I proposed to Care!” Jeremy exclaims excitedly as you’re sharing a couple stories from your childhood in Central Park. The guys have told a little more about their own lives, too, so Y/N felt comfortable enough to talk so freely and unfiltered about her own childhood, not noticing the way Owen melts at how adorable she looks being so excited about her childhood memories.
“Re-enact it, Jer!” Owen exclaims excitedly as he scurries away from Y/N’s side and jumps down the small flight of stairs in one swift hop. Jeremy follows his best buddy and kneels down in front of him as if really proposing. Y/N takes her phone out of her back pocket and snaps a picture of the beautiful scene, giggling as she does, along with Kenny and Charlie.
“The cutest couple!” the girl compliments, jamming her phone back into her pocket.
“When’s the wedding?” Kenny adds, his laugh thundering. Owen lets out an airy laugh while Jeremy gets up again, the two of them rejoining the rest of the group. Y/N just knows this day will forever be the best day of her life. She just knows it’s going to be her favorite day ever for so many reasons; the laughs, the jokes, the friendship that’s building between all five of you, but mostly Owen.
That night, Y/N goes back to the hotel with them too as Owen had asked her to hang out a little while longer and watch some movies with him. He’d asked the others too, but they were ‘too tired’. That’s an excuse Y/N could see from a mile away. They just wanted to give the two of them some quality time, which she appreciated very much.
“I had the best day,Bubba,” she mumbles as she snuggles closer to him. She has her head on his chest whilst his arm is draped around her shoulders. It almost feels as though they’ve been doing this for years.
“Me too, Baby Girl. Thanks for showing us around.” He presses a kiss to her hair, inhaling the luscious scent of peach, and deciding that’s his new favorite scent from now on. “Sucks we’re leaving tomorrow night,” he mumbles sadly.
“Yeah… I know…” The words come out of her mouth in a whisper. “Wonder when we’ll see each other again.” She’d forgotten for a split second about him being able to hear her thoughts until he answers the half-statement with another question.
“Will you come visit Norman Oklahoma soon?” She looks up at him, her nose grazing his stubbled chin, causing him to look down. “I really don’t wanna go another three years without seeing you, Gorgeous. I don’t think I can handle that, especially now that I’ve learned you’re a great cuddler.” Y/N chuckles at that before resettling on his chest properly.
“I think I can make something work next month?” She starts tracing the patterns of his shirt, sending shivers down Owen’s spine at the sheer touch of her delicate fingers. “I think I can miss a few classes.” The chuckle that escapes past his lips, makes his chest vibrate and zooms into her ears, making her mouth curl up. This is the best feeling in the world; cuddling up with Owen and hearing him laugh. It’s a feeling Y/N wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. She wishes she could just stay like this forever.
Or at least until the next day. Y/N has classes to get to, but promises Owen to come and say goodbye to him and the others at JFK airport around 8pm that night. And she does, though dreading it entirely.
“You made it,” Owen whispers when he sees her walk up to the group.
“Of course, I couldn’t just let you go back to Van City without saying goodbye, could I?” A tender smile plays at his lips as he takes her into a tight hug. “Have a safe flight, yeah? And talk to me on the plane if you’re bored.” She tells him and then turns to the three other men she’d just met yesterday. “Take good care of him and each other,” she tells them before taking each into a hug. Owen then offers her a nervous smile when she makes it back to his side. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, grabbing his hand in hers.
“No,” her eyebrows furrow at his unspoken confession. “Yes, I mean yes. I’m fine. I’m okay… I just--” he cuts himself off, not knowing what to tell the girl now. “I’m just gonna miss you, is all.”
“Oh…” is all she brings out, wanting something else to come out of his mouth. “I’m gonna miss you too, Big O.” She playfully punches his shoulder, smiling up at him with that smile that’s only ever reserved for Owen. It’s a tender one where her eyes sparkle as much as her smile.
Owen then grabs her other hand too, pulling her a little closer as though he wants to say something serious. Y/N isn’t used to a serious Owen. He’d always be the one to pull pranks or make stupid jokes that’d make her laugh until her belly ached.
He stutters and stumbles over a couple of words, then sighs frustratedly as he can’t seem to find the right words to tell her what he’s feeling. He can’t even find the right words to think.
“Just kiss her, you dork!” Charlie shouts from the sidelines. Y/N turns her head to look at the boy confusedly, but Owen’s hands quickly cup her face and brings her up to press his lips on hers. She’s a little startled at first, unsure about what’s happening. But then she melts into his lips and into him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long!” his thought comes through in her mind, making her smile against his lips.
“Shut up, I’m kissing you.” He chuckles at her words, and pulls away but keeps his forehead pressed to hers. “I’ll see you in a month, Bubba,” Y/N whispers and pecks his lips once more.
Though she hates to see him go, she has to let him leave. She has to let him get back to Vancouver and Oklahoma, and then she can see him again in about a month. It’s just how this must go. For now.
“I’d rather stay, actually,” he tells her as he pulls away slowly.
“Owen…” Y/N whispers, shaking her head, “Don’t make this harder than it already is. They need you in Vancouver…” she nods at Kenny and the guys. “I want you to stay, I do. But they need you.” A single tear rolls down her cheek. Owen reaches up and wipes it away as quickly as it came whilst shaking his head.
“I’m gonna stay, Y/N. Just two more days.” He sounds too determined for her to convince him to go.
“We don’t actually need him for two more days anyway, so he’s free to stay if he wants to,” Kenny chimes in. Y/N looks at the man talking, a surprised look on her face. The legend himself shoots her a smile. “Stay, Owen. Spend some more time together. You both need it.”
“Thanks, Kenny,” Owen takes the guy in for a quick hug, and then turns to his buddies to give each of them one too. “I’ll see you in two days, then.” The couple watches as the three men walk away, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.
“You really had to be dramatic, did you?” Y/N jokes once they’re out of earshot, which earns her an eye roll from Owen, though he can’t hide a smile either.
“You know me, Baby Girl,” he winks before grabbing his bag.
“Yes, I do,” she says, “And I’m glad I do.”
“Me too, Gorgeous, me too.”
Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg
@thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight
#julie and the phantoms#julie and the himbos#jatp#owen patrick joyner#owen joyner#owen x reader#alex jatp#charlie gillespie#luke patterson#jeremy shada#reggie jatp#kenny ortega#soulmate au#jatp fandom#jatp au#jatp imagine
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|FEVER| M|
Pairing: Namjoon X Reader
About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!
OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...
WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)
WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.
NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...
SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....
*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol
SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA FT ANGELE
~~~~~~~
“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…
Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!
And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos!
Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!
And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….
“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!
Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.
“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!
”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there.
Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.
You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.
“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.
“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?” Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.
Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.
“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.
“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-” Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.
Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....
“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”
Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...
Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.
You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.
“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.
A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.
“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…
Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!
Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink, and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end, your actually here to work…
Sooo...
“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”
So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!
Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.
Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....
~~~~
Heyyyy,
Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....
Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....
#Namjoon x reader#namjoon smut#namjoon x you#kim namjoon#kim namjoon x reader#kim namjoon smut#bts#bts smut#bts au#kpop#kpop smut#kim namjoon x you
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i was about to ask you to continue your marvels unsolved ‘verse but then i saw your specific ships so i’m going to ask for a fantasy au with winteriron!! but tbh you should do whatever makes you happy it’s your birthday month!!! (happy birthday! your writing makes me so happy thank you so much for it)
Thank you so much!! I’m so happy you like my writing!!!
I ended up being inspired by the magical flower shop AU I wrote last August, but that’s not necessary to read to understand this fic. Since tumblr is still having issues with links, I won’t include the link here but if you’re interested in that one, it’s Chapter 27 of AU-gust
As always, this fic can be found on my ao3!
Roses and Rowan
It’s storming when Bucky drives past Ravenspoint’s limits. The rain is coming down hard enough that he almost misses the sign for the little town in all the gloom, but then there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the foreboding faces of the town patriarchs glaring down at those who would dare enter their town. Bucky shivers, resolutely turning away as he continues on his way.
He’s not here for them anyway. The patriarchs are long dead, their only descendants long since fled. There’s another flash of lightning, this time illuminating the hill off to the left and the old manor on the hilltop. From what little bit he can see through the storm, it looks like it was once a stately mansion but it’s falling into disrepair now. Bucky blinks and suddenly he can see the golden glimmer of the wards around the whole hill, sealing the house and grounds off from the would-be adventurers brave enough to test their mettle against the ghosts of Rosewood Manor.
Another shiver runs down his spine. The magic is strangely familiar, though he can’t place where he might have seen it before. He blinks again and the golden glimmer of the wards disappears from his view. “Spooky,” Bucky mutters. In the passenger seat, Alpine mraows her agreement. He reaches over and scratches under her chin, grinning when she purrs loud enough to drown out the music coming from the car speakers.
They pull into town a few minutes later, only knowing it by the stoplight Bucky just barely manages to make out through the sheets of rain pounding down. He would have missed it otherwise, the storm too heavy and the buildings too dark to see in the night. Ravenspoint is a small town with a population of only three thousand people, exactly one stoplight, and two streets that run the length of town, connected by a series of smaller cross streets. It’s exactly the last place Bucky ever thought he would find himself and yet here he is, searching for someone who had made it clear he didn’t want to be found.
“What am I doing, Alpine?” he asks the cat. “He told me he didn’t want me to come after him.”
Alpine can’t respond but she rolls over, exposing her belly to him, and he gets the sense of reassurance through their bond.
“I know,” he responds. “Tellin’ people he wants to be left alone when that’s usually the last thing he wants. But let’s be real here, this place is pretty far off the beaten track.”
Another pulse of reassurance.
“Well if you ask me—” the helper figment starts to say.
“I didn’t,” Bucky interrupts before it can say anything else. Damn figment’s been more trouble than it’s worth this whole trip. “Where’s the turn?”
The figment gives him a sullen look. “In five hundred yards, off to the right.”
Even as the figment says it, Bucky spots the glowing lights of the shop in the distance. He slows down and pulls over into one of the parking spots off the street, peering up through the rain at the shop sign above the door.
“Bluebells and Belladonnas,” he reads. “He always did like alliteration.”
“Great,” the figment says waspishly. “Can I go now? I got a hot—”
Bucky flicks his fingers and the figment disappears back to whatever dimension figments come from. Alpine flicks her tail lazily, giving off a sense of amusement and a little bit of hunger. Bucky laughs and scratches her chin again.
“Yeah, I would’ve let you eat it if it wouldn’t have given you indigestion,” he says. “’nother couple of minutes. I’m sure he has fresh tuna for you.”
He sighs and looks at the shop again. The sign on the front says it’s closed but there are lights on inside both in the shop itself and in the apartment above the shop, telling him that the owner is probably still working.
“So what’re you doing sitting out here?” he asks himself. He gives another baleful look at the stormy clouds and the rain still pouring down, groans, and then shrugs his hood up over his head. Nothing for it. The rain isn’t supposed to let up for another couple of hours and Bucky doesn’t feel like sitting in the car that long.
“You gonna be good out here?” he asks Alpine. She blinks slowly at him. That’s a yes, then.
Quick as he can, he gets out and dashes for the cover the awning provides. Once there, he throws his hood back and then knocks on the door. He waits about a minute before knocking again, this time a lot louder. It takes a moment before he sees a person-shaped blob behind the water-streaked glass. He knocks for a third time. The person gets larger as they move closer and then the door unlocks and swings open with a wave of the person’s hand.
“What—”
“You know,” Bucky says, stepping over the threshold. He bites back a shiver as a wave of magic washes over him, verifying that he has no ill intent. “You are a hard person to find.”
“Yeah, some people would take that as a hint,” Tony Stark states flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at Bucky.
~
Bucky is born with the ability to see magic. Or, at least, that’s the sfigmentlest way to explain it, if not the most accurate. Just about everyone can “see” magic but what they see are actually just the effects of magic—what was produced or what was done. Bucky has the ability to actually see the threads of magic. It’s a Barnes family gift, although none of the Barnes mages have had this ability in nearly two centuries. Bucky is the first in a very long time and because of that, he ends up having to go to school rather than being trained at home by the family mage (also known as Ma to Bucky and his sister).
It's at school that he meets his best friend, Stevie, and Stevie’s other best friend, Tony. Tony is a bit of an oddball, not that Bucky and Steve are incredibly popular either. Steve should be popular because of his dragon heritage and the power that brings him but he comes into his inheritance late and has a strong sense of morality and that gets him into trouble, more often than not. And Bucky just ends up following behind him.
But Tony—Tony is hard to pin down. He has incredible amounts of power, which is unusual in a mage from the Jarvis line. He’s a lot younger than most of the other kids, which isn’t so unusual for people with a lot of power—Bucky can think of a couple examples off the top of his head of people who went to school early because of their powers—but all those people went to school early because they didn’t have control, and Tony is nothing if not controlled. He doesn’t much look like either of his parents and the way he acts sometimes… it’s clear that he’s been through a lot, is all.
It’s not until their fourth year that Bucky starts putting the pieces together, and it starts when he finds out that Tony doesn’t actually get his powers from the Jarvis line but from the Carbonell line instead. He wasn’t supposed to overhear that but he and Steve had gotten in trouble again and were sitting outside the Headmistress’s office while she finished up a meeting with the Jarvises.
That’s when he’d heard it: “The Carbonell magic is strong in Tony,” the Headmistress had said, and that had been all Bucky had heard as the pieces had started falling into place. It had always puzzled Bucky how Tony’s magic, so suited to big things, had come from the Jarvises, both of whom were more skilled in household charms and enchantments, but if Tony was adopted… Adoption was rare in magical families, as magic was so often tied to filial lines, but it wasn’t unheard of, and that explained so much about Tony.
He spends some time in the library after that, researching the Carbonells. They’re an old line, originating in Italy, before coming to the Americas in the late sixteenth century. They’re known for producing powerful mages with the exact same proficiency in metallurgy that Tony’s always demonstrated. The last of them, Maria, had married one of the Starks, a newer family with a proficiency in elemental magics—another of Tony’s skills, Bucky realizes—and that’s where the trail goes cold. He never finds another mention of the Carbonells, or the Starks for that matter, in any of the old history books.
But there has to be more to the story, Bucky knows. Because there’s Tony, who looks just like Maria Carbonell, and that means there has to be more. However, he never brings it up. That’s Tony’s story, and if he doesn’t want to tell them, he doesn’t have to.
He never stops hoping that Tony will, though.
~
Tony is looking at him now, eyes dark and arms crossed. Bucky has changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he’d brought with him as his clothes had ended up drenched, even from just the short run from the car and back out to grab Alpine and his travel bag. His clothes are drying by the fire now as Alpine explores the apartment, sniffing around curiously. Bucky is curious as well, but he’s been so busy drinking in the sight of Tony after almost two years of nothing that he hasn’t taken the time yet to look around.
“What are you doing here, Bucky?��� Tony asks eventually.
He shrugs. “I came to find you.”
“Thought I made it obvious I didn’t want to be found.”
“I thought we had unfinished business,” Bucky says quietly. He gazes at Tony steadily until Tony squirms and turns away, busying himself with the coffeepot on the counter. He prepares two cups of coffee, one with more sugar than most people can stand and one with more milk than coffee, and hands the one with milk to Bucky.
Bucky takes one sip and blinks in surprise. “This is decaf,” he says.
“Yeah, and?”
“Tony, you don’t drink decaf. You called it the devil’s brew.”
There’s a hint of a smile lurking around the corners of Tony’s mouth as he raises his own cup to his mouth. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“Seems like you’ve forgotten a lot of things.”
“Like what?”
“Like how I promised you I’d follow you anywhere.”
Tony stills for a moment before he puts his cup back down on the counter. “Bucky—”
“Tony, why?” Bucky asks, not even bothering to hide the anguish in his voice. It’s how he’s felt every day since Tony disappeared two years ago. “You told me we’d talk the next day, only I woke up to find you’d run. Did I push too hard? Was it not what you wanted?” He stops, frustrated and upset, and scrubs his hand over his face.
“Bucky, no,” Tony says, dismayed. He moves forward, taking Bucky’s hands between his. “It wasn’t you. You have to believe me. It was never you.”
“Then what was it?”
Tony bites his lip, hesitating. Even without using his Sight, Bucky can see golden magic swirling under Tony’s skin, pooling at his hands where they’re touching Bucky’s. He blinks and now he can see his own magic, cool silver, gathering at his fingertips, aching to reach out and touch Tony’s. Their magic has always been compatible, always stronger when they’re together, even before Bucky figured out his complicated feelings for Tony.
“Doll?” he asks, immediately regretting the pet name when it makes Tony flinch. He doesn’t take it back though. This is who he is, a little old-fashioned and a little flirty and a lot in love with Tony Stark.
“It’s me,” Tony eventually admits, looking down at their hands as though he can see the magic too. “I got scared. It’s—I’m not who you think I am.”
“Not what? Not a Jarvis? Tony, I’ve known that for ten years.”
Tony’s head jerks up so fast Bucky’s own neck aches in sympathy. “What did you say?”
“Tony, I know you’re not a Jarvis,” Bucky says again, patiently. He’s never admitted this to anyone before, let alone Tony. He can afford to be careful right now.
“How did you know that?” Tony breathes. “We’ve never told anyone.”
“Except for the Headmistress,” Bucky points out. “You prob’ly had to tell her so she could help you with your abilities.”
“We did,” Tony whispers.
He shrugs. “Stevie and I overheard her one time. She said your magic came from the Carbonell line. I got curious, thought it might explain why you and the Jarvises are so different, so I looked it up.”
“You didn’t think that was invading my privacy?”
The words are harsh but Tony doesn’t look upset. He looks—hopeful, almost, like he wants to believe Bucky knows everything about him and doesn’t judge him for it. It makes Bucky bold and he steps forward, right into Tony’s space, as he tugs one of his hands free and uses it to tuck one of Tony’s curls behind his ear, fingers brushing against his cheek.
“You are a puzzle I’ve only ever wanted to solve,” Bucky murmurs, bowing his head to rest his forehead against Tony’s. His hand cups Tony’s cheek for the briefest moment and then falls to his shoulder. Tony closes his eyes and inhales shakily. “But the moment the trail went cold, I stopped looking. It didn’t seem right to keep digging.”
“What did you find?” Tony asks.
“Two names: Howard Stark and Maria Carbonell, that’s it.”
Tony nods. “Those were my parents.”
“Were?”
“Could be are. I don’t know where they went after they left me, but I stopped calling them mine the moment they were gone.”
“What happened?” He feels Tony tense under his hand and quickly adds, “If you want to tell me. Don’t feel like you have to.”
“No, it’s—I want to,” Tony says, sounding frustrated. The space between his brows furrows in irritation. “I’ve just never told anyone and—I’m not sure I’m ready to tell the full story yet. It’s a lot.”
“Whatever you’re ready for, then. And when you’re ready for the rest, I’ll be right here to listen.”
Tony takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “I was born at Rosewood Manor,” he says quietly.
“That place outside of town?”
“Mmhmm. That’s my magic you probably saw guarding it.”
Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony, that place looks like it hasn’t had anyone living there for fifteen years.”
“Over twenty actually. I was three when—when that happened.”
“You were three? And you had that kind of control?”
Tony laughs humorlessly. “Believe me, that night I had no control at all.” He falls silent. Bucky waits for more, but Tony seems to be done talking for tonight, so he turns his head and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth instead.
“Thank you for telling me,” he says.
Tony grimaces. “Not like I told you much of anything.”
“You told me what you were comfortable with. Believe me, doll, after two years of nothing—”
“You keep doing that,” Tony interrupts. “Calling me doll.”
Bucky hesitates. “I thought you liked it when I did that.”
Tony looks away, a bitter twist to his mouth. “I left.”
“Yeah…”
“I left right after you kissed me because I was scared and couldn’t face up to what was going on between us even though I promised we’d talk.”
Bucky waits, sure that if he stays silent, Tony will explain further. It’s a trick that he’s used in the past and it’s always worked. Sure enough, after another couple moments:
“You know, I was so sure you were dating Steve? Let me finish please,” Tony says calmly, holding up a hand when Bucky opens his mouth. “You don’t know what it was like. I might have met Steve first but it was so clear that you two were a lot closer than I would ever be with him. So yes, I was convinced you two were dating and that I was alone in my feelings and when I found out I wasn’t, I panicked. I thought it was Tony Jarvis you liked, not—”
“I like you,” Bucky interrupts, unable to keep hearing Tony talk about how he’d thought Bucky wasn’t serious about him, when he thinks maybe it’s the only thing he’s ever been serious about. “I like you as Tony Jarvis, Tony Carbonell, Tony Stark, or just plain Tony.”
“Like?” Tony asks shyly.
Bucky grins and kisses the other corner of Tony’s mouth. “Do you think I would have kept searching for you for two years if I didn’t still like you?”
Tony leans back for a moment, searching his eyes for something before he eventually says, “And what about Tony Barnes?”
Bucky’s heart about stops. He wheezes out, “You—”
“It’s not—I needed a name when I came back to Ravenspoint. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was and it’s a small town. People know every other name I go by, but—I didn’t think you’d mind or I wouldn’t—”
Bucky can’t stop himself anymore. He frames Tony’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly. It’s closed-mouthed and chaste and it’s still the best damn kiss he’s ever had, next to the only other time he kissed Tony. Tony’s hands flutter in the air for a second before wrapping around Bucky’s waist, clutching him to him.
“I love you calling yourself by my name,” he says hoarsely, pulling away long enough to get the words out before he kisses Tony again. “And one day, I swear I’ll give you that name for real, forever and always.” This time, it’s Tony who whfigmenters and kisses him again, sucking Bucky’s tongue into his mouth as Bucky’s hands slide back into his hair to hold him right where he wants him.
“Wait,” Tony pants, struggling against Bucky’s grip to move away. Bucky lets him go reluctantly, gratified when Tony only moves a couple inches. “How did you find me?”
“Your magic,” Bucky tells him, trailing kisses across every inch of his face. “It’s been callin’ out to me since the day you left, leavin’ me a trail to follow.”
“Lucky me,” Tony whispers.
And as Bucky kisses him again, unable to resist for a single second, he thinks to himself, No. Lucky me.
#alle writes#winteriron#birthday prompts#if you like please consider reblogging#alle answers#jkirk09
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For kiss prompt: 8 or 21 or 30 for your Wizarding World Au (wish by the way is stellar!)
Aww, thank you!
30: Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot (Wizarding World of Food Service verse)
I feel like the point of the kissing prompts was supposed to be “the kisses are sweet,” not “the kisses are sweaty.” Sorry if you weren’t looking for fluff + gross realistic workplace kisses.
Now on AO3!
The fact that Julie feels like she somehow took a shower under her clothes should be a sign to the Powers That Be that the park needs to be closed today. If your employees can run a dry slip n slide with the sweat on their bodies alone, they shouldn’t be working. But here she is.
As she staggers into the break area, she lets out a loud groan. Every single patch of shade has already been claimed by all the other employees working outside today, and there’s nowhere cool left to stand.
“Jules!” Luke waves her over to his section of the wall. As she approaches, she realizes that his Butterbeer shirt, which is meant to be a light gray, is dark gray and clinging to him and—
Okay, she’s not complaining about the clinging, per se, but he’s incredibly gross right now. He nods her into the slim patch of shade in front of him, pressing back against the wall to make room for her.
On the one hand, the shade is a very welcome break from the aggressive midday sun. On the other hand, being squeezed into a tiny space next to her overheating boyfriend, who is currently transferring extra, unwanted sweat onto her, is… unpleasant.
“You doing okay out there?” he asks.
She nods at his shirt. “Are you?”
He chuckles. “Been out there so long I forgot this wasn’t the original color.”
Drawing her sleeve over her forehead, she transfers a slick of sweat to the fabric and… oh god. He eyes the damp stain sympathetically, and she makes a face. “Is this killing the magic?”
With a soft smile, he waves his pointer finger at her face. “Aguamenti.” He pauses, as if waiting for water to shoot out of his finger, then he bugs his eyes. “Crap, maybe the magic really is gone.”
She smacks him gently on the arm, but she’s honestly too weak for it to be anything more than a gentle brush of her hand. “How hot is it right now? I want to be accurate when I complain about this later.”
He tugs his phone out of his apron pocket and pulls up the weather app. “Uh… it’s 44 degrees.”
“There’s no way.” She is basically a human candle, melting away on the cobblestones of Hogsmeade.
The corner of his mouth slips up into a sly grin. “44 Celsius.”
She tries to smack him again. “That’s, like 110 degrees.”
He turns the phone to her. “111, actually.”
She’s not sure if she actually starts crying, or if it’s just more sweat leaking out of her scalp and trickling down her face. She’s only on her first ten. How is she supposed to survive five more hours of this?
Then a notification pops up on his screen. A very confusing notification. “‘Six-month Anniversary?’”
In an instant, his phone is dropped back into his apron pocket. “Oh, that’s just…”
“Our six-month isn’t until January. You got something to tell me?”
He chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his head, before yanking away his damp palm with a wrinkled up nose. “Uh, it’s the six-month anniversary of the day we met.”
“You know when that is?”
“I did the math one day cause I thought we could celebrate and it would be cute, and then Alex said it was weird and unnecessary, so I—”
“Set an alarm so you’d remember it?”
“That was just for me. I wanted to…” He studies his feet. Either he’s blushing or it’s the heat flush on his pale skin—she suspects both. “I dunno, I wanted to remember to think about half a year ago. Appreciate how amazing these six months have been, and—”
Dante and Fuego, who are standing on either side of Luke, clear their throats loudly. Oh crap, they’re crammed in so close that they’re unable to do anything but listen to this conversation.
Six months ago, Julie would have ducked her head and stood awkwardly in silence for the remainder of her ten. But now? She’s an expo god. Without pause, she grabs Luke’s hand and starts pulling him away. Groaning weakly, he tries to keep his back against the wall. “Please don’t make me go in the sun. I’ve got seven more minutes here.”
“We’re going inside.”
She tugs him in after her, dragging him past the prep cook stations and the dishwashing stations, all the way to…
“The walk-in?”
Julie yanks open the door to the walk-in fridge. Nick, currently swallowed in an oversized coat, hovers over two bins of strawberries, sorting the ripe ones. He jumps when they stumble in.
“Nick, can we sort the strawberries for seven minutes?” Julie asks.
“Uh, aren’t you on carts today?” He gestures at their uniforms.
“Yeah. Can we sort the strawberries for seven minutes?” she repeats, adding more meaning to her voice. When Nick continues to look blank, she waggles her eyebrow.
“OH. Yeah, okay.” Nick lets out a nervous giggle and practically sprints out of the walk-in.
Luke spins around, clearly taking advantage of the cold air rushing over his skin, but then he groans. “I don’t want to sort strawberries. I’m on my break.”
She pushes him gently but firmly against one of the metal shelves, and raises an eyebrow.
“Oh. Nice.” He grins down at her, smirking like this was his idea all along.
She shakes her head and brings her hands up to his cheeks. In her head, it’s tender and romantic, but in reality, his slick skin almost slides her fingers right back off his face. On instinct, he wraps his arms around her, drawing her close. His body still radiates heat and sweat, but the fridge at least makes the proximity bearable.
“You were saying?” she asks.
He grins. “This is gonna be sappy, so prepare yourself.”
“I’m prepared.”
“Like, sweeter than Butterbeer.”
“Careful, you’re going to overhype it.”
His confident grin turns soft and he bumps his warm nose against hers. “I wanted to make sure I spent some of today thinking about the day we met cause six months ago, happiness got redefined for me. That’s worth celebrating, I think.”
And there’s really only one reaction she can have to that. Julie pops onto her toes and tugs his face to hers, bringing their lips together. Her body trembles—less from the kiss and more from the sheer exhaustion running through her dehydrated body—and she almost recoils when sweat transfers from his mouth to hers. His hands press the damp fabric of her shirt closer into her back and, under the fridge air, it’s cool and unpleasant. When his cheeks finally succeed in shaking off her hands, she moves them to his shoulders, feeling the unnatural heat of his skin and the slickness of his sweat through the fabric of his work shirt.
Overall, it is an extremely gross kiss. And if it were with anyone else, she would be absolutely disgusted. But when they’re chased out of the walk-in four minutes later by an indignant Harrison (“haven’t you people heard of health code violations??”), teeth chattering as the sweat freezes on their bodies, she can’t keep the grin off her face.
Apparently the magic’s not gone just yet.
#I was correct I am bad at making things short#jukebox#juke#julie x luke#luke x julie#palina#jatp#jatp fic#prompt#pearlcaddy tumblr fic#wizarding world of food service#pearlcaddy kiss prompt
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PART TWO — The Eyes of Texas: A Rowaelin Origin Story 🏐 🍺 ♥️
Long before Cash and Nesta, there was Rowan and Aelin.
Rowan Whitethorn—a Navel academy graduate and recently discharged second lieutenant from the United States Navy—takes a break from studying of the police academy exam in Los Angeles to fly back to his native Hawaii and compete in a twos volleyball tournament with his ex, one of the best sand players on the amateur circuit.
Beyond Remy’s devious machinations to win Rowan back, the biggest impediment to victory is the so-called Ashryver twins, a pair of cousins from Miami with a reputation of their own. Rowan can’t help but admire the gorgeous and sharp-tongued Aelin Galathynius, who’s more than ready to give Remy a run for her money—both on the court and in the race for Rowan’s affection.
This takes place in the same AU-verse as my Nessian story In Vino Veritas, about four years before.
This a two-shot, you can find PART I here.
The Eyes of Texas, PART TWO
By midnight, Rowan knew he was in deep shit.
They’d migrated to another bar by that time, Aelin practically in his lap as they traded stories about college and their friends. Rowan found himself caught between despair and delight as he listened to Aelin speak, unsure if he should be reveling in the attention from a woman of her caliber, or fretting that it couldn’t last.
It wasn’t just that Aelin was beautiful, though he was admittedly so mesmerized by those blue eyes and that dazzling smile that he had to actively avoid staring.
She was funny, too.
And not “when a sexy woman makes a joke you feel oddly compelled to laugh” type of funny, either.
She was fucking hilarious.
She’d had him in stitches earlier with a story about getting the business-end of her grandmother’s chancla after she’d gone to Easter mass with blue teeth from her candy basket, and he’d hardly stopped laughing since.
Rowan had always been a somewhat serious person—even more so after Lyria’s death—but Aelin made him feel...younger. Lighter. And he might have felt guilty for that, except he’d had the oddest sensation throughout the evening that Lyria was there, laughing alongside him.
And—as if gorgeous and hysterical weren’t enough—Aelin was also incredibly bright. Despite the rigors of her volleyball schedule, she was a neuroscience and psychology double major, with plans to attend medical school and become a psychiatrist when she graduated.
It was an answer that Rowan hadn’t expected when he’d asked what she was studying, but somehow it suited her. The ambition, the focus—it explained in part why she was such an incredible athlete. Rowan knew better than anyone that it took more that height and muscles to be a success in the sport, and even among the juggernauts who’d completed in the tournament, Aelin had been in a class of her own.
She’d grown oddly bashful when he’d pressed her about her volleyball career, at which point she admitted she’d held off med school applications to accept a place on the AVP tour.
“They’ve offered you a spot?” Rowan’d asked.
Aelin’s cheeks had gone slightly pink.
“They called after the tournament,” she’d said. “A scout was there to watch me play.”
“Aelin, that’s incredible.”
At this Aelin’s smile had relaxed into something sensuous that had made Rowan’s stomach tighten.
“Couldn’t have done it without, guapo. ”
Now as Ro sat twirling the tail of Aelin’s braid around a tattooed finger, he tried to remind himself that he needed to shut all these bright and shiny feelings down. Aelin had been a danger to the comfortable numbness Rowan had been living in since the moment she stepped onto the sand of that volleyball court. Now, having heard her laugh and flirt and speak Spanish, she’d become lethal.
He told himself that if he was smart, he’d kiss her cheek right now and tell her goodnight. It would probably take him several days to extract her from pleasant place she’d settled under his skin, but he could stop the bleeding now. If he was smart, he most definitely would not sleep with her.
But apparently he wasn’t smart, because when she’d slyly tugged him to his feet and coaxed him into one of the private closets marked “For Staff Only”, he didn’t stop her.
He also didn’t stop her when she kissed him, tongue sliding effortlessly into his mouth and she hands tracked under his shirt.
It was a bad idea to want Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius the way Ro did, but he found as her hands continued their exploration that he didn’t care. Even if he could only have her for one night, he would make it enough.
“Your body is insane,” Aelin breathed, tracing the ridges of his abs in a way that made him shudder.
He couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk which tugged at his mouth as he kissed her again.
“You haven’t seen anything yet.”
At this Aelin paused to laugh, eyes sparkling with wicked delight.
“Was that a big dick comment?” She said. “I knew you had it in you, Whitethorn.”
Rowan debated going for the obvious joke about having ‘it’ in her soon before quickly deciding against it. He was tipsy; it didn’t mean he had to be a jackass, too.
“Let’s go, you little troublemaker,” Ro said, reaching for the door which led from the closet to the secluded hallway.
Aelin’s answering grin was staggering in its seductive force. She casually leaned against the door, blocking his exit as she pulled him towards her by the beltloops.
“Why, are you afraid of getting caught?”
He grabbed the hand that was attempting to slip into his pants, pinning it over her head and bowing into her so she could feel how hard he already was.
“No. But the kind of sex I want, you can’t give me here.”
This seemed to stun her into aroused silence, and he reveled in the victory of rendering Aelin Galathynius speechless. However, she recovered quickly, leaning in to nip his lip.
“Fair warning: I’m not easily impressed.”
Her wrists still caught in his grip, he bent to whisper in her ear, grinding a little against her as he did so.
“So you say, but I’m going to guess you’ve only ever been with boys, Aelin. You may not realize it, but I don’t think you have any idea how good sex can actually be.”
Her legs went slightly weak at that, and he slid his knee between her thighs to keep her upright.
“And you’re going to show me?” She asked.
All the things he wanted to do to her flashed in his mind, and Rowan had to fend off a groan as he hardened further. Much more of this and they would end up doing it in this closet.
“I am,” he replied simply.
Aelin’s answering laugh was husky.
“How are you the same guy who didn’t have the cojones to ask for my number this afternoon?”
He recognized the gesture for what it was: an attempt to gain back the upper hand in their continued tug-of-war for dominance.
Turned on by her bravura, he let her, adding with a shrug, “I guess I’m more of a ‘lady in the streets’ type.”
Still, unwilling to cede to her completely he shifted his thigh where it was still nestled between her legs. She moaned a little, moving against him almost involuntarily to get the friction she needed.
Despite the desire for privacy enough to make Aelin scream herself hoarse, Ro found the idea of her rubbing one out on him too hot to resist. Rotating his knee, he pushed up until she was practically riding his thigh.
Aelin’s nails dug into his forearm as the seam of her shorts hit the exact right spot. He increased the pressure, and she moaned again, the sound growing more fractured as he snapped open one her overall straps and squeezed her firm breast over the lace. God, her tits were perfect.
“Stop or I’m going to come,” she said, teeth gritted.
Rowan didn’t bother to fend off a self-satisfied smile.
“You’re this easy to set off, Galathynius?” He laughed softly. “God, the things I’m gonna fucking to do to you.”
“I thought you said we weren’t going to bang here.”
“We aren’t,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have an orgasm.”
“You seriously want my first one with you to be while I’m fully clothed?”
He glanced up to meet her overcome blue eyes.
“I just want to show you how many different ways I have to make you scream, Aelin.”
Taking a fistful of the denim jumper, he tugged up roughly until the fabric was splitting her. Even though all her clothes he could see what a gorgeous little pussy she had. The realization he’d soon be inside of her made Ro’s cock ache.
“Fuck,” Aelin said, hips canting forward as he used the back-and-forth friction to drag her closer to release. “This is not how I imagined things going when I brought you in here.”
Rowan kissed her neck.
“Better or worse?”
“Better,” she said. “So much better. Mierda .”
Her body tightened then relaxed slightly against him, and were he inside of her, he knew she’d be clenching around him right now.
“You have a gorgeous come face,” he told her honestly.
“I bet you do, too.”
He couldn’t fight a grin.
“Would you like to find out?”
“Yes please. ”
He pressed forward to kiss her again, their tongues tangling as he breathed, “let’s get out of here.”
Needing no further prompting, Aelin reached behind her to twist open the door before slipping out, Rowan behind her.
Taking his hand, she tugged him towards the exit, her phone already out with a map pulled up.
“Where are we headed?” He asked. “I might be able to help.”
Aelin’s answering smile was cryptic.
“It’s not far. The app is saying a 17-minute walk. Hang on.”
With this she dialed a number before bringing the phone to her ear. Whoever she was calling—one of her cousins, Ro suspected—picked up on the second ring, and she began giving orders in rapid Spanish. After a minute she hung up, flashing Ro a simpering smile as she batted her lashes.
“Shall we?”
Rowan couldn’t fight a laugh.
“Did you just kick your cousins out of the room?”
“Suite,” she said with a growing smirk. “But who’s counting?”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “We could have made it work.”
Her gaze heated, burning hot enough that Ro felt his cock stirring again. He watched as her fingers nimbly went to one of the long braids hanging over her shoulder, deftly undoing the plait.
“We don’t need an audience for all the filthy things I want you to do to me.”
He groaned.
“You’re killing me.”
She smiled, working the other braid free and giving her curtain of blonde hair a shake. Christ, he wanted to run his hands though it, then bunch in it his hands while he fucked that pretty little mouth.
She smirked as if she knew what he was thinking, even biting her lip a little in suggestion.
“Something wrong?” She said.
He only laughed.
“Completely the opposite.”
She smiled, tugging him down the street for ten blocks or so before making a left and heading towards a glittering glass building.
The Ritz Carlton.
Rowan let out a low whistle as they entered the marble lobby.
“You keeping secrets, Galathynius?”
She bit her lip.
“My dad is...not poor.”
“Define ‘not poor’.”
“He owns twenty-three luxury hotels in Miami?”
Rowan’s throat felt a bit scratchy.
“You’re a millionaire.”
Her grin was sheepish and slightly guilty.
“Kinda?”
He must have looked confused.
“I mean, yeah, with a b.”
Holy shit, her family were billionaires.
She studied him for a moment when he stopped walking, trying to take it all in. He wasn’t usually one to be embarrassed about money or his upbringing, but she was stupid rich. He suddenly felt out of his depth.
“This is why I didn’t tell you,” she said quietly. “It makes people see me differently.”
At this he glanced up, reading the sadness and loneliness in her eyes.
“It doesn’t change anything,” he found himself saying.
Dating a girl that rich, especially as a cop in Vice Squad—that could be complicated. But that’s not what this was; after tonight, Ro would likely never see her again. Besides, she’d made an effort not to make it a big deal, and hadn’t thrown money around to impress him even when she easily could have. If she could set it aside for the evening, so could he.
Also, he really wanted to fuck her. She was a girl begging for pleasure, and he wanted to be able to show her things she hadn’t experienced even in her wildest fantasies.
Aelin seemed to read the acceptance in his eyes because she tugged him towards the elevator, punching 36 before pushing him against the wall to kiss him. Sliding his hands down her thighs, he hoisted her easily into his arm, crushing her against him.
When the door opened he didn’t bother putting her down, simply breathed against her mouth, “where?”
She gestured to the left and he headed towards the single door at the end of the hall. Producing a key from her back pocket, she slid to her feet before unlocking the door and ushering him inside.
Ro told himself not to gawk as they stepped farther into the palatial space, but it was impossible.
The lavishly-appointed suite was furnished with a living room, full kitchen, bedroom, and formal dining area, floor-to-ceiling window along the far wall looking out onto the Pacific Ocean.
There was a bottle of expensive Cuban rum and several glasses sitting on the marble island, half-smoked Monte Cristo cigars resting in a nearby tray. The Ashryvvers, it seemed, were no strangers to the finer things in life.
“Do you want a drink?” Aelin asked, trailing a hand down his back and observing him as he took in their surroundings.
He turned to her to say yes, but when he caught sight of the heat in her gaze he changed him mind.
“Later,” he said, walking her backwards into the wall closest to the bedroom.
“Thank god,” she said as he threaded a hand through hers to pull her arm above her head. “I don’t think I could bear to wait.”
Rowan chuckled, teeth grazing her ear as he said, “Does that mean you’re going to be a good girl and do as I say?”
Her blue eyes snapped to him, blazing with defiance.
“What makes you think I’m that type of girl?”
“In your everyday life, you like to be in control?”
“Yes.”
Rowan nodded.
“That’s why.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You’re used to responsibility and keeping all the plates spinning, but I bet deep down, you fantasize about being able to let go; you just don’t know how.”
She scoffed, through the sound turned to a breathy exhale as he kissed her neck.
“And what makes you think that I’ll be able to let go with you, a total stranger?”
He pulled back, kissing her softly on the lips.
“Because I am going to make you feel so good and so safe, you won’t have a choice. Do you trust me, Aelin?”
“I have no real reason to,” she hedged. “We just met.”
“But...” he said onto the sensitive skin of her throat.
She paused, muscles in her neck gorgeously taut as he tugged her earlobe with his teeth.
“Díos ayúdame,” she choked out. “Yes, I do.”
“Good girl,” he praised. “Let’s get you naked.”
Throwing the overall strap he’d previously unbuckled over her shoulder, he unsnapped the other. He knelt as he coaxed the whole garment down her hips, pausing to lave her tattoo. He resisted the urge to venture between her legs, enjoying the way she bucked her hips towards the heat of his mouth as it pressed against her low belly.
“Patience,” he said, nipping the sensitive skin.
She settled slightly at that, and Ro ran his hands up her torso with with deliberate slowness, palms skating effortlessly under her lacy bralette and tugging it off in a single, fluid gesture.
He glanced down at her and groaned.
“Fucking Christ.”
Her breasts were flawlessly round and dark enough to suggest she spend a decent amount of time tanning topless, her tight nipples framed by matching diamond studs. He ran a finger over the jewelry, laughing at her shudder of pleasure.
“Are you crazy, Galathynius? You’re a D1 athlete!”
She chuckled.
“I tape them up to play. Why, you don’t like?”
He glanced up to meet her gaze.
“I didn’t say that.”
The truth was they suited her: elegant femininity edged in wildness.
“You approve then.”
He reached down to tease her, brushing a knuckle against her left nipple until it pebbled.
“They’re gorgeous.”
Aelin preened a bit at that.
“Tits this nice deserved a little something extra,” she said with a smirk.
Rowan was inclined to agree.
“These real diamonds, princess?”
“They were a gift from Aedion.”
At this Rowan stiffened, unable to smother the discomfort the idea inspired. Aelin only laughed, catching his face in her hands and kissing him lightly on the lips.
“I’m playing with you, tonto. Obviously he and Galen don’t know about these or they’d hit the roof. Besides,” she said, pert nose wrinkling slightly. “We don’t share things like that with each other. We’re close but...not that close.”
Rowan couldn’t hold back a relieved laugh, which only made Aelin’s grin widen.
“You should have seen the look on your face, though.”
“You’re trouble,” he told her.
“You love it,” she shot back, leaning in so her breasts brushed his chest.
Yeah he fucking did.
Crushing her into another kiss, her massaged her breasts, palms scraping her nipples. When they’d grown hard from his machinations he bent to taste them, loving the feel of her fingers as they wound into his hair and tugged.
“Take off your clothes already,” she said, breathless. “I want to know if your dick is as big as it feels.”
He grabbed her wrist and guided it between his legs.
“See for yourself.”
Deft as a snake, she had a hand down the front of boxer briefs, stroking him twice with a firm grip.
He planted a hand on the wall beside her head, breathing through his nose as he bowed into her wicked touch.
“What are you thinking about?” She asked as she unbuckled his belt and pushed his chinos off his carved waist until they hung low on his hips.
“You.”
“What about me?”
He bent to kiss her deeply again. God, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been this turned on.
“About what you’d look like on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”
She gave a sensuous chuckle.
“Dream on, querido. ”
He only grinned in response.
“No one likes a liar, Galathynius.”
“What reason would I have to ever suck you off?”
“The same reason you’d let me tie you up: you want to know what it’s like to let someone else be in control.”
“I never said I wanted to be tied up,” she said, voice turning to a groan as he pushed her underwear aside to dip two fingers inside of her.
“You didn’t have to,” he said, holding up his fingers so they glistened in the moonlight pouring in from the open balcony doors. “You’re soaked.”
She didn’t respond, merely leaned forward to licked the offending digits clean in a way that told him that not only did she want to suck his dick, she was going to be excellent at it.
He hardened at the thought, even as he forced a calming breath. If this was his only chance with her, he intended to savor every second.
He wanted tears— actual tears—of pleasure from her. He wanted to hear her beg. And not just some breathy “ please, more ” bullshit, either. He wanted to her to plead—for him, for release, for anything and everything he was willing to give her.
He wanted all of it and more, but to have it, he needed to be patient with her. It meant going slow, and sending her off the edge several times before he ever slipped inside of her.
Gently collaring her throat, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips before easing her off the wall and into the waiting bedroom.
“You are so beautiful,” he told her.
She smirked, eyes flashing.
“Bet you say that to all the girls you fuck.”
“I’ve never fucked a woman as beautiful as you.”
It was out before he could stop it, and he had to fend off the the twinge of guilt it produced. Still, he couldn’t regret saying it, because it was true; Aelin was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.
Aelin, seeming abashed by this declaration, responding by coaxing Rowan’s buttoned shirt open and over his shoulders. Chest to bare chest, her next kiss was soft and drugging.
“You’re...not ugly, either,” she said at last.
“Not ugly?” He repeated with a laugh.
“You’re...” she trailed off as he kissed her neck.
“I’m...?”
“Gorgeous,” she said finally. “But I think you already knew that.”
“Maybe, but it hits different from you.”
Aelin seemed pleased by that, and she rewarded him by dipping her hand into his unbuckled pants again and fisting him.
“I was also right; you’re enormous.”
Grabbing her wrist, he pinned it to the wall and put his hand between her legs instead.
“And I bet you’re tight,” he said, drawing lazy circles with his thumb that had her back arching.
“Are we going to fit?” She teased, but he could hear the concern underneath that she couldn’t quite hide.
The idea that some douchebag had pushed into her before she was totally ready—it made Rowan’s skin prickle in irritation.
He caught her jaw.
“After I’m done playing with you, Aelin, you’re going to be so wet that you’ll feel like my cock was made to fit inside you.”
She moaned.
“If you’re half as good as sex as you are dirty talk, I think this might be the best night of my life.”
Rowan was counting on it. What he hadn’t counted on was the fact it was shaping up to be one of the best nights of his as well. And not just because of the sex, though Rowan couldn’t deal with that right now.
“I bet you taste good too,” he said, grinding against her and living for her answering moan. “Don’t you?”
“I’ve never had any complaints,” she said, and he tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy at the thought of another guy’s mouth on her.
Her pussy was his, at least for tonight. He intended to make sure she never forgot how it felt to have him between her thighs.
Kneeling at her feet, he peeled her thong down her lean legs. He let his eyes drag up slowly, taking his time admiring the muscles in her quads before his gaze settled between her legs.
She was already wet, her thighs glistening with arousal. He imagined what they would look like dripping with his come instead. The idea had masculine satisfaction thrumming through him, even knowing it was a fantasy he couldn’t indulge. He wouldn’t put her in a vulnerable position by not wearing a condom. Pressing a mockingly chaste kiss on her low belly, he rose to his feet.
“Get on the bed,” he said, guiding her hips towards the waiting mattress.
“Get naked first,” she countered, tracing the band of his Adonis belt before tugging him towards her by the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs.
He didn’t stop her as she skated her hands down the back to squeeze his ass before pushing them off his hips.
His dick was already rock hard, and it pressed between them. She leaned up to kiss him again before sinking down to sit on the bed. The movement bought her eye-level with his erection, and gripping him in a fist, she put her mouth on him.
He swore as she laved his length, cock twitching as she traced a ridge of vein with her tongue. Threading a gentle hand into her hair, he took a step back, coaxing her off the bed and onto her knees. When she looked up at him, blue eyes overcome with want, he had to fight the urge to come right then.
Despite her earlier declarations, Aelin sucked him off like both of their lives depended on it, and Rowan could only hang on and enjoy the ride as her tongue worked miracles on his shaft and her hands found every pleasure point he craved.
He swore again as she massaged his stones before kneading the sensitive swath of skin behind them. As her touch grew more deliberate, he debated telling her she could push inside him before deciding it wasn’t exactly fodder for a one-night stand.
However, when her fingers trailed back to brush the tight ring of muscle, he couldn’t fight a groan.
“Yes?” She asked, keeping her touch light.
“Go ahead,” he said, breathless.
He didn’t think he’d never been so close to losing it as he was the moment she used her own wetness to coat her fingers before carefully teasing two inside of him.
His tattooed hand tightened in her hair, but he forced himself to otherwise remain still, to let her set the pace.
“Fuck, Aelin.”
Crooking her fingers to hit that perfect internal spot, she put her mouth on him again. Between her fingers and her tongue, he only lasted ten more strokes before he came hard .
Holy shit.
Rowan was no stranger to anything they’d just done, but he was fairly sure that was the best blowjob he’d ever had.
“As good as your imagined?” Aelin said with a smirk.
“Better,” Rowan said. “Way better. My turn.”
Picking her up, he tossed her on the bed before grabbing her ankle and dragging her towards him so her legs hung off the edge.
Wasting no time, he broke her legs apart and put his mouth right where he knew she needed him, sucking hard. However, he didn’t stay there for long, ignoring her attempts to manuever his mouth into position as he teased her.
“Rowan,” she choked. “You’re killing me.”
In answer he swirled his tongue around her bundle of nerves before alighting elsewhere.
“Rowan,” Aelin said.
He sucked on her this time, loving how she rocked her hips up to fuck his face. Still, he didn’t linger long enough for her release to find her.
“I’m going to kill—“
He glanced up at her, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the crease of her hip as she watched him.
“Beg me, Aelin,” he told her. “Beg me and I’ll give you an orgasm to make you cry.”
He laced her once, and she bucked.
“I don’t beg,” she said, even as he felt her contract once against his tongue.
The idea was turning her on.
“You haven’t begged before,” he corrected. “It doesn’t mean you won’t for me.”
At this he slid a finger inside of her, finding the right spot and applying pressure.
“Oh god,” she breathed. “More.”
Rowan pulled the finger out in response.
Aelin paused, heaving slightly as she considered before breathing, “Please, Ro.”
“Please what?”
“Please, give me what I want. I’m...begging you.”
Rowan slid two fingers inside of her, grinning.
“Really, this is your begging? Pathetic.”
“Harder.”
“Harder?”
He increased his speed, knowing she was right on the edge of where she needed to be. Still, he didn’t cross that line.
“Fuck,” Aelin said, voice almost a whine. “Rowan, I’m right there—just make me come.”
“If I do, will you beg me for my cock next?”
“I will give you anything you want,” she said. “Just...” she exhaled again. “Please.”
He bowed his head between her legs again, pumping his fingers as he tongued the spot he knew would set her off.
Driven the brink by all his edging, her climax seemed to shudder through her, muscles in her stomach flexing as she contracted against his mouth. He was careful to keep his touch feather-light as the orgasm crested and ebbed, knowing her body was too sensitive to be properly played with yet.
“Oh god,” she breathed, body still trembling slightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm that strong before. What did you do to me, Whitethorn?”
He crawled up to meet her, hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her head before he kissed her.
“Showed you what you’ve been missing, apparently.”
She arched her hips up to meet his, the contact making him harden again.
“Aelin,” he breathed, using both palms to scrape her sweaty hair from her face.
“Kiss me,” she said softly, gaze so sincere he had to close his eyes to avoid being overcome.
He did as she asked, keeping his touch gentle in an effort to to convey what he couldn’t bear to voice out loud: that this was more than just meaningless sex.
“I want you inside of me,” she said.
He rotated his hips against hers, cock brushing against her in a way that made her cry out softly.
“I need to grab a condom,” he said into her ear. “Don’t move.”
“And what if I do?”
He bent to kiss her deeply.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
Rowan smiled, rising from the bed to grab a condom from his wallet before crossing to the window. He deftly unknotted the silk tie which had been used to hold back the curtains and holding it up for her to see.
Aelin expelled a noise of pleasure so finely edged it was almost a whine. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her arms above her head in invitation, eyes hooded as she watched him approach.
Sliding over her, he slipped the length of silk around her wrists before synching it to the headboard.
Aelin tugged I’m experimentation.
“Too tight?”
“No,” she said.
Rowan gently collared her throat as he bent to kiss her.
“Good girl.”
Rowan drew a finger down Aelin’s torso, circling her tight nipples before tracing her navel and venturing between her legs.
“I’m going to have to make this count,” he said, sliding two fingers into her again even as he held up the condom. “I only have one of these.”
“I have some in my suitcase,” she said. “Lucky for you, I think they’re magnums. Dream big, and all that.”
He grinned, making her laugh.
“Never hurts to be prepared,” she said.
“No it most certainly doesn’t,” he agreed, putting his mouth on her again.
She bucked off the bed and he used his hands to keep her hips pinned as she twisted against her restraints.
“If only I had a spreader bar,” he told her. “I would really have you at my mercy.”
“I’m at your mercy now,” she said. “Take me.”
That, Rowan could not resist.
Quickening the pace of his fingers, he concentrated on her clit until she shattered again. Only when she’d settled back on to the bed, legs quaking slightly, did he tear open the wrapper of the condom, sheathing himself with a practiced hand.
“You’re probably going to be extra tight from the orgasms,” he told her. “So I’m going to go slow at first.”
She nodded, and he kissed her again before grabbing his shaft and sliding a few inches into her.
“Tight” had perhaps been an understatement. The pressure of her was mind-numbing, spine-tingling bliss. Still, he forced himself to pause and take in her expression.
Her brows were synched, breath ragged. He bent to kiss the tightened corners of her eyes before brushing his lips to hers.
“Talk to me, gorgeous,” he breathed. “How are you doing?”
“You’re—big,” she said, voice still tense. “I’m just trying to adjust.”
“Relax,” he coached, petting a hand down the tense muscles in her stomach. “Breathe, Aelin.”
At this she let out a shuddering exhale, even mewing a little as he reached down to play with her.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, working her with the pad of his thumb. “Let me in.”
With that the some of the tenseness in her body loosened, and she moaned. He pushed in farther, kissing her deeply until she was forced to take another calming exhale.
When he shifted her hips and pulled her the rest of the way onto his shaft, she melted. He couldn’t hold back his groan of pleasure as he sank in effortlessly to the hilt, his stones brushing her soft ass.
“Fuck,” she said. “Why does that feel so good?”
He rose onto his knees, tilting her hips up on the process. She groaned.
“Because I bet no one’s hit this spot with you before,” he said.
Rearing back slightly, he thrust into her with delicious intent.
She bit her lip.
“Yours is deep,” he said.
Her answering laugh was husky.
“Are you trying to suggest you’re the biggest dick I’ve ever had?”
He smirked, unable to deny the smug masculine satisfaction that slithered through him at the thought.
“You said it, not me.”
He pulled back and thrust into her a second time. At this she squirmed a little, eyes firmly shut again.
“Yes, Aelin?” He said, repeating the gesture a third time.
She wiggled, trying to get more friction.
“Yes,” she said. “Oh god, yes.”
With that he increased his pace, loving the obscene sound their bodies made as they came together. Christ, had it ever felt this good?
He rode her hard but tried to maintain a pace that wouldn’t cause her an unpleasant amount of friction. From her moans, he was doing a better than alright job.
Rowan drank her in as she writhed beneath him, her body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, her small breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts.
When he reached a hand between her legs to play with her again, she swore, tightening around him.
“I’m so close.”
“Say my name," he said, left hand wrapping around the headboard for better leverage as he drove into her with increased force. “I want to hear you say my name when you come, Aelin.”
She surged forward, tongue tangled with his in a desperate kiss.
"Ro," she breathed. “Rowan.”
Rowan had to fend off a strangled moan at the reverence in her voice.
When he'd made the demand, he'd imagined her screaming it the way other women had, like it was a triumph that needed to be heralded. But hearing it whispered, as if it were a secret meant only for him, had been so much more powerful.
He instantly knew why: because this was so much more than mindless sex.
He felt the exact moment she came apart around him, loving the pressure as she squeezed him in a vice. Deftly he untied her bound hands, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck as he kissed her.
He couldn’t hold back the pleasured groan which escaped as he found his own climax, hips nestled to hers as he drove in deep a final time.
God, what he wouldn’t give to come inside this girl for real. It was a selfish thought, but one Ro couldn’t immediately shake. He didn’t often think about babies of his own, but something about Aelin Galathynius made him want to have a million.
He shook his head slightly, desperate to rid himself of the notion of having children with a woman he’d just met. He kissed her instead, using the feeling of her lips against him to ground him more fully into reality.
When he felt he’d mastered himself, he pulled back to meet Aelin’s eye, mildly horrified to find that hers were glassy. Despite his earlier declaration about wanting to have her in tears, actually seeing them in her eyes had his heart dropping out of his chest.
“Oh god, you’re crying,” he blurted, quickly pulling out of her and touching her cheek. “Aelin, why are you crying?”
At this she snorted, the sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.
“Because that so intense I almost don’t know what to do with myself,” she admitted. “And when I get overwhelmed I always end up crying.”
He frowned, brushing her petal-soft cheek again.
“Good overwhelmed or bad?”
“Good,” she said. “Definitely good. That was just so—“ she blew out a shaky inhale, another tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “I came so hard I think my brain just stalled for a second.”
He couldn’t help but grin, even as he gently brushed the moisture from her cheek.
“I don’t think I’ve ever broken someone’s brain before,” he said. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
She laughed, the sound easier this time.
“Don’t be annoying,” she said. “You know how good you are.”
“What can I say? You inspire greatness in me, Galathynius.”
He bent to gently kiss her, his finger drawing a an ever-tightening circle around one erect nipple. Her back arched slightly at his featherlight touch, goosebumps breaking out across her small breasts.
“You are so gorgeously responsive,” he told her, bending to tug the opposite nipple with his teeth. “It’s like your whole body is a hot spot. It makes it impossible to stop touching you. I could seriously play with you all night.”
“It’s not usually like this,” Aelin admitted after a beat, threading her hand into his hair. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, more candid. “Most the time I’m too in my head, and it makes it hard to get turned on enough to let go.”
“What made tonight different?” Rowan asked, brushing the hair out her face.
He was fairly sure he already knew, but he needed to hear her say it, to take ownership of the feeling.
“I feel safe with you,” she said. “I don’t know why—you’re basically still a stranger—but I do.”
Rowan smiled, kissing her more deeply this time.
“I told you that you’d let go for me,” he breathed against her lips. “How did it feel, gorgeous?”
“Incredible,” she said, shifting her hips in search of friction as he settled more fully on top of her again. “I didn’t want it to end.”
Deftly, Rowan peeled off the condom and threw it into the trash.
“Who said it had to?” He asked grabbing her hips and rotating so he was on his back, Aelin nestled in his lap. “That was just round one.”
In response, She reached for his shaft to begin getting him hard, but he caught her wrist instead.
“It’s a marathon, Galathynius, not sprint,” he said, flipping her hand in his so he could kiss her palm. “And your body’s not ready for me to be inside you again yet.”
Aelin seemed a bit flustered at that, which left Rowan feeling torn. On the one hand, he hating thinking he’d embarrassed her or made her uncomfortable. On the other, the idea that he has the ability to make swaggering, sensuous Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius bashful filled him with deep-seated satisfaction.
Seeming to read the intention in his gaze, she bent to kiss him, whispering, “you don’t have to.”
He pushed her back gently so he could look into her face.
“Don’t have to what?”
“Go down on me again. I know most guys don’t like to do it again once they’ve—“
“That’s amateur hour,” Rowan said, tone sharper than he’d meant it to be. “Whichever pin-headed prick told you that is a loser.”
She laughed, relaxing a little. At seeing this, Rowan settled more fully on his back, hands braced on her hips.
“Come here,” he said, voice rough with desire.
He was rewarded with a pretty blush.
“I’ve never...done it like that,” she admitted.
He smirked.
“Then I’m about to give you an important lesson in pleasure. Come here.”
Rising onto her knees, Aelin rose over Rowan until she was mere inches from his face.
“I feel like I’m going to suffocate you!” She said with a sheepish laugh.
“Then I’ll die the luckiest man on earth,” he said, gripping her ass. “Hold onto the headboard.”
She did, and he lifted his head just enough that the tip of his tongue brushed the most sensitive part of her.
Her whole body tightened in pleasure.
“Do that again,” she said, sounding more her confident self now.
“No,” he told her. “This position is about you being in control. I don’t give you pleasure; you take it.”
When she still didn’t move, he added, “this should be no problem for an imperious little thing like you.”
He knew goading her would do the trick, and after a moment she relaxed her hips, body sinking down to meet his waiting mouth. He couldn’t stifle a groan as she rocked her hips against him in experimentation. Seeing Aelin in is position, vulnerable but in control, was hotter than her could have possibly imagined.
Rowan flicked his tongue against her and she swore.
“That feels good,” she breathed, rocking forward against his mouth again. “Really good.”
His hands on the back of her thighs, he urged her hips forward, grazing her with his teeth before sucking hard.
This proved to be her unleashing.
Using the headboard for leverage, she began swishing her lips in a rhythmic motion, panting softly through her teeth as she worked herself up to climax.
He kneaded the soft flesh of her backside while she rocked against him, trying not to imagine what it would be like to slide his cock into her tight little ass. He had no idea if she was into that sort of thing nor any desire to pressure her into finding out, but the way she rocked back into his hands—as if urging them to explore—was enough to make him curious.
Hands on her waist, he tilted her pelvis towards him slightly, waiting to see how she’d react. In response she scooted higher on his body, her knees practically touching to the headboard. In this new position, there was no part of her he couldn’t access, and when she leaned forward, the invitation was clear.
Using his hands to open her legs more fully for him, he brushed his mouth against an intimate spot that—judging by her deep moan—no one had even touched before. When he repeated the gesture and she didn’t tense or pull away, he split legs even wider and circled the tight ring of muscle at the back with his tongue.
“Fuck,” she said, voice devolving into a string of slurred Spanish. “Rowan.”
Rowan worked her in broader strokes, his free hand coming up to play with her clit. When he slipped a finger inside of her he could tell she was getting close. Not wanting to claim the victory of her orgasm with only his fingers, he pulled her hips down so his tongue could replace his hand.
Far bolder now that she’d been when they’d started, Aelin followed his lead. Her fingers twined in his hair as she rocked against him hard, and Rowan was happy enough to sit back and watch as she took her pleasure like he’d instructed.
Between the rimjob and the edging, Aelin’s orgasm—when it hit—seemed to last a blissful eternity. She was trembling slightly as she collapsed beside him, eyes still closed.
“That was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen,” he said.
He gently cupped between her legs, careful not to apply too much pressure when she was still so sensitive.
“You’re telling me that?” she said with a laugh. “I’ve done it that to other people, obviously, but I’ve never let anyone—“ she broke off with another laugh. “Apparently I’ve been missing out.”
Rowan smirked, if only to hide the twinging realization that after tonight, it would someone else making her feel good, not him.
“I hope I didn’t set an impossible standard,” he said dryly.
“Maybe not yet,” she said, eyes blazing with want. “But you’re well in your way, and the night is still young.”
She let her azure gaze snake down his body with exaggerated slowness. By the time it reached his cock, he was granite-hard.
“Where are the rest of the condoms?” he asked.
If he wasn’t inside of her in the next minute, he might actually lose his mind.
“Bathroom,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”
Rowan didn’t have time for that. He rose from the bed to follow her into the lavish en-suite. Normally he might of gawked a little at the opulence—the marble countertops, the sunken tub—but his entire focus was on Aelin. The best he could do was shift the lens to the things in her periphery. Everything else was a blur.
She was just straightening—foil packet in hand—as he entered, and he didn’t even give her a chance speak before her grabbed her around the waist, spinning her so his chest was pressed into her back.
Taking the condom, he ripped open the package and slid it on with one hand while his other moved between her legs to ensure she was ready for him.
“How do you feel?” He asked. “Do you need me to—“
“Whitethorn, if I was any wetter I’d be Nile. Get inside me already.”
It was all the permission Rowan needed. Hand on her back, he coaxed her to bend, using his legs to push hers wider as he did. She yelped softly as her bare breasts made contact with the cold marble, and he ran a hand over the curve of her hip to settle her before sliding to the hilt in single stroke.
It felt better, even, than it had the first time. She clenched around the intrusion of him even as she moaned, and he only managed to wait a beat before grabbing her hips and setting a blistering pace.
He glanced in the mirror and their gazes caught in the reflection, her desire molten.
Wanting more, he coaxed her up until her torso lifted from the counter.
Yes, he thought with greedy satisfaction. This.
This was what he wanted. Her firm tits bouncing with each hard thrust, her hips rocking back and forth, and her eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.
Gently collaring her throat with his hand, he whispered in her ear.
“Touch yourself for me.”
She did, canting her hips forward for increased friction as she moaned.
As she increased the speed with her hand, Rowan increased his, fucking her hard through her orgasm as she tightened around him.
She collapsed against the counter as he pulled her hips flush to his for one final thrust before coming undone.
She wobbled when he stepped back to pull off the condom, and he deftly caught her around the waist before she melted to the floor like a newborn fawn.
“Easy,” he said, coaxing her into his arms.
She laid her head on his shoulder.
“I think your dick has mystical powers,” she said. “Because that was insane.”
Rowan chuckled, carrying her to the bed and laying her down.
“There’s a Harry Potter joke in there somewhere,” he said, brushing some hair off her sweaty cheek as her eyelids drooped. “I’m just too lazy to find it.”
“Harry Potter references,” she said, already half-asleep. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”
She was out before he could even respond, but he did anyway, lips to her temple as he whispered, “I wish I could.”
XX
Ro woke up at sunrise the next morning, Aelin still fast asleep beside him. Not quite in his arms, but still close enough that he could feel her warmth. Christ, she smelled incredible. Like lemon and coconut.
He propped his head on a chin, admiring the way the dawn light set her skin and hair to glowing. She looked like a fallen star.
Rowan’s heart ached a bit as he studied her, trying to memorize every detail, knowing that their time together was quickly running out. Originally, he’d only planned to stay the night, promising himself that as soon as the dark was gone, he would be, too.
In the light of day, he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Perhaps it was only asking for more trouble, but Rowan wanted to stay at least for the morning.
He could bring her coffee from that shop Cash loved; if Ro remembered correctly, it wasn’t far from here. He could go get it while she was still sleeping, and make her breakfast when she woke up.
He wouldn’t stay all day, he promised himself, just long enough that she knew she wasn’t some meaningless screw he’d fucked and then chucked. Surely she deserved that much, at least.
Unable to resist, he ran a hand down the silky mane of her hair, slightly tangled from their numerous romps the night before, before rising from the bed as quietly and creeping towards the bedroom door. He found his boxers briefs and shorts easily enough. He just needed to find his—
“Leaving so soon?”
He turned to find Aelin sitting up in the bed, that signature smirk painted on her pouty mouth. She hadn’t bothered to pull up the sheet to cover herself, and her breasts were fully visible, the studs in them winking in the crepuscular light pouring in from the window.
“Only to get some coffee,” he said, loving the way the tension which had limned her muscles disappeared. She’d been displeased with the idea of him leaving, even if she hadn’t wanted to show it.
Her next smile was far easier.
“I have coffee here,” she said.
“Not like this you don’t,” he said with a grin. “There is no coffee on earth better than the beans for the Kona Mountains.”
Her expression grew feline.
“You dare say such things to a Cuban?” She said. “If Galen were here, he’d have you tarred and feathered.”
Rowan recalled the coffee he’d had on a trip to Havana during the short period travel when from the US to Cuba had been permitted. She wasn’t wrong; it had been fucking delicious. Still, he wasn’t going to give up that easy.
“That’s more like espresso; not the same as having a full mug with you while you watch the sun rise.”
“The sun’s already risen,” Aelin said with a smile. “And coffee should be strong and decadent, and that’s what a cortadito is. You can keep your vat of hot bean water; a little is all you need. Just enough to whet the appetite.”
Rowan couldn’t help but grin.
“Awfully set in your ways for a person who’s so young.”
“I’m only five years younger than you,” Aelin pointed out. “And I didn’t hear any complaints from you last night.”
“That’s because I have none,” Rowan admitted. “You’re—“
He broke off, not wanting to embarass himself with verbose declarations now that they were both stone sober.
“I’m—“ Aelin prompted, standing from the bed. She was still naked as they day she was born, and it was an effort not to admire her.
“You know what you are,” Rowan said.
“I do,” Aelin agreed, slinking forward and draping her arms over Rowan’s shoulders. “But it hits different coming from you.”
It was the same thing he’d told her the night before, and he decided to indulge her the way she had him.
“You’re perfect,” he said, his hand slipping around her bare waist to tug her into him.
He kissed her softly, and he could feel her answering smile against his lips.
“Yes, I am,” she said, and he couldn’t help it.
He laughed, lifting her off her feet and heading towards the bed with her still in his arms. When he was close enough he tossed her onto the wrinkled nest of sheets and pillows before crawling over her.
“What am I going to do with you, Galathynius?”
She laughed as he playfully nuzzled her neck.
“Feed me? I’m starving after your thorough ravishing last night.”
“I think I can do that,” he said, bending to kiss her.
Still, he couldn’t bring himself to get up right away. Instead he rolled onto his side so he was facing her, trying not to preen as she traced a whorl of his tattoo.
“We never talked about these last night,” she said, her featherlight touch making goosebumps appear on his skin. “They’re...Hawaiian?”
“Māori,” Rowan said. “I grew up on Maui, but my family is originally from farming town near Auckland.”
Aelin’s eyes glittered with interest.
“Have you even been there?”
“To New Zealand?” Rowan shrugged. “We used to go every few years while my grandparents were still alive. At the time it seemed boring. Now I’m glad we got the opportunity.”
Aelin nodded, still tracing his tattoos. She’d moved from his shoulder to his chest, fingers trailing closer and closer to his heart. To—
“And this one?” Aelin said. “It doesn’t look Māori.”
Rowan’s throat ached a bit as she ran the tips of her fingers over the letters at the very center of the massive design, directly above his heart.
Λυρία
“It’s Greek,” he explained.
She glanced up at him, gaze full of emotion as she said quietly, “It looks like a name.”
He nodded, throat growing tight.
“Lyria.”
Aelin didn’t push for clarification, but after a beat Rowan found himself speaking anyway.
“She’s my—she was my—“
When he broke off, Aelin only nodded.
“What happened?”
“Non-Hodgkins lymphoma. It was stage four by the time they caught it. She was gone within six months of her diagnosis.”
Aelin reached up to gently cup Rowan’s cheek.
“I’m so sorry, Rowan.”
He’d had people apologize to him a thousand times for Lyria’s untimely death, but something in Aelin’s tone was different. It was sympathetic but also...understanding, somehow.
“Have you ever lost someone you thought would be in your life forever?”
Aelin considered this before flipping her wrist and extending it. There, inked in neat script, were three small letters Rowan hadn’t noticed before.
S-a-m
“We were high school sweethearts and went to UT together,” she explained. “My sophomore year we lived in an apartment together in West Campus, but we’d started to talk about moving after there had been a series of unsolved rapes in the neighborhood. We were on the first floor and Sam was worried about me being there when he was on the road for baseball season. The night I finally agreed we could start looking for another place, there was a break-in.”
She paused, brows furrowed as she continued to study the tattoo.
“The guy had a gun, and told Sam that if he cooperated it would be over quickly and neither of us would get hurt. But Sam refused, and he fought the guy off while I called the cops. He got shot while they were struggling with the gun, and by the time the paramedics got there it was too late.”
“Aelin, I...” Rowan paused, not wanting to saying the wrong thing. “That must have been awful. I’m so sorry.”
Aelin nodded, rubbing the tattoo with her thumb.
“Me too,” she said. “I miss him a lot.”
That, Rowan certainly understood. There wasn’t a day that went by that Rowan didn’t miss Lyria.
“Did they ever catch the perp?”
“Yeah, the guy’s gloves came off in the struggle and he ended up leaving prints. Cairn Macgory. Turned out he was a law student, top honors, no criminal record. The only reason they had his fingerprints was because of his application to take the bar. He was going to be a family law attorney. He already had a job lined up after school.”
“I hope he rots in hell,” Rowan said honestly, hating the haunted look that had crept into Aelin’s eyes.
“He’s honestly just lucky the cops got to him first,” she said. “My dad was ready to have him black-bagged back to Cuba and cut into little pieces.”
“I’m sort of sorry he didn’t,” Rowan admitted, and this—unexpectedly—made Aelin laugh.
“Aren’t you a cop? I thought you’d be all gung-ho for law and order.”
“Even cops can want revenge.”
Some of Aelin’s mirth faded at this, and she looked up to study him. It was an odd feeling to be so exposed, but Rowan found he didn’t mind it coming from Aelin. After a moment she relented, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder.
“Sorry, that was sort of heavy for a one-night stand.”
Rowan strung an arm around her sturdy shoulders as he ignored the twinge in his gut.
A one-night stand.
He’d never stayed the morning with his previous one-night stands, and he’d certainly never told any of them about Lyria, so how could that be what this was?
Before he could damn the consequences and ask Aelin about it, she slipped from his embrace, grinning at him over a shoulder.
“Can I make you a cortadito, or have I scared you off?”
He grabbed her hand to pull her back.
“I’ll have coffee,” he told her rising onto his knees and she sank back onto the bed half-way. “And after that I’ll take you to breakfast.”
“You’re friends won’t be missing you?
Rowan traced her hipbones with this thumbs, everything he’d done to her the previous evening flooding back.
“They’re adults,” he said breezily, leaning forward to kiss the soft skin between her breasts. “They’ll be fine.”
Aelin drove a hand into his hair, her grip light and playful.
“You phones been blowing up for 20 minutes,” she pointed out.
“That’s just Cash being nosy.”
“He’s not dating anyone?”
“Not that I know of,” Rowan admitted setting back onto the bed and tugging her casually into his lap. “But Cash has always been full of secrets; it’s part of his charm.”
“What about the other two?” She asked. “The gorgeous one and the grouch.”
“Fenrys is more a serial dater,” Rowan said. “Mostly because his taste in men is garbage. He always falls for the haole fuckboys then cries when they turn out to be assholes.”
“Haole?” Aelin said.
“Non-Polynesians, technically,” Rowan explained. “But most of the time Hawaiians just use it to mean—“
“Gringos,” Aelin said, grinning. “They do love to make trouble, don’t they?”
Rowan had to laugh at this.
“Fen would certainly say so.”
Aelin nodded, laughing as well.
“So that just leaves—”
“Lorcan,” Rowan said. “His bark is worse than his bite.”
“Aedion said he played him in Volleyfest last year in Miami. Why didn’t y’all compete in the men’s division together?”
Rowan rubbed the back of his neck.
“It’s...complicated.”
“I assume this has to do with your ex?”
“She invited me to play in with her. Lor wasn’t even supposed to be here this weekend. He decided to surprise me last minute.”
“So there is a gooey center underneath the scowl!” Aelin said.
“To be honest, I think Lor is probably the most sensitive and caring of all four of us. He just—isn’t good at emoting. He’s also a fastidious believer in ‘boys night’, though I think that’s just because he’s not good at chatting women up.”
“Bet he wasn’t too thrilled with me last night then, huh?”
“He’ll get over it. And he still pulls like crazy, even with his terrible flirting. Usually women take one look at him and decide they don’t even care if he can talk at all.”
Aelin laughed.
“I figured as much,” she said, rising from the bed again. “I have a lot of follow-up questions, but I need a shower before we go. Care to join me?”
She was already halfway to the open bathroom door when Rowan found his feet again, and wasting no time, he quickly swept her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way.
After they spent forty-fives minutes fooling around in the shower and another hour having sex against nearly every available surface in the suite, breakfast—inevitably—turned to lunch.
After lunch, they’d joined a pick-up “king of the beach” doubles tournament some of the previous day’s competitors had set up. They’d made such a good team that it was nearly evening by the time they lost a match and were finally bumped off the champion court.
Starving from the exertion, they’d gone back to the suite to shower before leaving again to go to dinner. Dinner had turned into cocktails on the beach, which had turned into beers drinks at Bar 35 then tequila shots at Smith & Kings. The evening that followed was a blur of pleasure, as was the following morning, which they spend in bed together, naked and sweaty.
At every turn Rowan told himself he needed to leave, need to start distancing himself from Aelin so he could start trying to forget her. However, he’d known from the start that it had been a fools errand.
There was no forgetting a girl like Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius. Her vivacity, her humor, her raw sexual charisma—Rowan had never met anyone like her, and he doubted he ever would again.
So how the fuck was he supposed to just let her go? It was a thought that plagued him all the way to the airport on the afternoon Aelin was due to fly back to the mainland. He’d agreed to accompany her for a last drink before her flight departed, wanting to wring every last second he could out of the weekend.
It was—he knew—only delaying the inevitable by continually putting off their goodbyes, but Ro couldn’t help it. Aelin was like the sun—vibrant and essential—and Rowan had found himself in her orbit.
Harsh realities aside, it was a painfully lovely place to be.
Ro definitely felt a shift in the vibe as he paid their tab and they headed towards the security gate. Things had gone from easy and playful to quiet and subdued, Aelin’s usual flair dimming as she continually adjusted the bag on her shoulder.
Rowan searched and searched for the words he would say to her when they were finally forced to part. They’d never even exchanged numbers; perhaps he could ask for hers and offer to call her if he was ever in Austin?
It seems so stilted and formal after everything they’d shared this weekend. He’d been inside of her, for Christ’s sake. In fact, they’d had so much sex that they’d had to buy more condoms. And she’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, and stayed there until they’d woken up this morning. That was worth more than some vague promise to “look her up” if he even came to Texas.
Still, Ro was burning daylight and he knew it. The security gate was visible now, and though they’d both seemed to slow their pace in an effort to delay the inevitable, it was approaching just the same. Finally they reached the short queue where agents were checking boarding passes and travelers were taking off their shoes and belts.
Aelin was busy on her phone as they slowed to a stop, almost as if she were avoiding looking at him.
“My cousins are already at the gate,” she said by way of explanation. “They said boarding is starting in twenty minutes.”
Rowan glanced at the security line then his watch.
“You’ve got time; things seem to be moving pretty fast.”
Aelin looked over at the line as well. Finally she dragged her azure eyes back to him, the sheer force of her gaze enough to stun him stupid. She paused, as if waiting for him to speak. He had nothing, though.
“Well,” she said finally, a small, tense smile playing around her lips. “I would offer to shake your hand and say ‘it was nice to meet you’, but given the fact we’ve seen each other naked, I think I’ll spare us both the indignity.”
Rowan forced a laugh, even as a pit began forming in his stomach. Shit, should he give her a hug, offer to give her—
“Goodbye, Rowan,” she said, leaning up to brush a kiss just to the right of his mouth. “It’s been—“ she clearly her throat, glancing away for a second. “I had an amazing weekend.”
“Congratulations again,” he found himself saying. “For making the AVP tour. You deserve it.”
Jesus Fucking Christ, was that really the best he could do? Maybe Fen was right, and he was destined to die alone.
Aelin’s grin didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Like I said, I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Happy to help,” he forced out. “Have a safe flight, Aelin.”
She smiled, the solemnity in her eyes now limning her face as well.
“I put my number in your phone,” she said, beginning to walk backwards towards the TSA podium. “Call me if you’re ever in Austin.”
With that she turned, and Rowan’s heart was suddenly in his throat, beating two hundred times a minute.
His mind whirred with all the reasons he had to simply let her leave—she still in college, they lived thousands of miles apart, he was a cop in Vice Squad and she was a fucking billionaire—a perceived conflict of interest even if it wasn’t a real one. There was no way it could ever work. It was hopeless, fraught with problems, doomed to fail—
He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears as he continued to spiral, thoughts growing so jumbled that he could hardly make sense of them anymore. Then a single, cogent thread emerged through the cacaphony and chaos, spooling him back to sanity.
A voice.
“Anóitos,” it teased, the tone soft and airy. “What are you doing? Don’t just stand there!”
Fuck , he missed that voice.
It had been three years since he’d lost Lyria. Three years since he’d heard her laugh, or sing, or speak Greek.
Three long, terrible years since he’d heard her speak at all.
But even after all this time, her voice was crystal clear in his head. He often felt it was her absence—more than her memory—that he’d been left with when she’d died. In that moment, though, it almost felt as if Lyria were standing beside him.
“Go, Ro. I’ll be here.”
Rowan felt a warmth tingle through him, and as he blinked back to reality, Lyria’s voice seemed to fade. But where he’d been buzzing with doubt a moment before, Rowan felt himself suddenly brimming with clarity.
If there was anything he’d learned from Lyria’s sickness, it was that life was simply too short to waste.
Lyria had died with her would-be engagement ring still in tucked away in Ro’s dresser drawer. He hated himself for the cowardice, but when she got sick he couldn’t bring herself to ask her to marry him. He’d wanted to believe that if he put off giving her the ring it might somehow serve as a talisman to keep her from leaving him. It hadn’t though, and instead she’d died never getting to be his wife.
It was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make a second time. It was improbable that he and Aelin would get married, but he felt he owed them both the opportunity to find out.
His mind was made up; fuck, he was really doing this.
“Aelin!”
She turned, watching with bemusement as he jogged toward her.
“What—“ she began, but he cut her off.
“I don’t want this to be over,” he blurted.
Aelin sagged a bit, a genuine smile splitting her face.
“Oh thank God,” she said.
Setting down her bag, she started towards him and they met halfway. Rowan cradled her face in his hands and he bent to kiss her. She fisted the fabric of his T-shirt at the hips as the kiss intensified.
“So what does this mean?” Aelin said, slightly breathless as she pulled away. “I’ve never done this before.”
Rare for her to admit she wasn’t perfect at something.
“We’ll have to figure it out as we go,” Rowan said. “My detective’s exam is in two weeks, and then I get a week off. I can come to Austin then?”
She nodded.
“Are we...” Aelin paused, biting her lip. “I mean, do you want to be...”
“Be what?”
“Exclusive?”
“Yes!”
It was out before he could stop it, so he quickly amended, “but only if you—“
“Yes,” she said, smile easier now. “I want that.”
“And are we...using labels?”
She smirked.
“Three days in and you’re already trying to wife me up?”
Now it was Rowan’s turn to flush.
“Okay, no labels—“
“I didn’t say that,” Aelin said quickly. “I just don’t want to jinx a good thing by moving too fast. What if you get back to LA and realize you accidentally got a girlfriend you don’t want? You did drink a lot of tequila this weekend.”
“Never,” he said gently, taking her cheeks in his hands. “Doubt that I want you, Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius. And I’m fine to wait, if that’s what you want.”
“But...”
He felt his lips tugging again.
“But it’s doesn’t feel soon, not to me.”
“So....labels?” she said.
“Labels,” he agreed.
She grinned, kissing him again.
“In that case, your girlfriend has to go or she’s going to miss her flight and turn into your live-in girlfriend.”
“Honestly, your boyfriend wouldn’t mind.”
Aelin scrunched her nose, even as she laughed a bit.
“We agree the third person thing is creepy, right?”
“Yes, thank you God,” Rowan said, laughing with her.
“Dame un beso,” Aelin said, grabbing the collar of his shirt in an effort to tug his lips closer to hers. “Or I really am going to miss this flight.”
Knowing his time was short, Rowan made the kiss count, teasing Aelin with his lips and tongue until she was slightly breathless.
“See you in three weeks,” he said, pulling away.
He set the bag Aelin had abandoned on her shoulder and kissed her quickly again.
“And text me when you get on the plane so I know you’ve made it.”
She grinned, kissing him a final time before jogging off towards security once again.
“Oh and just fair warning,” she said, spinning on a heel to grin at him as she joined the short line. “My cousins are not going to like this. Might want to sleep with one eye open for a while.”
“You tell me this now?”
“Te veo pronto, querido,” she said in response, kissing her hand in farewell before showing the TSA agent her boarding pass and disappearing into the concourse.
He waited several minutes before pulling out his phone to text her. As he did, his phone chirped to signal an incoming text.
Did I mention I also stole your number and put it in my phone? 😈 💋
Troublemaker, he wrote back. Did you make it?
Yes. Wish you were here to join the Mile High Club with me.
Before Rowan could even formulate a response to that, his phone chimed again, this time from a number he didn’t know.
This is Aedion Ashryvver, it said. Treat her right or I’ll break both your kneecaps.
His phone went off a third time, the new text also from an unknown number.
Not just your kneecaps, either.
Galen Ashryvver, if Ro had to guess.
Ignoring Aelin’s cousins, he replied to her instead, saying simply, Seems like good news travels fast
The grey ellipsis pulsed for a moment as Aelin typed.
Aedion said it was their price for letting us stay in the suite alone all weekend. Taking off now. Talk to you soon ✌️ ✈️
Then it was worth it, Rowan sent back. Have a safe flight. Call me when you get stateside.
Aelin sent back a heart, and Rowan had to fight down an annoyingly girlish fluttering in his stomach as he dialed a new number and put the phone to his ear.
It only rang twice before the line clicked.
“He lives!” Cash said in greeting. “Welcome back from the island of puss—“
“Very funny,” Rowan interjected. “Where are you?”
“Hideaway. Where are you, honeymoon chapel in Vegas?”
Rowan rolled his eyes.
“Ha-ha.”
Cash scoffed.
“Ha-ha, that’s all I get? You’ve been gone for two days, brother! I want details.”
“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”
“Just give me a quick teaser: do you have a girlfriend now?”
Rowan growled, making Cash laugh.
“I told you!” He said to someone on his end, presumably Lor or Fen.
“You’re seriously dating her?” Lor demanded a second later. “Like full-blown ‘exclusively-fucking, using-labels’ dating her?”
“Full-blown.”
“I KNEW IT!” Cash called, just as Lor growled, “fuck me, man.”
“You owe me a drink,” Lorcan told Rowan. “I just lost 200 bucks because of you.”
“I’ll buy you a shot of house tequila,” Rowan said, unable to keep in a smile. “Final offer.”
“Hurry up,” was Lorcan’s only response. “Before Kahukore explodes from the anticipation.”
“Getting my popcorn as we speak!” Cash called from the background, and with that Rowan hung up.
A short Uber ride later, Rowan strolled into the Hideaway Inn, his friends wolf-whistling as he approached.
Cash was on his feet first, grabbing Rowan by the shoulders an inspecting him head-to-toe.
“What are you doing?” Rowan said, playfully pushing out of Cash’s grip.
“Just taking you in,” Cash said with a disarming smile. “It feels like it’s been an age since we last saw you!”
Rowan rolled his eyes, and Fen added, “Pretty dark circles you’ve got there, lover boy. Galathynius keep you up all night?”
“I am not answering that,” Rowan said. “Or any questions about what she’s like in bed.”
“Why?” Cash cooed. “Because she’s your girlfriend?”
“You’re both clowns,” Rowan said.
“You’re the one dating a teenager,” Lor said. “So who’s the clown now?”
“She’s 21,” Rowan said. “And green isn’t a good color on your, Salvaterre, so just relax.”
Lorcan smirked.
“Jealous? Of you dating a Amazonian she-devil? I don’t think so.”
“That is exactly what a jealous person would say,” Fen pointed out. “Chin up, Lor, your time will come.”
Lorcan only snarled in response.
“What do we think Salvaterre’s eventual lady love going to be like?” Cash chimed in. “Betting line’s officially open, gents.”
“Tiny,” Rowan and Fen both said at the same time.
“Fifty bucks says he ends up marrying a girl under 5’4,” Fen added.
“Grow up,” Lor said with an eye roll, though Ro had known him long enough to tell he wasn’t actually bothered by the conversation.
“Make me,” Fen said.
Lor jerked his head the pool table in the back corner.
“I beat you, you owe me fifty bucks and you shut your cakehole.”
“And if I win?” Fen said.
“You won’t, so it doesn’t matter. Let’s do this.”
Lor shot Rowan a quick, conspiratorial nod, and Ro realized Lor had done it on purpose, to give Rowan and Cash a chance to talk.
It was one of the things that Ro loved about Lorcan Salvaterre. He was perceptive in seeing what people needed, and not jealous or petty. Somehow, he’d seemed to sense Rowan’s need to talk to Cash alone, even if Ro himself hadn’t realized it until just now.
He gave Lor a grateful smile, and Lor turned to clap Fen on the back, leading him towards the billiards table in the back.
“So,” Cash said, flagging the bartender down and ordered two beers and two shots of whiskey. “Tell me everything.”
He clicked his glass to Rowan’s in salute and they both tipped the shots back. Rowan winced a bit at the taste before running a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts.
He ran Cash quickly through the weekend’s events, skipping over the more X-rated content and ending with his and Aelin’s agreement at the airport.
“Damn,” Cash said when Rowan had finished. “Are you sure this girl isn’t a witch? Because she has you under a spell.”
Rowan laughed.
“She’s—” he began, breaking off with a sheepish laugh. “I really like her, man.”
“You’re smitten,” Cash said with a grin. “Look at you!”
Rowan opened his mouth to deny it before shrugging.
“Being with her feels different somehow. It isn’t just that she’s gorgeous or funny or smart, even though she’s all of those things. It’s more than that.”
Cash considered this, but he didn’t tease the way Ro feared he might. Instead he simply asked, “what of you mean?”
Rowan blew out a breath.
“There’s just something about her that’s almost... familiar . Like I’ve been looking for her my whole life, even without knowing it. I know that sounds crazy, but...”
Rowan shrugged again, tracing the rim of his glass.
“She’s just special.”
Cash’s smiled, a softer thing than his fiendish grin from before.
“I’ve never seen you like this, brother.” He paused, his expression growing more reverent as he added in a softer voice, “Not in a long time, at least.”
They were quiet a moment as they both silently recalled the memories that hung unspoken between them. Cash had been the first important person in his life that Rowan had introduced Lyria to, and over the years, Cash was the one who’d come to know Lyria the best; he’d been her friend in his own right.
He couldn’t see it at the time, but when Ro finally emerged from his own grief over Lyria’s death, it was realize that Cash had been grieving as well; he’d simply put his aside to focus on helping Rowan heal instead.
It was hard to describe what that sacrifice had meant to Ro; the nice thing about a friendship as deep as theirs was that Rowan didn’t have to explain his gratitude for Cash to understand it. It was implicit in every conversation they ever had about Lyria, even this one.
“You want to know the weirdest part?” Rowan said finally. “When I was watching Aelin walk away, it felt like, I don’t know, like Lyria was there with me. Like she was telling me ‘go get her’.”
Cash smiled, his expression one of admiration tinged in sadness.
“She wanted you to be happy, Ro.”
Rowan nodded, throat tight as he looked into his glass.
“I still miss her, every day. Part of me worries that if things with Aelin ever got serious, I might start missing her less.”
Cash’s answering shrug was sympathetic.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t want to forget her,” Rowan said, marveling that he could admit that fear out loud.
“You won’t,” Cash assured him. “Ever. But you’re allowed to move on, brother; that’s what she wanted for you.”
There was something in his tone, an assurity and a promise, that had Rowan’s mouth going dry. He glanced up to meet Cash’s gaze.
“She told you that?”
Cash nodded once.
“The last time I saw her. She made me promise to look out for you, and to make sure you ended up with the right girl. And honestly?” He said, a smile beginning to grow on his face. “I think you might have just met her. I can’t let you mess that up by overthinking things, for Lyria’s sake as much for your and Aelin’s.”
Rowan felt his lips tugging up.
“You’re going to like her,” he said, and Cash grinned.
“Latin girl who can kick your ass in sports? I love her already.”
Rowan laughed.
“I’m going to Austin after my exam, but she’s planning on coming to LA sometime after that. If you’re free, you could fly out, I have airline miles—“
“I’d love to,” Cash interjected, clapping Ro in the back. “But I’m going to be out of commission for the next few months. I promise I’ll meet her properly soon, though. She seems cool as hell.”
Not to be put off by the diversion regarding Aelin, Rowan frowned, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinized his friend’s expression. Cash’s answering smile was cryptic and slightly wild. It was then Ro remembered what Cash had told him when he’d first gotten into town days ago.
“Fuck,” he said, running a hand through his silver hair. “I feel like such a dick, you said you had news. I totally forgot, I’m sorry.”
Cash laughed, the sound easy and unburdened.
“You just met the women you’re probably going to marry. I’ll give you a pass.”
Rowan thought to object to the notion he was going to marry Aelin after only three days together, but something told him not to.
“Well tell me now,” Rowan said instead.
His friend’s cryptic smile returned, mischief sparkling in his hazel eyes.
“The only thing worse than having too many secrets,” Cash always said. “Is having none at all.”
Ro had a feeling Cash was about to drop a big one on him right now.
“I’m moving to London.”
“Wait?” Rowan demanded. “Seriously?”
Cash grinned.
“Seriously.”
“Just for a change of pace?”
“Partly,” Cash said with a shrug. “But mostly to be a Master Sommelier.”
Now that, Rowan had not expected. He struggled to pick his jaw off the floor enough to speak.
“Like a wine expert?” He said, stunned. “I thought you didn’t like wine! You always ripped on your uncle for opening Merchant of Vino!”
Cash laughed.
“That’s because it’s a stupid name and Dev’s a hapless businessman.“
Rowan still couldn’t fully master his shock, though it was quickly being subsumed by an overwhelming pride.
“This is amazing, man,” he said, clasping Cash’s shoulder. “When did you decide to do this?”
Cash’s smile had grown slightly sheepish.
“When I first sat for the Level One Sommelier exam three years ago?”
“Three years?” Rowan repeated. “You’ve been sitting on this for three fucking years? Why didn’t you say anything? Every time I asked about your job you brushed me off!”
Cash rubbed the back of his neck.
“I didn’t want to tell you in case it—didn’t pan out.”
“Seems like it’s panning out just fine!” Rowan said with a laugh.
“It’s going alright,” Cash agreed with a laugh. “Considering I passed the theory portion of the Master Sommelier exam. I just have to complete the tasting and I’ll be one of 229 Masters Somms in the world.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rowan blurted. “That’s incredible. How does London fit into all this?”
“If I said the name Sadeghi, would that mean anything to you?”
“Persian billionaires or something?”
Cash nodded.
“The old man is from originally from Tehran, but the family has been in England for ages; they’re real estate royalty in the UK. Sadeghi put his son in charge opening a new hotel and restaurant in London, and I’m going to be the wine manager. Make the lists, relationship build with vineyards, that kind of thing. They’ve already hired a Michelin Star chef from Marrakech, so it’s...a pretty big deal. It’s also a good way to for me to grow my network while I study for the exam. I don’t want to be stuck in the restaurant business forever.”
“Cash,” Rowan said, grinning. “That’s amazing.”
Cash smiled.
“Maybe you and Aelin can come visit once I get settled,” Cash said in deflection, clearly at his limit for discussing himself. “You know, Aelin your girlfriend.”
Rowan had to laugh.
He had a girlfriend.
And—Jesus Christ—Cash was moving to England. It was almost too much good news for a single day.
“I’m happy for you,” he told his friend, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “And you deserve this. You’re going to crush it”
“I hope so,” Cash said. “The pass rate for the tasting portion of the exam is 32%.”
“You’re the smartest person I know,” Rowan said. “So that number means nothing.”
Cash grinned.
“You flirting with me, Whitethorn?”
“If you’re going to be friends with billionaires, you need to learn how to start taking compliments,” Rowan said with a chuckle.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cash said, and Rowan could see the unsaid words shining in his friend’s hazel eyes. “Another drink?”
Cash turned to slip off the stool he’d been perched on, by Rowan caught his arm.
“Cash.”
Cash turned back, expression somewhat bemused. Rowan felt a lump beginning to form in his throat, but he pushed on regardless.
“It’ll be you, you know that right?”
“Be me?” Cash repeated, confused.
“When I get married—whoever I get married to—you’ll be my best man. I couldn’t have it any other way.”
Cash smiled, eyes sparkling. He considered this for a moment before pulling Rowan into a hug, one which Rowan gratefully accepted.
“Love you, brother.”
There were very few people Rowan considered worthy of this type of familial affection, but Cash was certainly one of them.
“I’m not drunk enough for this kind of thing,” Cash said, pulling away. “I’m going to get us another drink.”
Rowan’s phone buzzed with an incoming call just as Cash was sauntering away. He was surprised to find it was Aelin, and concern sluiced through him as he answered the call.
Before he could ask if she was okay, Aelin said, “Stupid flight attendant has been holding out on me. She waited until just now to tell me I could make calls on WiFi.”
Rowan felt amusement tugging at his lips.
“Should I be concerned that you’re calling from altitude? Nothing’s wrong, is there?”
Rowan could practically hear Aelin’s grin through the phone.
“No,” she said breezily “But I realized I never told you about the Cinnabon I had on my way to the gate. I figured I should call and tell you now lest I forget.”
“Oh yeah?” Rowan said.
He couldn’t help it; he was all-out smiling now.
“It was life-changing,” Aelin said.
Rowan glanced up to find Cash joining Fen and Lor at the pool table with a conspiratorial wink. When he mouthed ‘sorry’ and made to rise, Cash waved him off with a smile.
“In that case,” Rowan said, settling back on his stool. “Tell me everything.”
THE END
If you liked this story and want more Rowaelin, check out my Nessian fic In Vino Veritas, set in the same modern au-verse about four years later. If you want a sneak peak at how Lorcan’s romance check out the teaser for F*cking Lawyers, set within the In Vino timeline. ♥️
TAGLIST: @tswaney17 @katexrenee @mightymorphingayagenda @nalgenewhore @superspiritfestival @mis-lil-red @pilesofriles @whitewashedasiangiril @http-itsrebecca @starkovsnesta @thebitchupstairs @sometimesimthatbitch @islareads @faerie-queen-fireheart @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @enpointe10 @justgiu12 @thesurielships @keshavomit @stardelia @awesomelena555 @alyx801 @carbconnoisseur @ladywitchling @thewayshedreamed @annedub @cityofchelsea16 @spyofthenightcourt @empress-ofbloodshed @morrigays @theminorfallandthemajorlift @belamoonbeam @moonstoneriver77 @wesupremeginger @scrawlandspirits @garnet-29 @b00kworm @cursebreaker29 @jesstargaryenqueen @feyrethedarklady @officialasianbitch @cridhe-teine @sassyhobbits @musicmaam @januarystears @tottenhamboys20 @shyvioletcat @ifinallygavein @maybekindasortaace
#rowaelin smut#rowaelin modern au#rowaelin#acotar x tog crossover#featherywrites#eyes of texas#In Vino Veritas Prequel
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soulmate au. vernon.
masterlist
part one
!girlgroupreader x vernon
a/n: feedback is welcomed and would be much appreciated. have a wonderful day loves <3
requested: no <3
summary: in which you and your soulmate are connected by physical pain.
word count: 1.4k.
I laughed along with Ingrid and her boyfriend as they had told a funny story to our friends. Owen had decided to fly over here to surprise Ingrid and to congratulate us on another successful album. I thought it was sweet the way he looked at her every time she would let out a laugh, or how he would look at her with stars in his eyes whenever she would speak. I also however found it mildly disgusting. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good love story here and there, but I hate people. People are the worst.
Have I ever had my heart broken? No. Have I ever broken a few hearts? Sure. My problem is that I always self sabotage relationships. I had grown up listening to stories about the origins of soulmates and how we “shouldn’t give up hope because ours are out there somewhere”. At first I believed it because how could I not? I would wake up with bruises and then maybe feel a little pinch here and there while I was in class, and every so often have to go to the nurses office to lay down because suddenly I have a huge headache.
I would keep myself up at night thinking about what my soulmate was like. I couldn’t wait to meet them, and knowing that I didn’t have any information about this mystery person, my heart yearned. With a heavy heart, I gradually tried ignoring everything I had learned about soulmates. I mean, what were the odds that I would actually meet my person? I dated a few times in high school but was never truly satisfied because deep down, I knew that I could have someone out there that was just for me.
So here I was on a Thursday night, at the studio with a bunch of friends and coworkers celebrating our groups new album release. We were currently in South Korea were we would be performing at MAMA in a few days. Needless to say, we had all been in high spirits recently. I put down my glass of apple cider that my manager had jokingly given me, regarding that I wasn’t quite the legal age yet. I took a quick glance around me and decided I would get a breath of fresh air.
I plugged in my earbuds as I walked through the cold air and into the night. I came to a stop beside the Han River as I decided to admire the Banpo Bridge in the distance. I usually couldn’t get out very often thanks to our tight schedules. It was times like these that I knew I shouldn’t take for granted. I took a picture for my instagram story and began walking back to the studio. As I turned to walk back, I tripped over my own two feet falling down and scraping my hand in the process.
“They’re gonna feel that one.”
-
Arriving at MAMA, I couldn’t help but play with my fingers I was so nervous. Thinking about how many idols we would be seeing and meeting made my stomach, though I was really only familiar with a few. We had been practicing our dance routine for this performance for quite some time now, and even though we had everything down, I still felt anxious as we got ready backstage.
“Vera! You look so good!” Mina complimented.
Vera laughed as she sent her air kisses. We had decided to change up our look a little for our new album, seeing as we went with a darker theme. Though we weren’t complaining, we looked like total queens. I was excited to see who all would be attending the event, as I hadn’t checked beforehand.
We were led by our manager to another section in which we had a few minutes to warm up. Deciding that we were all warmed up, we started joking around with each other for a few minutes as it was almost our cue to get on stage. I saw that some of our staff was carrying water bottles, so I decided to run over and get some before we were called out.
“Y/N!” I heard someone call out. I turned around to see my manager waving at me to come over. I gave her a thumbs up and quickly thanked the staff member as I began to jog back towards her. I turned too quickly and slammed my hip into the table right next to me. Before I could let out a groan in pain, I looked out of the corner of my eye at someone who also seemed to be bent over in obvious pain. I regained my composure as I stood up and kept staring at him. I scanned my eyes over his group members who began teasing him over his misfortune. My eyes made contact with one of his members who seemed rather intrigued with me.
Much to my dismay, our manager pulled me away before I could even think about what just happened. Maybe it was just a coincidence? Right, it couldn’t have been anything but a coincidence. I looked back at his group to see that him and his group members were talking avidly amongst each other.
As we performed our title song, I felt myself become less anxious as our execution so far was flawless. Singing next to my members, my mind wandered to the guy backstage. Come to think of it, he was quite attractive, remembering the short moments I had stared at him. I shook my head focusing more on our performance as I had almost missed my verse.
We walked backstage as we all had smiles on our faces from how well our performance had gone. Mina and Vera were chatting excitedly amongst the staff members as they thanked them for their hard work. Ingrid gave me a quick hug as she spotted Owen talking to our manager. I winked at her as she stuck her tongue out at me playfully. I caught up with Vera and Mina as we walked back to our dressing room.
“Whoever my soulmate is, I’m going to fight them.”
“Why?” Mina asked.
“Why?” I held back a chuckle as Vera looked at her as if she had two heads. “Why? Because when we transitioned into our dance break, I felt like Thor had just hit me in the shin with Mjolnir.”
“Maybe your soulmate is a soccer player”
“Well he’s not very good.” She said as we all let out a chuckle. Regarding soulmates, I felt as if Vera and I were on completely different spectrums. She was absolutely obsessed with anything and everything to do with soulmates. Even though that odd incident happened earlier, I shook it to the back of my mind feeling quite silly.
We turned the corner and I made eye contact with the same guy before. He smirked a little before calling out to the guy who had been in pain previously. My breath hitched a little, feeling nervous that I would soon make eye contact with him. I felt my cheeks get hot as we gradually made eye contact. There were so many thoughts racing through my mind, though they were cut short when I suddenly felt a dull pain shoot through my right shoulder. I looked over to see that Mina was laughing at Vera, who I suspect was the cause of my pain.
I was about to ask her why she did that when she nodded her head in the guy’s direction. I looked over to see that he was rubbing his shoulder as well. Through the laughs of his group members, our eyes connected and he gave me a shy smile as he walked over. My heart raced more and more as he got closer.
“Hi, I’m Vernon.” He said with a small smile. His cheeks were flushed a light pink as he rubbed the back of his neck in anticipation. I smiled at how handsome he was. I still hadn’t fully processed what had just happened yet. Realizing I was staring, I looked down shyly as I felt my cheeks get even hotter.
“Hi, I’m Y/N.” I let out a small chuckle as I looked up at him. This all felt so surreal. No relationships or meetings that I have had in the past with anybody could have compared to what my heart felt for him in this very moment.
“Nice to meet you Y/N.”
I could already hear the squeal Vera would let out when she would soon learn that I had met my soulmate. Maybe she wasn’t totally crazy to think that all of those old folk stories were wrong after all. Oh dear, is it too early to say I’m in love?
#vernon imagines#svt imagines#svt imagine#seventeen imagine#vernon imagine#svt scenarios#svt blurbs#hansol vernon chwe#vernon#seventeen scenarios#vernon soulmate#seventeen soulmate au#soulmate au#svt soulmate
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“Hold still” Oumota? 👀
You got your juice! Come and get it!!!! 🧃🧃
We’re back to College AU: let’s go!
(This turned out so much better than I expected I really hope y’all like it. BTW here’s the song playing in the background of the whole fic)
🌻🌻🌻
“So Neptune made its last revolution around the sun in 2011 and it won’t revolve again until...” Kaito sat in his dorm bed, mumbling text from his book aloud, trying to drown out the mid-2000s pop punk being played from the bathroom
He thought he’d be able to study in peace while Kokichi spent however long in the bathroom, touching up the purple in the ends of his hair
But now he was singing along. “Ever since we met/I only shoot up with your perfume” and then humming the rest of the verse
God it’s annoying. And it’s been the same fucking song for the past ten minutes.
“Kaito?” Kokichi called out from behind the bathroom door
“What?” Kaito called back
“I need heeeelllp,” Kokichi whined
Kaito sighed and shut his book, leaving it on his bed and crossing over to the bathroom door. He knocked and said over the music, “You decent?”
“Come find out,” Kokichi chirped
Why was Kaito’s arm opening the door without getting a definite answer?
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Kokichi said, batting his eyes, “Just topless tonight,” and he winked
Kaito pursed his lips and rolled his eyes
Kokichi was shirtless, but his neck was covered in purple splotches, and looking down at him, so were his hands.
“Do you want my help or not?” Kaito asked, already exasperated
“Yes please!” Kokichi picked up a tub of purple goop from the vanity, staining it all the while as he shoved it in Kaito’s face
“Don’t you know how to do this yourself?” Kaito asked, carefully taking the jar from Kokichi’s hands, not wanting his own hands to stain
“Yeah, but I can’t get the back of my head and it always turns out sloppy when I do it myself,” Kokichi pouted, “It’ll be like, super quick. Pleeeeeaseeee Kaito?”
Kaito sighed again. “Fine, sure. You got gloves or?”
“None that’ll fit you! Your hands are definitely too big,” Kokichi said with a smirk
“Cool. Awesome.”
“Just scoop it in your hands and put it in my hair where the faded parts are; it’s so easy that even you’d be able to figure it out,” Kokichi turned his back to Kaito so he wouldn’t see the obvious irritation on Kaito’s face
Kaito set the jar back on the vanity, reading the ‘color depositing conditioner’ label as he gathered the product in his hand. It was thick and cold, but kind of fun to rub between his fingers.
That same damn song was playing. Kokichi was humming along as Kaito started spreading the color across Kokichi’s hair. “How does a heart love if no one has noticed its presence and where does it go?” sang the artist over Kokichi’s phone speakers
“Could you switch the damn song?” Kaito asked
“Maybe you’d have a better appreciation for it if you actually listened to the lyrics, Space Case.”
Kaito did as he aggressively suggested, “You have set your heart on haunting me forever from the start it’s never silent”
Whatever. It’s just some emo song from like a decade ago.
Kaito continued adding the color, painting Kokichi’s hair like his fingers were paint brushes. It felt kind of nice, actually. Kaito wasn’t expecting to be smiling through this. And when he heard Kokichi sigh as his fingers got closer to his neck, Kaito’s smile widened.
Kokichi’s head was slowly falling back into Kaito’s hands, “Hey, hold still,” Kaito spoke softly to him, surprising himself
“Heh, what are you gonna do if I don’t?” Kokichi’s teasing sounded different now. It was gentle. Almost relaxing.
“I’ll turn you into a purple gremlin cuz my hands’ll slip.”
“Oh don’t threaten me with a good time. A tall, strong man putting his hands all over me? Oh no, whatever will I do?”
Kaito was snapped out of it when he heard Kokichi’s obvious flirting. Kaito blinked a couple times, trying to process what he saw in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Kokichi looked so content as Kaito mindlessly continued to color his hair. And Kaito wasn’t stopping. “You... want my hands all over you?” He didn’t mean to say that out loud. It was quiet, but still loud enough for Kokichi to clearly hear.
“Only if you’re offering,” and Kaito definitely saw Kokichi smirking in the mirror
Something’s come over him. Kaito put his hands on Kokichi’s shoulders with a firm grip. “You mean like this?” He hissed into Kokichi’s ear
“Shit, I didn’t think you’d actually try me,” Kokichi said between hitched laughs, “I thought you assumed I was faking it.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Kaito purred, applying pressure up and down Kokichi’s shoulders and arms, leaving purple streaks with every move
Kokichi started shuddering as Kaito’s hands massaged into him, suddenly tense; his gut fluttering. Kaito was breathing down Kokichi’s neck, getting dye on his face as he beckoned “Answer my question, Kokichi.”
“You’re... very strong,” Kokichi whispered, forcing a smile
“Don’t lie to me,” Kaito continued to whisper demands into Kokichi’s ear, making Kokichi’s heartbeat run a decathlon. His incredibly hot roommate is suddenly acting up.
“I used ‘getting the back of my head’ as an excuse to get you to play with my hair but holy shit,” Kokichi muttered with wide eyes. He suddenly regained his composure, though, when he was able to flirt again, “You don’t wanna kiss me or something now, do you?”
“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself,” Kaito traced the dye on Kokichi’s arms up to his shoulders and neck, gently tracing his thumbs under his jaw, applying pressure with his thumbs against Kokichi’s throat
Kokichi pursed his lips to hide the sigh of surprise pleasure he was experiencing, coughing out a gasp as Kaito let go.
Kokichi stood in silence, putting his fingers to his neck where his roommate just made a move, stunned as he listened to the bathroom door open and close behind him.
He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the abstract art Kaito created on his body, chuckling as he stared at his reflection.
Prompt from This List: feel free to send in a request!
If you enjoy my work, you can support me by buying me a Ko-Fi! 💛
#danganronpa#danganronpa fanfiction#danganronpa fanfic#danganronpa fic#drv3 kaito#drv3 fanfic#drv3#drv3 oneshot#kokichi x kaito#kaito x kokichi#danganronpa kaito#kaito momota#kokichi oma#kokichi ouma#danganronpa kokichi#drv3 kokichi#oumota
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sing our love from the rooftops
Author’s note: This is my response for @tog-valentine-exchange! This response is for @jill-8-7 (who’s art is amazing, go check it out!!) and their artwork. I’m sorry for this being a little late, but hopefully the fic’s good enough to make up for it! My first go at a songfic, but I feel pretty good about how it turned out! Listen to Love Someone by Lukas Graham here. (Also, this can sortof (?) be read as a peek into (epilogue actually, haha) to my fic for Vih and Eevee’s Honey Lavender AU which... has turned out to be quite a monster, so apologies to both of you for taking so long to finish it! I really hope that it’ll blow you away once I’ve finished!!)
Fandom: Tower of God (Read the Webtoon here!)
Pairing: Khun Aguero Agnis/The Twenty-Fifth Baam
Word Count: 2,633
Summary: Khun may be new to relationships, but he knows missing Valentine’s Day with his partner for work is a really shitty thing to do. So he’s planning on making up for it with a surprise that’s sure to sweep Baam right off his feet. Everything’s laid out perfectly, but Baam manages to beat him to the punch anyway.
Khun taps his foot impatiently and checks his watch. Half an hour to go, he thinks to himself. This damn meeting is dragging on like molasses, even though he’s already worked out an arrangement with Shibisu so he can get out of this one earlier.
It’s not that he doesn’t like his job: quite the opposite really, this business is something he’s poured years into building from the ground up. It’s quite simple, even if there are some days that are a little too reminiscent of a childhood he’d rather not think about, and much of it comes with practiced ease now.
No, it’s not that at all, it’s just that his whole life was turned upside down almost two years ago now by a certain man with the brightest golden eyes, and he finds himself looking forward to frivolous, overly sentimental things like Valentine’s Day despite himself. He knows that this meeting is important (there was a reason that he resorted to scheduling it today of all days, after all) and that he has a surprise planned out for his partner to make up for not being able to spend today with him.
Just half an hour more and I’ll be on my way to see him, Khun reasons, trying to force himself to pay attention to this meeting, when they’re interrupted by a knock on the door.
They enter briefly, and it’s a member of security, “Mr. Khun, I need to speak to you privately for just a minute.”
She tells him that someone’s requesting his presence from the ground floor, claiming to be his partner and that they’re incredibly persistent. Khun feels like his eyebrows might be touching his hairline right now and he’s about to dismiss her, that’s impossible, he wants to say, and it wouldn’t be a lie but she goes on to say, “He says his name is Jue Viole Grace.”
And that’s — Khun feels his world stop for a moment. This… this could be a real problem: he’d not even told his closest friends about Baam and had gone to great lengths to make sure their relationship remained private, something untouched by this messy life of constant competition, how could anyone know?
Despite the turmoil in his head, Khun manages to answer, “Thank you very much, though I’ll deal with this personally,” and walks back into the conference room to excuse himself briefly before making his way to the attached balcony. If he remembers right (which he always does), his car is parked on this side of the building and should be readily visible from this balcony. If the imposter wants his attention, he’d either be there or near his car, and there’s no harm in checking from here first, especially since they mostly likely wish him harm.
Peering over the balcony, Khun sees he was right, they’re just by his car and — he has no idea how he knows this, the figure’s much too small from all the way up here to see properly but it just clicks in his head with a terrifyingly overwhelming certainty that this is Baam, he’s staring right at the real thing, Baam’s right here looking up at him and waving excitedly, that’s impossible, how —
His phone’s ringing — no, Baam’s calling him. When he answers, he can’t even mask his shock when he asks, “Baam? How the hell—”
“Sorry to pull you out of work Khun!” he chirps back, not sounding the least bit sorry, “I wanted to surprise you for Valentine’s Day!”
What the fuck.
“But, Baam, you’re supposed to be — You told me you have a gig tonight at Endorsi’s place, it’d be crowded as all hell, and you flew across the country to see me?”
“Yup!” And Baam’s unpacking his guitar.
Wait. He’s unpacking his guitar.
“Are you crazy? You’re going to serenade me right here and now?”
“Oh, great, I was wondering how to explain this. It’s kinda awkward, y’know, I tried phrasing it a few different ways and none of them really clicked. I’m glad I don’t have to—”
“You can’t be serious, I swear, Baam, one of these days—”
“Put your headphones in! You’ll be able to hear me a little more clearly.”
Khun grumbles a bit to himself as he does, determined to express his indignation despite his shock, and Baam only laughs at him.
“Okay, they’re in. You’re so on, by the way.”
Baam just huffs and puts his phone in his pocket, and Khun doesn’t even need to look at his face to know he’s understood.
He waits patiently as Baam tunes the guitar and meets him with a challenging lilt to his voice as he asks, “Can you hear me okay?”
“Loud and clear.”
As Baam plays the first few notes, Khun can’t see his face from where he’s standing at the balcony’s edge, but he’s seen Baam play so many times he already knows how serenely focused his eyes are, the relaxed and confident set of his shoulders, the involuntary quirk of his lips as he loses himself in playing. He never gets tired of seeing it, and he wishes he could see it again right now. He thinks he’s already heard this song before, its opening is familiar but he can’t hope to place it right now, but he’s reminded again when Baam starts to sing that it doesn’t matter, this version — Baam’s voice, even tinny and distorted through the phone’s mic, a little muffled by the fabric of his shirt pocket — will be more beautiful than any original he’s heard.
There are days, I wake up and I pinch myself
You're with me, not someone else
“Who else would there be but you?” He means it sarcastically, to poke fun at his choice of song in this game they’ve played for years now, but it comes out horribly dopey and fond instead and Khun suddenly feels his cheeks burn. Baam’s late for a chord for a fraction of a second anyway, so it’s not an entire failure.
And I’m scared, yeah, I'm still scared, that it's all a dream
“A damn good dream, I’d say,” Khun manages in the haughtiest tone he can muster at the moment and that gets Baam’s voice to crack a little with suppressed giggles, but his playing’s still flawless as always.
'Cause you still look perfect as days go by
“Please, that’s a given.”
Even the worst ones, you make me smile
I'd stop the world if it gave us time
Khun’s about to say something snarky again despite how deeply the sentiment resonated with him, but the way Baam’s voice swells at the chorus tears away his pretense.
'Cause when you love someone, you open up your heart
When you love someone, you make room
If you love someone, and you're not afraid to lose 'em
You’ve probably never loved someone like I do
When you say
You love the way I make you feel
Everything becomes so real
Don't be scared, no, don't be scared
'Cause you're all I need
(Privately, Khun admits defeat this time, because he doesn’t think he could muster a witty comment, a sufficiently steady voice, or even the will to compete right now despite all his pride.)
And you still look perfect as days go by
Even the worst ones, you make me smile
I'd stop the world if it gave us time
'Cause when you love someone, you open up your heart
When you love someone, you make room
If you love someone, and you're not afraid to lose 'em
You’ve probably never loved someone like I do
All my life
I thought it'd be hard to find the one 'til I found you
And I find it bittersweet
'Cause you gave me something to lose
Khun feels himself straighten before he registers commanding himself to do so, because that’s it — that’s what Baam’s trying to tell him. For a split second, he’s taken back two years and three hours before, a conversation asking about Baam how he chose songs to learn, a light voice on a hot desert breeze saying “there’s always one bit, a whole verse or a few words, one bit of the song that tells you plainly what they’re trying to say.”
He doesn’t know how he knows, there’s no evidence to suggest such, but Khun feels it like a punch to the solar plexus: this is that part. This is what Baam’s been trying to say, what he’s telling him now: It’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you. When we met the first time, my heart remembered the shape of yours from somewhere our eyes have never seen; we’ll never be favored by the stars but I’ll fight each day for us; everything beautiful reminds me of you because I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you more than I can ever show you in ten thousand lifetimes, so I’ll love you every day of this one and hope you understand.
But when you love someone, you open up your heart
When you love someone, you make room
If you love someone, and you're not afraid to lose 'em
You’ve probably never loved someone like I do
When Baam finishes, he looks up at Khun, and he doesn’t even need to see his face to know he looks shy and sheepish like the reality of the situation’s finally hit him and Khun — Khun can hardly even speak. He’s certain he looks like a complete moron, gaping mouth and openly flabbergasted, but he can’t even bring himself to care. Before he knows it, his feet are carrying him away from the balcony and back into the still-busy conference room. He thinks Shibisu’s trying to speak with him and he’s distantly aware of Baam calling out to him in his headphones, and fuck, this is so fucking stupid, Khun’s never this impulsive —
He rushes out the door anyway, making a beeline for the elevator (he briefly considers the stairs when he passes by them on the way and has to focus to turn his brain on momentarily and think of how many damn stories there are in the building to decide against it) and slams the button for the ground floor. He can hardly stand still as it goes down, tapping his foot and checking his watch and oh, Baam’s disconnected the call, and his hands are shaking (absently, the rational part of his mind thinks it’s amusing how closely what he’s experiencing now resembles a panic attack) and fuck, this is still so goddamn stupid, and fucking finally, the elevator’s stopped at the ground floor. Before the doors even open all the way, he’s gone, sprinting through the front door and around the side of the building to where he parked this morning and he sees Baam, zipping up his guitar case and he looks ethereal now that he can see him up close —
“Aguero?”
And Khun feels the last of his sanity snap in two as he just grabs Baam by the collar and kisses him so hard he can feel the way Baam yelps in surprise in each of his teeth. His lungs are burning and his heart’s pounding in his throat, already winded from running so fast, but he still can’t bring himself to care.
Baam’s the one to break the kiss, breathy and concerned, “Aguero? What are you…?”
And damn, Khun realizes he has to give him answers.
Say something! “You’re fucking ridiculous.” Not that.
Baam looks more than a little offended. That’s… appropriate.
“Absolutely and totally impossible, I fucking hate you so, so much,” Khun knows he’s rambling nonsense, but Baam’s gotten him choked up and unable to even comprehend what he’s feeling right now, much less express it in words, so he just kisses him again and hopes he understands.
He breaks the kiss again (he doesn’t get it, obviously, because he’s not making any sense) and replies, “You’re telling me two very different things here, Aguero.”
Wait. What?
Khun forces his brain back online through sheer willpower and really, properly looks at Baam, and — this bastard’s smiling of all things right now, he looks like he’s about to burst out laughing any moment now. “You’re the worst. You know that?”
And he does burst out laughing, and it sounds like a million bells chiming in the most euphonious orchestra in the most irritating way possible. “I hate you so much — I have a ticket for a flight for LA in two hours and a rental car waiting for me, I made arrangements to work remotely for the next week to make up for today, I was going to — stop laughing at me!” He means it seriously, but he’s so giddy right now, he’s certain he’s grinning wide like a fool.
Baam exaggeratedly wipes tears from his eyes and wheezes out, “You scared me! I thought you were mad at me—”
“I am mad at you! You ruined my surprise!”
And Baam’s laughing again and Khun can’t figure out if he wants to kick him or kiss him again, but he redeems himself (just a bit) when he says, “I’m sorry! I’ll help you get a refund on that plane ticket if you want.”
“That’s not what I care about here, Baam!” That only makes Baam laugh harder, and okay, Khun has to admit, this entire situation is frankly ridiculous, and he starts laughing with him before he can catch himself.
After a few moments, Khun manages to collect himself enough to retort, “I’m definitely doing something else to make up for it.”
Baam looks at him curiously as Khun pulls his keys from his pocket with a flourish. “You mean right now?” he asks incredulously, “But what about your —”
And, well. Khun’s definitely not about to admit Baam made him forget about work entirely. But he’s saved from having to think of a decent cover because as if on cue, Khun’s phone starts ringing with a call from Shibisu.
“Khun? What the hell’s going on, you just disappeared, is that —”
“Shibisu, wait, listen.” At this point, Khun knows Shibisu well enough to know that if he doesn’t cut him off now, he’ll never stop asking questions. “I need you to manage the rest of it. You’ll be fine, it’s just a little earlier from when I had to take off anyway—”
“Yeah, I know, but, Khun, what’s actually going on? Don’t tell me—”
Khun just looks Baam in the eye and winks at him when he answers, “I’ve got something a lot more important to tend to.” Baam flushes bright red but beams at him anyway and Khun barely tamps down the urge to coo at how cute his partner is.
The other line’s silent, but it seems like Shibisu gets it because he sighs, dramatic and long-suffering, before muttering, “I really should’ve taken Hatz up on that bet, he’d owe me money right now.” Khun’s grips the phone a little tighter in irritation, but he makes a note to reward him somehow for not taking the bet before Shibisu continues. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it. But you owe me the presentation in two weeks and one hell of an explanation.”
Khun doesn’t even think before he answers, “Deal.” He still hates cashing out his end of a bargain first, being indebted to someone rather than having others owe him, but when Baam beams at him as he pockets his phone again, Khun thinks it’s really not all that bad.
“Come on, lover boy,” Khun teases as he spins his keys once and unlocks his car, “you showed me LA last time, it’s your turn to see New York City.”
#im so sorry for this being late feel free to yell at me for it#anyway! i hope you like it#songfics are wonky to write but i did my best!#vi writes#khunbam#khun aguero agnis#the 25th baam#tower of god#tog valentine exchange#tell me where you’re going so i can chase queue anytime
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The Number Six and Other Curses
A Gravity Falls fan fic (a reincarnation AU)
Summary: Though no one knew it, Dipper Pines was born at the exact moment Ford Pines died somewhere in the multi-verse. Twelve years later, Dipper and Mabel’s summer trip to Gravity Falls sparks a flurry of intense nightmares and memories Dipper could not possibly have. Surely, it’s all a coincidence.
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Chapter One: Dreams and Premonitions
Stanley Pines put little stock in religion or fate or all that jazz. He knew a few too many con artists and watched the wheels of injustice and felt lonely maybe a few too many times to believe in God, but he, with the sort of sad wistfulness that colored much of Stanley, sometimes he wished he did. August 31st, 1999, was one of those nights when he was weak.
He pounded up crumbling, damp dirt, a horrid terror gripping his chest like a tentacled beast. He slipped and clawed toward a gleaming red light. A book poked at his ribs and he considered opening it one last time if only to feel okay for a second longer, but the dirt poured thicker, faster, and he couldn’t risk stopping. Heart pounding, he struggled ever upward toward the gleaming red light veiled in mist, but it was too much and he was too tired and they were going to catch up to him! To think, after all this time, this got him. The dirt stuck to his thighs, up to his chest. He clawed upward, desperate to touch the red light, and the dirt clogged his throat, his nostrils, his lungs, with the wretched stench of wet earth. He screamed as it forced him to shut his eyes. It wasn’t fair! He wasn’t done! The weight of it all squeezed him, an ungodly weight, the pain beyond imagination.
Then Stanley was looking down at himself. No, not himself. He flew into the sky, away from wet, grey dirt in all directions, and into the red light, brighter and brighter. The dirt settled, leaving no sign of disturbance. That wasn't quite true. A six-fingered hand reached up out of the earth like a stripped sapling.
No. Nononono! A high-pitched ring rushed through Stanley.
At exactly six AM, Stanley Pines leaped up from the threadbare armchair in his cabin in the woods, scrambling, coughing, choking for breath, and if he was crying, he didn’t notice. “It’s a nightmare,” he heaved. “Jus’ a messed up dream.” He’d had many nightmares like it before. Well, never as vivid or as doomed as that one, but… it happened, sure. Dear lord, he could still feel the weight of that awful dirt on his chest. He could taste it. And then, because he couldn’t stop himself and he was alone, Stan slid to the mat covering the wooden floors and stayed there, eyes blank. The TV blared a M*A*S*H* rerun. It cast green and brown light over the furniture, a wall-mounted rabbit/skunk he glued himself, and Stan’s tightly clenched fists. He breathed in and scrubbed his eyes with the bases of his palms. “Good grief,” he muttered.
It was then that he registered the ringing phone in the kitchen. He considered letting it go. It was six AM, after all. Who the heck was calling him in the night (morning?) anyway? Why did Stan even have a phone? Who had the number? Why six am? Why did this have to happen? What was he forgetting? If he answered the phone and someone told him they had a very special deal for him, he was going to tear the dang thing out of the wall.
Stan struggled to his feet, cracked his back, shuttered, and shuffled in his slippers to the kitchen.
“Stan Pines here, whaddaya want?”
“Uncle Stan! It- it’s happened! Oh my goodness, I can’t even think!”
Stan pulled the phone from his ear. “David? Is that you?” It all came rushing back. Oh! Right! That’s why Stan fell asleep down here in the first place! David’s girlfriend was in labor! “Ey! Congratulations, kid! What’re you gonna name it?”
“Them, rather!” David sounded a little shell-shocked. Giddy, but definitely glazed.
“‘M sorry?”
“Twins, Stan. A girl and a boy!”
Stan blinked. A rather horrible feeling washed over him, a horrible, unfair, selfish feeling. “T-twins? You weren’t expecting twins!”
“No, the doctors are baffled! I’m just- I mean, I’m completely overwhelmed, don’t get me wrong, we did not prepare for two babies! We only have stuff for our little Mabel and now there’s a boy too! But it’s like, the more the merrier, right? “ He laughed, breathless, “Two kids, Stan! Oh my gosh, how on earth am I supposed to take care of… you know what, I’ll think about that later.”
Stan cleared his throat. “That’s fantastic, Dave!” and he was earnest, really. He couldn’t be happier for his nephew. Even if he and his girlfriend were… quite young. She was older, he believed. Nineteen, maybe?
“Guess twins must run in the family, huh?”
“Guess so.”
“Say, I just got off the phone with Dad. He’s comin’ in with Carrie tomorrow. I know you said you were busy with the Mystery Shack and all…”
The request went unsaid, but Stan knew what David wanted to say. He rubbed the back of his neck. He avoided his family. It was bad enough taking Stanford’s name. He’d rather impersonate him as little as he had too. Luckily for his nephew, David had never known the original Stanford, so it was easier to just be himself around him. He’d planned on sitting this out. He didn’t even know David’s girlfriend- couldn’t for the life of him remember her name. But… the idea of staying in this cabin alone for a minute longer made his head spin. The dream was like a vulture circling around him, and Stan knew, deep in his gut, something he never allowed himself to truly consider. If he ever got that damn portal to work, he would rescue something to lie to rest. His thumb shook on his lip as he pushed the feeling down.
“... I can spare a few days.”
“I don’t want to pressure you-”
“You ain’t pressuring me! I’m coming and you can’t stop me! Twins! Ha! I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? ! Don’t do anything rash, Stan! You don’t have to-”
Stan cackled. “See ya, kid! Rest while you can!”
“... Alright, Uncle Stan. ”
Stan slammed the phone onto the receiver and swallowed. He caught his fussy reflection in the dark kitchen window. He forced a grin, more of a grimace, and patted his disheveled hair. He refused to- No, He didn’t know for certain. “Twins, Ford,” he whispered. “Can you believe it?” His reflection’s eyes grew misty.
Yeah. It was time to get out of this cabin.
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David hated working late, but it happened more and more often. Joe needed help, and he was the only mechanic who was actually half good at his job (if he said so himself) and David needed the money. He’d been right to go to trade school as soon as he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He was sixteen and a half and that was… well, it sucked, but it was sort of ‘par with the course for the Pine’s family.’ That’s what his dad’s wife said, anyway. He learned later his dad didn’t talk to her for three days after that comment. He did not blame him in the slightest. He didn’t hate Carrie or anything, she just wasn’t his mom and, as such, would... never measure up. She was also an incredible pain in the neck, but that's beside the point. It was a running joke that his dad had snagged a cougar for her money, which had been hilarious until Carrie shrugged airily at the suggestion and his dad turned beet red at the kitchen table, and David suddenly had the thought that oh gosh maybe the joke was- nope. Not going there. He had other things to focus on.
Like his kids and his hot wife and their tiny apartment that she’d turned into something homey and good. It smelled like tacos today. His keys rattled as he set them on the counter and hung up his jacket.
“DADDY!!” came a shrill shriek from the other room, followed by a pitter-patter of feet. A ball of pink giggled madly. He threw her in the air. “Wook, Dad!” She held up a paper… reindeer? Was that what it was supposed to be? “It’s for the chee!”
“For the tree?”
“Yes!! Cissmas chee!”
“You make that in school? I… like all the eyeballs, baby. That’s a lot of eyeballs.”
The kitchen was smoking, and he could hear Anna banging pans. “Mason, four forks! We’re setting the table, remember? Buddy, you can’t carry the- oh dear.”
Mabel balancing on his feet, David walked through the little living room and into an even smaller kitchen. We’re going to need a bigger house, eventually.
“Hey, honey.”
Anna turned around, Mason halfway picked up, a bundle of cups and forks somehow grasped in the other hand. She pushed a strand of loose brown hair behind her ear with the back of her hand. She was in her scrubs. “You’re home! Dave, it’s almost seven thirty!” Mason squirmed out of her hands and quietly took the cups and forks. He struggled for a moment before sticking the forks into the cups, and then, problem solved, lit up and set the cups and forks on the table. As usual, David was… not getting even a hello from his son.
“Joe had me stay late.”
Anna scoffed, throwing taco meat onto plates and stuffing a taco into her mouth. “e’ can kiss my ah’” She swallowed. “Mabel, we’re going to sit down. It’s tacos!”
“Tacos!” Mabel squealed. “I LOVE tacos!”
“I know, baby. Come on, come on.” She ushered her to the table where Mason was already sitting on his booster seat, attempting to pour himself a cup of grape juice. David joined them, swinging Mabel up into her seat.
“Hey!” Anna yelped, grabbing the bottle of grape juice as it wavered above Mason’s cup. “I said you have to ask!”
“I can pour it myself, Mom!”
“You really can’t, bud,” David volunteered. He got himself a taco and took a bite while scooping meat into Mabel’s tortilla. “‘member what happened in the car seat?”
Mason scowled. But he took the poured cup of juice and accepted the kiss on his forehead by his mother. Mabel hugged her mom around the neck, gushing a very enthused, “Good job for at school, mommy.”
“Thank you, baby.” Anna finally caught David’s eye. Her shoulders relaxed, just slightly, and she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Love you, babe.” And then into his ear. “Wait up for me.” She squeezed his arm.
Oh, David would.
“And... I’m-” She glimpsed the kitchen clock. Her eyes went wide. “I’m late! I’m late!” She scrambled away. “I love you all! David, don’t forget to load and start the dishwasher! Mason can help!”
“Got it!”
The door opened.
“And their homework! They have… why do they give preschoolers homework- They have homework! Mabel still has to finish-”
“I’ve got it!” David called after her. He leaned forward in the chair to see her through the kitchen. “We’re good! Go!”
She smiled, hastily. And… just like that, she left.
For all of three seconds, the house was silent.
Mabel made a popping noise with her spoon and Mason blinked at her before picking up his own spoon and considering it.
“Okay, okay, let’s not- let’s use the silverware for food, guys.”
Mabel set down the spoon and stabbed the taco. “I’m using my fork for my food!” Mabel said with a grin that revealed the gap in her two front teeth.
“Thank you, I see that.”
“I always use my fork,” came Mason’s inevitable, irritable reply. This was rather typical. He’d probably need to have another talk with him soon. Sometimes they took it for granted that Mason was more… competent than his sister. Not unusually so. He was still a four-year-old. But he could read and he spoke clearer, and he just picked up on more than Mabel did. Maybe it was because he was quiet. He was definitely the microphone to Mabel’s loudspeaker. The two of them were fascinating to watch, if David was honest. It blew his mind sometimes. They were growing into their own little people with their own personalities and quirks. Wild.
Dinner went like it usually did, with Mabel finishing everything and Mason picking through his taco like he was checking it for poison. They cleaned up, and Mason showed David very seriously how his mom liked the dishes in the dishwasher. “No, Dad. You gotta line up the bowls. Like this , see?” David humored him because it made the kid happy.
After dinner, they decided that coloring was a good idea. Mabel needed to finish her homework, and it got finished eventually, though it was a little sparkly.
Mason determinedly drew in the ‘blank coloring book’ (as Mabel said) that he liked. He was an anxious kid, and they’d discovered early on it was easier for him to draw pictures than say out loud what was bothering him. David didn’t have any reason to think they upset Mason, but he had a blue crayon in his fist and his tongue out the edge of his mouth, and he was going at it. Maybe he’d just draw something nice for once.
David almost didn’t want to ask. He doodled a puppy for Mabel, who gasped out loud and took the crayon from him to add “Lots an’ lots of puppies fends.”
Clearing his throat, David dove in. “Whatcha drawing there, bud?”
Mason looked up. His eyes were bright. He shuffled the book around and David’s heart sank a little. It’s okay. He’s got an active imagination.
“This is ‘achnimorph. Like a people spider.”
That was… indeed, what the drawing looked like. Mason was probably going to be rather talented at art when he was older. His dexterity wasn’t great now, of course, but it was clear what he’d drawn. A many-eyed person with eight legs and a massive spider lower half- all drawn in blue crayon.
“Where d'you see that, Massey?”
“I just thought it.”
“You just thought it?”
Mason nodded, unperturbed. He flipped a page. He was leaning halfway across the table in his eagerness to show him. “This is a fairy. They’re mean. This is a cowl.”
“A… cowl?”
“A cow and an owl,” he said, like this was obvious. “They lay eggs with milk in them.”
“Oh.” David didn’t dislike Mason’s… inventions. They were just strange and neither Anna nor David could figure out where on earth he was getting the ideas? Both of the kids got nightmares easily, especially Mason, so they watched little tv, and their teachers assured them they provided nothing that would inspire these sorts of drawings. At least today wasn’t so bad. Anna had called him in a panic when Mason drew a ‘skin couch’ one afternoon, complete with bloody stitching in red marker.
“... it makes the cosmic sand go all,” Mason threw his hands in the air. “And this is my other daddy, and this-”
David straightened. Did he hear him right? He flipped back the page. “What do you mean?”
On the other side of the table, Mabel sighed dramatically and melted down in the chair. She would have to wait.
“Mason?”
Something shifted in Mason’s face. There was a timidity there. He was nervous. “You won’t like it, daddy.”
“I’m not going to be mad. I’m just confused.”
Mason considered this and then pointed at two stick figures. One a broad-shouldered man with a terrifying scowl and square eyes, and the other a stick thin woman. “This is my other mom and dad.”
“Your… other- Mason, you don’t have another mom and dad. You just have me and momma.”
Mason shook his head, “No, before I lived here. In the upstairs house.”
David was… at a loss. They hadn’t moved since Mason and Mabel were born. They’d lived nowhere but here. He must be confused. Was he thinking of somewhere they visited? David took another look at the stick figures, tapping a finger on the table. Suddenly it clicked, and David chuckled. “Mason, that wasn’t your other mom and dad. That’s grandma Caryn and Filbrick. We visited them last summer for Filbrick’s funeral. Caryn’s your great-grandma, not your momma, silly.” Mason didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked like, if David pressed it, he might burst into tears. David pushed bangs out of Mason’s eyes, running a thumb over the six-star constellation on his forehead with a light hand. It was a good thing that Mabel chose that moment to knock a bottle of glitter to the floor.
David pushed the instance into the back of his mind, and he didn’t even think to mention it when Anna finally got home to a (moderately) clean house. Mason filled up the little journal, and it ended up at the bottom of his toy chest, and then in a box at the top of the closet. As time went on, Mason stopped with the drawings, mostly anyway. David would find them, sometimes, in the margins of his books, little, idle doodles; eyes with bat wings, faces with too many teeth, that illuminati triangle, bearded ghosts. None of that was worth worrying about. As long as they weren’t bloody- his mother made that rule- Mason could draw what he liked. But even those doodles faded. School was more time-consuming. They moved into a new house (a house they owned!) and if some of Mason’s many journals got mixed up and lost, no one knew about it. If Mason started turning to Mabel instead of his parents after one of his near-weekly nightmares, well, that was just part of growing up, wasn’t it? He was nearly thirteen, after all.
“What was it this time?” Mabel slurred. She was still mostly asleep, her hair spread across her pillow and a wrinkled mark on her cheek. Her plump grey cat was flexing his claws into the blanket beside her head.
Dipper closed the door, shutting off the gold stripe on the carpet. He sat back down on his bed across the room and sipped a glass of milk. It was his go-to for nightmares. His skin was sticky and cold with sweat. He swiped his eyes and gulped down the rest of the glass. “Just the getting-crushed one again. I think. It’s hard to remember.”
Mabel groaned. “You always say that… need some variety.”
“Tell me about it.” Dipper sat in silence, the glass warming in his hand. He wasn’t sure he was ready to lie down again. He didn’t want to blink too slow, in case he saw it , whatever it had been, that scared him so badly. The least his mind could do was let him know what he was so scared of, but apparently that was too much to ask for.
Dipper looked down at the sound of shuffling sheets. Mabel turned to face him. She rubbed an eye with her fist and yawned. “I was dreaming ‘bout summer. We went to Grandpa Shermie’s again, and he gave me caramel but it got stuck in my braces and I couldn’t talk and I wanted to ride the motorcycle with him, but I couldn’t say anything cause… cause a’ the carmel...” Her eyes drooped.
Dipper smiled. He shifted down on his bed, eyes on Mabel, and tucked his blanket up to his cheek. Time ticked past, and before he knew it, the sun was rising. It was the first day of summer vacation.
To be continued...
#gravity falls#fan fiction#reincarnation#au#dipper pines#ford pines#character death#sort of?#in which i talk too much#i got excited about a new thing okay#and i know we're all sad i made ford dead#but its gonna be good and were still gonna see him#pinky swears#gf fanfiction#figured i post this here bc why not#ill probably include a link to the ao3 in the notes
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