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athforskz · 2 months

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Locked In - Yang Jeongin

Masterlist

Pairing: Jeongin x reader (afab)

Non-idol au

wc: ~7.7k

semi-proofread

Warnings: fluff, angst, pet names (babe/baby, princess), smut, jealousy, alcohol/drinking, dub-con if you squint, dry humping, fingering, oral (m- receiving), stealthing, unprotected piv, Yandere!Jeongin, breeding, baby trapping, dacryphilia, choking, spit, anal thumbing.

I think that’s it, let me know if I missed any!

Read responsibly. You are responsible for the content you consume.

Enjoy lovelies!

It was already Friday again. Meaning yet another week in your not so exciting life had flown by. You had no plans for the weekend and no friends that were free to spend it with. You, in fact, were the last of your friends that was still single. Everyone else had either married off or were currently in a serious relationship. You couldn’t help but feel the existential dread that encompassed your mind.

What if I’m alone forever?

Yeah, sure you’re still young in the grand scheme of things, but you couldn’t shake the doubt that maybe something was wrong. Wrong with you. Your body shook at the thought.

Deciding to do push the mess of thoughts to the back of your mind, you fished around for your phone in the nest of blankets you had curled yourself in on your bed. Your fingers quickly tap through your home screen until finding the app you were looking for. Tinder.

“Am I really doing this…?” You muttered to yourself. Contemplating once again about your life decisions. All you wanted was someone to call your own. A person to spend quality time with. Possibly settle down and start a life filled with contentment and love. Was that too much to ask?

Against your better judgement you opened the app and set up your profile. You chose the best pictures of yourself to display. Also making sure to write in your bio what you were seeking in a partner, that you were serious about your expectations. You may have been desperate but not desperate enough to lower the bar. At least not yet.

Within a few hours of swiping mindlessly, you got a couple dozen matches. Most of them are not what you’re looking for. But there was one that stood out. His name was Jeongin. He could hold a conversation, even making you laugh a few times. Before you knew it hours had passed of you both talking back and forth on the dating app. He ended up asking for your number claiming he doesn’t get on Tinder much anymore but wanted to keep the conversation going with you. Things were going so well that you thought nothing of it and immediately sent him your contact information. A couple minutes later your phone dinged with a message notification that you could safely assume was your new interest.

Unknown: Hey, y/n! It’s Jeongin :)

You: Do I know you?

You teased him as you saved his contact to your phone.

Jeongin: I’m so sorry! Wrong number!

You: Just kidding lol it’s me, y/n!

Jeongin: You almost sent me into a panic you little minx

The little pet name had you turned onto your front with your legs propped up behind you and kicking freely. You two texted for a little while longer before calling it a night.

Little did you know, Jeongin stayed up half the night doing research on you. Digging up whatever he could find about your past and your present. He had never known someone so beautiful, so perfect. So you. He couldn’t help the burning obsession he was growing towards you. It was like a thirst that could not be quenched. He needed you. All of you. Jeongin had never felt this way about anybody before and he wasn’t about to let it go. Was this what euphoria felt like?

The next morning you had awoken to a bird pecking at your window. The tap-tap-tap sounds reverberate throughout your room. You got up from your bed stretching with a yawn before opening your curtains to find the little tweeting perpetrator. It flew off quickly upon it being caught, leaving you to stare at the newly arisen sun. Just then, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. Hm, 7:03am the clock read. You swiftly unlocked your phone and unplugged it from the charger to read the new message from Jeongin.

Jeongin: Good morning! Hope you slept well

You: Morning, Jeongin! I did actually. Did you get some good rest too?

Jeongin: You could say that. Hey, I uh.. I wanted to ask you something.

You: What’s up?

Jeongin: Do you want to go get coffee together? Like today? I know it’s short notice so if you can’t that’s totally fine!

You: I’d love to go with you :)

Jeongin’s heart flipped in his chest with a widening smile across his face. He can’t believe you agreed to go with him. Now was his time to shine! He had to look his best for you which would be easier said than done because he in fact did not get any sleep. How could he when all that was on his mind was you?

The both of you agreed to meet at a local cafe called LaVazza in an hour. At first, you weren’t expecting to be doing anything with your Saturday besides maybe catching up on some research for your job. However, that could wait until later. You had a date with a cute guy after all.

Wait… a date? Can I even call it that? Is that what this is?

Numerous thoughts began to fill your head as you got ready. Should you dress up or look casual? Go all out with your makeup? Should you put your hair up or leave it down? A cold splash of water would help you think more clearly. Finally, you decided on an off the shoulder cashmere sweater, leggings, and black booties with light makeup to complete the look. You brushed your hair choosing to leave it down since your shoulders were exposed. You did one last mirror check before grabbing the essentials and making your way out of the apartment.

The cafe wasn’t too far from your place so walking was your choice of transportation. Nothing like a brisk walk on a cool Saturday morning to calm your nerves.

Upon reaching LaVazza, the fresh smell of coffee hit your nose. You breathed in deeply while looking around for Jeongin. No sign of him yet. You had gotten there a few minutes early after all. Surely he’d be here in a bit. You walked over to a booth seated in the corner next to the window while you waited; checking your phone every so often to see if you had gotten any messages. Nothing.

At some point you had zoned out while looking over the menu to decide what to order. You snapped back to reality once you felt a presence looming next to you.

“This seat taken?” A warm voice asked.

You looked up to meet none other than Jeongin’s gaze. Your mouth slightly agape as you took in the sight of him. Of course you had seen his photos on tinder yesterday but he was down right handsome in the flesh. He took his seat in the booth directly across from you, folding his hands neatly in front of him on the table. He cleared his throat which brought you out of a daze. “I-I’m sorry. Um hi! It’s nice to finally meet you.” You blinked and extended your hand across the table while mentally scolding yourself for staring so shamelessly. He chuckled while taking your hand and bringing it up to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Your face flushed in a deep blush. You had been going for a simple handshake but you weren’t going to complain about his greeting. Not when his lips felt so soft on your skin and his voice was like velvet. “Nice to meet you too,” he finally replied.

It seemed like Jeongin was playing it cool, but on the inside he was on fire. He felt his world stop when he first laid eyes on you sitting in the booth. He can’t believe just how gorgeous you are up close. Once you caught sight of him he saw your reaction, making a mental note of it for later.

“Did you order anything yet?” He asked you with a rise at the end of his voice. You shook your head in response looking down at the menu on the table. “I’m stuck between a lavender chai or the classic espresso. Maybe a chocolate croissant too. What are you getting?” You quipped. He pretended to think for a minute. “I always get the americano. It’s my go to.” Jeongin smiled at you. His smile was so bright, so cute, so entrancing. You couldn’t help but smile back, he was infectious.

After finalizing your decision on the lavender chai, you and Jeongin made your way over to the counter to order. You began reaching into your purse to pull out your card before Jeongin playfully scoffed. “Hey, I got it. Put that away.” You were confused at first, “I can at least pay for my own. You don’t have t-“ he interrupted. “Nuh uh, don’t worry about it. Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll bring our order over once it’s ready.” He said calmly before handing the barista his card. “But I insist!” You blurted out. He raised an eyebrow at you in amusement. Before you could embarrass yourself any further you walked back over to the corner booth, waiting patiently for Jeongin to return.

During your wait, you came to the final realization that yes, this was definitely a date.

Once the order arrived you two had begun opening up to each other. Telling each other about yourselves. Your upbringing, your jobs, friends, hobbies. Pretty much anything. The conversation was flowing nicely. Little did you know Jeongin had already known so much about you. He knew exactly what to say to keep you interested in him. To keep you engaged to him and only him.

Before either of you realized, two hours had passed by. The both of you reluctantly opted to call it a day. You had research to catch up on and Jeongin had errands to run.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said while holding the cafe door open for you.

“Oh, no need. I actually walked here. My place isn’t too far.”

“What? No way, I walked too! I can walk you home at least.” He offered. Jeongin lied. His car was parked around the corner but he would rather walk with you to spend more time with you. You hesitated for a bit, mulling it over. You just met this man today. Even though you both talked for hours he was still a stranger to you. Should you really let him know where you live? In conclusion, you did it anyway.

“Sure, why not?” You shrugged then proceeded to lead the way. He followed slightly behind you, acting as if he didn’t already know where you lived.

About halfway through the walk, Jeongin felt bold enough to touch your hand, wrapping his pinky finger around yours. You didn’t mind it, you thought it was sweet as he smiled down at you, listening to you speak about some story that happened at a recent friend’s get-together.

Another few minutes went by and y’all had reached the front door to your apartment. You turned on your heels to face Jeongin.

“Thank you for this morning. I had a lot of fun, Jeongin,” you admitted.

“I did too. Thanks for agreeing to meet me,” he replied. His eyes fluttered looking at your features, from your lips to your eyes.

Suddenly you felt warm, a blush creeping up from your neck to your cheeks. Was he going to-?

“Howdy, neighbor!” Your next door neighbor beamed happily as they slammed their door shut and locked it. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as you turned to wave at your neighbor. Jeongin cursed under his breath, becoming irrationally angry at your neighbor for the split second you weren’t paying attention to him. In the blink of an eye he was back to his calm and cheery self once you turned back to him.

“Let me know when you get home okay?” You requested of him before leaning up on your tippy toes and landing a peck on his cheek. All he could do was nod, his skin igniting at the touch of your lips. You unlocked your door bidding him a final goodbye as he walked off. He still felt the lingering connection of your lips on his cheek. Now he was locked in for sure. And unknowingly, that meant you were locked in too.

A few more weeks passed and the bond between Jeongin and you became stronger. He had invited you out on several more dates during that time. Some of them being more casual and others being romantic. You honestly couldn’t be happier. Nothing between you two was made mutually exclusive yet (or so you thought), but it was certainly heading that way.

Currently, you were on a FaceTime call with Jeongin while you were doing chores around your apartment. You had your phone propped up on the coffee table, facing away from it as you fluffed the pillows on the couch during your rambling about what happened at work the other day. Jeongin was barely listening. All he could focus on was the way your Nike pro shorts hugged the fat of your thighs along with the swell of your ass cheeks peeking through perfectly. Any time you’d bend over he’d take a screenshot without you ever noticing.

Thank goodness you could only see his face because he currently had his hand in his sweats to lazily palm his twitching cock. Every now and then he would let out a heavy sigh, but you chalked it up to him just being tired. “Innie, I can let you off if you want to go to sleep. I have to start getting ready anyway,” you had recently took to calling him by the nickname. Just then, his head shot up from the relaxed position it was in, hand retracing from his pants. “Get ready? Ready for what?” He completely ignored your comment about his tiredness. Jeongin was more concerned about your future whereabouts. He had become very good at keeping tabs on you whether you knew about it or not. But this time he had no indication that you planned on going somewhere. Somewhere without him.

“My friend invited me to a party tonight!” Party? You don’t party. Jeongin knows you don’t.

“I normally don’t like going to such things, but I haven’t hung out with my friends in a while, so why not, ya know?” You continued. His face dropped.

Why does she feel the need to go somewhere without me? He thought to himself.

His next words threw you for a loop, “Can I come?”

You were taken aback, “But you don’t know anyone that’ll be there.”

“I know you...” He raised an eyebrow waiting for your response. You seemed to be lost in thought. Is this a good idea, introducing him to your friends so soon? And without an official label no less.

“I don’t know, Innie. My friends will get the wrong idea about us and I don’t-“

“Wrong idea?” He interrupted.

“Like they’ll think we’re together.” You announced. You swear you saw his eye twitch.

“But we are together. At least I thought we were,” he retorted.

Now it was your turn to raise a brow. “We are? Since when?”

“Since we started going on a bunch of dates and hanging out. Not to mention all of the kissing. C’mon sweetheart, did you really think I was just playing around with you?”

He was right, you two had been spending a lot of time together. You’d see him at least every other day and talk to him on the phone on the days that you weren’t with him. Things had become a lot more serious between the both of you including the ever fervent makeout sessions. Neither of you had gone farther than kissing and lingering touches with each other, but the thought of going to the next level with Jeongin made your eyes glaze over. “Well..?” He chuckled waiting for your answer. You shook your head letting out a light laugh in the process as a blush covered your cheeks. “Okay, fine you can come with me since apparently you’re my boyfriend now.”

Boyfriend

Boyfriend.

The word leaving from your mouth to label him as such a thing sounded so sweet. But he wanted to be more to you. For you. He wanted to be all you ever needed. Wanted you to rely on him for absolutely everything. You didn’t need anyone else. All he wanted you to need was him.

A sly smile played on his lips as he at least took this as a good start. Perfect.

Well into the night you found yourself enthralled with the party, having a good time with everyone. You were glad to have agreed to come out and bring Jeongin with you. Your friends however, were not thrilled with your new boyfriend. You had introduced them to him earlier in the night but your friends could tell that something was off with him. You didn’t notice their uneasiness towards Jeongin at first, as you were busy throwing back shots and dancing. Normally, you didn’t drink but when you were out you drank heavily. A social drinker at its finest. Jeongin made sure to keep a close eye on you which wasn’t hard because when you weren’t drinking you were dancing with him. Grinding your ass into his pelvis as he kept a hand on your hips encouraging your movements. To you, it looked like he was enjoying himself. Nursing a red solo cup in his free hand with God knows what kind of alcohol in it. However, Jeongin was sure not to get too drunk so he could keep others away from you. He wanted all of your attention focused solely on him so your eyes wouldn’t wander. If he caught another guy looking at you he’d be sure to press a hot, lingering kiss to your neck as if to claim you for all to see. Right when you began leaning back into Jeongin’s chest one of your friends approached you.

“Y/n, can we talk for a sec?” She asked with a lilt to her voice. You gave her a silent nod before she started to pull you away from him by your wrist. Jeongin started to follow you to which your friend spoke up, “it’s girl talk only, you wouldn’t understand.” She gave him a sheepish smile then proceeded to lead you away, leaving him on the dance floor sipping his drink.

He didn’t like this. Not one bit. He doesn’t want anyone, not even your closest friends, taking you away from him. But, nonetheless, he allowed your friend to speak with you in private so he didn’t cause a scene. His eyes narrowed as he watched your form through the crowd of people making a mental note of where you were going just in case he needed to come get you.

Your friend pushed past a throng of people before slipping into a quiet room with you in tow. She closed the door prior to speaking.

“What are you doing?” She asked, turning slowly to meet your eyes.

“Um, having fun? Duh!” You couldn’t take her question seriously as you giggled.

“No, no not that! I mean like what are you doing with him?”

“You mean, Innie? I thought it’d be alright if he came with me. Was there like a super limited guest list I wasn’t informed about?” Your eyes widened at the realization.

Your friend rolled her eyes at you, “God, you really are drunk. There was not a guest list. I just want to know what in the hell you see in that man?”

“What are you talking about? Jeongin makes me happy and I-“

“He’s weird! I mean have you not seen the way he’s hoarding you to himself and giving death glares at anybody that even looks your direction?! That’s straight up toxic behavior!” She cut you off as her voice raised an octave. She wasn’t yelling but you still didn’t appreciate her tone.

“So everyone else gets to be happy with someone, but as soon as I get a boyfriend there’s a fucking problem? And you’re calling him toxic just because he’s a little protective? Do you even hear yourself right now?!” The alcohol was rushing in your veins making you a little bit more bold.

“Hey, you know that’s not what I meant. Just-“

“Save it!” It was your turn to interrupt her. You put your hand up in front of your face before shoulder checking her on the way out of the room.

You looked among the crowd to find Jeongin had moved to the back wall. You made your way over to him and he looked surprised, probably not expecting you to be back so soon.

“We should leave.” You said dryly while looking down at the floor, your arms crossed over your chest. Jeongin simply nodded and with that you both made your way out of the party.

Once in the car you sighed, the alcohol still buzzing through your body.

“You okay, baby? What happened in there?” He asked clearly concerned. He knew he shouldn’t have let you go off alone with her.

“Don’t worry about it, I.N. I’d rather not talk about it right now.” You trailed off while staring out the window. As much as he wanted to press you for answers, he didn’t pry any farther. He let you have your space for the time being. Jeongin only had one drink so he was fine to drive.

The way back was mostly silent besides the low hum of the radio in the background. Jeongin would occasionally rub or squeeze your thigh for reassurance which you appreciated. You just simply couldn’t get over the argument you had with your friend.

Is she crazy? Jealous?

There’s no way she could be. She was your best friend who got everything she wanted and she never had acted this way before.

But what about Jeongin made her so uneasy? What couldn’t you see?

You looked over at the man in the driver's seat, admiring his profile and the way he drove one-handed. He felt you staring at him so he turned his head to meet your gaze. He flashed a toothy smile which made you smile in return.

Soon he parked out front of your apartment, getting out of the car to come over to open your door for you. You gave him a small thanks before walking to your front door, him tailing behind you.

Once inside you kicked off your heels, sighing at the relief of your feet being flat on the floor. Jeongin closed and locked the door behind himself the proceeded to shuck off his jacket and step out of his shoes. He had been inside your apartment a handful of times now and became accustomed to it. Everything from the decorations to the furniture to the smell was so you. It was like being in heaven for him. He lifted his head to a familiar cork sound popping open followed by the clinking of glasses. You were in the kitchen, pouring wine for the both of you.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” He leaned over the island watching you pour.

“Just because we left the party doesn’t mean I want to lose my buzz.”

“I think you’re more than buzzed, babe.” He laughed as you waved him off. You handed him his glass then walked over to the living room, plopping down on the couch, Jeongin joining you. You kicked your legs over onto his lap as your dress rode up your thighs. He tucked your legs tightly into him as he drew random shapes with his fingertips just above your knees. You turned on your TV and flicked through various channels before finally settling on a random rom-com movie. Both of you offering commentary or laughing when appropriate.

You hadn’t noticed how much the wine had affected you until a rather spicy scene played during the movie. Getting an idea, you set the empty glass on the table before maneuvering to straddle Jeongin’s lap. You giggled while leaning in and trailing kisses down his sharp jawline.

“What are you planning, Princess?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shhh just relax,” you encouraged. With that he leaned his head back on the couch allowing you more access to his neck and jaw.

Jeongin absolutely loved the attention you gave him. Basking in it like his own reward for finding you.

You started to suck on the skin between his neck and shoulder, hoping to leave a mark. His hands wandered to your waist bringing you impossibly closer in his embrace. Jeongin groaned when you licked up from his throat to his lips and captured them in a kiss.

The kissing started off slow, innocent even before turning into a full on session of tongues and teeth. You bit his bottom lip gently pulling it to further tease him. His hands moved from their previous place on your waist down to the back of your thighs where the hem of your dress was caught. He pulled the dress further up until it was just under your abdomen leaving your black lace panties exposed. Jeongin then gripped your ass firmly, squeezing the flesh tightly in his hands. You disconnected from your heated makeout to let out a moan and grind your hips down on his growing bulge.

Jeongin hissed at the movement, but welcomed it nonetheless before catching your lips again and droving his tongue straight into your mouth to lick and suck at your own. Breathy moans continuously escaped your throat as you kept riding Jeongin over his pants. Your slick pooling through your panties and making a wet spot over the crotch of his jeans.

This was all so surreal. This was the first time either of you have taken it this far and it was definitely a welcome change to the typical makeout sessions you both shared. It made you want more of him. All of him.

Suddenly, you pulled away from the kiss and stopped your grinding to get off his lap. Jeongin looked breathless, dazed in the heat of the moment. His lips were swollen from all the kissing. You backed away making a ‘come here’ motion with your finger before turning and heading to your room. He grinned like the Cheshire cat and jumped up from the couch to follow you.

Even though, Jeongin had come over plenty of times by now this was his first time actually stepping foot into your room. Normally he’d look around to take in the sight of everything, but that was the last thing on his mind. There he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed with your legs crossed and that dreamy look in your eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous..” he said barely above a whisper as he made his way over to you. He wasted no time in locking your lips again while pushing you to lay back on the bed. He pulled your left thigh to spread your legs and make room for himself to lay between them. Jeongin rolled his hips to press his clothed cock over your aching center, swallowing the moan you let out in the process. He didn’t want to get too carried away, but God did he want you. All of you.

Against his better judgment he let his body lead. Jeongin’s hands trailing up your sides and over your chest to palm your breasts over your dress. You arched your back slightly loving the feeling. He could feel your nipples harden through the fabric due to the absence of a bra. You secretly thanked the heavens that you didn’t need to wear one with this particular dress.

Not being able to take it anymore, Jeongin ripped the dress off of your form and threw it somewhere in the room to be forgotten. He immediately latched his mouth onto your left nipple while rolling and pinching the right between his fingers before switching sides.

“M-more, Innie, please.” You squeaked through your euphoric haze.

“Hm? Is my baby turning insatiable for me?” Jeongin teased while looking up at you. All you could do was whine and nod your head. You were desperate to feel his touch everywhere.

He leaned up again, getting close to your face as you felt one of his hands slither its way into your panties.

“Are you gonna be good for me, hm?” He asked then pressed an open mouth kiss to your lips.

“Uh huh, promise to be good.”

With your confirmation he spread your wet folds with his ring and pointer fingers while using his middle finger to glide from your clit down to your entrance. Jeongin just barely pushed into your pussy up to his first knuckle before pulling out again. Leaving you to clench around nothing. A pathetic whimper from you gracing his ears. He hushed you with another kiss before rubbing your clit in different ways, trying to find what you liked the most. You can’t lie, all of it felt good, but once he started circling your nub you let out a higher pitched moan than the rest.

“Oh yeah, like that? That’s a good girl letting me know just how to please you.” He cooed, continuing his circling movements on your clit for a bit longer then switched from his middle finger to his thumb so he could freely plunge two fingers inside of you. He pumped them slowly at first letting you get used to his slender digits before becoming a little rougher. Your body reacted to every little move he was doing to you, sending you into overdrive. It just felt so good to have him please you like his life depended on it. You could cum just from this, but he wasn’t done yet. Far from it. He pushed a third finger into you, pressing each one deeper than before and curving them upwards to reach that spongey spot within your core. The rings at the base of two of his fingers adding to the pleasure. The room was filled with the most disgustingly wet shlucking sounds from your pussy and your greedy moans. Your walls began to flutter around his fingers and a band felt like it was going to snap in your abdomen signaling that you were close.

“F-fuck, gonna cum…!” You squealed while your back arched higher off the bed. Jeongin placed his had that was still kneading your breast onto your neck and squeezed on either side.

“C’mon gimme that orgasm, baby,” The delicious pressure of him choking you sent you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back into your head as your body writhed from the force of your first release of the night.

“Mm so pretty when you cum for me,”he praised. You panted heavily, while Jeongin pulled his fingers from you and watched as your juices dripped from his digits down to his wrist. He brought his fingers to his mouth sucking them clean, moaning at the sweet taste of you. Now that he’s had a taste of you there was no going back.

After a few moments you had gotten your breathing mostly under control. Jeongin was still busy licking your cum from his fingers before you had roughly pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him once again.

“Wanna make you feel good too, Innie.” You whispered trailing kisses down his neck to his collarbone. His breathing hitched in his throat when you bit down on the flesh there. He looked down at you as you raised his shirt over his head. You admired his body while running a hand over his abs. He was so toned, you had no idea. You continued kissing down his chest and abs while your hands worked at undoing his jeans. You dipped your tongue into his belly button which sent a chill down his spine. Once, you finally got the zipper down you tugged off his pants and boxers in one go. His hard cock springing free and slapping against his stomach.

It looked heavy. Innie was well above average with equal parts length and girth. It even had a slight curve to the left. The tip of his cock was the same color as his lips and profusely leaking pre-cum. His dick was slightly darker than his skin tone around the base. Even his pubic hair was trimmed showing off his pretty smooth balls. You couldn’t help but marvel at the site of all of him exposed in front you.

“Like what you see?” He smirked with his hands behind his head. He knew damn well that he was good looking. This man was the definition of perfection.

“I more than like what I see,” you winked at him. His cock twitched at the thought of what that might mean.

You took Jeongin’s hard dick into your hand, swiping your thumb over his slit to collect the precum that beaded there. He sucked in a harsh breath at your movements watching you with eyes blown wide. You proceeded to spit on the tip letting it drip down the sides while stroking his shaft to make his cock slick. Brushing your hair out of your face, you leaned down pressing kisses all along the sides of it then licked from base to tip, following the vein on the underside of his dick. He reached a hand down to thread through your hair gently while you slowly took him into your mouth. You focused on licking and sucking the tip first, your tongue swirling around it as you hollowed your cheeks. You began bobbing your head back and forth making the grip he had in your hair tighten slightly. He was letting out deep groans that spurred you on, his symphony of noises being your encouragement. Soon, you added your hand back onto his shaft pumping whatever part of his dick you couldn’t fit in your mouth yet.

“Oh s-shit that feels good, princess.” He stammered. You looked up at him through your eyelashes to see his eyes squeezed shut, adam’s apple bobbing as he breathed heavily. You took that as an opportunity to push his cock deeper into your mouth, pushing him down your throat as you gagged helplessly around him. Tears welling up at your lash line as you closed your eyes for a second to focus on breathing through your nose before opening them again. Jeongin propped himself up on his elbow to watch you take him all the way in your mouth as his jaw went slack.

“Are you crying, baby? Fuck that’s so hot, crying while you’re choking on my cock like that.” He bit his bottom lip. You swear you could feel his cock twitch in your throat once he saw tears cascading down your cheeks.

He gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail to keep you still before he started thrusting, face-fucking you. He thought the noises of you gagging and choking were so pretty, it only egged him on. You kept eye contact with him as he ravaged your throat mercilessly. Feeling drool dribbling from the corners of your mouth. More tears rolled down from your eyes. You moaned around his cock and the vibrations from that were all he needed to bust. He threw his head back with a long moan leaving his lips. Copious amounts of cum sliding easily down your throat. You swallowed all of it, not wanting to waste a single drop. You pulled your mouth off of his cock with an audible pop. Strings of saliva still connecting your mouth to his tip. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip collecting some of the drool before bringing it up to his own mouth licking it off.

You don’t know why, but you blushed at the gesture. Of all the things you’ve done so far, this is when you decide to get shy?

Before you could get too lost in thought, Jeongin stood up from the bed and gently pushed up down on it. You landed with a slight bounce watching as the man approached you, still hard dick in hand.

“Turn over baby, I want that ass up for me.” He stated with a demanding tone in his voice. His eyes were dark with nothing but lust. You scrambled to fully kick off your soaked panties before switching to your front and propping yourself up on all fours. The bed dipped behind you as he kneeled into position. Your brain might have been buzzing from the heat of the moment and the alcohol from earlier but you still remembered to be safe.

“Umm, Innie. Can you put on a condom please?” You breathed out shyly.

“I don’t have one sweetheart… I’m sorry. I promise I’m clean.” He wouldn’t wear one anyway. Not with you, not when you were going to be his for the rest of your lives anyway.

“I’m clean too, but I’m not on birth control.”

Perfect. He thought to himself. Easier to trap you.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll pull out.” He lied, no he wouldn’t.

“Wait, I think I have one.” You leaned down over the side of your bed and pulled out a box that was tucked away. You opened the box and pulled out a condom, handing it back to your boyfriend. He took it from you with a tight-lipped smile. Jeongin waited for you to turn back around before pretending to open the condom. You got back into position and swayed your ass in front of him. God, you were going to be the death of him. After fumbling with the wrapper a couple more times to make it believable, he tossed the unused condom back behind your desk in the corner of your room. He made a mental note to go over to properly dispose of it later.

Jeongin grabbed his cock swiping the tip through your dripping wet slit a few times, teasing it at your entrance. He tapped his heavy cock over your pussy before lining up.

“You ready, Princess?” He asked, grabbing your hip with his free hand.

“Yes, Innie, please fuck me” You whined desperately.

Jeongin pressed his cock into your aching cunt only going in about halfway before stopping to let you adjust. He hissed through his teeth as your walls were clenching impossibly tight around him. You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan at the delicious stretch of his cock.

“Ah-hah, fuck baby you gotta relax a little bit, I don’t want to hurt you.” The hand that was on his cock reached in front of you to rub your clit in those slow circles he knew you liked.

“Nnng- so big…” you panted. He wasn’t even bottomed out in you yet and he could already tell your mind had gone euphoric.

After a couple more circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves your cunt relaxed a bit allowing him to move again. He slammed the rest of the way into your core figuring you had enough time to adjust. Your body jolted forward at the sudden intrusion, a scream threatening to rip from your throat. Jeongin granted you a few moments before he rolled his hips against your ass making his thick cock grind deeply into your warm pussy. You let out a string of angelic moans as he picked up the pace full on pumping his cock into you at this point. Your ass jiggled every time your bodies fully connected. The raunchy sounds of pure sex resounding off your walls.

“You like taking this cock don’t you, y/n?” He leaned down so he was whispering in your ear.

“Yes, fuck yes, love taking your cock!” You squeaked out as he landed a harsh smack on your ass. Jeongin pushed your front down to be flush with the pillows as he forcefully took both of your arms to pin your wrists behind your back making your arch deepen. The new position allowing him to fuck into your deeper, his cock repeatedly kissing your cervix. You bit down onto one of the pillows to try and somewhat quiet your moans so you wouldn’t get a noise complaint from your neighbors the next morning.

However, Jeongin had other ideas. He looked down to see where you two were connected. A creamy ring forming around the base of his cock from your cunt. His gaze then shifted to your other hole, it just begging for attention too. He gathered saliva in his mouth before spitting right on your puckered hole. This caused you to squeal in response. He let one of his hands go from your wrists as the other kept them in place on your lower back. His thumb rubbing in the makeshift lube before inserting it into your asshole. Jeongin felt your walls flutter around his cock as he pumped his thumb slowly.

“I know you like that, baby. Your body tells me. Fuck, such a dirty girl,” he sped up his thrusts to your pussy while hooking his thumb in place in your ass. You couldn’t deny it, you reveled in the feeling of Jeongin using both of your holes.

You let out a throaty moan as you felt that familiar feeling in your tummy building rapidly.

“J-Jeongin- cumming cumming!!” You screamed. One particularly harsh thrust had your legs shaking underneath you and your pussy clenching around his cock again.

“Mmf fuck yessss, cum for me,” the tightness enveloping his dick made his rhythm stutter spilling his hot seed deep into you.

If you hadn’t been so utterly fucked out you would have felt that his cum was filling you up.

Jeongin let go of your wrists completely and removed his thumb from your ass. Your legs finally giving out from under you making your body fall flat on the bed. Jeongin collapsed on top of you. Both of you trying hard to catch your breath. He moved before you did, removing his now softening cock from within you. His gaze stayed on your core for a bit to make sure you weren’t leaking any of his cum.

Hopefully this will take and she’ll get pregnant. He pondered.

After Jeongin was sure none was going to slip out he rubbed your back and shoulders.

“You did so well for me, y/n. Do you need anything, some water maybe?” He asked you in a warm voice. All you could do was nod.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He kissed your shoulder before getting off the bed and looking for his black boxers to put back on then walked out to the kitchen. You made your way to curl up under your blankets as your body cooled down. The exhaustion of everything finally hitting you. Jeongin returned with a glass full of water encouraging you to drink the whole thing. When you finished he crawled into bed behind you and pulled you close. Your body fitting perfectly in his hold. Before you knew it you had fallen asleep.

“You’re going to be mine forever. I’ll make sure of it.” He whispered, careful not to wake you.

A few weeks later you were late. At first you didn’t worry about it thinking your cycle was only changing like it did every once in a while. But being more than 10 days late was abnormal for you.

There’s no way I’m pregnant.

You panicked immediately going to a pharmacy and buying a pregnancy test. Once you returned home you took it, anxiously waiting for the results. Five minutes had passed and you looked at the test. It was a strong positive. The test dropped from your hands and at your feet on the floor. But how? You and Jeongin have always been diligent about using protection (or so you thought). You had even been in the process of getting a prescription for birth control.

How am I going to tell Innie? What will he think?

You still felt too young to have kids. Maybe you would eventually, but definitely not now. You simply weren’t ready. Jeongin was going to come over later after he got off work, you’d tell him then.

About six hours later there was a knock at your door. You already knew it was your boyfriend, he always knocked a certain way. You opened the door to reveal the bright smile he wore. He held up a bag of food signaling he brought dinner. Jeongin gave you a chaste kiss then made his way inside setting the food on the table.

“Umm, Innie. I have something to tell you.” Your nerves were starting to get the better of you. What if he thought you had cheated on him?

“What’s up baby? You okay?” He caught on to your avoidance to look him in the eye causing his brows to furrow. You made your way into the bathroom where you kept the pregnancy test on the counter. You walked back out simply handing him the test without another word. Jeongin took the stick from your hand with a confused look on his face. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking at.

“It’s a pregnancy test…” you whispered. He looked at you in shock before looking back down at the test figuring out that it was positive.

“My baby is having my baby?!” He sounded.. happy?

“You aren’t mad?” Now it was your turn to be confused. Jeongin picked you up in a hug and spun you around then set you back down.

“No, of course not. I’m ecstatic!” He exclaimed.

There were so many questions you still had but for now you decided to enjoy the moment with Jeongin. If he was this excited about it then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Just a few months ago you were in a funk about not having someone special in your life, but now you couldn’t ask for anyone better to spend it with.

Jeongin had the most devilish smile on his face.

His plan worked perfectly. Now you’d really be his forever.

Do y'all think Innie would keep his socks on while fucking? It makes me laugh just thinking about it haha

Likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Taglist: @doitforbangchan

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ggomos-maribat · 8 months

Text

6 | in which he orders a strawberry lemonade and peach iced tea

Part 6 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Marinette was reminded that she somehow had the phone numbers of the Wayne family members when Damian called on a Sunday morning. Rubbing sleep away from her eyes, she answered with her summoned 'PA' voice. "Good morning, Damian. What can I do for you?"

She could feel the wave of hesitance from the other end of the line. "Marinette. I didn't want to call suddenly on a weekend but . . ."

"If there is something you need, I'll be happy to help."

"I'll make sure to pay you—any price, you just name it." Damian sounded a little nervous. Her curiosity merely grew upon hearing it.

"Firstly, I don't want you to think that my time is easily bought with money like I'm some automated assistant—"

"I'm sorry—"

"Secondly," she sighed, "You don't have to offer me payment every single time you ask a favor, okay? I'll be happy to help regardless of the monetary compensation."

"Yes . . . alright, I understand."

"Now, what's the problem?"

Damian coughed lightly. "It's about the oil painting piece I'm working on. I considered it a preposterous idea to ask my siblings since they don't know a lick of art to offer good constructive criticism. I have no intentions of asking Father and I don't want to disturb Pennyworth. I thought perhaps someone with a good eye for artistry can advise me.

"I've finished my painting but I think something is missing from it . . . or something is wrong. Unfortunately, I will barely have any time to remake another one so I plan to salvage this one with the help of your criticism."

Damian Wayne asking for criticism. Huh. Marinette's eyebrows raised. He continued before she could speak. "I will send you a picture shortly or if it's favorable for your schedule, you may come to the manor to get a look."

"Nope."

"Excuse me?"

She swung her legs at the edge of the bed and stretched. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to bring your painting to Gotham Park. Bring an easel if you can. And you're going to wait for me there and I'll tell you what I think. Got it?"

"But—"

"Okay, Damian?"

". . . Yes, okay."

***

Marinette couldn't help but skip along the path on her way to the park. Since it wasn't technically a work-related meetup, she had decided to wear a light summer dress matched with a coat, a beret, and a pair of boots. She wouldn't tell Damian, but she was flattered he chose to come to her for help. Proud even.

She kicked a pebble aside. That means I'll have to do my best then.

She suppressed a laugh seeing Damian sticking out like a gloomy sore thumb in the park. He was hunched over on a bench, with the easel and canvas in front of him but facing away from her.

"You look like a lost kitten." The comment drew a frown from his face.

"It's a simple critique," he said quietly, "Why do we have to be at the park for it?"

"You dare question my methods, Monsieur?" She puts a hand on her chest in mock offense. "Now let's see it."

He turned the easel around.

The image was easy to put together: it was a painting of Titus, curled up in a nap near a window which traced a path of light that illuminated him like a spotlight. The striking point was the overall style of the artwork—visible strokes of warm and cool colors, swirling lines as the texture of the window frame wood, and Damian's signature cleverly disguised into the rough carpeted floor. It was easily a magnificent piece, one that transported Marinette to that same spot in the manor and basked her in the same warmth.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Damian looking back and forth between her and the painting. She could feel his uneasiness, having felt uncertainties about her craft as well, like when a thread became annoyingly loose or a design wasn't quite satisfactory.

"You're right." She tapped on her chin. "It's awful."

He stared at her.

"The choice of the colors are so contrasting that they just end up looking muddy when combined." She pointed to a part of the canvas. "And those proportions on Titus are just unrealistic, the painting focuses too much on the two subjects: the dog and the window, that they outshine the details of the surroundings, and overall? It's boring. No emotion invoked at all. You said there's no time to redo it but you're honestly better off painting a new piece even if it ends up unfinished."

Marinette wished she could take a picture of Damian's unhinged jaw.

"That's not . . . it's not . . ." He looked at his work again. "The colors are meant to contrast and I made sure their combination isn't desaturated. Titus' proportions aren't an issue because the shadows and negative spaces fill in the missing shapes, the subjects are meant to stand out but the details are also exaggerated, and it's not boring—it is meant to appear subtle and simple."

He turned to her, scowling. "You of all people should also know that art doesn't necessarily invoke emotion, rather it is more important that the artist communicates their personal meaning and the audience finds their own interpretation—"

He stopped suddenly and took a good look at her smiling face. At last, the boy catches on, Marinette thought.

"Oh," he mumbled. "I see now."

She nodded. "I brought you out here because I guessed it's much better to look at it under natural light. No offense, but the manor barely gets any of that, especially if you're looking at it inside your room."

Damian touched the edge of the easel, as if connecting once more with his creation.

She inched closer to the painting, bending down a little to examine the finest details he added. "You said you felt something was missing but I think it's as complete as it could be. It's beautiful, Damian, really. I'm happy you let me look at it."

Pink. His ears are pink. Marinette fought off another smile.

"Thank you." Damian looked away. "I've been wondering for a long time what to do with it."

"Are you going to ask for it to be put in the manor gallery?"

"If Pennyworth approves, yes. After the exhibit."

Marinette pouted. "What do you mean 'if Alfred approves'? Of course he will! If not, I'll buy this painting myself!"

His eyebrows raised. "You must know Pennyworth has some criteria for the manor gallery. Mar'i's drawing has only been put on the refrigerator door."

She laughed at that, imagining the scenario play out between the girl and the butler. She let her joy subside when she noticed Damian glancing at a building next to the park. Following his gaze, she spotted a newly-opened store that sold bubble waffles and drinks.

"If you do not like monetary compensation," Damian began, "Perhaps a drink will be more favorable? I heard that the place is in its soft opening."

A smile slowly formed on her lips. "Damian Wayne, are you asking me out on a date?"

"It's not a date!" He hastily denied. "It's a repayment."

"Mmhmm, sure why not? It's getting hot anyways." She sat down on the bench, crossing one leg over another.

He told her to wait there before jogging towards the store. Marinette took more time to admire the painting. Based on Bruce's stories, a younger Damian wouldn't be the type to gently ask for critique, nor one to make sure he did a favor in return. There was even a chance that if she ever recounted the day to her boss, Bruce wouldn't believe any of it.

But if Damian's being all soft and gentlemanly, I've no problem with it, she mused. Minutes later, she got a message from him: a semi-blurred picture of the shop's menu. She aimlessly chose her order and waited some more. He returned not long after with two bright-colored drinks.

"Are you sure this isn't a date?" She asked again.

"A date would require at least one of us to harbor romantic feelings for the other," he told her. "Therefore, it is not a date."

Well no, a date can be a prelude to any romantic feelings, she wanted to argue. But instead, she leaned towards him and smirked the cheekiest of her smirks. "How sure are you that I don't have any romantic feelings for you?"

He choked on his drink.

Marinette let him recover as he dabbed the corner of his mouth. "You have not given indication that you do." He avoided her eyes. "Also, you are legally not allowed to."

"Pfft, my contract with Mr. Wayne says 'thou shall not enter into a relationship with any of the Wayne children'." Her grin is stuck like glue to her face. "Not 'thou shall not flirt with Mr. Wayne's cute son.'"

"But—you . . . what . . . Why would you find me 'cute'?"

"I just do," she replied. "Why do you find Titus cute? Alfred the Cat?"

Damian started sputtering uncharacteristically, barely getting a coherent phrase out.

"Oh, you are just so fun to tease, Damian."

He scoffed loudly, then sipped more of his lemonade. "I'm glad I provide entertainment to your bland life, Ms. Dupain-Cheng."

"Yeah, thanks for that!"

It seemed that he couldn't top her comebacks so he changed the subject. "Finish your drink quickly. I'll take you home."

"A ride home!" Marinette gasped. "This is a date!"

"It's common courtesy. Pennyworth will be disappointed with me if I don't make sure you get home safe."

***

That same night, Marinette was delighted to see that the weather stayed fair, and the sky cloudless. Instead of taking her motorbike, she opted to take a stroll to her favorite fabrics shop a few blocks away from her apartment. Luckily her patterns of choice were all available despite being hard to get.

Unluckily, she noticed shadows following her as she heavy-lifted three bolts down the street.

Marinette tugged down her cap. She was close—just a hair's breadth—to saying, 'It's a bit too late to be stalking your assistant on her way home, don't you think Mr. Wayne?'

But she held onto her tongue and stopped at a well-lit area to glare at the big furry following her. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Batman?" She huffed at him.

Batman coughed, shielding himself with the darkness. "I need to talk to you."

She peered at the bright colors hiding behind him, sporting curious gazes filled with both wonder and excitement. "If it’s only you who needs to talk to me, why is the entire flock here?"

Actually, the others didn't even bother to hide. Black Bat was hugging the lamppost, Spoiler bounced on her heels and Red Robin carried a professional camera. Heck, even Red Hood was there, even though Crime Alley was miles away from the area.

She could feel the exasperation radiating off him, a truly tired parent, as he turned around to give his children vigilante partners a Look™️. In a second, they all grappled upwards, perching on their respective ledges and balcony railings as if they were an eager audience to a performance. (Marinette didn't miss the way Robin glanced her way before he went away).

Marinette arched an eyebrow. "So?"

Batman coughed. That awkward cough Bruce also does. Seriously, how come the world doesn't know his identity yet? "I would like to apologize. For intruding the office and catching you off guard and . . . throwing my weapon at you."

She gave it a minute. Just full silence and a hard stare.

Just to make him squirm.

"Okay," she said slowly. "And why did you think it was a good idea to do this in an empty street at twelve am?"

"You shouldn't be out so late at night anyways."

"What was that?"

". . . Nothing."

Stifled laughter rang from above.

She frowned. "Did Mr. Wayne agree to this? Couldn't you have done this at, I don't know, back in the office where it's safer and less creepy?"

"Wayne said you don't have overtime anymore this month," Batman grumbled.

"What, like you can't drop by during the day? No don't tell me—" She paused. "You're allergic to sunlight!"

He shifted from one foot to another. "Hn. I am not."

"You're a vampire."

"No."

"Don't worry, I won't tell." If her sore arms weren't occupied at the moment, she would've made a zipping motion with her fingers. Seeing Bruce in the spotlight of embarrassment was enough to make up for the incident. "Look at the time, I need to go now."

"We can escort you—"

"No thanks," she declined sharply while walking away. "Don't follow me home or else I'll personally ask Mr. Wayne to put a restraining order on all of you."

Marinette stopped again, remembering something, and without missing a beat, plucked something out from her sweatpants pocket. She grinned. "You forgot this."

With a flick and whoosh, the Batarang sailed towards the vigilante and stuck atrociously to the ear of his cowl.

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette #daminette #maribat damian wayne #damian x marinette

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thewritersaddictions · 6 months

Text

Requests/Drabbles: (RE3) Jill Valentine- Kiss Come True

It’s been nearly a month since Jill’s nose has grown unprecedentedly. Now, it’s longer than she can bear. It got to the point where she no longer had room in her Raccoon City apartment. So, out the window it went. It was easier that way instead of fighting to get into her kitchen or other places around her apartment.

During that time, you wonder how Jill is doing, seeing as you haven't heard much from her. As you walk down the street, it becomes relatively easy to tell why Jill hasn't been responding to your phone calls or really anything you have sent to her.

It has only gotten worse since the day she walked out of the base's door. Her nose is long and stuck outside the window of her apartment. It takes me a moment to get up to her apartment door; the elevator ride is slow and filled with shitty music to fill the void.

I knock once, then knock a second time, but am interrupted by the yelling of Jill telling me, 'Doors unlocked. Just come in.' That should have been the first red flag, but it didn't have I turned the door knob. It does when I open the door to see Jill sitting at her desk with her face stuffed out the window. "Jill?" I ask her, "You'll have to come here to talk to me." Her voice could be more warm and gentle.

Instead, she sounds frustrated by a situation that has yet to be dealt with. I move quickly to her side to better look at her face. The shock must be written on my face because she nearly growls out with frustration.

"How long have you been like this?" I point to her position, sitting outside the window. "For almost a fucking month, Y/n." Jill shakes her head, causing her nose to bounce from one side to the other of the window frame.

"How about we try to disguise it while I figure out how to get it back to normal?" I suggest I hear her groan, but she nods gently. "I'll do anything to get my nose back to normal." Jill sounds exhausted, so I work quickly.

The first thing I try is a flag, searching her room for something flag-worthy. On her walls are posters of music bands, but the flag pride flag that hangs over her bed frame is what I chose.

Kicking off my shoes to get up on her bed, pulling the flag out from the grips of the thumbtacks. I grab some loose shoe laces to tie through the loops on each corner of the flag.

I go to lean out of the window frame but find that Jill's nose is already being used as a refuge for a mama bird and her baby birds. "Well." I say as I inch out of the window, "Well, what, Y/n?" Jill asks. "You've got umm, your nose is being used as a nest for a mama bird and her babies." The look on Jill's face shows crippling defeat. I sit and wait, get comfortable on the chair next to Jill. Moving her furniture around so I could get a better eye-to-eye conversation with her.

The silence is all-consuming, so I lick my lips. "Jill." She looks at me the best I can. "Yeah, Y/n." "I think I should probably apologize for not explaining the extent of that pill I gave you before the party," I say, chewing on my bottom lip. "No, don't… I probably should have waited for you to explain the shit anyways. So, it's my fault. Don't worry about it, okay." Jill says, taking the blame for the large extended nose that has a bird's nest on it.

"Even if you don't let me take the blame for your Pinocchio nose, I'll still stay until the pills effectively wear off, or we have to figure something else out." I tell her confidently, "Is that alright, Jill?" I ask her. She nods, almost as if she doesn't trust her own voice.

I get on my phone almost immediately. Texting a fellow from my university days. The chat takes little time for me to explain what's been going on and the world we live in. It doesn't take long for the fellow to come up with an answer.

My fingers tap in quick succession, getting Jills attention. "What are you doing over there?" She asks me, "Just some scientist friend of mine. Saying that the only way to cure this ailment of yours is a kiss." I continue to tap on my screen's keyboard. "A kiss?" Jill asks. Just as shocked as me,

"On your nose, that's what the guy said," I say, clicking my phone screen off before setting it down next to me. The science that hits after isn't uncomfortable. It just silence, "Wait… don't take that the wrong way. It's not that you aren't beautiful, Jill, just I wouldn't wanna make you feel uncomfortable." I ramble out. My cheeks are hot to the touch and red with blush.

"I wouldn't mind a kiss on the nose, I mean," Jill says, the littlest of blush hueing her cheeks and nose. I get up from the chair I'm sitting in, gathering myself. Before I manage to kiss Jill's nose, I step back.

"Are you sure of this?" I ask her one last time to ensure I'm staying within the bounds. Jill nods with a little bit of excitement. Reaching over, grabbing onto my wrist, and pulling me in closer to her side. "Go ahead, don't be shy." Jill murmurs. I lean down, pressing my lips into her nose. With my eyes closed, I hope and pray that this works.

Her nose shrinks in seconds, and I smile joyfully as Jill looks around her apartment. "God, this place is a mess." I laugh as she gets up, closing me in for a tight hug. "Thanks for the save."

Completed on: 11/03/23

Posted on: 11/12/23

RE3-

#jill valentine #jill x reader #jill x fem!reader #jill valentine x reader #jill valentine x you #fluff #fem reader #female reader #requests are open #open requests #requests open #resident evil 3 #jil valentine #the request #request #taking requests

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emperor-palpaminty · 2 years

Text

Nettles

I’ve been playing The Wolf Among Us. do not harm me, i beg.

Growing up one of my favorite stories was about the woman who had brothers that were turned into swans. She had to remain silent, make shirts out of nettles, and along the way she fell in love.

female reader

It was a warm Thursday when you finally managed to get into the Business Office. The notepad was somehow too heavy in your hands, and your throat was tight- not that you needed it really, you hadn’t spoken in five and a half years. The tote on your shoulder was heavy and your wrist hurt, a complication of crocheting too much and writing. Your hand cried in abuse, and you stretched it out subconciously.

You blinked when the door opened, squeaking in complaint. You nodded your thanks briefly at the man exiting- a disgruntled lanky fellow- and you bustled in, swallowing.

You stood as the door slammed shut. You felt awkward- exposed but claustrophobic at the same time in the huge and cluttered room. Your feet forced themselves to move as you slowly entered, quietly turning and staring up at the vast ceiling ahead.

A soft and polite cough pulled you from your fascination at the floating boat ahead. Your head snapped back to the front and you waled in the direction of the desks, pausing in front of it, staring down at the woman in the chair. The room felt bigger the more and more you moved away from the door, oddly enough, and while the desk and lady behind it was small compared to it, her presence was massive.

“Yes,” She asked again, raising a brow. “Can I help you?”

You pressed a hand to your throat and shook your head, quickly moving forward and lowering yourself into the seat across from her. The notebook opened with a thwip, and you quickly scribbled something down. You felt her eyes on you- raised slightly in amusement, watching, until you set the notebook in front of her.

I can’t talk. Sorry. I’m here for help.

Her eyes skimmed over the words and you glanced over her desk- Snow White. Not that you didn’t know the name, it was just hard for you to remember she was here. Everyone was- faces you knew for a moment and did not recall.

“Well, then,” The woman’s voice called your attention back to her. “How can I help you?”

Your pen was already moving. My brothers- they were changed. I need help finding them.

“Finding them?” Ms. White’s brows perked up after the sentence. “Where did they go?”

You only shrugged- some responses did not require a pen. The room seemed to echo her words, the soft tapping of your heel on the floor as your leg bounced quietly. You had worn your converse today- a prized possession saved for days where you knew would be on your feet a lot. It was easy enough to get out of the house- you had been lucky with your job, landing an editor for articles from a college not far. The would mail you several student documents (some of which were shoved into your bag) and you would mark them up, red ink and all, and mail them back.

Even now, the papers rustled as you shifted in the chair, and Ms. White turned towards the phone on her desk. “What were your brothers changed into?”

Swans.

Again, her lips pursed, and you only offered a sheepish smile in response. “Swans? And... why did this?”

You sighed quietly, glancing at the paper. You knew from the stories that Ms. White did not exactly have a great relationship with her stepmother; in fact, you were pretty sure most fables who had a step-parent had some kind of trauma. That was probably what made them fables, a tragedy.

The pen stayed nestled in your fingers. You chose to offer only another shrug.

___

It was Friday and you were back in the Woodlands building, tapping on the door to the security office. Ms. White had referred you down here after you had (somewhat, the best your writing could do) explained as much as you could regarding the situation. She had said the Sheriff would help.

Your hand trembled slightly as you knocked again on the tinted dimpled window. You had not met the sheriff before- you had heard his name pass from the bar you frequented, or heard Fables whispering about him. But no, you had not met him.

Eventually, after your third time knocking, you leaned against the wall and tugged your crochet hook from your bag, exhaling, wrapping the thin string of nettle around your fingers as you started to work on the shirt, still missing both sleeves. You ignored the slight burn from the material, the subtle venom has rubbed your fingers raw at this point. Your first shirt had made your arms break out into a hellish rash, but your body must have adjusted quickly. Through magic or through mercy of the curse, this shirt, the fifth one, was somewhat more bearable.

The rhythm of crocheting with the thin nettle fibers sunk in, the thread sturdy as you worked, watching, making sure you didn't miss a stitch. The wals stayed barren every time you glanced up at them, as if ensuring they did not move, or shift, or perhaps change color.

You should have been grading papers.

You paused briefly to scratch your fingers when you smelled it- cheap cigarette smoke. It took you a moment when you glanced up to register that the man at the end of the hall, watching you, was the sheriff. Was he supposed to look tired?

He raked a hand in his hair, which settled unnaturally as he stepped to unlock his office. “You’re early.”

You nodded, smiling sheepishly, knowing full well that he was late. You brushed it aside as you tucked your work into the bag, tucking everything in neatly. The prickles prodded as you searched for your pen, reminding you of your promise of silence. The hardest part of this vow of silence was not introducing yourself- speaking to others, saying hi, laughing.

The sheriff pushed open the door and stood to the side, motioning you in. “Come on in.” He watched you enter, eyes flickering down to your work in your hands. “I understand your brothers are missing. Bufkin sent us your file.”

You didn’t know who Bufkin was, but you nodded as the wolf plunked a manilla folder onto the table. “They aren’t out at the farm.”

Both relief and worry flooded your lungs. They weren’t at the farm, but they weren’t at the farm. You had hoped somewhat they had been shipped off, or caught and sent there. You set your bag on the floor between your feet as you lowered yourself back into the seat, searching the Sherif’s face for hope, comfort- answers.

Bigby stared at your hands for a minute, eyes flickering to each finger. “You been... knitting for a while?”

It’s crochet- You nodded, deciding to not correct him. You didn’t feel like digging for your pen.

The sheriff’s fingers tapped on the counter as he stared at the file again. Finally, he looked back up at you, exhaling softly. He didn’t look like a wolf, or even a wolf with human flesh on. Could he still smell and hear like a wolf? Your foot tapped his desk, and you chewed the inside of your cheek.

Bigby lowered his gaze back to the paper as he shut the folder. “I want to help you. Really. But I don’t know if you’ll like the outcomes.”

You nodded, sitting up straighter. You hoped he could tell from your stance, your eyes, that you were determined to do whatever it takes to find your brothers. Your family would be whole again, no matter what the sheriff could or could not find.

#the wolf among us #twau #bigby wolf x reader #bigby wolf x you #the wolf among us reader insert #not sw #minty writes

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prianya · 2 years

Note

Hi! I'm not sure if I'm doing this right so please forgive me if I'm not.

Could I request something romantic with either Etho or Scar?

I love your writing and I hope you have a lovely day/night/whatever time it is for you!

Costume Negotiations

Etho x Reader ▪︎ Romantic

Word Count ▪︎ 605 words

Summary ▪︎ Despite your best efforts, you can never get a moment to study. This time, your boyfriend has some interesting, Halloween themed, ideas.

Note ▪︎ Back at it again with the college AU! Also, your request was absolutely perfect! I chose Etho because I have three Scar pieces to be posted, and I hope you enjoy! Also, @boop-ity, this was the fic that the pointless poll went with.

After every time you've ever had your focus interrupted, this time would take the cake. You were studying for an important test, with the grade on the assesment taking up a good portion of your overall grade, when you heard small taps on your window. You ignore the taps, not feeling like listening to whatever shenanigans one of your friends have planned. The taps persist, and you decide to open the window to save yourself from snapping another pen.

You push open the window, and lean out to see who was on the ladder under it. Etho's face is what meets you, and he's halfway up the ladder under your window frame. You steady the ladder for him, and effectively stop the source of the annoying taps.

"What are you here for, Etho? It's almost 11 at night," you call gently. Etho focuses on climbing the ladder, and then presses a sweet kiss to your lips when he reaches the last of the rungs.

"I wanted to ask you about something," he says simply, and you cross your arms at the vague wording.

"Ask me about what?" you reply, and Etho only grows more enthusiastic at whatever idea he had in his head.

"I was thinking, what if we went rick or treating together? Just think about it, it would be fun and we would get candy," he smiles at you, as if trying to convince you to sat yes to his ridiculous idea.

"I'm not going trick or treating with you, Etho. You're a grown man, and we have class tomorrow," you roll your eyes and shut the window in his face. Etho stayes poised on the ladder with a pout, and repeatedly knocks on the panes of glass.

You roll your chair across the room, and grab your phone from the nightstand. Still sitting, you snap a picture of Etho's pitiful look and send it to the group chat. The first person to open the image is Cleo, who sends 'lol' in response. As soon as Bdubs opens it, you can hear Etho's phone ringing. Through the window, you see Etho reach for his phone and fall backwards slightly, throwing out his arms for balance.

"Come on, please just trick or treat with me!" Etho says after he regains his balance, and you hear a faint voice, Bdubs, agreeing with him. With a sigh, you open the window, and watch as Etho slides in the window awkwardly. He makes a small thud as his knees hits the floor, and pushes himself to a stand.

"As I was saying, you're Frankenstein and I'm the bride," he says, draping himself across your bed, and hanging up on Bdubs despite his protests.

"Absolutely not. Plus, why are you the bride?" you scoff at him, and continue to write your notes.

"I'm the bride because I want to wear the dress, duh." You roll your eyes once again at his words, and spin to face him.

"If we're going as Frankenstein and his bride, I'm the bride." Etho shakes his head at your words.

"No dice. I'm the bride, or we don't go."

"I didn't even want to go, Etho," you say confused, and he pauses.

"Oh right." You sigh at him, and spin in slow circles in your chair.

"We can go, but only if you buy me tacos after," you eventually offer up, and Etho perks up at your words.

"Deal! I'll get you all the tacos you want, and I'll even share my candy with you!" He bounces on the bed, excited at the idea of trick or treating with you. You just shake your head, a fond smile covering your face.

#hermitcraft x reader #ethoslab x reader #etho x reader #pri writes!!

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landinoandco · 3 years

Note

Could I ask for a Max Verstappen request?

Where you get all excited to tell him you’re pregnant and it doesn’t go well. Could you make it super angsty

Of course you can :) here you go, I hope you enjoy!

Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: angst but with fluff at the end

Word count: 2.2 k

Requests are open...

Baby, the future is ours

At last the summer break had rolled around again, to the relief of the Formula one drivers and crew, they had 3 long weeks ahead of them to fill with whatever they deemed stress-free or relaxing. The subject of activity depending on person to person - most sane folk tended to stick to a holiday to Greece or if you were an adrenaline junkie like Daniel Ricciardo jumping out of planes or BMX biking. You had lost count of the times Max - your boyfriend - had rushed in to tell you about all of the exciting things his best friend had gotten up to as of late.

You and Max had decided to take a break and travel to a cosy, quiet part of Italy - to escape the press, the stress and most importantly the eagle eye of social media. It would just be you and him for a few weeks before reality brought you back to Milton Keynes in the shape of Christian Horner and his motley crew.

You and Max had met in 2018 at a gala event Redbull had hosted, Pierre Gasly - being a close friend of yours - had introduced you two and to say the pair of you hit it off instantly was an understatement, whether it was a mixture of the Dutch meets British humour you had no clue but you weren’t one to complain. A few months later and Max had asked you to travel around the world with him - you did so willingly and life had been nearing perfect ever since. Of course you had your ups and downs, where the universe seemed to really test not only your love for one and other but your patience. A few arguments had shown you that both being hot-headed never ended well.

You were sat out on the balcony, a book in hand and looking out into the Italien countryside. Max had left for a run and to explore the local village, leaving you, your thoughts and your growing baby. You were pregnant - you had taken the test just before flying out, this meant that Max wasn’t aware. You hadn’t told him yet and you had no clue how you were going to. As it turns out telling your partner you were pregnant was easier said than done - ironically.

You and Max hadn’t had the baby talk yet - you had but only along the lines of: “one day, when we’re older and married and driving isn’t the main priority anymore.” Those were Max’s words. He wanted to be there for his child, to watch him or her grow, to see every milestone but most importantly to be a good and nurturing father.

There was part of you that was slightly worried because you just didn’t know how Max would take it - you couldn’t keep it in any longer though. You had to tell him. There was another part of you that was excited - from a very young age you knew you wanted to have a family of your own with the person you loved the most. Call it childish naivety. At this point in time, you were ready to become a mother - well as ready as anyone ever could be.

Placing your book onto the table, you made your way into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it. Sighing loudly as you leant onto the countertop.

“That was a loud sigh.” A voice called out from behind you. You recognised it instantly. Whipping your head around, you saw Max standing there, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Chuckling, you hit back, “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to you and wrapped his arms around your middle, placing a sweet, chaste kiss onto the side of your head. Leaning into his warm embrace, you let out another long but content sigh.

“Seriously, what is it with you and sighing today.” Max uttered, his lips still against the side of your head.

You went to move forward, out of his welcoming embrace. You knew what you had to do.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Instantly the atmosphere changed, you could feel Max stiffen behind you. Maybe the tone you chose to make that comment in was too serious but it was now or never.

“Haha, which of your friends is pregnant this time.” He quipped jokingly, trying to break the tension.

Instantly you knew the way the conversation was going to end, a pang of hurt felt in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, catching your lip with your teeth. He stood there with an air of innocence and unknown, concern dancing in his eyes - he went to reach his arm out to you, to offer that encouragement.

You braved the words that came out of your lips, “Me.” You almost whispered. Time seemed to slow. Max dropped his arm and instantly took a step back.

“Pardon.” Was the only thing he could force out of his mouth, his throat seemed to close up and his hands went clammy. He definitely heard you the first time but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t a night terror. A bad dream he had failed to wake from.

“I am, Max,” You said again, your voice wavering.

“Oh.” He stated, his face drained of colour, his mouth set in a straight line.

“Is that all you have to say.” You swallowed thickly, your eyes swam with tears. You had a hunch this was how it was going to end but it didn’t stop is from hurting the way it did. You had hoped he would have proved you wrong, to have wrapped his arms around you and to have spun you around. To have laughed. To have cried. To have shown a little more excitement to the fact you were now carrying his child. His first child.

You moved past him and sat down on one of the wooden chairs, rubbing your hands over your face. He was still stood there. His eyes fixated on the view out of the window. No emotion read in his eyes. It was almost like you had hit the ‘off’ button. He tapped his foot and made a clicking noise with his mouth before turning around to face you - meeting your gaze.

“How long have you known.” His voice was hoarse.

“A couple of days before we flew out.” You answered him, moving your face back to rest in your hands.

There was a pause. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner.”

You took a breath, looking him dead in the eye. “Because I knew this was how you were going to react.” You didn’t trust your voice at all, you also didn’t know whether you wanted to scream at him or cry in the corner.

“Right.” Was all he said. Still stood there like some awkward teenager after a rather large telling off from their mother.

“Is that all you have to say to me?” You asked him, nostrils flaring. You were allowed to be angry, right?

“What do you expect me to say.” He rounded on you, his voice raising more than was necessary. Tears had spilled down your cheeks, you didn’t have the energy to fight back. As soon as he realised the effect this was having on you, he went to move forward again, his eyes softening instantly. “I’m sorry - I - I shouldn’t have raised my-”

“Get out, Max.” You stated lowly. By this point, you had stood up, shuddering away from his desperate grasp. He knew he had made a mistake. You knew he regretted it, the moment the words had left his mouth.

“Get out?” He repeated quietly, his voice cracking, you could see tears glazing his vision.

“Just - please, go on a walk - come back once you have more to say to me.” You spat.

“But - But I already have more to say-” You cut his rambling off once again.

“Please. Max.” You insisted, your voice betraying you again. “Go.” You whispered.

Max stormed out of the door, ensuring to slam it so hard the chandelier on the ceiling swung precariously. You sank back into your chair and let out a loud sob, unable to hold it in any longer.

Max was mad. Not at you, that would be unfair. He was mad at himself. At the world. At everything actually because at this point why the hell not. You were pregnant - don’t get him wrong, he was over the moon. He was going to be a dad.

It was too soon.

He still had his full F1 career ahead of him. A promising and long F1 career as a matter of fact. He wanted a baby to be his main priority and he wanted to share those one in a lifetime moments with you. He knew there was no point in being mad, it wasn’t like they were in a position where they couldn’t have a child. They had plenty of things to offer, a nurturing home with parents who were head over heels in love with each other and a large family - blood and not - who would be willing to support and love the child as if it was their own. Max really was in love with you. He knew it would be you to mother his children in the end, he just didn’t think it would be now.

He reached for his phone, went into his contacts and pressed on the number that read the name: “D.R new phone.” Whilst it wasn’t adventurous like many thought it would be, it saved the confusion from calling a number that no longer existed.

Daniel picked up on the second ring. “Hey dude, how’s it going?”

“Not good at all, Dan, not good at all.” Max admitted, his voice wavering once again. He explained the events that had happened a mere 5 minutes ago, the way he reacted and the way he left you. Hurt and alone.

“I’m not going to lie to you, mate, you’ve fucked up big time.” Dan spoke after what felt like a loud silence. After all, Daniel knew you just as well as he knew Max.

“I know. I know I have, do you think I’ve been selfish?” He asked, his tone full of raw emotion.

“Yes.” Dan stated simply, “I think you have been, especially since she even told you this is how she thought you would react. How much stress do you think she had been putting on herself? Come one, I’ve taught you to be better than this.” Daniel paused, Max could almost hear him place his thumb and ring finger onto the bridge of his nose. “You know, just as well as I know, she knows it isn’t the best time. Her becoming pregnant is very much a two person job, I think it’s time that you go back to her and have a conversation like the adult I know you are.”

In that moment, Max was so grateful to have someone like Dan just a call away. “Thank you, Dan. Really. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Alright Mr Father-to-be, don’t be going all soppy on me now.” Daniel joked, returning back to his normal teasing. That was the best thing about Daniel, he was quite useful when you needed him to be.

“You can count yourself on being the godfather after that.” Max added, a large beaming smile plastered onto his face.

He heard Dan let out a loud laugh, “Go on, leave me be. Good luck, mate, let me know how it goes and when the time is right tell her I say congrats.”

“Of course, mate. Thank you, again.” Max muttered, looking back in the direction of the villa. After he hung up, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and ambled slowly - working out exactly what he was going to say to you.

Once he had opened the door, he called out to you. “Babe?” He heard a sniffle in response. You were still slumped on the chair in the kitchen, shooting daggers at the cupboard opposite.

Max sat opposite you, reaching out for your hand. Grudgingly you let him take it, you blinked and he took a deep breath before a large, beaming smile crept onto his face.

“We’re going to be parents.” He rubbed the back of your hand, speaking tentatively. You nodded, your lower lip trembled. Max stood up, still keeping a hold of your hand as he gave it a slight tug, indicating that you should stand up. You made your way into his embrace, his arms wrapping securely around you, tucking your face into the crook of your neck as he rocked gently side to side, burying his face into your hair. He then moved his hands to cradle your face, wiping the stray tears away before peppering your face with feather light kisses.

“We’re going to be parents.” He repeated, a little louder and to this you let out another sob, laughing as he picked you up and spun you around.

“I’m sorry. I was being selfish.” He said, as he wrapped you back up into his arms. You smiled into his chest. In that moment, you couldn’t be happier. It was like all of your childhood dreams had come true. In that kitchen stood your new family, mismatched and sometimes a little bit broken but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fanfic #f1blr #f1 2021 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #formula one one shot #formula 1 x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #fanfiction #f1 requests

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tom-holland-parker · 3 years

Text

Begin Again

Summary: 8 months after you broke up with Peter, you finally agree to meet up with him, but you’re still unsure if he deserves a second chance

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Warning: none

Word count: 1409

Masterlist

Notes: Wow another fanfic inspired by a Taylor swift song (did you honestly expect something different coming from me). Anyway this is Part 2 to “The Moment I Knew” which you can read here. Also shout out to @hommyy-tommy for asking if there's gonna be a part two because once they asked about it I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Side note: If you’re ever in The West Village in Manhattan I 100% recommend eating at Bus Stop Café, they have THE BEST bacon egg and cheese and don’t even get me started on their orange juice. Plus the people who work there are SUPER NICE. I pretty much spend every Saturday in the summer there and it’s really worth it.

You took a deep breath as you looked in the mirror. You couldn’t help but second guess your outfit as you adjusted your dress. “Maybe it’s too much” You shook your head, “I’ll wear sneakers instead”

“What’s wrong with the shoes I picked out?” Wanda asked, watching as you moved back and forth from your closet to your mirror. “He hates it when I wear heels”, you shook your head again in frustration as you looked through the piles of sneakers you had, “He knows I’m clumsy so he gets scared I’m going to break my bones if I wear them”

“Since when do you care about what he thinks?” Nat asked as you put on your black vans. You didn’t really know how to answer that question. It had been 8 months since you even talked to Peter. You ignored him for the rest of the school year and spent the summer vacationing through Europe so you didn’t have to see his face. You both ended up at the same college but lucky enough you had different majors and hardly ever saw each other. When you received that phone call last week you nearly threw your phone out the window. You couldn’t stop repeating that conversation in your head.

“Don’t hang up” He said as soon as you picked up. You took a deep breath, “What do you want?”

He sighed in relief, “I know you probably hate me right now but-” he paused trying to find the right words. You paced back and forth in your room trying to relieve the sudden anxiety that had built up inside you. “I wanna see you, I wanna try and explain, maybe make things better between us”

You remained silent trying to process what he was saying. “Hello?” he asked, disappointment filled his voice. “I’m still here” you whispered, “Fine, next Wednesday, Bus Stop Café, how’s 5?”

“Yeah 5 is great” You could practically hear his smile through the phone, “I’ll see you then, bye”

“I don’t know Nat” You sat on your bed, rubbing your temples in hope that it’ll relieve the headache forming in your head, “I just thought if I didn’t see his face, the problem would go away” You felt Wanda rub your back as you pulled you in for a hug, “Sweetie, sometimes you just need to face things head on”

You sighed, “I don’t think I can do this”

“You got this kid” Nat said as she crouched down in front of you, patting your leg, “On the plus side you can always kick his ass and he won’t stop you”. You chuckled as you checked your phone for the time, 4:20, “I need to be in leave now if I'm going to make it to Manhattan on time”

///

You’d always been the type of person to take everything as a sign, maybe that’s why you became extra nervous when you noticed the rain outside. Maybe it was the universe telling you this was a bad idea. Happy dropped you off earlier than you expected but you didn’t mind, it gave you time to prepare for what you were going to say. “I’ll call you when we’re finished” You waved goodbye as you walked into the warm café.

“Still using Happy?” You jumped when you heard Peter’s voice coming from the table next to you. You stared at him for a second, the fact that he was early took you by surprise. If you were being honest you expected him to be late. He stood up, pulling out the chair for you as you walked towards him. “If I didn’t he’d be out of a job” You smiled awkwardly as you sat down, “besides getting my own car would require me being able to pass a drivers test”

“Well you always were the bad driver”, Peter smiled as he sat down, his fingers fiddling with the straws, “I ordered your usual. I hope that’s okay”

You nodded your head looking around the room. You weren’t sure why you had chosen here, it was the place you and Peter had your first date. Maybe after talking to him for the first time in a while your brain subconsciously chose the place where you first fell in love with him. Funny enough it was in the same booth.

“So how’s school?” You asked, ignoring the thick tension that was growing between the both of you. “Oh schools great, engineering is kicking my ass but it’s fun, How are design classes?”

You shrugged wondering how he knew what classes you were taking, “They’re good I hate my professor but it is what it is”

“Alright we got one large plate of fries, one bacon egg and cheese with extra ketchup, one grilled cheese with avocado and tomato” the short waiter places the plates on the table, “and two large cups of freshly squeezed orange juice. Let me know if you guys need anything else"

"Thank you" you both said as the waiter walked away. You sipped on your drink as awkward silence filled the room. The fact that you were the only ones at the café didn't help. Maybe you should've chosen another day, at least then you'd have some background noise to distract you.

"So how was your Christmas?" Peter asked as he took a bite out of his sandwich. "It was fun. Finally convinced dad to buy everyone matching pajamas" you chuckled, remembering how annoyed your father was at your constant begging. "And you? Did May force you to watch love actually again?"

He rolled his eyes, "yes and it's still as boring as I remember". You laughed, "I could say the same about star wars"

He gasped sarcastically, "I see you still have terrible taste in movies"

"I'm just saying" you smiled, "all those movies and not one of them are good". He rolled his eyes, "you haven’t even seen all of them"

"That's because I've seen enough bad ones to know there isn't a good one" You laughed, watching as he rolled his eyes. You always loved to annoy him with your, in his words, terrible opinions.

He smiled reaching across the table to grab your hand, “I missed your laugh”. You pulled away, looking down at your sandwich, not sure how to respond to him. Peter took a deep breath watching as you stuffed your mouth to avoid the conversation, “Look I’m sorry if I could go back and change it all I would”

“But you can’t” Your foot tapped on the ground nervously. He let out a heavy sigh, “I called you because I wanted a chance to explain myself”

“Well-” you sipped your juice, “Explain”

“I let everything take over my life, The suit, the responsibilities. I was blinded by everything that I forgot the important people in life and I didn’t realize how much I was pushing everyone away until I lost the person who meant the most to me. Those 8 months were hell for me because i didn’t have you”

“For months I thought you didn’t love me anymore”, You bit your lip, looking down to avoid eye contact. “No it’s not like that” Peter reached for you hand again, “I loved you, I still love you”

You looked up, watching as his face turned pink with embarrassment. “Peter-” Your voice was barely above a whisper, “I can’t do this”. You stood up quickly, leaving 20 dollars on the table before rushing out the café.

“y/n wait” Peter shouted chasing after you, “Just let me make it up to you”. You shook your head not bothering to look back at him. It wasn’t hard for him to catch up to you, you cursed yourself for being a slow runner. He grabbed your elbow gently pulling you to face him.

“Just give me a second chance” he said with pleading eyes. You stared at him for a second debating what to do. If you were being honest with yourself, having Peter back in your life was something you really wanted but you just had a hard time admitting it. You let out a deep breath as you rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Don't think because we’re back together that I’m not mad at you” You whispered as you pulled away, “You still have to make it up to me”.

He smiled giving you another kiss, “I think I can handle that”

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xxxsweetdreamzxxx · 3 years

Text

warnings/tags: dom!Yixing sub!reader, fanfic, smut, slight fluff; cursing, size kink, fingering, unprotected sex, railing, cream pie

summary: over a weekend, the sexual tensions between you and your best friend Yixing come to a breaking point

word count: 4.7k (um, wow)

===============================

i went all out on this one, hope you all enjoy!!

P.S. only the ending is based on a dream this time, I made up the rest :>

===============================

"What are your plans for this weekend?" You asked the two men in front of you.

The three of you sat around a small round table outside your favorite local coffee shop, a few blocks from your work. Around you, the city buzzed in the excitement of mid-day. The autumn sun peeked through whatever gaps in the buildings it could to light up the streets below. Every now and then, the sounds of downtown - a speeding car, a siren - would interrupt the conversation.

Their answers to your question were both something along the lines of 'absolutely nothing' with looks of dread for the boredom to come.

"Why do you ask?" Junmyeon, the one to your left, asked.

Shrugging your shoulders and peering into your nearly empty coffee cup you replied: "I don't know, I was maybe hoping I could tag along with one of you since I don't have anything to do either."

To your right, Yixing was quiet and deep in thought. "I know." He suddenly announced. "Let's go camping!"

You pondered the idea for a moment. The chance to completely disconnect from and forget about the stresses of adult life - even if just for a couple of days? Not to mention a whole weekend alone with your two favorite people in the whole world. Sounded better than any other activities you could think of at the moment.

"Sure why not." you agreed, looking to Junmyeon. "Are you coming with?"

"I'll have to be back Sunday night, but sure."

"We'll bring two cars then, since me and y/n don't have to get back until sometime Monday." Yixing proposed.

Junmyeon knowingly smiled at him. "Must be nice getting a long weekend, I should join you guys' office."

The conversation trailed off into unrelated chatter, until your lunch breaks were up. Parting ways with Junmyeon, you and Yixing walked back to your building a few blocks away, continuing the conversation alone.

In your sophomore year of high school, the two of you had become fast friends, both having the same interests and intended career path. He had then introduced you to his friend Junmyeon, and although you didn't have as much in common with him as Yixing, his easy-going personality made you warm up to him quickly. Throughout the remaining two years of high school, the three of you had been inseparable. You didn't even have any girl friends, but you didn't need any with the boys always around.

Although, you would be lying if you said you'd never caught feelings for either of them. The truth was both were very attractive and had girls falling for them left and right. Multiple times over the years you yourself had gone through phases of having a crush on one, then the other until finally you decided it wasn't worth potentially ruining the friendship. These days, those feelings were rare - and dismissed as quickly as they came up.

Entering your office building, the two of you rode the elevator up to your floor. Exiting quickly through the still-opening doors, you said your goodbyes to Yixing for the rest of the afternoon with a slight wave as you both headed to your individual desks.

.•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•.

The rest of the week was uneventful, work progressed at the office smoothly. Later on that day, you'd gotten out of the shower after work to find Yixing and Junmyeon already texting in your group chat and making plans. Junmyeon was in charge of food and drinks. Yixing had a large tent that could be used, and would pick you up Saturday morning.

y/n: you guys have to leave at least one thing for me to do

not_a_sheep: bring yourself

y/n: very funny

suh01: don't worry y/n, we'll work your ass off once we get there

not_a_sheep: we? I never agreed to this

y/n: promise

suh01: i'll make sure of it

y/n: lol k

y/n: I can also bring equipment like flashlights and first aid just in case

not_a_sheep: good idea

And so it was that you awoke early on Saturday, pulling your hair into a loose ponytail. You dressed in some light denim shorts, a tank top, and a cropped jacket that provided just enough warmth until the day heated up. You kept your makeup natural, so if it was damaged by the outdoors in any way it wouldn't be noticeable.

Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you quickly opened it to the lockscreen and glanced at Yixing's text signaling his arrival. Grabbing the backpack you'd packed the night before, you slid on your sneakers and headed out of your apartment and to the street. There he was waiting for you, Junmyeon sitting behind him in his car. Waving briefly at Junmyeon, you turned to Yixing's car as he rolled down the window.

"You can toss your bag in the backseat." He instructed, smiling at you.

Doing so, you then got in the passenger seat, closing the car door. He sped off in the direction of the country with Junmyeon following close behind. You picked up the soft sound of music playing at a low volume through the speaker. Only when he turned the volume louder did you realize he was playing your shared favorite band on the radio. Turning to smile at him, you saw he'd been waiting to see your reaction and once he did a grin spread across his face. God was that a cute grin.

You ignored how flushed you suddenly felt by averting your gaze and singing along to the music. And that's what you continued to do for the next two hours. You didn't hold back one bit, you were so comfortable with each other. Your voices mixed in a passionate duet - you both knew every line the lead singer sung.

Before you knew it, you were racing past open plains and small pine forests with no signs of civilization in sight. After passing by a few potential spots to set up camp, he pulled off the road near the edge of a forest and field. Rolling through the bumpy grass for a minute or two, he finally stopped and parked the car once the road was out of view.

"Wow, we're in the middle of nowhere." You observed, exiting the car and taking a look around.

"It's perfect!" Junmyeon called, walking over from his car which was parked a little ways away. Once he'd gotten closer, he spoke again at a normal volume. "So, what did I miss out on in the past two hours?"

"Only a concert sung by y/n and yours truly." Yixing replied with a shrug.

At this Junmyeon laughed. Leaving the boys to talk about the drive, you walked around to the trunk of the car. Opening it, you took the tent out which was still folded up in its bag.

"Where should we set this up?" You asked, holding it up for them to see.

"Somewhere near those trees." Yixing pointed. As you began carrying it over, you heard him call out to you again. "Hey y/n, Junmyeon and I are going to quickly gather some firewood for later!"

"Alright!" You yelled without looking back.

You walked over to the flat area that he'd instructed, a few yards from the trees. Making sure the cars were still in sight, you sat the tent down and began to unpack it, separating the pieces. Unfolding the stiff main walls of the tent, you attempted to flip the thing right-side up - except now it was too big for you to move. You tried a few more times before stepping back for a moment so you could muster up all your energy.

You felt someone standing behind you the second before they tapped you on the shoulder. Startled, you spun around to find Yixing right next to you with that grin on his face. Behind him you could see a pile of fallen branches he'd set on the ground.

"Need some help?" He asked.

Sighing, you smiled at him in defeat. "Sure."

Each taking one side of the tent, you easily flipped it over with his assistance. It consisted of a single large interior room and a separate screened "porch" in the front. You then found a rock that fit in the palm of your hand, and used it to pound one of the stakes on a corner of the tent into the ground. It worked well. Moving to do the same on the next stake, you bent over to reach it. You could feel Yixing's eyes glued on your figure the whole time you drove the stake into the earth.

Straightening up, you glanced at him with a teasing look on your face. "What?"

Embarrassed that he'd been caught, he quickly looked away and acted like he was going to work on one of the stakes that you hadn't gotten to yet.

"Yixing, did you need something?" You asked in the same tone, subconsciously very aware of his intent but refusing to fully acknowledge it.

Chasing him down around to the other side of the tent, you found him still avoiding your eyes, a slight pink painted across his cheeks. "Can I use that rock?" He asked, refusing to make eye contact.

"Oh, sure." You replied, handing it to him. You were stopped from making any further comment by Junmyeon's approach, branches in his arms.

"Who wants lunch?" He asked, dumping the wood with the rest.

"Me!" You were starved after not eating breakfast.

Heading off to his car, you decided to keep it silent between you and Yixing as you waited for Junmyeon to return. He returned with some sandwiches he'd prepared for all of you, and nothing was said for minutes as you devoured them. Then the idea of a hike was brought up and agreed to.

After finishing every bite of your lunch, water bottles were gathered and the three of you made your way into the forest. Junmyeon led, while Yixing was in the middle and you brought up the rear. You soon came across a creek, and decided to follow it so you could easily retrace your steps when you decided to head back.

Yixing's back was facing you as you followed him along the trail that Junmyeon chose. With him in your view the entire time, you couldn't help but take note of his broad shoulders, his tight ass. The way his sculpted muscles moved as he walked showed his strength - it was all very attractive. Continuously you were shoving these thoughts from your mind only for them to return again. 'He's my friend.' You reminded yourself. 'I can't think like this.'

Eventually you opted to just stare at the ground until you got back to the tent - several hours later. By the time you returned, the three of you were exhausted, muscles aching. The sun was already lowering in the sky, turning it all shades of orange, pink, and yellow. Grabbing the wood gathered earlier, the boys built a bonfire the best they could while you went to grab the marshmallows out of Junmyeon's car.

When you returned, the wood was already ablaze. They'd created the perfect campfire, setting the biggest logs flat on the ground as seats. It was just dark enough now that the fire created a barely visible glow that warmed the ground and air near it. Already sitting, they turned to look your way at your approach, Yixing's face lighting up with the sight of the marshmallow bag in your hand. His grin made your face feel hot and you quickly looked at Junmyeon instead, who smiled at you, understanding conveyed in his gaze.

This exchange made you blush further, as you looked down at the grass and sat down next to Yixing on a log. Why did you feel this way? And why the fuck did you just sit next to him? Maybe you were just going through another phase of crushing on one of your best friends. These thoughts ran through your mind as you focused on opening the marshmallow bag. 'Nothing'll come from it, as usual.' You reminded yourself.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of your mind again, you asked: "Do we have some sticks for this?"

"Here." Junmyeon replied, leaning over to hand you some he'd gathered. It occurred to you that this whole time he'd been watching you, reading you.

The sky darkened, and the night got late. The three of you ate marshmallows, both golden and burned. Stories of all genres were told by everyone. Laughter filled the air. At some point, drinks were brought out, and enough was had to the point that everyone was tipsy. The tales became more ridiculous, small secrets were spilled without any thought. But it was okay, you probably wouldn't remember any of it by morning.

Slowly, one by one, you began making your way to the tent as time creeped into the early hours of the morning. Junmyeon was first, followed shortly by Yixing after he'd put out the fire. He asked if you were coming too, and you replied with something like "in a minute."

When you did stumble your way over to the tent several minutes later, you moved to open it when you heard hushed voices. They were practically whispering, but bless your good hearing - you could just make out most of the words.

"Are you sure?" Yixing asked, excitement detectable in even his whisper.

"I think so," Junmyeon replied, "...can't look at you... blushing..."

You put your ear even closer to the tent wall, struggling to hear Junmyeon.

"I'm scared to make a move." Yixing confessed. "I'm scared I'll ruin everything."

Then Junmyeon said something inaudible.

In your drunken state, none of these words made sense. Did he have crush on somebody? Deciding you couldn't stay awake out there any longer, you finally entered the tent. They already lay on the ground, falling asleep. Junmyeon acknowledged your presence with a soft "hey" before rolling over on his side to face the wall of the tent. Yixing lay in the middle. You slowly crawled next to him on the other side and laid down.

After a few minutes, Yixing spoke the last words you heard before drifting off to sleep. "Goodnight y/n."

.•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•.

The light of the late morning sun filtered through your lashes as you blinked open your eyes. The first thing you noticed was the throbbing in your head, the second was the arms securely wrapped around you from behind. Remembering the sleeping arrangement the night before, you quickly realized it was Yixing, spooning you like a child hugging onto its favorite plushie. At this revelation, your heart began pounding rapidly.

You reached to touch his hand. "Yi- yixing?" You asked in a quiet voice.

"Hmm..?" He moaned, semi-awake.

For painfully long moments he continued holding you as he fully awoke and assessed the situation. When he realized he suddenly pulled away, sitting up and mouthing a "sorry," hoping Junmyeon wouldn't hear. Taking deep breaths to calm your heart, you sat up as well.

"What time is it?" You asked in the same tiny voice.

He grabbed his phone off of the ground and looked at the time, surprised by it. "10:23."

"Ugh." You groaned, rubbing your forehead. "My head's killing me."

At this, Yixing became concerned. "Do we have pain killers?"

"Yeah, in my emergency bag." You replied, still holding your head with your hand.

"I'll go get them." He said without a second thought, quickly exiting the tent. Not two minutes later, he came back pills in hand.

"Do you have water?" He asked.

At your motion to your water bottle a few feet away, he leaned over and grabbed it. Opening the pill bottle, he took out a dose and handed it to you. Then he did the same with your water. He made sure you took and swallowed them, concern never leaving his expression.

"Isn't your head hurting too?" You asked.

"A bit, but I'll take care of it after you start feeling better." He replied. "You're more important."

Not knowing whether to take that as a compliment or not, you pouted. "No I'm not, you're equally important. Where's your water?"

"Gone since yesterday."

After thinking a moment, you held out your water bottle to him. "Here."

He stared into your eyes, a little taken aback but looking to see if you were truly fine with it. For once, you met and held his gaze, letting him know you were. Taking the bottle from your hand, he swallowed the pain killers. You watched as the tip of your bottle that had been on your lips moments before touched his. But it was the way that he tilted his head back as he took a sip that made your indecent thoughts return. You snapped your head towards the wall, covering your reddening face with your hand.

He set the bottle down again, not noticing your state. "Thanks y/n."

He then moved to exit the tent again, waking Junmyeon. After rubbing his eyes and running his fingers through his hair, Junmyeon left you in the tent alone, still just as flustered and replaying the morning's events in your head for minutes on end.

After you'd calmed down, the rest of the morning and afternoon flew by. Pretending like nothing happened, the three of you went about activities similarly to yesterday. You had brunch, then walked into the forest again, heading for the creek. This time, you went in, the coolness of the water refreshing from the mid-day heat of the sun. After splashing around and playing for hours, you returned back to the campsite and roasted some sausages over the fire for dinner. When the last bite had been finished, the three of you continued talking right up until the end of your time together.

Standing up from a log, Junmyeon sighed. "Well you two, I've gotta bounce. I'll leave what food's left with you."

"Aight man." Yixing stood up, giving him a quick hug. "See you in a few days."

Yixing then said something quiet to him, causing Junmyeon to nod.

"Bye y/n!" Junmyeon called, waving at you.

A little confused that he wasn't offering a hug as usual, you didn't voice it and waved back. "Bye!"

With a smile, he turned and walked to his car. After removing the cooler with food inside, he took off, leaving you alone with Yixing. On your own, not as much was said, you chose your words more carefully. He started the fire up again with some new wood that had been gathered that day. You sat on separate logs, slowly conversing as the sky became colorful, then dark. This night was a bit cooler than the last, and you began to shiver slightly.

During an awkward silence, he noticed this. Without saying anything, he reached out an arm, inviting you to sit on the same log as him. Heart rate speeding up a bit at the thought, you shuffled over to sit beside him after no hesitation. Wrapping his right arm around you, he pulled you close.

"Better?" He asked, smiling a sweet smile.

"Mmmh." You agreed, trying to loosen the way your body had tensed.

The minutes ticked by, and the only thing you could hear was the pounding of your heart deafening your ears. Then your worst fears came true.

"Y/n... is that your heartbeat?" He questioned.

When you refused to answer, mind racing, he pulled your face around to look at him, hand on your cheek. "Hey, are you alright? Your face is burning up."

In that moment, a feeling overcame you. Maybe it was because of the way he cared so much, the genuine concern he expressed. Or how you felt infinitely safe around him in a way you couldn't describe. Although, it could've also easily been the way the firelight danced off his tan skin. The way it lit up his warm brown eyes more powerfully than the sunlight could ever dream of. It could've been any combination of those things or others. But something compelled you to pull down his face to yours, brushing your lips across his in a soft kiss.

Snapping out of it, you pulled away, seeing the shock on his face. "Oh my god, Yixing I'm so sorry I-"

You were cut off as he kissed you back, a long deep kiss that you melted into. When you finally pulled apart, you giggled at how stupid you'd been.

"What?" He asked, smirking.

"I'm so blind. I thought you didn't like me in this way."

He shook his head. "I have for a long time y/n."

As he met your lips again, your heart felt as though it was soaring above the clouds. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ran your fingers through the hair at its base. Quickening the pace of your kisses, you began to breathe heavier. Panting, you felt him pick you up by your waist and place you on his lap. You began to grind your hips down into his. Groaning, he quickly stopped you by gripping them, firmly holding you in place.

"Slow... down.." He panted, speaking between your kisses.

"But- I want this." You told him, meaning every word. The wetness already pooling between you legs confirmed it.

At your spoken consent, he released his grip on your hips. Straddling him, you began moving again, slower than before like he'd instructed. A growing bulge felt between your legs made you keenly aware of his arousal. A stronger thrust on your part made him grunt and swear against your lips.

"Shit y/n."

Suddenly you both lost your balance, crashing onto the grass a few feet away. You were only on top for the few seconds it took him to remove your shirt before he rolled you under him, pinning you in place. He took control of the pace, speeding it up. Being completely engulfed in his shadow made you want him more.

Spreading your legs wider, he unbuttoned your shorts and began pulling them down. Then he tugged at the waistband of your soaked panties and pulled them down to your ankles as well. Fully exposed to him, the scent of your arousal mixed with the smokiness in the air, penetrating your sense of smell. There was no way he wasn't aware of it too. You felt him move a hand down your body towards your naked heat.

When you felt the first touch of his fingertips against your folds, trembles rocked your body. You forced yourself to relax, settling down into the soft grass. Only to get excited again as he started tracing fast circles with his thumb on your clit, spreading your slick. You felt him smirk at how wet he'd made you. You arched your back up off the ground, moaning at the pleasure.

Beginning to feel your high building, you didn't warn him just yet. But unexpectedly, he inserted two fingers into your dripping pussy without warning. You cried out, sucking in a sharp breath as you flexed your walls and came onto his finger all in seconds. A little surprised, he pulled them out. Whimpering, you rode out your first orgasm underneath him.

After you'd calmed down a bit you moved to unbuckle his pants. He held your hand away for a moment.

"Y/n, I didn't bring a condom. And... I don't want to hurt you." He said carefully.

"I..." you panted, "don't care... I can take it." Another breath. "Just take care of me afterwards."

After hesitating a moment, he let go of your hand, and assisted you in removing his clothes. First his pants, then shirt, then his boxers. Springing free from the fabric, his cock stood erect as you took it in. It had good length, but its girth was what made you lay your head back on the grass and prepare yourself. The following seconds inched by as he moved towards you.

Pulling him down closer onto your body, you led him into another round of rough kisses as you felt the tip of his cock brush against your clit. Taking his hand in yours, you intertwined your fingers with his, waiting.

Pain shot through you as he slid into you harshly with a single thrust. Pushing deeper, he used his strength until he was balls deep in just two. He filled you up so much, almost too much. Bitting your lip, you did your best to adjust to his size. But he didn't give you much of a chance to, as he pulled out entirely after only being inside for a few seconds. The empty feeling was more painful than the full. You throbbed, desperately needing him back.

Thankfully he didn't wait long before fulfilling this as he repeated himself multiple times. Your combined pants and moans filled the night air as he forcefully fucked you into oblivion. It didn't take much of this to cause your second high. Aggressively pounding into you again for the unknownth time, he hit that sweet spot. Your mouth fell open and you gripped some blades of grass next to you with your free hand.

"Th- there-" you managed.

Understanding, he didn't remove himself fully again, only doing so partially before angling himself to hit the same spot. He only did so twice before you came undone for the second time that night.

"Yixing!" You cried out too late.

You clenched around his cock, feeling it twitch inside you. He swore, arms becoming shaky and breath choppy, warning you right before he came. Hot strings of his cum shot through you, filled you up to the brim. Your combined wetness then spilled out of you onto your inner thighs and the grass. Pulling out completely, he flopped down onto the ground next to you, grinning and breathing heavily.

Reaching out to touch his face, he held your hand against it. Then he pulled you closer, kissing your swollen lips gently. Parting, he looked into your eyes and smiled. You still couldn't look at him in this way without blushing, but it didn't matter anymore. Taking you into his arms, he held you as exhaustion caught up with you. Not a word was said, but none had to be for you both to know the mutual happiness you felt.

.•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•.

You awoke to the sun peaking over the eastern horizon, lighting up the nature around you. Laying on your side, you felt something warm pressed up against your back. Rolling over onto your other side, you winced at the prickling of the grass on your bare skin and the soreness between your legs. You saw it was your best friend's bare chest that had been pressed against your back. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, slightly curled around your body.

Realization hit you as you remembered the events of last night. Eyes widening, you gasped and covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. Peaking through your fingers, you saw his eyes were now open, that same adorable grin plastered across his face.

"Morning honey." He stretched a bit before realizing where you both lay. "Oh god, did we fall asleep here?"

"Mhmhmm." You replied with a nod.

Sitting up, he grabbed his pants and pulled them on before standing. Offering you a hand, you accepted it and tried to use your legs. Immediately they buckled under you. No way were you walking to the tent.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed as he prevented you from falling. He then scooped you up from the ground and into his arms.

"What the hell have you done to me?" You playfully asked, poking his cheek.

"I'm so sorry." He replied in a serious tone.

"Hey!" You scolded, not meaning to make him feel bad. "I asked for it."

He side eyed you as he carried you into the tent, smirking slightly. "Yeah you did."

Setting you down on the floor, he laid down next to you, cuddling up to you again. A few soft words and kisses were exchanged as you drifted off to sleep together again. It looked like this was what the rest of your trip would consist of, and you'd be lying if you said the thought didn't please you.

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

Text

ＢａｃｋＴｏＹｏｕ (ＳａｍＷｉｌｓｏｎｘＦ!Ｒｅａｄｅｒ)

📎Word Count: 1.5k

📎Warning/s: some heckin’ words. Bucky’s in this, he’s a bit annoying (affectionately) <3 MINORS DNI.

📎A/N: omg my first Sam fic! i wanna thank my boo @babyboibucky for enabling me hsakjdhak ily! this is for you, bee!

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

📎 Follow the story: Back To You, Dimples, Inked

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky says, annoyed that Sam has been looking down on his phone, remotely giving attention to their conversation.

Sam grins, fingers dancing over the keyboard on the screen, “Yeah, yeah. Something about motel rooms—or beds.”

“I said that they gave us two beds in one room,” the former spots their door number, quickly walking to it. The tactical bag swinging over his cybernetic arm freely.

The night was warm, the air blew the ocean mist towards the town. The parking lot is empty save for a black sedan that’s already been through a lot. They chose to stay low instead of getting a room at a decent hotel close by–something about them not likening the crowd.

Once inside, both men cleared the room in 30 seconds flat. The window opens out, the door stays closed and locked. The TV has to be on but kept on low volume. The beds are made, it’s clean; beats the flat beds on the plane.

Sam throws his bag over to the bed closest to the window, calling dibs. “Hey, you got headphones?” He asks.

“No,” Bucky answers, settling his things below the foot of the bed, “why?” He catches Sam again smiling giddily over something, “what you got a girl there or something?”

“It’s none of your business,” Sam retorts, quirking his eyebrow upwards, “well? Do you have headphones?”

“If you listened to me, you would’ve heard me say ‘no.’”

Bucky should’ve had brought headphones. Sam has been droning on and on with a ‘friend’ over on a video call.

Not that he’s eavesdropping and nosy but he saw how Sam lit up when a voice came in from his phone.

“Hey, Sammy! I finally get to see your face.” You say, your voice crackling over Sam’s speakers, “am I on speaker right now?”

Sam smiles, focusing on your background and seeing pictures and posters plastered on the wall, “oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot my earphones somewhere.”

“What? Old man Barnes rubbing off on you?” You laugh, your glasses reflecting your laptop’s screen. Your joke sending Sam into a laughing fit.

“You know he’s in the room, right?” Sam clarifies as he turns the camera to Bucky, much to the former’s dismay. But despite himself, Bucky waves to the camera.

“Heard a lot about you, Barnes! Hope you’re ready for frequent bathroom trips from this one.”

Sam faces you again, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes, “Shut up or I’m gonna drop the call.”

You quickly send him an emoji via text, Sam rolling his eyes as you giggle. “Anyway, since you can’t join in on the fun, you’ll be my audience tonight.”

Sam gives you a confused look, a hint of crease appearing between his brows. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”

A fake gasp and an overdramatic show of hurt had him chuckling, “You already forgot the karaoke night you promised me, didn’t you?”

He grins apologetically and looks at the camera, as if looking into your eyes, “I’m sorry. Been busy these past few weeks.”

You smile softly, the imagery giving Sam a burst of butterflies in his tummy, “it’s okay. I was just being dramatic. I got that from you, you know.”

You are not a good singer. But you confidently belt out the highest of notes like one. Complete with hand gestures, you hold out the last note of the song.

“Thank you,” you bow down to your imaginary crowd off-camera, “I’ll be here all night.”

“On god, please don’t,” Sam interjects with a tender smile and soft eyes.

“Sammy!” Your eyes glazing over your screen, a deep pang of homesickness hitting you, “I missed this. I missed you.”

He nods, his lips pressed tightly as he tries to find the words to respond, “I missed you too, bub.”

A soft note of a love song sounds over your speaker, traveling to his, “you love this song.”

Sam nods, reminiscing the moments he had with you during college. The one time you almost kissed—where are these memories and feelings coming from?! “Yeah, and---”

The doorbell rings on your end. Your eyes glinting as you stand up. Food delivery!

“Hold that thought, Sammy. My food’s here,” you say, your voice faint as you’re practically halfway through the door.

“She is a god-awful singer,” Bucky expresses, “but you love her, don’t you?”

“What?” Sam quickly taps a button on his screen—stupid Bucky and his stupid mouth. He covers his phone’s mouthpiece as if that could help, “shut the hell up.”

Sam’s changed demeanor confirms Bucky’s growing suspicion, “so you do love her!”

The latter glances at the empty screen, hoping you didn’t hear anything. Or maybe, he does?

The only sign of life from your end is the sound of various utensils cluttering and a metal bowl falling to the floor, making both men wince at the sudden noise.

Sam lowers the volume of his phone, facing Bucky from their respective beds.

“Shit,” Sam exclaims, running a hand over his handsome face, “maybe I do.”

This time, he finally lets himself go through the memories you made together before he left for the military.

The coffee dates, the late-night calls, the breakfast hangouts, the study sessions. You light up even the most boring of things. The texture of your skin, the sound of your laugh, the twinkle in your eyes bring Sam into a warm place.

You make him feel enough. You see him through and through.

Oh shit, he is in love with you.

Bucky just looks at him, boring holes in his face, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “You really just realized, just now?” Sam’s not sure if it’s a rhetorical question.

“The way you talk about her. The way you talk to her. You see her and the things she like everywhere we go and you realize it just now?” So, it is a rhetorical question.

The revelation leaves Sam amused but unable to form words, “I… Do–I do love her. I’m in love with my best friend.”

A silent beat drops in the room—save for the faint hello? coming from Sam’s phone.

Ah, fuck.

Bucky put on his jacket planning to head out (to the motel’s ice machine) to give you two privacy. He bids Sam good luck and you a good night before walking towards the door.

As soon as the door shuts, Sam increases the volume on his phone again.

“Sam?” You call out, “I can’t see you, your cam’s off.”

In panic, he realizes that he tapped the wrong button—maybe Old Man Barnes had rubbed off on him.

You smile and sat up a little bit straighter when his face lights up your screen again.

“So… how much did you hear about the whole thing?” Sam wants to tread carefully around the subject, the first time he feels uncomfortable opening up to you.

He fully expects you to dismiss the topic, turn in for the night, and leave him lamenting about his feelings. And he’s somehow okay with it.

“Kinda, everything.” You confess, there’s nothing holding you back now, “I, you know-- I’m glad you got ‘round it. Even if it took you years.”

Another pin drops inside Sam’s head, “what do you mean?”

“Look, I confessed to you before we graduated but you never acknowledged it. So, I never brought it up again.” Even miles apart, Sam’s presence was around you. The bracelet he gave you during junior year, his favorite mug you borrowed from him, a ton of his shirts and hoodies that he gave to you before moving out after graduation.

��You confessed to me? When?” Sam racks his brain for the smallest of details, for the quietest of whispers.

“I wrote you a letter. Remember? I slipped it under your door after finals week.”

After all these years, Sam never quite found out who wrote him that letter, “you never signed it.”

Sam didn’t expect you to laugh, to double over such a serious conversation, “dude, I did, I signed it. Why would I send you a deep proclamation of love without signing it?”

“It was written on pink paper, right? I still have it. You wanna bet that you don’t have your name on it?”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, heat creeping up your cheeks, “oh my god, are you serious? I didn’t sign it?”

Sam laughs softly, his eyes crinkling the same way. There are lines decorating his eyes but he was still your Sam.

“No, ma’am.” He declares, the air somehow lighter now, “if you did, I would’ve said something.”

A hum escapes your lips, curling into a gentle smile, “good to know.”

The comfortable silence envelops the room, years of yearning and pining finally coming to end.

“Hey, after this mission - I was thinking if you want to go out. Catch up and you know, finally, talk in person.” Sam asks, there’s still a tiny voice inside his head not believing the talk that had transpired.

“I’d love that, Sam.”

The sentiment crashes and closes in on itself as Bucky barges into the room, holding a bucket of ice in one hand and a pack of beer in the other, “congratulations, idiots.”

#bitchasbucky writes #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x reader fluff #sam wilson x reader angst #sam wilson x reader smut #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson smut

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ill-be-your-honey-bri · 4 years

Text

Banana Pancakes

HELLO MY LOVES! WHEW! This one took me WAY longer than I had wanted it to, but you know, life comes at ya and you gotta go with the punches.

That being said, this fic is part of @stellarboystyles THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY FIC CHALLENGE! Congrats darling (though I’m a month late)! I had picked the single parent trope and the line I chose to use for the challenge is bolded and italicized in my fic.

Without further ado, I present my Nanny!Harry fic. Enjoy, leave a like, REBLOG FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Send me some feed back, asks, love or hate, I don't care. TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS!

I love you and treat people with kindness.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, a sprinkle of smut, and a dash of angst (if you squint).

Harry woke up to the smell of the crisp, cool fall air coming through his cracked bedroom window. The sky was still an inky fog as he stretched his arms over his head, skin pimpling as the air caressed him. He woke up before his alarm out of habit, knowing it would ring out shortly.

He roused out of his bed, extending his stretch through his legs and let out a satisfied groan when that one particular muscle in his lower back felt the pull it desired. He turned to his phone to turn his alarm off before going to the window to shut it, only after his dark tabby cat climbed back into his rightful home. Harry mumbled a ‘morning handsome’ to his fuzz ball, crouching down to give Elvis some morning loving.

Elvis followed Harry into the kitchen, knowing it was time for breakfast, mewing while figure-eighting between Harry’s feet.

“I know bub, I’m getting it.” Harry let out a yawn as he was filling the cat’s bowl. Elvis jumped on the counter, shoving his face in the bowl before Harry was even done filling it. “Eager this morning, are ya? Out there charming all the lady cats got you hungry? I hope you were a gentleman, I taught you better.”

Harry began making his coffee and filled his mug before returning to his room to get ready for the day. He decided on picking her favorite sweater; his blue ‘mon petite’ chickadee jumper. He laid it out on his bed as he pulled out his brown wide legged trousers and a striped button up to layer. He jumped in the shower to rinse off the morning haze and the ‘sleepies’, as his girl calls it.

His girl.

He smiled as he thought about her, what they had planned for the day. Maybe he will take her to the museum, stop by her favorite cafe, pick up a new book for them to read. He finished getting ready, pulling out his bike from the hallway closet to get it all set for his venture to his girl’s house. He grabbed his backpack, filled it with his girl’s favorite snacks, books, and their matching lavender water bottles, smiling as he threw his bag on his shoulders and carried his bike down the stairs of the apartment building.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry got to his girl’s home, putting in the code as he turned the key as to not awake her with the alarm. He put down his bag by the entry table, kicking off his scuffed up white Vans before softly padding up the stairs. He saw the door cracked open, slowly pushing it open further before walking to kneel by the bed.

He gently pushed her unruly hair off her beautiful face, seeing her lips in a pout and a furrow in her brow. She stirred slightly before her big doe eyes sleepily blinked open, causing Harry to smile down at her, which earned him a smile back.

“Good morning, my sweet girl.”

“Mornin’, did mama leave yet?”

“Not yet, Monkey. You know she can never go to work without giving you your kiss.”

Layla sat up fully, making grabby hands for Harry to pick her up and carry her downstairs. Harry could hear you in the shower getting ready for work as Layla cuddled into him on his way to your kitchen.

If you would have asked Harry two years ago if he thought he would be the nanny to your daughter, he would have laughed at the idea. He had been working at a daycare center when he first met you and his girl, Layla.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was an infant when you had to return to work. Being a single mom, you needed to do what was best for you and your little bundle of joy. You had done extensive research on all the daycare facilities in your area, even venturing out a little further to get the best for your little angel. You had taken her to Small Wonders Daycare, nervous for your first day back as a pediatrician resident at the children’s hospital and your first day away from the love of your life.

You had walked into her assigned room provided by the administration when you completed the application and interview. The room was duckling yellow with moss green accents. Babies were laying on their bellies on the floor, being cooed at by a gentleman in a sheep sweater vest and tan trousers. He looked up to see you with Layla in her carrier, beaming and quickly hopped on his socked feet to meet you at the door. His co-teacher promptly laid with the little ones on the floor.

“You must be Mrs. Y/LN!”

“Um, no, just Dr. Y/LN or Y/N preferably.” You smiled at him as he was blushing from embarrassment.

“I - I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright. Not the first time it has happened.” You smiled at him before looking down at your little one who is looking around with wide eyes. Harry also looked at the carrier, quickly gaining his composure as he saw the little beauty.

“And you must be Layla!” Cooing at her, causing her to smile and blink slowly. He got on his knees as you placed the carrier on the floor so that he was able to unhook her and gently pick her up to his chest. He softly looked down at her as she returned the gaze, “Don’t tell the other girls this but, you have got to be the most beautiful little girl I have ever met.”

Layla quickly nuzzled into his chest, scratching gently at one of the sheep on his vest, giving you a sense of comfort and ease, knowing that your daughter is already in good hands. You had tried not to cry as you told Harry her schedule and routine, handing him her diaper bag.

“She prefers her milk at room temp, she gets fussy if it's too hot or too cold. There is enough breastmilk for the day and formula as well, if you need it. She has been eating me dry.” Harry gave a light chuckle, handing you your baby as he was putting the breastmilk in the refrigerator, Layla’s diapers and wipes in their designated spot by the changing table.

“I packed some extra clothes in her bag too, lots of bibs. She is not the most ladylike when it comes to eating, huh baby?” You gently rubbed her cheek as you looked down at her with maternal love.

Harry, always in awe of the way a mother could love her child and after being with you for a few moments, he knew that you could never love or cherish anything more than the little being cradled in your arms. The way your daughter looked up at you with awe, watching your every movement. That was a love that Harry always craved for.

Seeing Layla grow was one of Harry's fondest memories. He was there when she started to take her first attempt at steps, babbling and cooing her first ‘words’. When it was time that Layla was meant to graduate from his class room, it broke his heart. And it broke yours too.

Harry and Layla had created such a bond, you couldn’t bear for them to part. So you did the only thing you thought you could do when you walked into the classroom to see Harry laying on his back with your little one being held up in the air, giggling away with a few teeth that finally peeked through her gums.

“Hello my little one!” You had knelt down on the carpet next to Harry as he was handing you Layla, who was extremely happy to see you; kicking her legs and squealing happily. “Did you have a good day?”

“She was a little monkey today!” Harry was packing up Layla’s diaper bag as he was telling you about her day. “She was trying to climb out of her crib, climbing all over my lap during lunch and my back during tummy-time.”

“Oh no! We just got crawling down like a boss and now you get the gall to start climbing! You’ll be walking before you know it and then we will be in real trouble, wont we missy?” You started to kiss her chubby cheeks, making giggles bubble from her tummy.

“I’ll certainly miss her.” Harry gave you a shy smile as he carried her diaper bag and a gift from him for Layla to you. He handed you her bag as you stood up before handing you the gift bag.

“What’s this?” You gave him a curious look as you took the bag in hand as you settled Layla on your hip.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and wiggled his socked toes. “It’s just a little something.”

Layla reached her arms out to Harry, as if she knew this would be the last day that they would be able to cuddle. You handed her over easily, tapping her bum before opening the gift bag. Inside was her favorite book to ‘read’ with Harry, (you're pretty sure it's because of the way Harry reads it to her because she crawls away every time you try to read it). There was a crochet sweater that Harry told you his mom made, and a framed photo of Harry and Layla where Layla is squeezing Harry's cheeks to pull him in for a sloppy kiss.

You held your chest as you looked at the photo and tears began to well. “Harry, this is… this is so sweet, thank you. She loves you so much.”

He smiled down at her, scrunching his face, which Layla had mocked, “I guess I love her too. You have a very special girl on your hands.” He kissed her little nose before she cuddled onto his shoulder.

“I don’t want her to have a new teacher.” You wiped your eyes as you put Layla’s gifts back in the bag. “Would you want to be her nanny, Harry?”

Harry froze at the offer, a little taken back by being offered what he would consider to be a dream job; help you care for your perfect child. Granted, Harry had thought of this before but more of a fatherly figure than a nanny, but he would take what he could get to be close to both of his girls.

“What do you say Monkey? Want me to be your nanny?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry made his way down the stairs with Layla wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder. Her little fingers were twisting in the curls on the nape of Harry’s neck as he was humming and rubbing circles on her back. Layla unraveled herself as Harry approached the table to set her down so that he could start the coffee maker and begin making Lalya’s favorite breakfast.

Layla watched on with sleepy eyes, occasionally giving them a rub, as Harry pulled out a mixing bowl, flour, eggs, vanilla, bananas, and Layla’s favorite part, chocolate chips. She had quietly stood up from her perch and made her way to the ingredients as Harry was setting up the coffee pot. Harry had turned just in time to see Layla pop a small handful of chocolate chips into her mouth. She froze her movements.

“Monkey… what did I say about eating the chocolate chips before they are in your pancakes?”

Layla slowly reached for a few more, putting her hand out to Harry, “We share?”

Harry couldn’t help but to let a chortle out as he bent down, meeting his girl as her little fingers gripped on the chips that she moved to pop them in Harry’s mouth. “Thank you monkey! Would you like to help me mix?”

Layla quickly nodded as Harry picked her up to place her on the counter, making sure she was far enough from the edge before he handed her the whisk and placed the mixing bowl in front of her. Harry measured out the ingredients before putting them in the bowl for his girl to start mixing. Harry had pretended that he didn’t notice her add more handfuls of chocolate chips into the mix.

Harry heard your heels on the hardwood upstairs and Layla quickly turned when she realized you were coming down the stairs. You took Harry’s breath away, as you always did when you walked into the room. He could never take his eyes off of you when you were in his line in vision. He took in how perfect the blush pink, knee length, a-line dress perfectly hugged your curves. The way the nude heels made your legs look miles long. How perfect your hair frames your face and the beaming smile as you saw your baby girl.

“Good morning, baby!” You walked to the island of your kitchen to give your daughter a kiss, noticing the taste of chocolate when you pulled your lips from hers. You hum and squint your eyes, causing Layla to let out a giggle as she covered her mouth. “That’s funny, I’m pretty sure Harry hasn’t made you any pancakes yet, so why are your kisses so yummy?”

Layla shrugged as if she had no idea what you were talking about, causing you to look at Harry who gave you the same exact shrug your daughter had just given you. You shake your head, resting your hand on Harry’s lower back as you pass to make your coffee.

Harry focused on the touch, wishing that your hand was pressed a little firmer and a little longer. He wished that after you kissed your perfect carbon copy, you would kiss him too and catch him red handed after sneaking a few chocolate chips. He had wished that he wouldn’t have to go home at the end of the day to his lonely apartment. He shook himself from his thoughts as he heard you thank him for making coffee.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I made enough for you to take some with you too.”

“God, you’re a saint!” You squeezed his shoulder as you walked to the stool that held your purse and work tote. “Starting as a full time doctor at the children’s hospital has been so draining. I’m pretty sure I have been drinking a whole pot by myself.”

“I know that they just hired you full time but you should take some time for yourself.”

Layla watched on as you and Harry talked about work, slowly stopping her mixing and reached her hand for the chocolate chip bag. Harry slapped his hand on the bag, moving it away without even looking in Layla’s direction as he continued to talk about you and your self care. You let out a chuckle at Layla’s shocked pout as you take your last sip of your coffee.

“Alright my love, I need to get going. Be good for Harry.” Layla reached up to wrap her arms around your neck and gave you another peck to your lips.

“I will mama, I love you!”

“I love you too, baby. Have a good day Harry, call me if you need anything.”

With that, you walked out the door and got in your car to go to work as Harry got back to making breakfast for his girl.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After eating breakfast and doing a team clean up, Harry took Layla to her room to pick out an outfit for the day. Layla stood there, wide eyed, watching Harry as he moved around her room, knowing exactly where everything was.

“I was thinking we could go to the park today, what do you think monkey? And after the park, we would go to the museum.”

Layla perked up, excited to go to two of her favorite places, hoping Harry would list her most favorite place when they have a day planned like this.

“And the cafe?” She looked up at him with hopeful eyes, now standing by his side while he was pulling socks out of her dresser.

“I don’t know monkey… do you think we should?” Harry was trying to hold back his smile, knowing how devastated she would be if he were to ever tell her no to her favorite cafe.

“Please, Harry? It’s my favorite.” Of course, she had to use those gorgeous eyes that she clearly got from her mother. Harry realized that he is so weak for these girls.

“Alright, I guess we must then.” Harry closed the drawer with his hip and Layla jumped and clapped before sprinting to her ensuite.

Layla quickly stripped out of her clothes and turned the knobs to the bath herself before using all her little strength to put the plug in the tub. Harry was smart enough one day, when Layla was feeling extra autonomous, to put stickers on where the perfect bath temperature would be, so that Layla would never burn herself or cry when it’s too cold.

Harry laid out her outfit for the day on the sink counter, grabbing a cup and kneeling before the tub to help wash her hair. He heard “I can do it” more times than he can count until it became time to rinse her hair, where she would wordlessly tip her head back and cover her eyes with her little hands.

They would mindlessly chat about what they were excited to see at the museum, what they would play at the park, until Layla randomly asked, “Do you have a daddy?”

Harry froze. He knew he obviously was going to answer but he was afraid of where the conversation would lead to. “I do.” He let the silence settle, not wanting to push Layla to talk due to his anxiety.

“Mama says I have a daddy out there somewhere but she loved me too much to share me.” Layla rubbed the water away from her face before looking at Harry with a gentle smile that began to turn to a soft pout.

“What’s the matter, monkey? You can talk to me.” Harry put the cup off to the side on the tub ledge before leaning in to listen to his sweet girl. Her little fingers began to trace the ink on his left arm since his arms were exposed after Harry pushed up his sleeves for bath time.

“I’m sad I don’t know anything about my daddy. Did he not love me?” Harry could see the tears form in Layla’s eyes and he could physically feel them form in his along with the lump in his throat.

“Oh, baby. I don’t know anything about your daddy but I do know that he is a very lucky man to have had you and mama.”

“Why is he gone?” Layla’s tears were freely falling and her little lip was trembling.

Harry grabbed Layla’s towel, picking her up and wrapping the towel around her so he could hold her to his chest as she nuzzled in his neck, exactly how she did when they first met.

“My sweet girl.” He was rubbing her back and rocking her back and forth. Harry was curious as to what had brought this on but he didn’t want to press it. He did know that he was going to properly spoil his girl rotten today to make all her worries and heartache disappear.

Layla sniffled and wiped her runny nose on the towel before pushing away from Harry, resting her hands on his chest to look him in the face. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a good squeeze, making a smile spread to Harry’s cheeks, holding his girl closer.

“Will you Elsa braid my hair like mama does?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Probably won’t look as good as mama’s but I will try.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry must say, he’s pretty proud of his braid as he is putting Layla’s glittery sky blue helmet on her.

Harry had dressed her in an outfit he would probably wear. You always had a good sense of fashion and Layla was picking up on it as well, now that you have been giving her some more independence in choices.

Layla was dressed in dark purple corduroy flares with a cream sweater, speckled with pastel pinks, purples, and blues. Harry made sure that she wore comfortable but warm shoes, opting for some brown leather Chelsea boots. Harry grabbed her mustard yellow peacoat and threw a pair of gloves in his backpack, just in case, along with more socks, another sweater, extra hair ties and clips (Harry would occasionally steal her butterfly clips for his own hair). He made sure that their water bottles were filled and there were snacks and sanitary wipes in the front pocket of his backpack before throwing it on his shoulders.

Harry and Layla walked out the front door, her helping lock up the house, before walking to Harry’s bike. He picked up Layla to set her in the kid carrier attached to the back of Harry’s bike. You had been extremely nervous when Harry had first told you about the seat and wanting to take Layla for a ride. You offered to help him get a car, even if it was for your own sanity, but Layla loved riding on Harry��s bike way too much to ever say no.

Layla was patient and cooperative with Harry hooking her in, making sure she was safe and secure. Harry checked the straps and buckles three times before he gave Layla an approving nod while she returned his gesture, adding a giggle. Harry swung his leg over the seat, kicked up the kickstand and planted his feet on the pedals, making their way to the park. Layla enjoyed the scenery whizzing by while humming some song that Harry couldn’t make out, otherwise he would have joined her.

They made their way to the park, enjoying the rest of the morning hours there before they ventured to the cafe on the lake that was close to the park. Harry kept his bike locked up, opting to hold Layla’s hand as they walked to the cafe.

Harry had asked Layla why she likes this cafe so much many times and her answers had changed over the years. She used to tell Harry that it was because of “duckies”, then it turned to liking their hot cocoa. Today when he asked, his heart was warmed by her words and how wise she had become by the ripe age of three.

“Mama brings me here when we go to the park and you always bring me here. It’s our family spot.”

The waitress came over, beaming at Harry and Layla sitting across from each other, coloring on the placemat together.

“Oh my goodness, your daughter is so cute!”

Layla looked up at the waitress with a scowl before looking at Harry, causing him to laugh.

“I’m her nanny.”

The waitress looked taken back but quickly changed her features, looking Harry up and down and biting her lip. Layla continues to scowl at the waitress as Harry told her that they were ready to order.

Layla, being the smart girl she is, noticed how the waitress demeanor changed. How she was now only focused on Harry, began to twirl her hair and the constant lip biting. Harry had ordered his food and looked to Layla, who cleared her throat to get the waitress’s attention.

“My mama is prettier and she’s a doctor.”

Harry choked on his water at Layla’s childlike bluntness, causing a laugh to escape from his lips that he was trying to hold back. The waitress now was the one to wear the scowl as Layla’s own demeanor became confident with a hint of sass.

The waitress finally looked to Layla, “That’s not a very nice thing to say to a stranger.”

“It’s not nice to ignore me. I want hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and grilled cheese. Thank you.” Layla went back to coloring on the placemat, dismissing the waitress.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They had finished their lunch, the waitress returning minimally since she got scolded by the child. Layla had cleaned up her area, stacking all of her dirty dishes and utensils onto Harry’s plate before hopping down from her chair and reaching for Harry’s hand. They got back to Harry’s bike, having Layla grip onto Harry’s trouser leg as he was unlocking the bike to set it up properly to get Layla back in her seat.

On their way to the museum, she was playing with the keychain they had made together that was attached to the zipper of Harry’s backpack. They were chatting about what parts of the museum they were going to be looking forward to.

Harry had tried to make their time together as educational as possible. Her little brain was ever growing, becoming curious, and he tried to feed its thirst for knowledge. The museum was having an exhibit on extinct animals so he had made sure they made it in time for them to join.

Layla was a wonderful listener. Harry had to carry her, per her request, so that she could be close to the presenter as they walked around the exhibit so she wouldn't miss a word he was saying. Her eyes were glued to the speaker when he spoke, focused on the extinct animal figure on display when he would direct their focus. Layla had her fingers wrapped in Harry’s curls, twisting them gently in her little fingers as she sponged up the information. She would occasionally rest her head on his shoulder, nuzzle close, and Harry would rest his head on hers.

“Getting tired, sweetheart?”

Layla lazily shook her head no as her grip tightened on to Harry. Harry knew she would be fast asleep the moment he got her into the bike seat.

Layla slept all the way home, Harry careful to pull her out to not disturb her, holding her close as he got them inside. He carried her to her room, slowly peeling off her coat and boots before covering her in a crochet blanket; another gift made by his own mother for his girl. Layla curled onto her side, subconsciously grabbing for her stuffed monkey Harry got for her for her third birthday, and soft snores began to fall from her lips.

Harry kissed her cheek before turning on her white noise maker and leaving her door cracked. Harry made his way down stairs and plopped on the couch, falling asleep himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry woke up covered in a soft sherpa blanket with the smell of garlic and tomato filling his nostrils. He let out a stretch before sitting up, seeing you standing at the stove and Layla at the table painting.

You were still in your blush dress from the morning but were barefoot and hair up in a messy bun with pieces framing your face. You were sipping from your red wine glass while pushing chicken and veggies in a skillet.

Layla perked up when she saw Harry staring at you. She had noticed this look he gave you before, the ever observant girl, but she didn’t know how to verbalize what the look could mean. She let Harry watch you a little longer until you had noticed he was awake when you turned around.

“Morning sunshine! Did this one wear you out today?” You were smiling at him as you continued to chop vegetables to put them in a salad, popping a chunk of cucumber in your mouth and handing Layla a chunk for herself, popping her piece in her mouth almost identical to you. Except, Harry was focused on the way your lips curled into a soft smile while you eloquently chewed and swallowed the piece of green veg before licking your lips, causing Harry to realize how dry his mouth was and how sweaty his palms were.

“No, not at all. We had a great day, guess I just needed the rest.”

You nodded as you pulled three plates down from the cupboard to place on the table. You mumbled a “time to clean up” into Layla’s hair, that is now loose from its Elsa braid, as you kissed the top of her head. Layla gently put her paints away, Harry helping with the water cup and laying the painting on the counter to dry. Harry walked Layla to the bathroom so they could both wash their hands for dinner.

You had made up the plates and placed them on the table before Harry and Layla had walked out. Getting Layla a cup for water and another red wine glass, you poured Harry a glass and topped yours off, setting them on the table as the two walked out.

This had become a strange tradition for the three of you after you had noticed that Harry had lost weight and was concerned that he wasn’t eating properly at home by himself. He swore it wasn’t an issue but you had gone full mama bear mode on Harry and started to put a plate in front of him before he had an opportunity to tell you “no thank you”. You sat at the table with Layla and Harry, discussing their day.

“Mama, the lady at the cafe ignored me to stare at Harry. It wasn’t nice!”

You let out a giggle, thinking to yourself that you can’t blame the poor waitress for being enchanted by the magnetic being across from you. “You’re right baby, that’s not nice but hopefully Harry got a phone number out of it.”

You smiled across at Harry and he began to blush, opening his mouth to speak but Layla beat him to it.

“Why would Harry need her phone number? He can call you!”

As calm and collected as you were, Harry went into a slight panic; was he really that obvious when it came to his feelings for you?

“Again, you’re right baby. Harry can call me any time he wants.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and Layla’s scowl turned into a bright smile, going back to eating her dinner while Harry sat there frozen.

“I can call you?”

“Of course Harry, any time. Even if it’s just to check in on Layla.”

Harry deflated a little when you were clear about your intentions for a phone call just as a friendly gesture. Harry went back to eating, trying to disguise his disappointment.

Harry had helped you clean up while Layla went to get her pajamas on. There was an awkward silence looming over the two of you that you could both sense but you weren’t sure who would cut through it first, so you decided to bare the knife.

“Can I ask you a huge favor? You have every right to say no if you are busy or you just don’t want to.”

“Of course, can ask me anything.”

“Would you be able to watch Layla Friday night?”

“Yeah, no problem. Did you get called in to cover at the hospital?”

“Um, no, actually. I have a date.”

The knife you used to cut through the heavy air around you just went right into Harry’s heart. He couldn’t tell if you could notice but he could feel his blood run cold and his face go pale.

“No problem. I’ll just stay all day Friday. I should get going now though.”

“You don’t want to stay for the Great British Bake off? You always stay to watch after dinner.” You gave him a pout as you wiped your hands with a rag to dry them. Those eyes always work on him, no matter if they are from Layla or you, but his heart couldn’t bear to look at them tonight.

“I have stuff at home to catch up on and since I’ll be busy on Friday now, I should get it done.”

“Harry, you don’t have to watch Layla on Friday if you’re already busy. I can find a babysitter.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Harry quickly walked to the door, stopping when he saw Layla come down the stairs, trying to hold back his tears that he can feel burning.

“Good night my sweet girl, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Layla reached her arms up to hug Harry, holding her extra tight and giving her a long kiss to her cheek before gently setting her feet on the floor and heading home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You were getting ready for your date as Harry was making dinner for him and Layla. You had offered to cook something up but Harry told you that you should get ready so you wouldn’t be late.

You walked down in the tightest dress Harry had ever seen you in, making his body ache from desire and heartbreak. How desperately he wanted to pick you up for a date with you walking out in that curve hugging maroon dress and black stiletto heel, putting your earring in and fluffing your hair to where you want it to lay.

“So pretty mama!”

“Thank you baby!” You gave the top of her head a kiss before going to pick up your phone from the charger to place in your clutch. You heard the horn of a car outside as you were grabbing your black trench coat.

“Okay baby, be good. You might be sleeping when I get back but I’ll come tuck you in. Harry, call me if you need anything.” You kissed Layla again and made your way to the door, locking it behind you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Your date has been going extremely well. David was a handsome surgeon you had met during your ER coverage when someone came in with intensive internal bleeding, leading to an emergency surgery where David was on call. Laughs were being had, drinks were flowing easy, then your phone rang.

You saw that it was Harry so you quickly answered, “Harry, is everything alright?” You could hear Layla crying in the background, making your heart race.

“Layla has a fever and I can’t get her to calm down.”

You took a deep breath, “What’s her temperature? Did you give her some children’s Tylenol?”

“She is at 100 right now, gave her the Tylenol and put a cool cloth on her head. She’s just so inconsolable right now. She wants her mama, Y/N.”

“Can I talk to her?” Harry put the phone on speaker as he continued to rock Layla, adjusting the cloth on her forehead.

You whimpered when you heard her choked sobs, gently asking, “Baby, wants the matter?”

Layla’s cries had died down a minuscule amount but you could make out what she was saying, “I want my mama!” Your heart was breaking and you looked to David, who at this point finished his wine and looked extremely annoyed.

“It’s okay baby, I’ll be home soon, okay? I’ll be right there.” Layla settled a little more and Harry ended the call with a “see you soon”.

David paid for the bill as you began to apologize and get your stuff together. David began to walk ahead of you before saying his cold goodbye at the door. “I don’t have time to drive you home, could you catch an Uber or something?”

You scoffed at him before rolling your eyes, “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks for dinner but don’t expect a call from me.” You pulled out your phone as David walked away so that you could request an Uber.

You had rushed into your house, which was now eerily quiet for having a sick baby girl on your hands. You walked into the house further and found Harry laying on the couch topless with Layla laying on his chest, also topless and a wet towel between them. Harry had his fingers combing through Layla’s hair as they were watching Coco.

Layla lifted her head when she heard your heels on the hardwood, looking at you and tears began to brim her eyes.

“Hi my baby, you’re not feeling good, hm?” You knelt down by the couch as you stripped off your coat and Layla was reaching for you to hold her. You held her close, feeling the warmth radiating off of her but it wasn’t a concerning temperature at this point.

Harry sat up, folding the wet towel before taking it to the bathroom, walking away and coming back still topless. Your eyes explored his torso, his high waisted trousers cover up until under his butterfly. You continued to hold and rock your little one, who was now nuzzling into your neck with her breathing slowing. Your eyes finally finished their exploring of Harry’s dips and valleys when you met his eyes, mouthing a “thank you” for taking care of your daughter.

You stood up and kicked off your heels before climbing the stairs to tuck Layla in. You placed her in your bed so that you could watch her overnight. You walked back down the stairs after leaving your door cracked and promptly went to the cupboard to pull out two wine glasses and a bottle of Syrah, popping out the cork and pouring two hefty glasses before walking to the couch where Harry now sat with his shirt on. To say you were disappointed was an understatement.

Harry took the glass and looked at how full it was before giving you a look with a cocked brow and smirk. “Not good, huh?”

You ran your hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “It was fine until you called.” Harry instantly felt guilty for calling you on your date until you spoke up again.

“I didn’t tell him I had Layla, he had told me before the date that he never wanted children. I guess that should have been a major red flag. I’ve just been so alone and desperate that I took the first thing that jumped on me.” You took a huge swig of your wine before letting out a sigh. “I probably should have asked you if you needed a ride home before I started guzzling down my feelings.”

Harry smiled at you, “It’s fine. I can get an Uber.”

You almost spilt your wine when you sat up with a mouthful, quickly swallowing it. “Mm! He didn’t even drive me home! He made me get a fucking Uber!”

“What an asshole!”

“I know! Ugh, I should just give up while I’m ahead. I’ve got the most perfect daughter, I have a great job, although exhausting. I own a house and have a happy and healthy life… I guess I just get-“

“Lonely?” Harry thought that you were preaching to the choir at this point because he felt the same exact way; he had your daughter to care for, an amazing job, he is happy and healthy because you care for him.

You let out another sigh and closed your eyes, “Yes, so lonely. I have been doing this all on my own and it can be too much. I just want someone to hold me, tell me it will be okay, that I am doing a good job.”

“You’re doing an amazing job,Y/N.”

You slowly open your eyes and look to Harry who has been watching you this whole time. You let out another sigh because you can feel him pull you in but you don’t want anything to happen, not right now anyway, not like this.

As if your daughter wasn’t already your saving grace, she cried out for you right when you felt the pull to Harry become too strong. You put your wine glass down and go to your baby.

“You’re more than welcome to stay in the guest room if you don’t feel like making your way home this late. I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight Harry.”

And with that, you walked up the stairs to be with your baby and Harry called an Uber home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had walked in, eager to start the day with Layla, thinking about maybe baking something and going to the art museum. When he walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t expecting to see you in a long t-shirt, bed head and bare legs with Layla on the counter eating sliced strawberries.

“Oh shit, Harry!”

“Mama! No swear!”

“Oop, sorry baby. Harry, I must have forgot to tell you that I had today off.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, I can head home so you can spend the day with Layla.”

“Or you can stay…” you were looking at him with hopeful eyes that he would agree to spend the day with you and Layla. “We would love for you to stay.”

“Yeah Harry! Please?”

The way that both of you are now giving him the eyes, he’s lucky he didn’t turn into a puddle on the floor. Harry began to peel his jacket and boots off, exposing his layered red sweater over a cream button up to match his brown and cream plaid pants, walking over to the island for Layla to pop a strawberry in his mouth. You smiled up at him as he began to help you prep the breakfast to build your own waffles.

Harry helped Layla get ready for the day, getting her in some black fleece leggings, a chambray shirt with some brown leather combat boots. Layla said she wanted mama to do her hair and that Harry shouldn’t take it personally.

Layla sprinted into your ensuite where you were finishing your simple makeup and loose curls, wearing high waisted dark skinny jeans and a cream off the shoulder sweater. You were still barefoot at this point and Harry thought that he could get used to this.

You made sure you unplugged your curling wand and moved it away from the sink so that you could sit Layla on it to do her hair. She already had white bows in her hand for you to put in her hair. You quickly did a crown braid to keep her hair out of her face and finished it off with a top knot, throwing a bow at the base of the bun. You dashed on your perfume, doing the same to Layla per her request and then threw some chapstick on the both of you before picking up Layla to place on your hip.

You looked up to Harry and asked him if he was ready to go. He swallowed that dry mouth away before giving you a nod.

You got Layla settled in her car seat, tucking your purse under her feet and gave her a kiss before you climbed into the driver's seat. Harry got comfortable in the passenger seat, looking in the mirror in the visor to look back at Layla who was ‘reading’ a book.

You looked over to Harry who was smiling in the mirror, causing you to smile before asking if everyone was ready. You stopped by a coffee shop drive through where you got Layla her hot cocoa, yourself a flat white, and Harry a black coffee. The drive to the art museum was a little ways so you let Layla pick the music for the car. You hummed along to the Disney songs until Layla was begging for you and Harry to sing, causing you both to giggle but sing along.

Harry took over when it came to the art museum, educating Layla on artists and types of paints and materials used. You followed behind letting them having their time together, warming to see Harry adore your daughter and her being excited to learn. You took a few pictures of the two of them and were reviewing them when Layla was hyper fixated on Monet’s “Sunflowers” painting. You froze at a picture of Harry knelt down with Layla between his legs and his hand on her tummy. She was pointing to a painting on the wall while Harry was looking at the camera with a beaming smile, the next one was the same pose with a softer smile and he was looking behind the camera, looking at you.

You looked up to see Layla running to you with arms open and Harry jogged close behind. Layla was talking a mile a minute about the sunflower painting as you knelt down to pick her up. You kept looking at Harry who was giggling at Layla’s gabbing and excitement while you could not focus on anything other than the way Harry’s dimples were popping and his eyes were crinkling. You shook yourself from the trance as you helped Layla get her jacket from the museum coat closet.

You decided to go out of the way to go to the cafe by the park. This would be the first time all three of you went together and you knew Layla would be excited when she saw the car pull into the parking lot.

You were right; she squealed and tried to get herself out of her car seat but Harry had beat her to it. She was in awe of the trees surrounding the lake and the cafe, all in their full bloom of fall colors. The leaves were scattered beautifully along the parking lot, leaves floating in the lake. The cafe was decorated in fall decor, preparing for the holiday season.

You requested a table by the widows facing the lake and sat Layla closest to the window so she could enjoy the view. She murmured how it looked like a painting at the museum and what paints were used in the art she was thinking of. You smiled at her before looking at Harry who was already looking at you.

Layla started to list all the colors she sees outside as the waitress approached, the same one that had eyes for Harry.

“Well, hello again.” She again was focused only on Harry, ignoring your’s and Layla’s presence. Harry had to laugh because the face you were making at that moment was identical to the one Layla had made the first time.

“I’ll let the ladies order first.” Harry nodded at you before you looked up at the waitress, giving her a sickly sweet smile. Her eyes widened when she looked at you, truly shocked by your beauty.

“Layla baby, you first.” Layla never looked away from outside, stating that she would like “hot cocoa with extra whip cream and a grilled cheese, please.” You had asked if she could get a side of veg along with her meal as you ordered a turkey club with a side salad and a cup of soup to share with Layla.

Harry had ordered his turkey burger with side salad before the waitress parted to bring a fresh pitcher of water. Layla had finally turned her attention back to you and Harry, going over her favorite parts of the museum throughout the meal. You're pretty sure she had listed everything she saw.

You made your way home, Layla falling asleep in the car. Harry had carried her up to her bed as you gathered all the dirty laundry to start a load. You sat at the table with your laptop, paying bills when Harry made his way down to you at the kitchen table. Harry let out a yawn and you pointed to the coffee maker.

“Fresh pot.” You smiled and lifted your mug to ‘cheers’ him. Harry sat across from you while you finished up on your computer and you suggested that you watch a movie or some garbage tv.

You got about halfway through the movie before you heard little feet pattering on the hardwood upstairs. Before you know it, Layla has crawled into your lap, laying her head on your shoulder while she looks at Harry with a sleeping smile.

“Good morning beautiful, sleep well?” She nodded at Harry as she nuzzled closer to you. You rubbed her back and patted her bum as you thought about what to do for dinner.

“I was thinking since we have already been bad all day, we should order some pizza.” Layla perked up at that before squeezing you tighter. You giggled as you pulled out your phone, hitting the speed dial to your favorite place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With full bellies and a sleepy Layla, you get the two of you ready for bed as Harry puts away the leftovers and throws the boxes away.

You walk down with a clean face, hair up, and a pair of green cotton plaid pajama pants and a white oversized T-shirt. Harry walked back in from the recycling outside to you holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. You raised your eyebrows and giggled as Harry walked over to you. You popped open the pint and handed a spoon to Harry.

“Layla would be heartbroken if she saw you sharing with me and not her.” He smiled before popping the spoon in his mouth, letting the cream melt over his tongue.

You shrug, licking your spoon, “I don’t share my ice cream with just any one Harry.” You take another spoonful and look at Harry as you take your bite.

Harry could feel his heart racing, his mouth drying, his hands are sweaty. He can feel the word vomit in the back of his throat make its way to the tip of his tongue. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course Harry, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You stood up straight when you saw that Harry had adjusted his own posture. He was avoiding your gaze now, looking to the spoon in his hand he was twirling while he tried to find his voice. You didn’t pressure him, you both just stood in silence.

“I’m very lucky to have had you walk into my classroom. I instantly fell in love with your daughter and I instantly fell in love with you too.” He was still avoiding your gaze but if he were to look up, he would see that your eyes have glossed and your lip is trembling, the way Layla’s does when she is trying to hold back her tears.

“I’ve known for an embarrassingly long time how I have truly felt about you but what we have is so good and I couldn’t bear to not have Layla in my life, couldn’t bear to lose you. I- Today was amazing and made me realize that it would kill me if I don’t tell you that I am completely and utterly, madly in love with you.”

Harry decided that it’s now or never to look at you, and you looked so beautiful in this moment as you do every time Harry looks at you. You may be in oversized and stained pajamas, your cheeks may be wet and flush and your lips bruised and trembling, but you are as beautiful as you are every day that Harry is graced with your presence.

You now try to find your words but you choke out a sob. Harry quickly wraps you into his arms and kisses the top of your head, holding you close. You finally catch your breath and look up to him.

“I always knew there was something there but I was too scared to find out.”

Harry wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, holding your face in his palms. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

You gave him the nod he was wishing for and he slowly leaned in as he pulled you closer. He was gentle in his movements, not wanting to scare you away from this moment. He planted his lips softly against yours, slowly moving so that he could incase your lower lip between his, softly sucking it between his lips. He moved closer so that your bodies were pressed together and he lowered his right hand from your cheek to your waist and his left hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into the hair pulled up into the bun on top of your head. He gently let his tongue graze your bottom lip before he pulled you closer and licked again with more fervor.

Your mouth opened more to let him in, just as you were opening yourself more to let him into your heart. Your hands reached out to grip at the sweater on his chest as you finally let go and let your tongue meet his. This move gives Harry the confidence and reassurance he needs as he fully licks into you to massage your tongue with his as he presses his hips to yours, pushing your lower back to the counter.

He pulls away breathless as he lays his forehead on yours, kissing your nose and rubbing the back of your head with his thumb. He goes back in to kiss you more, lifting you by your thighs to wrap around him. He carefully carries you to your room, gently laying you down on the bed as he starts to kiss down your neck, his hands massaging your thighs that are still wrapped around him. Harry pulls his sweater over his head and before you get the chance to admire him, his lips are pressed to yours. His fingers graze the waistband of your bottoms and he starts to pull them down, his soft and warm palms caressing the bare flesh of your thighs.

Harry continues to kiss the skin of your neck as you swallow down the lump that is forming in the base of your throat as you think about the next morning. “Harry, what if this changes everything?”

“Everything’s still the same, nothing changes. Except now, I get to hold you, and kiss you, and show you much I love you.”

You let out a sigh of relief as the tears begin to form that you try to blink away. Harry’s face is again level with yours, kissing your cheek. “Will you let me show you how much I love you?”

Your lip trembles as you tell him yes, never feeling loved before this moment. Harry gently kissed you and he reached for the hem of your shirt. He pulled it over your head, exposing your sports bra and he leaned on his hunches to finish pulling your bottoms off. Harry took his time, kissing every inch of you. Your stretch marks from carrying Layla, your stubbly thighs because you didn’t have time to shave your legs fully this morning, your freckles and scars. Harry truly loved every inch of you, and you could feel it.

“Can I take these off, love?” Harry’s fingers were tucked into your cotton panties when you gave him a nod. You were nervous because it had been longer than you would like to admit since you have been intimate with someone. Harry slowly peeled them down your legs, kissing a trail behind.

“Harry… it’s been a long time…”

“It’s okay, I’ll take my time with you.” He kissed your ankle as he dropped your panties to the side of the bed. “Can I start by touching you?” You nod again and you lean up to pull off your sports bra and adjust the pillow behind your head. Harry still sat on his knees between your legs to admire you. “Do you have any lube? I don’t want to hurt you or make it uncomfortable for you.”

You give him a shy smile before leaning to your side table, appreciating him for being so kind and gentle. You hand him the bottle and he pops the cap open, spreading some along his fingers as well as dripping some on your center. He placed the bottle by his leg, just in case he doesn’t have enough.

“Talk to me, okay? Let me know if it’s too much or not enough. Tell me what you need.”

“I will.” He smiled before leaning down to kiss you, hovering over you as he started to run his pointer and middle finger through your folds. You gasp at the coldness but quickly relax when you feel Harry’s fingers explore you more; spreading you open, pinching a lip or your clit between his fingers. He gave you one last lick into your mouth before leaning back again.

You opened your thighs more to accommodate him as he watched his own fingers explore you. You watched his brow furrow and he occasionally licked his lip. Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger slowly dip in you.

“This okay?”

“Yes.” Your hips flex up involuntarily to meet Harry’s finger that he is slowly dipping and pulling out of you. His thumb slowly started rolling over your clit and you let out your first moan. It was soft, but present enough for Harry to speed up his movements a little bit, earning a louder moan from you.

“You like that baby?” Harry slowly pulled out his middle finger so that he could slide his middle and ring finger in together, giving you the stretch to need. When he got to the base of his fingers, your back arched and Harry began his come hither motion on your walls, reaching further to hit the soft sponge that you needed him to find.

“Harry, right there!” He added a little more pressure to your gspot before returning to his massaging gesture, using his other hand to figure eight your clit with his thumb. You could feel yourself on the brink of the tip over but you needed something, you just weren’t sure what it was but Harry seemed to know.

He leaned down to kiss you fully again, the pressure of his body on you caused his thumb to add more pressure to your bud and his fingers to plunge a little deeper, causing the rush to flow over you and the tingles to start in your fingers and toes. You moaned into his mouth as he continued to kiss you to keep you quiet but you pulled away to catch a breath, panting into his shoulder as he kissed your neck.

Harry began to slow his movements, pulling his hands away to massage at your thighs as he continued to kiss your neck down to your chest. You could feel him straining in his trousers on your core as he laid on you.

“Was that okay?” He continued to kiss your chest, licking your left nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and flicking the tip of his tongue across it. You rolled your hips into him, feeling the vibrations from his moan into the flesh of your breast.

“It was great, thank you.” Your hand was combing through his hair as he moved to your right breast.

“Can I make love to you?” He looked up at you, watching your soft, blissed out face turn into a gentle smile.

“I would love to make love with you, Harry.” He leaned up again to kiss you before standing to pull off his trousers. He reached for the nightstand to grab a condom, putting it on and adding some extra lube before setting the bottle aside.

“Let me know if you need me to stop or anything.” He kissed your forehead, your closed eyes, each cheek, then your nose before landing on your lips. He lined himself up to your core, all while kissing you, before gently pushing into you with a role of his hips.

With each roll and deeper kiss, he sunk deeper into you. You pulled away from the kiss trying to catch a breath, feeling dizzy from being overwhelmed emotionally and physically. Harry continued to slowly thrust into you, barely pulling out before he would roll again. He lifted a knee to lay flush with your thigh, opening you more which caused Harry to pull out more than he intended to push back into you.

You let out a moan and your head tipped back after that particular thrust, causing Harry to remove his face from your neck to look at you and repeat the same motion, over and over again. He could feel how wet you were getting, almost too wet that he was slipping out of you more, causing his thrust to be sloppy and deeper.

He lifted the thigh he had pushed up with his knee up to his shoulder, hovering over you more and looking right down at you. You look up to see Harry’s curls falling over his face, his face and chest flush, your hand moved up to move his hair so you can see him in all his beauty. You leaned up to kiss him, creating a new angle that had you both moaning.

Harry could feel himself coming undone, knowing that he had to get you there first. He let his hand travel to wear your bodies met, rolling your bud under his thumb once again. You sat up on your elbows to keep the angle you both loved as well as to stay close to Harry.

“I’m so close, don’t stop Harry.”

He leaned in to kiss you, mumbling “I love you” against your lips between kisses. “Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N.”

At that confession, your arms gave out so Harry quickly gripped you close with his free arm and rolled his hips against you until he moaned out your name and let his orgasm flood over him. He gently laid you both down, resting his head on your chest as you both embraced and caught your breath.

Harry felt your fingers stop moving in his hair and little snores escape your lips. Harry has seen that sleepy pout on your daughter more times than he could count but seeing it on you has made him the happiest man alive. Harry maneuvers himself so that you are both lying comfortably and he falls asleep with his arms wrapped around you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You wake up to find that Harry is not in bed, but all the clothes from last night are now in the hamper and there is a set of fresh clothes at the end of the bed. You can hear little giggles and a few “oops” from the kitchen. You get dressed and make your way down stairs.

Layla turns her head to you when you walk in, beaming with a “morning mama!” Leaning up to give you a kiss.

“Are you stealing chocolate chips again? Some extra sweet kisses this morning!”

Layla giggles as you press your hand a little firmer and longer on Harry’s lower back as you go for the coffee pot. You lean up to give Harry a kiss, noticing that he has been dipping into the chocolate too. Harry quickly went back in for another kiss, sweeter than the chocolate that lingers. You pull away slowly looking into Harry’s sleepy green eyes and wish him a good morning.

“Morning love, banana pancakes?”

“I’d love some.”

#stellarboystyles3years #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shots #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst

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annenhypen · 3 years

Text

Falling

jay x reader

high school au! strangers to friends to lovers au!

word count: 2.8k

writer’s note: this is the longest work i have written so far and I ENJOYED WRITING IT SO MUCH! I really want to write drabbles for this pairing if this does well!!! let me know what you guys think.

tags: @gratefulmaria @azeugirdor @eggbutnotyolk @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3

Before Meeting Him

You and your boyfriend, Daniel, had a steady relationship. Growing up together and ending up going to the same schools, it was like you guys were destined to be together. You were best friends until one day he asked you out and decided to change your title to his “girlfriend”.

You were seated next to him in the first period as he turned his head to face you.

“I heard there’s a new transfer student in our class” he informed you, causing your eyebrows to shoot up. Students rarely changed schools in the beginning of the senior year, so you got curious about the new presence in your class.

He entered the classroom on his first day, dressed in a black hoodie in contrast to his bleached hair but matching his black jeans. Every clothing he put on that day was black except for the four silver rings he put on his hands. He stood next to your teacher and introduced himself to the class. Despite his dark style, he introduced himself with a bright smile that caught your attention for a little too long. Jay. His name fits his appearance you thought. You watched him walk to the only empty seat in the classroom which was the seat in front of your boyfriend who was sitting next to you. You looked away when he made eye contact with you, catching you staring at him.

Meeting Him

Turns out that Jay was not just your classmate. He was also the son of the family who moved in next door. You were surprised to see him open the door when your mother sent you to give your new neighbors a welcome gift, freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. You collected yourself and smiled brightly, holding out the plate filled with cookies in front of you.

“Hello, I am Y/N. I live next door and my mother sent these for you to say welcome to our neighborhood.” you explained, finally looking at his eyes. He smiled back at you, taking the plate out of your hands.

“Thank you so much, it’s very nice of her and you. I am Jay. I am pretty sure we are classmates as well.” he answered. You nodded at him.

“I’ll see you in class then” you said and took one step back to go back to your house. You saw him wave a goodbye at you before turning around.

An Offer

Many things were unpredictable in your life. For example, you never expected your relationship with Daniel to come to an end so quickly but it did. You also did not expect your long term friendship with your -now- ex boyfriend to get ruined, following your break-up. You were still seated next to each other in class but you rarely talked. He never texted you about anything other than your classes. It was a hard time for both of you. You were sad because losing a friend who has been there all along was not easy to take it in.

“I am going to assign all of you into study groups today. I am expecting you guys to meet outside of class to encourage each other to study for the upcoming exams” announced your homeroom teacher on the third Friday of your senior year, causing your classmates to whine to voice their complaints out. You opened your notebook as you waited for your name to be called.

“Ruby, Luke, Y/N, Jay and Daniel, you guys are Team B” you heard your teacher added after checking his journal.

Here’s how these “study groups” worked: every group member had to do their best and get a good grade on the exams. After the exams week, the average grade for each team was calculated by your teacher and the team with the highest average score received a prize in return. This way, your teacher made sure everyone helped each other to increase the average grade for their teams.

“Make sure to exchange phone numbers and make a group chat to discuss your study plans and meetings” your teacher suggested.

You pulled out a loose-leaf and tapped on Jay’s shoulder who was seating in front of Daniel. He looked back with a questioning expression.

“Write your phone number down and pass the paper to Ruby” you confided and he nodded back at you before taking the paper from your hands. You took the paper back after Ruby and Luke wrote their numbers down. Of course you did not have to ask for Daniel’s number.

“I’ll create a group chat after school, we can discuss the details there” you reported, gaining a nod from every member of your study group.

You were a competitive student. Your grades were always above average and these study group contests made you even more ambitious. As nerdy as it sounded, you wanted to make sure everyone in your team performed well on the upcoming exams.

You knew Ruby was a bright student. Daniel studied regularly as well. Luke was okay as far as you knew. However, you did not know about Jay’s academics. You were determined to learn about it and help him if he needed your help.

“Hey Jay, do you want to walk home together after school?” you asked, smiling politely. He turned to you in surprise and took a look at Daniel’s face. He smirked at Daniel’s clenched jaw and accepted your offer.

Plans

You saw Jay playing with his phone in front of the school gates when you exited the school building. He was wearing his leather jacket, making you look like a child next to him with your fluffy pastel pink cardigan and white outfit. He put his phone into his back pocket when you reached his side.

“You ready?” he questioned looking down at your face. You looked so short compared to his tall figure. You felt intimidated by his eyes and chose to look down at your shoes before nodding your head.

“So… How are you?” he asked, breaking the dead silence as you walked side by side.

“I’m good. I should ask you how you are. Were you able to get used to living here?” you asked, feeling, less nervous as you walked.

“Yes… Actually, I couldn't explore much since I don’t have many friends around here and I usually just go to school and return home during the week” he explained and scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. I probably sound like a loser, he thought. You thought for a little before speaking again.

“Hey, I can show you around this weekend if you want? I didn’t have anything planned anyway. Also, this is like the last weekend we can enjoy before studying for the exams. That is… if you want to, of course… I get it if you don’t-“ your rambling got interrupted by Jay’s little chuckle. Cute, he thought.

“I would like that,” he answered. You couldn’t help but smile at his acceptance of your invitation.

“This is kind of random but do you like pancakes?” you asked out of nowhere.

“Who doesn’t like pancakes?” he answered your question with another question causing you to chuckle. I already like this guy, you thought.

“Alright, then we can go to this local diner I know for breakfast tomorrow and start our little tour afterwards” you suggested while looking at him to wait for his answer.

“Alright, sounds like a plan” he concluded. Jay couldn’t help but think how much he wanted this “little tour” of yours to be an actual date.

Getting to Know Him

“Oh you should meet Mr. Bubbles” you insisted as you watched Jay take another bite of his blueberry pancakes. You wanted to introduce your fat Scottish fold to your new friend who apparently loves cats.

“I would love to…But unfortunately, I am allergic to cats” he replied, looking a little sad. You felt the need to comfort him inside you.

“Don’t be so sad! I can just show him to you through the window of my room” you suggested. You heard his small chuckle before nodding at your direction.

From this morning, you learned that Jay is not as intimidating as he looked from outside. He moved to your town from Seattle because of his father’s job. He was good at subjects like English and History but he said he could use some help with Math. His favorite genre of music was Rock and he took dance classes back in Seattle. He was interested in fashion and he liked cats. He had an easygoing personality and a pretty smile- wait, a big smile you meant.

In addition, Jay learned that you liked many more things other than studying: you enjoyed watching romantic comedies the most but one of your common interests was that both of you liked watching anime. You also liked cooking even though you were not as experimental as Jay when you entered the kitchen. Jay was stunned when he learned your favorite rock band: ONE OK ROCK because that was his favorite band too. He was surprised to find similarities between you two when you looked so different from outside. He also learned how much he liked your laugh and how hard he wanted to try to make you laugh more often to just listen to your laugh.

Not so long after, you paid the check and headed to your next destination.

“We’re going to the beach, I hope you know how to ride a bike” you chimed while walking backwards in front of Jay.

“Of course I know how to ride a bike! Who do you think I am?” he fought back right before you tripped on something and almost fell on your butt. He reached forward to catch you by your waist, saving you from both: the pain and the embarrassment of falling in front of Jay.

You both went silent when you were chest to chest. You looked up to Jay’s face while holding your breath. You looked at his eyes and he stared back at yours. You saw his eyes flicker to your lips and that was the signal you got before pulling away from his hold.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy” you mumbled looking down at your feet, continuing to walk next to Jay. He strolled next to you but he did not miss the pink shade on your cheeks before looking ahead.

***

Oh my god Y/N! Get your shit together! What is wrong with you, you just spent a single day with the guy! You told yourself that night, laying down on your bed when you came back from your day with Jay.

Okay, he was attractive, funny and nice to you. He also was a good listener and he was talkative as well. You felt comfortable spending time with him and you felt bad when you said goodbye to him in front of your house before you got in. You sighed before rubbing your eyes and tried to fall asleep without thinking about your cute, hot, funny and sweet classmate.

Study Group

You opened the gates of the coffee shop you were supposed to meet with your study mates 10 minutes later than your agreed meeting time. You hurried your way upstairs where it was more quiet than downstairs and you saw your group members sitting on a table in the left corner of the room. You apologized for being late when you reach their table and took the only empty seat next to Daniel, across from Jay.

You opened your backpack to take your materials out when you realized a cup of coffee was pushed in front of you. You looked up to see Jay grinning at you. He went back to taking notes on his notebook when you reached for the cup to take a sip from it. You realized it was a latte with unsweetened vanilla. Your usual order. He remembered your order from the coffee shop you went on your little tour right before you went to see the local art gallery. You looked at his face to see him watching your reaction. You gave him a small smile while mouthing "thank you" and he returned your smile with a little nod.

Confession

It was right before the Christmas break started when Jay came to terms with his feelings for you. Between the walks you took home together, the shared snacks between classes, the laughs shared during the lunch periods, and the times he snuck into your room to watch your favorite anime together at night when you were both supposed to be sleeping, he fell for you.

Jay was a straightforward guy. If he feels something, he might as well tell you about it. Worst case scenario: you would kindly reject him and he would move on. So he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and texted you.

You grabbed your cardigan from your closet and opened the gates of the kitchen which looked at the backyard as quiet as possible to not wake your parents up. You saw Jay putting his hands in his pockets while waiting for you in the middle of your backyard. His back was facing you so you thought you could have a little fun.

You reached him while tiptoeing silently and grabbed his waist from behind.

“BOO!” you whisper screamed. He jumped and pushed you away while you tried to hold your laugh, but failed miserably. He watched you laugh while he shook his head in disbelief.

“I knew it! You’re still scared of the ghosts” you accused him, stepping forward and putting your pointing finger on his chest. He watched you having fun with an amusing smile plastered on his face. He reached for your waist with his both hands while still looking at you with the same amused smile.

“Why do I even like you?” he muttered in disbelief. You froze. He watched your surprised expression and realized what he just blurted out.

“What?” you asked looking down at his chest because looking into his eyes was very hard at that moment. Jay took a deep breath before continuing.

“I thought I was pretty obvious” he said casually. Your heart was beating so fast that you got scared that Jay might have heard its banging on your chest. You bowed your head down and your forehead touched Jay’s chest. You were shy.

“Ilikeyoutoo” you mumbled so fast, Jay almost couldn’t catch it. Cute, he thought and you felt his lips press on your forehead. You hugged his waist while he nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck under the light of the stars.

Secrecy

Ever since you started going on dates with Jay, it was during the Christmas break. You went to cute cafes to drink hot chocolate, went ice skating, and did all the holiday activities together. One thing you didn’t talk about was how you were going to act when you got back to school. So you started sneaking around instinctively.

It was another study group meeting before the upcoming exams. You were seated between Ruby and Jay at one of the tables in your local library’s study hall when you felt Jay’s hand grabbing yours under the table. You turned to look at his face but he shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t care. You intertwined your hand with his and put them on top of your thigh. He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as both of you continued reading your textbooks.

When you were done with studying for History, you had to grab another book from the aisle where English textbooks were put. You got up, letting go of Jay’s hand in the process and went to the English books section. You searched through the bookshelves to find the book you needed. As you were focused on reading the names of various textbooks, you felt a small kiss pressed on the exposed skin of the back of your neck. Your breath caught in the back of your throat when you turned around to see Jay smirking at you.

“They could have seen us” you whispered to him, slapping his arm.

Not So Secretive

Jay entered the class, playing with the straps of his backpack when he saw you sitting on your seat while playing with your phone. He reached his seat to find Daniel sitting on it.

“Why are you sitting here?” questioned Jay, tilting his head to the empty seat next to you where Daniel seated every day except for that day. Daniel let a sigh before looking up at Jay.

“Don’t you want to sit next to your girlfriend?” he asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

Jay did not respond before sitting next to you. You turned your head to see who was seating next to you in surprise before he leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek in front of your classmates.

#enhyphen #enhypen imagines #engene #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen jay #jay fluff #jay x reader #jay imagines #park jongseong #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff

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mystic-sky · 3 years

Text

✨part 1 here ✨

Satoru’s only been in love once. Though it wasn’t with you, it wasn’t long before he met you either. The summer before he graduated high school he fell into a deep infatuation with someone.

He was always a fast guy, even during his earlier youth- having lost his virginity in his sophomore year. He was a curious one, and he had the looks and the charm to scoop as many women as he chose. But he did give love a try with her. She was spunky, but shy at the same time. Outspoken, and he’d never forget how she kissed him first. She scooped him off his feet, somehow wrapping him around her finger- until she got bored. Gradually, there were no more late night phone calls, no more study dates and sneaking out together. She no longer responded immediately to his text messages, and casually rescheduled plans on short notice. Satoru had never been out right rejected before. But his nonchalant attitude lead him to adapt, and just reciprocate everything she had been doing.

And in came his ex best friend, Suguru, who he no longer spoke to for external reasons.

He couldn’t go anywhere in school without witnessing or hearing the two laughing amongst one another or watching them hold hands. He felt nauseous every time he saw him wrap his arms around her; her sickening smile and her eyes sparkled just for him.

Senior year felt way too long. In the end, she left the both of them high and dry for an American University after graduation. But Satoru saw it as a lesson of sorts. He didn’t think all women were the same, but he certainly didn’t leave himself open to disappointment after this.

And that’s why he wasn’t the least bit surprised when he saw Suguru pressing his lips to your knuckles in the cafe you both first met in.

“Snake,” Satoru muttered under his breath.

He had no plans to walk inside the establishment at all, until he saw your cheery smile over the head of the brunette on his arm through the window. He shifted his gaze towards the source of your happiness, feeling that same sickening feeling from 3 years prior.

He needed something sweet to rid the awful taste on his tongue. He took the brunette girl on his arm with him, offering to buy her a sweet drink. She happily obliged, simply ecstatic to be in his highly esteemed presence.

He imagined you didn’t even know who Suguru was, or what kinds of things he was capable of. But who was he to try and inform you? The both of you had split long before, and the last thing he needed was you thinking he actually cared about you.

But he couldn’t stop looking at you. His heart swelled as he remembered when you both first met. It wasn’t even in lecture the way he had convinced you prior- oh no, long before that. It had been in sophomore year of college, the semester before you signed up for the political science course.

He saw you in the college office, discussing electives you’d possibly be into with your counselor and one of your friends. He thought you were a cute, timid little thing. He gave himself a project, figuring he’d plant the seed and flirt with you in the near future when he had less women in his current line up. He could tell you were a busy one, rushing out of the office just as quickly as you came in. He didn’t even get a chance to make conversation with you.

He signed up for a political science class, realizing just how low the probability of him ending up in the same class as you was. One semester later, he remembers chanting God is good as you sit idly in the middle of the lecture room when he arrives.

The seats around you are taken, and he regrets being late on the first day. At least he had 2 hours to admire you from a distance.

Your friends had came to get you as soon as class ended, making him miss his opportunity again to talk to you. The week after, you showed up late to class. Satoru being Satoru, it was impossible for him to keep empty seats beside himself due to his popularity. He watched you climb the steps and sit all the way in the back, far behind him. You had stayed to talk with the professor after class as a result. And unfortunately, his entourage of women couldn’t be kept waiting. That week he cut them all off. It was getting too difficult to maintain so many relationships along with his multiple sexual partners.

A part of him thought having multiple partners and women around just wasn’t worth it. He grew tired of having multiple personalities around him. One sexual partner would be the most convenient. He didn’t even care if people thought he was dating that one specific person- as long as people left him alone. To rid himself of his options when he hadn’t even found a new contender for himself yet is what leeched at his brain. He might of been a bit of a sex addict. But there was also a part of him that was sure you’d be into him. All he had to do was try.

The third week you were absent. He almost lost his shit. He never saw you around campus ever, and he didn’t even know your name. This was getting a bit ridiculous.

Then, seemingly God sent, did he happen upon you in the university’s local cafe. He hadn’t known how long you’d been there since he had been studying himself towards the back.

You had gotten up and had been staring out the glass at the rain. A golden opportunity, he thought.

He packed his things, tossing his bag over his shoulder and umbrella in hand. Smoothly, he stood in the same space by the window. You were dazed, in your own little world, barely noticing his presence. He heard you speak,

“I guess I should sit back down,” you muttered quietly. She’s really not paying me any mind, he thought.

“Man, you don’t have an umbrella? That sucks.” He finally spoke, earning a startled look from you. He continued to stare straightforward towards the window pane.

“Yeah, I know.” You say, sighing to yourself. He could see the slight blush in your cheeks through the corner of his sunglasses.

“It says the rain is going to stop within the hour on the weather app.” He said, scrolling and tapping away at his phone. “You goin’ to the train station?”

“Oh, yeah.” You say shyly. He watched you nervously tucked some hair behind your ears before he looked straight ahead at the rain.

He also noticed you couldn’t stop stealing glances at him through the corner of his eye.

“Like what you see?”

You blinked at him repeatedly, earning a cocky chuckle from his end.

“Wanna walk with me?” He asked, peering down at you. He assumed it was too forward because he couldn’t read the look on your face after that. Just a series of blinks and a continuous puzzled stare.

“I don’t even know you.” You said bluntly, and he felt that you meant it disrespectfully.

“Not yet.” He said slyly. “But I’ve seen you around campus a lot.”

Though that wasn’t true, he couldn’t possible tell you that he had been secretly admiring you every Wednesday for almost three weeks now either.

He watched you put a finger towards your chin before speaking.

“Professor Edamura’s class right?”

“Bingo.” He grinned.

“There’s like 120 people in that lecture.” You only took a guess, considering that was your largest class.

“Yeah. But I think you’re the cutest.” He could’ve been smoother about it. But he was anxious to make his introduction. Only seeing you on Wednesdays sucked. This way, he could make sure you’d be thinking of him for a little while until you saw him again.

Whose the mysterious tall guy with the white hair, or at least that’s how he thought you’d be thinking of him in his head.

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing your arms around your book and pressing it towards your chest.

“Oh look, the rain is stopping.” He says, leaning forward, nose nearly pressing against the glass.

“Well, see you Wednesday.” He smiled a cheeky smile, before walking off. He felt you watching him stride down the street, and that’s how he wanted it to be.

Days later, Satoru was sure to be on time to class. He finally got a chance to sit beside you, offering you a wink and a smile. He could feel how shy you were, choosing not to make much conversation with you during the two hours of lecture.

Luck was on his side yet again, considering he got paired with you for a group project. He offered to meet at his house, fixing up a group chat for the five of you. The other girls in the group talked over you while you made project plans before class ended. He was highly aware that they were trying their hardest to flirt with him, completely unphased by your presence. He felt bad that he couldn’t even really get close to you without other women somehow ruining things yet again. At least he learned your name and got your phone number.

The next day, and also the night before the meet up, he texted you privately outside the group chat.

He remembers checking his phone a few minutes later, seeing you’d left him on read. He realized he probably shouldn’t have been so forward. He chuckled at himself before tossing his phone on the bed and going to sleep.

You arrived somewhat early to his apartment, greeting him quietly before he told you to make yourself comfortable. It didn’t take long for the other three to text the group chat explaining that something had coincidentally came up, leaving you all alone with him. There you sat on the floor of his living room, not looking all that pleased to be in his presence.

“Guess it’s just the two of us,” he chuckled.

“Don’t look so happy about it.” He watched you roll your eyes.

“I can’t help it,” he says, sitting across from you on a different floor pillow. “I won’t lie. I had been thinking of asking you on a date. I didn’t think I’d get so lucky.”

“And did you text the other girls in our group the same thing the night before?” You say, nonchalantly opening your book. You didn’t even look his way. Your response threw him off. Why were you acting like you hated him?

“No, they’re incredibly annoying.” He sighed genuinely, hoping he could change your outlook on him even a little.

“You’re pretty cool though. Kind of bummed you didn’t text me back.” He addressed. It sort of ticked him off that you didn’t respond to him.

“Because I know what you’re up to.” You say, scribbling away in your notes.

“And what might that be?” He takes off his shades, putting them on the glass coffee table. He loved to play with the girls like this; acting so oblivious to his obvious intentions.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you. I don’t have time for that.” You firmly set your pencil down, looking at him. He was taken aback. He’s intrigued and wants to poke at you some more.

“I don’t exactly want you to.” He chuckled. You looked at him before speaking again.

“So what do you want from me?” You say, placing your palm in your hand and leaning forward a bit to look at him directly. He thought the way you furrowed your brows at him was precious. He was fully aware you were being serious but he thought you were too cute.

“I said I wanted to take you on a date.” He laughs. “Get to know you a bit, but ultimately take you to bed at the end of the night, if you don’t mind. You can decline, I just wanted to show you a good time.”

Satoru may have been a downright whore up until now, but one thing he did manage to do was not lie to any of the women he dealt with. He never made false promises, and he never ever told women he would eventually commit to them. He hated when people tried to hold him emotionally accountable for things. He was typically clear to everyone about what he wanted from the beginning. Anyone who got their heart broken afterwards couldn’t say shit to him.

“Sure,” you say calmly, to his surprise. You shift yourself around the table, right beside his body.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you took hold of his jaw, delicately planting a kiss. He had no idea you were so confident. It had been so long since someone had kissed him first so forwardly and so passionately. For the first time in a long time he was mesmerized, feeling the summer before senior year of high school all over again on his living room floor. Your lips were incredibly soft and pillowy. He was already hard, wondering just what your sex was like if you kissed him like this.

You shifted over his body, straddling him against the bottom of the sofa. You’d give him exactly what he wanted.

“You better be good at this, or don’t even bother looking at me after we finish this project.” You break from his lips. His eyes widened a bit, staring deeply into yours before speaking.

“Oh princess, I don’t ever disappoint.” He smirked. He lifted both your bodies off the ground. He sucked in your lips, kissing you firmly as he brought you to his bedroom.

That night, he gave you the best sex of your entire life. He wasn’t lying about not disappointing you.

Sex with you was more than a memorable experience to him. The both of you had formed this bond having had done it so many times in one semester. You never pried or asked him about his personal life. You never hinted at wanting more than what he was already giving you. He would notice when you were stressed and life would occasionally beat you up. He lent you his ear, hoping to ease you the best he could. This kept up for almost a year, and he genuinely thought you’d get tired of the agreement by now. But here you were still, being exactly what he wanted you to be. You never smothered him, and that made him want to spoil you.

He didn’t know how to communicate that unless it was while he had sex with you. You told him not to buy you gifts. Maybe he could treat you to dinner but you were keen on keeping things minimal.

The most intimate moment you both had was probably the night before you both had ended it all.

He hadn’t seen you all week, and took you to dinner before bringing you home to bed like he always did. He wanted nothing more than your skin against his own. The warmth you gave him was intoxicating yet somehow endearing. He couldn’t dare fall in love with you, but his sex told you otherwise.

“Fuck, I missed you.”

Your entire head was hot from the whisper he made into your ear. He knew he shouldn’t have said it like that. The way your sweet and dazed eyes looked up at him- he knew it was starting to fuck with you. You let out a moan as he filled you up completely, grinding your sex towards him from underneath.

“It looks like you missed me too,” he chuckled. He could never forget the sounds your slimy cunt made every time he inserted himself into you. He knew you couldn’t lie to him even if you tried— your body wouldn’t let you.

He heard you moan back how much you missed him too, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. This was getting bad and he knew that. But he never had someone hold him like that before- like they loved him.

“I know baby,” he placed sweet kisses against your face and neck, “I know.”

This memory echoes in his brain as he watched Suguru play with your fingers at your table. He orders his drink, and the dame beside him is talking a thousand miles per minute but he doesn’t hear thing. He somehow tunes out the entire establishment, only focusing on you and the dark haired bastard right in front of you.

She moves on quickly, he thought. He was thankful he had his signature dark shades on so he could stare at you as much as he wanted.

Were you both just talking? Did Suguru establish the same friends with benefits situation with you? Or... was he your boyfriend?

It felt like it was just yesterday you were telling him how much you missed him, how much you needed him.

Satoru then remembered the bullshit speech you gave him once about how you didn’t have time to fall in love.

So what the fuck was this?

He knew he could’ve handled the split so much better. But he was scared. He didn’t trust you. He didn’t want to find out if you were capable of hurting him. Were you that fickle? He knew he was one to talk, but he’d never forget the look you gave him that night- like you were in love with him.

But that was only two months ago. He watched the both of you get up, and pack your things. The nostalgic yet sick feeling from earlier grew tenfold in his stomach as he watched you and Suguru join hands. He watched him press a long sweet kiss against your forehead before tilting your chin up to his gaze. Suguru whispered something to you, obviously making you blush and stare at the floor. He presses another kiss to your forehead before leading you out of the cafe.

Satoru’s chest felt tight, and he hadn’t felt this way in years. Such a green feeling, but mostly terrified that he might’ve been in love with you.

Just how was he supposed to get you back?

✨part 3 here ✨

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo sensei #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #jjk fluff #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader

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myelocin · 3 years

Text

ij(y)&m | miya a., akaashi k.

synopsis: love is enough, until you think that it isn’t. to love and to lose; then whether to dive into the sea of ocean eyes or look into the skies in search of the sun.

genre: hurt/comfort, slice of life, longfic, happy ending, love triangle

wc: 17,500+

characters: miya atsumu, akaashi keiji

a/n: this is a commissioned piece by @23soong | i still can’t believe u trusted me w this giant fic but ilu i guezz

commissions | ko-fi

(April 16, 2021 | New York City.)

You like to eat cake.

The color lilac, ocean eyes, and the sky. The lyrics to Ayahuasca, and the hidden metaphors where the poem you uncover always looks like a different scenario than the next person. You know what you like, and it’s only this and that. Other days, when your reasoning is a little swayed, you suppose you can afford to think that you like this plus that.

It was a difference only you understood.

(—understand, you mean.)

(You always know what you understand.)

You like cake because you enjoy sweets, and that one shade of violet that borders right in between periwinkle and lilac, because it never looked like it was too much. It didn’t blend into the background like some of the warmer colors, nor make too much of a bold presence like the depth of scarlet. You suppose you like where you’ve always been, after all.

Being content with your own security had always been one of your stronger suits. There wasn’t a wall, nor a fortress around you, but even when you’re out in the open you felt okay. The shade in between lilac and periwinkle was enough because it was you.

Chocolate over cheesecake, because you’ve never been much of a fan, and that bakery down the end of street fifteen minutes away instead of the one right across where you lived. The windows were always tinted in the shade that gave away its age, but you suppose it was its charm. The old auntie who sits by the counter always wears her apron, even if all the pastries to be sold for the day were already prebaked and arranged on the front for display.

There’s an old comfort found in that auntie’s bakery, you think. You still don’t know her name, and you know she only smiles at you because you’re probably a regular by now. You know the pen she’d had clipped to her apron is the same one from eight months ago, probably never used, because the seal’s still intact by the cap. There wasn’t a table that you could call yours, nor a spot in the fall you would stare at and daydream on your rougher days. There was no music, to dull out the sounds of the world outside—but now that you actually give it a little more thought—that’s what gave you the most comfort.

It’s a known fact that when people tend to slip into a state of reclusion, they would search for a space in a world that they can cocoon themselves in. External factors, there, but ignored. Phone often switched to silent, where the spot they stared at along the cracks of the wall would show them a world they could live in—momentarily.

(And that was the problem—at least you think.)

A safe space, they say. And it had always been valid. When your sister would talk about the boy in her dreams who loved her under the rain, you can tell that she felt safe. Sometimes she looked a little farther away despite physically being with you in the moment, but she always looked warm—so you would just choose to sit shoulder to shoulder beside her, and let her be.

People worked differently; a simple this or that situation, and it’s always going to be like that.

Your comfort is just this.

Auntie’s bakery fifteen minutes away, where you’re some random seat inside because in all the years you’ve been coming here, you could never really pick a spot. The table by the window was nice, as was the one by the shelves. The AC hit you in the way you appreciate the most wherever you chose to settle, anyway.

A slice of chocolate cake on Mondays, then maybe again on Wednesdays, but Saturdays could also mean red velvet if you were feeling like it. The bells by the door sound out your entrance every time too, but even if one day there were gone, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Having a constant was okay, but not necessary. You’re here because you liked their selection better than the one closer to your place, and that was that.

Auntie’s bakery wasn’t your cocoon that kept you away from the world, but you liked it that way.

You found comfort in taking a seat in one of the ten tables inside, and setting your bag on the chair beside you as you got comfortable. You liked moving your hair to the other side, and slumping your shoulders because you know you'd enjoy this little break you decided to give yourself.

You had chocolate two days ago, and even if there was a new option for carrot cake today, you still bought chocolate again. You can hear the conversation from the group of teenagers outside the window every time the doors would open and the sounds of the world outside would filter in. The sound of traffic and life was dulled by the walls, but not muted. There’s still no music in the bakery, and you can sometimes hear every time the auntie behind the counter would shift and tap away at her phone.

This was your slice of comfort.

You didn’t escape the world, but you find yourself still. There was an underlying of connection that you found with the world when you’d have your one slice of cake after a job well done.

So you like to eat cake, because you deserve cake.

You finish the schedule you’d set for yourself, written in bullet points from top to bottom—additional notes scribbled in the margins so you wouldn’t forget, and spreadsheets written so that you keep yourself in line.

You like to eat cake, because it’s a reminder that you’re doing your part as a little cog in the machine that is this world. It’s not escaping that gives you comfort, but rather, the reminder that you’re still in this world, and you’re doing just fine.

(So you deserve your cake.)

Until some days where you feel like you don’t.

Your childhood looked something like this:

Air conditioned rooms, sniffling instead of crying, and the lilac blooms outside your window. There’s a sky, infinite as she’s always been, that watches. Sometimes she cries, but in your corner of the world, it’s more common to see her smile. Sometimes you wonder what she smiles about, but 7 year old you liked to think that she smiled for the same reasons you do.

A cool breeze in the summer, and paper kites folded every sunset. Your dreams of ocean eyes every time you’re close to the shore, as if it’s a foreshadow to the future still to come, but you’d always only stand by the edge and watch—never wading too far in.

It wasn’t a fear of the water, nor the depth, but you just always had a nagging thought behind your head that the waves would never truly be for you. You loved the sun, and the sky too much to give in to the waves.

Perhaps it’s a metaphor for something later on in life; perhaps it isn’t. You’ve never been curious enough to try to think much about it.

Ever since you were young, your idea of love never changed much from your initial thoughts.

Love felt like it should just be what’s written under the bullet points of your life schedule. Love, supposedly, looked like ocean eyes and dark roots for hair. He’d be a little more on the reserved side, and would conquer the world with you.

People always tell you that love should conquer the world for you, but it felt like too much of a selfish dream. Your whole life, you moved with a sense of purpose in mind. You buy cake after a job well done, because you know you’ll only deserve it by then. You do things only because you’ve done certain things, and it’s always been as black and white as that.

(It works.)

You’re in high school and you sit next to your best friend’s boyfriend from seven to five. You have a circle that loves you as much as you do them, and you still treat yourself to slices of chocolate cake from a bakery down the street. Their cake has a generic taste, you think, but it could be better.

Still, you settle. Settling is okay.

The idea that things would always be just okay in the black and white was okay. Your everyday life, and routine, looked like this. The people around you act like this, and you—in return, feel like this.

You laugh when things are funny, then cry when they aren’t. You appreciate the notes you’d find in your locker: the doodles and scribbled reminders alike. The difference in the handwriting and color choice of the sticky notes only reminds you that you’re part of something that isn’t just you.

You will always love your shade of lavender, or lilac, or periwinkle, but you found sentimentality and love in shades of peaches, scarlet, greys, and serenity blue too.

Routine is the kind that looks more lax than rigid, because bursts of serendipity still find you anyway.

(March 13, 2015) Hyogo

Because it’s in your final year of highschool, where the idea of what it initially was is thrown right out the window.

Miya Atsumu.

Brown eyes that are the complete opposite of every hue of the ocean, and his god awful piss yellow hair.

When you meet him, there’s not much to romanticize about it. He sat a few seats away from where you are, and parked his bike purposely close to your sister’s by the gate. He raised his hand to the questions he didn’t know the answer to and would drag his chair beside your desk to say hello even when you’d turn away to focus on your paper during breaks.

Love was an abstract sort of thing, so you could guess that his peculiarity fits.

You were all the shades of lilac while he offered you the pale yellow of every sunshine you found solace in ever since you were young. The color on the opposite end of the color wheel, Miya Atsumu truly was your contrast.

He ate cheesecake and didn’t hide his face when he sneezed. He’d roll up his sleeves and fight the next person without thinking to talk it out first and scribbled his ideas from the center of the paper instead of listing them out from top to bottom, or left to right like you always did.

But he was the start.

“Hi, Len.” he said instead of the standard “hi, hello; what’s your name?” greeting, and it even if it baffles you how he got your name before you even had the chance to introduce yourself—you didn’t think you had it in you to be mad about it.

Third year highschool Miya Atsumu with the god awful piss yellow hair and black undercut smiled in the way that had the left corner of his mouth rising just a little higher than the right, and you were fucking hooked.

You didn’t show it at first, but you were hooked. He had the kind of lilt in his voice that you always thought was more endearing than attractive, and would often lean back in his seat with one arm slung over the back of his chair as he waited for you to finish up with your review for the day. He liked all the things you thought were okay at best, but he was who stayed.

Libraries were for those who found a little comfort and familiarity in the silence, and he was a wildfire. He fell asleep waiting for you as you studied, but would always have a whole lunchbox of soft snacks for you to munch on while you did your thing, checking off the bullet points of your list.

On Saturdays, he was the person waiting for you at the bleachers by the track field with a towel and water bottle, cheering you on as if he understood the sport. When you’d pass him, he’d wave, and holler at you like you just won even if you’ve just been running laps for warmup.

He was never a hello, because he was a whirlwind that caught you off guard straight from the start. Some would say this is like serendipity, and perhaps it is—he is—but you like to think that maybe he’s just part of the black and white of your life. You liked what you liked, whether it correlated with your plans or not, and it really was as simple as just that.

In high school you always liked to eat cake after exams. You liked chocolate because it was sweet, and you’ve always been the person who had a sweet tooth.

You write left to right, from top to bottom and keep your letters beside to eachother in print, because it makes sense.

Miya Atsumu, the boy who was the pale yellow to your lilac, was the one who offered you a pen when you’d misplace yours, even if he only had one with him in his bag.

And you liked him, you suppose, because you just do.

(March 13, 2020) | Tokyo

Miya Atsumu was blunt, and freeing.

He was the sky, and not the sea, but love—later on, became the realization that you’re just freefalling.

After the initial introductions, there wasn’t a point where either of you felt like you were still supposed to be somewhere else. Like something you didn’t know had even been out of place sliding into it, instead of clicking. The skies would open, not just for you but for him as well.

While you saw all the colors of the sun and of the golden hour, Atsumu saw the shades of lilac in the earth.

What becomes is the love that’s felt in the silence, and on the way home.

It’s your voice that he hears chastise him to put down the donut and share it with Osamu when he’d been planning to leave him a third of the last at best. It’s the four letters of your name that he scribbles in the corners of receipts mindlessly, but would still fucking deny it every time he’d get caught.

Atsumu and his bike rides to school, along with his habit of catching up to you just to get off and walk beside you if he sees you nearing the gates.

A silent sort of company in the morning beside someone who was basically known at the most perfect personification of what noise would look like if it were to be redesigned into human form.

True love, and serendipity he thinks, is this. It’s you and all the witty remarks you’d make towards him, telling him to go away, that he never ends up taking seriously because you’d be blushing red before he even gets a chance to react.

The reaction he comes is delayed, but the epiphany that it’s you who becomes the face to love, isn’t.

You were the who when it came to answering the who, what, when, where, why, and how of love.

The what was answered love. The when, is yesterday, when you spilled a little bit of your chocolate milk on your desk and cursed in the way he never would have figured you saying, and today, when you looked out at the skies and smiled your private sort of smile towards the palette of the sunset.

The where was everywhere. Love, as you, in the sidewalks leading up to the gates, and on that desk on the row ahead, diagonal to him.

The why, was this. (It was everything.) (Running, then leaping. Flying, then soaring.) (Everything.)

He finally finds truth to the poems he usually tended to ignore in love songs, but it was great.

And the how, finally, was answered with a shrug.

How did he love you? Atsumu would always shrug because he just does.

Always, always does.

Along with the high, comes facing the reality that you must also fall. For the longest while, you’re climbing, climbing, climbing¸ until eventually, there’s nowhere else to go but down. The real face of love looked somewhat like that.

It’s one foot after the other, and steps towards the sky. There’s no staircase with a solid ground leading up, nor wings clasped behind you to lift you up even with through the absence of a breeze. (But love had you flying.)

It’s seeing the sights you’ve seen your whole life not with a new set of eyes, but a new vantage point. Atsumu’s the sun, all the while you still felt as if you were the child forever glancing up towards it. They tell you to never look at light straight on, but his glow never had you blinded.

Atsumu gave you clarity, showcased on a silver platter.

You understood all the priorly misunderstood parts of your life, where it felt like a new kind of exhilarating. Like having knowledge at the palm of your head, the world became as infinite as it became yours.

(And yours alone.)

Your hands that only grabbed just what was yours were suddenly reaching too far in the cookie jar. Greediness has never really been you, but eventually the fall—your fall—from the high looked like crumbs on your hands and shirt, and the absence of what once was where it should still be.

Atsumu never said a word, because it never was that way.

Still, you closed your eyes while still in the air. The view was right there, and Atsumu was beside you through the climb, the high, and the period where you just glide, telling you to open your eyes and look but you only did—for just a fraction of a second.

It’s the heaven that sits above the clouds that terrify you, you think. The unspoken truth that was kept as a hush is suddenly right in your ear screaming.

“He’s holding you to the clouds,” it taunts, then continues, “—But what have you given him in return?”

Atsumu’s never heard the demons in your head, nor was aware of its presence in the first place, but he always seemed to just have a way of knowing what to say, exactly when to say it.

Like now.

He’s sat in the bleachers, high on life, while you’re high on adrenaline. Six thirty in the summers meant the sun was just beginning to set, so he smiles, knowing that you’ve always thought of this moment as yours.

(And his, he adds mentally, a whisper to himself—a validation that you are his as much as he is yours.)

Truly.

“Hi Lena,” he grins; one side quirked up higher than the other, and under the bloom of scarlet and amber, he’s beautiful. “What’s your name?”

You’re laughing, as if you don’t carry the weight of all your demons on your shoulders. Amber against your deep brown eyes, and he’s caught. Like always. Fucking entranced, like always.

“Hi ‘Tsumu,” you voice back, leaning close and laughing at the way he scrunches his eyes close at your sudden display of brevity. It catches him off guard every time. He loves it, as much as he does you—but he’s still a boy inside.

You laugh anyway, pressing a kiss on his eyelids when he keeps his eyes closed, and you smile, softly, when you notice the way his shoulders relax.

“What’s your name?” you echo, then you’re both laughing at the inside jokes that you admittedly could never get sick of.

“I really don’t know,” he stretches further, enjoying the ay the moment became not just yours, but also truly his, with just a couple of words and some laughs. “I just can’t remember, Lena, but what’s your name?”

You laugh, throwing your hair up in a quick bun, before taking the seat beside him.”Atsumu we sound stupid.”

You don’t turn to return his stare, but you feel his eyes on your profile before he even tries to make something off of it. He smiles, and you feel that too.

You’re beautiful, he thinks to himself. A thought that comes to him more frequent than remembering the kanji for his own name, and Atsumu knows he’s rooted himself way too deep to even try to think of letting go.

“Fuck the status quo or whatever that shit says babe,” you hear him laugh in return.

You’re both sat shoulder to shoulder, eyes towards the sun, and the world feels like it only exists to be yours. (and his.)

A moment, where in your eyes, it feels like it’s just (him) and you.

Just him.

Love, as just Atsumu, because he has a way of being your forever anything and everything. A whirlwind of some sorts; a spontaneous wildfire wrapped with the pretty shades of serendipity, and it feels so right.

It’s quiet, but it’s the nice kind of quiet. The demons in your head are hushed, but if you know they’re probably just slumbering, you’re still overwhelmed with a newfound sense of comfort. The source feels like it’s meant to flow infinitely, and you smile—until you don’t. You remind yourself the virtue of never taking more than you can bother to use, so as you turn your head, watching him soak in the light once again, it takes so much inside you to remember that and fight back the urge.

“Don’t you have practice tonight?” you ask, curious.

His sports bag was placed beside him, and it takes you a little while to notice that he’s decked out in his training gear. The time on your clock tells you it’s six forty five, and you’ve always known that practice started at five.

“I do,” he hums.

You turn in response, poking his cheek before pinching it. “Then go.”

Atsumu sighs, in a too-dramatic-voice for a man who was well beyond those years, but you suppose that that was just one of his charms. “Wanna stay actually,” he pouts leaning his weight against yours, to which you’re quick to groan at, nudging your shoulder to try to get him away.

His chin settles on your shoulder anyway, but his other arm is quick to anchor you around the other side, making sure that he’s still holding you up, more than you holding him up. Atsumu’s face is close to yours, as is yours. It’s a position he’s always liked. When he looks at you, he can see the little dots on your face that other people never could get to see unless they were this close. When you blink, you do it slow, like you’re savoring the sight in front of you, and his heart thrums in a tender sort of happiness because even if you never looked much like the sentimental type, he knows you well enough to know that you really are that.

Atsumu juts his bottom lip, like he’s tired, and you laugh.

“Tsumu, go.”

“Tsumu,” he counters. “—stay.”

“Actually,” he corrects himself, shaking his head. “Lena,” he smiles. “Stay.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he adds. “Just stay.”

His words hit you before you could even try to pull your walls back up, knowing that it’ll hit a spot you aren’t exactly keen on confronting just yet.

Just stay, his words echo in your ear, and you suppose that that’s really all you could do. Moments like this where love overwhelm you the most has you fearing love the most, if you were being honest with yourself. There was a fear that comes with love, because at the root of it all, love will always just be a risk.

The higher the climb, the harder the fall they say. The more you give, the more the world will take. You look at Atsumu, who faces you with his pouted lips and sunset painted across two pools of baby brown. He closes his eyes and leans forward, knowing that you’ll kiss his eyelids before you even say it. Like the earth letting itself pulled by gravity, you’re beckoned towards the sun, falling into orbit as time—the human concept of it anyway—begins to move slow and all you can do is spin in circles and marvel at the being that is the light.

“I love you,” he says, and he’s honest.

What terrifies you is the honesty in your voice too, when you reply with an “I love you,” of your own.

The higher the climb, the more painful the fall, you think. When Atsumu opens his eyes and allows for the silence to remain and blanket the piece of the world that is yours and his, you see that you’ve already made it to the highest summit.

The more you give, the more the world will take.

But the thing is, you don’t know what you’ve given him. Your hands are empty beside his, but he holds them anyway. You’re so fucking in love and it terrifies you because what is the earth next to the sun? It stays in a distance so it doesn’t burn, but now, even as you’re face to face with the being that embodies the essence of the light and life itself—you aren’t burning.

Then it hits you.

He is your everything.

You gave yours, so what else could the world take other than him?

And because love also wields the power to make you more fearful than you are in love, you admit to yourself that you’re fucking scared. Atsumu says “I love you,” again, and holds your empty hands in his that holds nothing but still feels all the ways full at the same time. It’s suddenly hard to swallow, and you’re cold.

The summit is beautiful, but you are cold.

You close your eyes, walk forward, lose your footing, then just freefall.

The scary part is, even if you do that, you know Atsumu will just think of it as an adventure and jump right after you—riding the current with you, even though you’re venturing into what’s unknown.

Still, you close your eyes.

You pull the parachute first, imagining that you’ve hit the ground before the winds would even get to you.

(March 13, 2021)

The funny thing about heartbreak is, Atsumu thinks, is that you recognize its presence before you see its face.

He felt you fading.

Fading from something, but it never fathomed to him that it was from him. You never pulled away when he held his hands, because he made it a point to consciously remind himself to wipe them clean beforehand every time so he supposes it wasn’t that.

“Are we okay?” he asks anyway, when you’re in his car, staring out the street that’s a couple ways from your house. Six-thirty’s already passed, and the skies are in shades of grey instead of the marmalade and amber the sunset always brings.

Atsumu’s voice is a break in the atmosphere, that you think wasn’t tense, but the way his voice quivers in the way only you can point out has you thinking otherwise.

You swallow.

“We are.”

Atsumu exhales, and at the way his voice seems to sound a little more amplified than usual, you realize that the engine’s turned off. Regardless of the nagging voice in your head to stop dragging this out, you turn away anyway.

You love him, and love to love him. You love kissing his eyelids when he naps on your thighs and associating him with the little things just because.

(You turn away, prolonging the inevitable, because you don’t want to associate him with the end—just yet.)

You think to yourself that you don’t deserve this—him—because he deserves better, but you want to have just one more bite. Fists clenched in the pocket of his hoodie you wear that still smells like him, and you want to cry.

Atsumu sighs again, tired. When you look at him, he’s already staring at you, for god knows how long now, and you wince because he looks exhausted.

“Are we?” he asks again, and when you open your mouth to try to find a couple words to string together as a reply, nothing comes out.

“Lena,” he says, and his voice is loud.

He’s only been whispering this whole time, and you’re aware of that, but it’s still loud. His car’s in park; the engine’s off, and when you shift your position from side to side to try to find your place, you can hear the fabric ruffle against each other.

“Len,” you hear again. “Lena.”

“Talk to me,” Atsumu says, and you’re baffled at the way that his voice sounds like a plea.

“I am talking to you,” you mumble. You shift again, but you’re still not comfortable; you don’t want to look at him. You don’t think that you deserve to look at him.

But his voice still comes to you, soft. He’s saying your name; again and again, but it still sounds like a fucking plea. Your shoulders shake, but you still it before he notices. The bullet points that come after the list you write left to right, from the top going to the bottom doesn’t give you an answer as to why he’s fucking pleading.

“Please look at me,” he’s whispering now. (Still loud.)

What is there to plead for?

“What’s wrong, Tsumu?”

“Babe, you gotta talk to me.”

The zipper drags across the plastic of the door, and makes a sound. Internally, you flinch right as you shift your position again because you’re still not fucking comfortable.

You look at him, then blink. He’s staring at you, desperate for words you don’t have, and suddenly your hands feel so empty.

What do I give you?

He shivers when a breeze floats in through the window, while you don’t. Then you blink again. Right, you think. This is his jacket that he gave you. He’s sitting beside you, at 23:10, half an hour away from his apartment, knowing full well there’s traffic in Tokyo regardless of the fucking hour.

Your thoughts, a battle between what can I even give you? and look at what you’ve given me.

“Tsumu I think this is it,” you suddenly whisper, the feeling of being so out of place finally dawning on you.

You keep shifting, uncomfortable in your position, because you’re not supposed to be here. You buy yourself a slice of cake after a job well done, but when you look at Atsumu—what have you done?

What have you given for you to receive so much?

His hoodie’s still warm, and your fingers clutch onto the fabric.

Atsumu stares at you, and even if you want to look away, you can’t. He holds your gaze like he’s held your heart for years now, and you know this won’t be a situation easy to break out of. His grip had always been solid despite the lack of bruises that tell the world of its presence.

“I think,” you sigh, swallowing down the urge to say it’s a joke, to take back your words.

“I think—“ you say again, but hesitate. Atsumu watches you nod your head, the look in your eye so far he doesn’t know if he can catch up by now. You’re whispering your words, the most of what you say phrases he can barely even understand, but he listens to you anyway.

You want to cry again, the tightness in your chest increasing tenfold, and the feeling of discomfort reminding you that you’re not supposed to be here. You don’t deserve this slice of cake, but you’re greedy.

Balled fists, hazy thoughts, and you’re cracking. You aren’t breaking, but you’re cracking.

The fallout is the same.

You nod your head again, and Atsumu watches, his eyebrows scrunched up and drawn together, as you seem to arrive at a conclusion without even letting him in the conversation. The haze clears from your eyes, and by the looks of it you’ve already rooted yourself someplace you don’t even want to stand in.

He tries to say your name, but you’re still shaking your head.

Then you’re shrugging off his jacket. Atsumu opens his mouth, still fucking confused because what are you doing?

You held his hand yesterday and kissed his eyelids goodnight three fucking hours ago.

“What are you doing?”

You hear him, but that’s all there is to it. You know you should be listening to him, but only the definition of the words register in your head. The meaning to be deciphered in the situation remains unseen, when the only thoughts in your head revolve around the fact that your hands are still so empty.

You think about what he says, though.

What are you doing, Lena?

He watches you unzip the zipper from the front, and hear the audible click when you unbuckle your seatbelt. He’s still watching, mouth parted in the silence in disbelief at what he thinks is the goodbye scenario he’s always avoided thinking about. You’re leaning forward, then it’s the left arm out before the right.

A breeze comes again, and even if your eyes are elsewhere, you catch a glimpse at him from your peripherals as he’s shivering—again. Frustration bubbles up in your chest, welling up into tears, but you don’t cry.

You remind yourself that you shouldn’t cry.

Balance was what kept the world in orbit, so therefore, you must only take, if you give.

Rewards are reserved for accomplishments, but what have you fucking offered?

Atsumu’s given you the world, but you still face him with empty hands and just an I love you.

Love was your certainty and your lifetime kind of truth, but what else is there? When Atsumu tells you he’s all yours, it’s enough, but when you do—why does it feel so little?

You take the risk, then the plunge, and look at him. When he blinks, and keeps his eyes shut just that while longer, you have to fight the urge to kiss his eyelids like you’ve always done. His hoodie’s folded on your lap now, but you still smell your honeydew on it.

How many times does he have to wash it to get the smell out? you think.

Atsumu swallows his words, his retaliations, because he knows you’ve anchored yourself before you even hit the water. If you had always been anything—other than the fact that you are always his everything—it was the fact that you are resolute.

So he lets you speak.

He already offers you his love even though he looks at heartbreak in the face.

And it’s your face he sees. Faraway eyes, your shoulders tense, and a shiver that makes your fingers tremble in the slightest. He sees every detail play out in slow motion, and even if his heart is hammering in his chest, just as yours probably is, he thinks to himself—you’re beautiful.

You, as the face of love from the hello, and still you, the face he puts to heartbreak as he listens to you say, “I think I have to let you go.”

‘Let what go?’ he thinks. When you let go of something, it’s to get rid of the bad—the dead weight.

Was he the dead weight?

“It’s for the best,” you say. (For your best, you think.)

“I don’t think we can keep doing this anymore.” (I don’t think I can keep doing this to you anymore.)

“I think this is the best for us.” (For you.)

“What—“

“Tsumu,” you say, cutting him off. Your voice doesn’t quiver but your hands hidden from his point of view clench then unclench.

“Atsumu,” you say again, this time with a smile. It isn’t forced, because you don’t think that you ever had to force a smile for him, but at the sight of him watching you, heartbreak written across his face, your heart can’t help but crack in the same pattern.

It runs a little deeper, you think. The kind of deep where you aren’t sure if even the scars will fade overtime.

“Lena—wait—“ he tries to interject, but you’re already opening the door and walking outside.

He knows your look when you’ve decided, and he knows that it looks something just like this. Still, he bites his lip, hoping that this would just blow off come daylight. He knew you had always been the type to feel the things that come, but never really dwell on it enough to process it. There was hesitance when you accepted things from others, and it never escapes his line of vision when you’d just duck your head a little lower when you didn’t have anything to offer back.

When he says I love you, he means it in both the verbal and in the silent way he tries to communicate with you.

Like leaving traces of himself in every little piece of everything, so that it’s there for you to have and just know.

“I love you,” he says again, and again.

In the silence, but you don’t hear it. On the walk home, you feel it but you turn away.

This is the painful part of love, you think. You know that you’re frustrated, and that everything you hate which unfortunately comes with love is brewing so strong in your chest, that no words come out.

You tell yourself that you’re mad, but when you look at the mirror you turn away.

“My name is Lena,” you say, and you begin. In the world—or your world at least—chaos is swirling so in order to find organization for it, you close your eyes and center your thoughts on the first fact to keep you grounded.

“I like to eat cake, when I deserve it, because I still am victorious,” you say, then add, when a flash of pale yellow comes to mind, “—sometimes.”

“Yeah,” you say, then turn the corner to walk into the kitchen so sit at the table. You remember the slice of cake you bought this morning, meaning to save it for tonight, remembering that you just finished your exams after cramming for nearly two weeks.

In hindsight, you really should have expected it though. Your sister did mention that she just started her period the day before, and usually you never minded when she ate a couple of stuff that wasn’t yours—and you know this is isn’t the reason why you’re crumpled down on the kitchen floor with one fork in hand and no cake in the fridge, but you are.

You’re crying, and flustered, and the words that come out of your mouth sound more gibberish than coherent. You think that you’re saying Atsumu’s name, beside an apology, but truth be told you’re letting yourself go and blank out.

The cold air from the opened fridge hits you on your knees, and you really should be getting up by now to shut it close before your sister comes home and pokes at you for it, but you really can’t be bothered to think about caring.

This is the fall that comes with love, and what was taken was what you were given.

It’s you who gave him back, because the thoughts in your head are busy telling you that even if love was enough—was it really?

Were you enough was the ugly question you don’t face, so you close your eyes and convince yourself that you’re crying because of a fucking slice of cake and not because of the sun.

You ignore the memory of walking home, and still feeling Atsumu’s presence watch you with eagle eyes as he slowly drove with you down the sidewalk – “just so I know you’re home safe, at least give me that.”

Give, you think.

There was nothing that you had given him, and Atsumu had deserved something even greater than eternity itself.

It’s in the same hour of that same night where Miya Atsumu, who wore red eyes and slumped shoulders, that was standing outside the bakery an hour and fifteen minutes away from his place, wondering which kind of cake you’d like the most out of the thirteen in the display.

(September 13, 2021)

Time moves at a weird pace.

Yesterday feels like yesterday, and today feels just like today. It doesn’t move slow, because you know the clock keeps ticking, but still you move. Sunrise comes before sunset, but you stopped looking up and watching the in-betweens colors before that final stroke of marmalade, or even five thirty’s golden hour.

Gold reminded you of the sun, so you looked away. Love had you blinded, and you wanted to look at the world with the lens of practicality instead of the colored ones this time around.

Atsumu was still around, for the most part of it.

Graduation came, then summer, and you know even without you he kept blooming. Towards the end of the year, right before graduation, you still saw the posters on the wall, and heard his name in the announcements. There was always a congratulations right before, followed by a “we’re proud of you,” that never flew past your line of attention.

He deserved it, you think.

Miya Atsumu deserves the whole cake, and not just a slice, because he continuously still gives—his good deeds going well past just the title of a job well done.

You, on the other hand, both kept your distance and thoughts in order in the beginning.

He still said hello when you passed by him in the halls. The awkward timeframe right after a breakup didn’t spare either of you too. With you, opening your inbox and rereading the old messages; debating whether you should just archive the whole conversation or delete it altogether, then seeing Atsumu typing something for a whole five minutes before the indication stops and a message is never sent.

Where you’re stuck wondering what he could have said, because you know Atsumu’s always been the type to not only wear his heart on his sleeve, but rather, shout it out instead.

You never fit that bill, but you (love)d him anyway.

If you were being honest—at least to yourself—it took long, before Miya Atsumu became just the name of a contact in your phone, the text history buried at the bottom. Seven months’ worth of texts piled above his last, “hey, i’m outside,” that you never could bring yourself to delete.

For a while, you think, you deserved that slice of cake.

Just a slice, and not the whole thing, but for that while—it was all yours.

(December 2021)

Akaashi Keiji didn’t come into your life until another three months after you shut the book and pretended you never read its contents. You say you know the end, but really, you never flipped past page 223 despite the book ending at 416.

The end was a page that was skimmed over, and never really read through. A dog eared fold on the corner, instead of a bookmark, for the sake of it sitting on the shelf, looking finished. In the moment, you know it isn’t finished, and you’ll probably stumble upon the book again at some point, later down in time, but perhaps if you give yourself enough patience, you’ll forget that it was left to be unfinished in the first place.

Miya Atsumu was a story you started, where you read the start in a third person POV, then left it midway when you took the reins and rewrote what you think the ending would be from a first person perspective.

I am not enough for you, you said. I will take off this jacket and leave it here, because I haven’t offered you anything.

I will leave, and let you go because you deserve more.

(But it’s I love you, as the thought, that still will always remain.)

You have your books and bullet point notes, the days after today written in a list: from top to bottom with just a couple of scribbles along the margins. Akaashi met you like serendipity used to dictate, and this new book started like how it should have.

“Hello,” because that’s how it should start. Followed by a “how are you?” because that’s usually the next thing to say.

The conversation’s light before it dives deeper, and you think to yourself that you like it like that because it follows order. Atsumu gave you half his bento box two hours after you first met, while Akaashi offered you a napkin and his extra fork when yours fell.

Often, your friends would tell you that it probably wasn’t a good idea to compare the dynamic of the two, and you agree because if you were outside this situation you would be advising the exact same, but when you do things from first person, a lot of things become that much harder just because.

This wasn’t love, nor was this the replacement of love, but you can’t help but admit that Akaashi Keiji was the prince charming you wrote about in your diary when you were a kid. He was the ocean eyed prince charming every teenager dreamt of, and this was the slowburn kind of pace that love should be.

Atsumu barreled into you and made himself be known as the yellow in the color wheel opposite of your purple, and even if it didn’t clash, nor blend, it had a presence.

You think to yourself that Akaashi was all the shades of ocean blue, while you were that kind of purple right in between lavender and periwinkle. You could stand next to him at the train station, or be squished next to eachother in the train during rush hour, and people would take one glance and assume you’re together.

Situating yourself beside the shade next to yours in the color wheel felt right. Blue to purple, or purple to blue. It worked. Neither of you had to jump far, or take a leap across the wheel, but only take a step and you’re right there.

He wasn’t love, but you didn’t let yourself think that he could be.

It’s two more years of this until your master’s is done, so you suppose reading a side story wouldn’t hurt much.

Only that this side story was getting a little more complicated than you initially just planned out. You jumped into this story without the thought of grabbing a bookmark, and Akaashi Keiji had been the type of person you knew hated dog eared bookmarks.

“What are your thoughts about this?” he asks you one day though, so completely out of the blue that it has you whipping your head to the side to stare at him, wide eyed. You’ve known him for a while now, and he was okay. Perhaps just the word great, at best, because whether you looked at this from a first person point of view or a third, your words would still be the same. Objective thoughts led you to thinking of coming to a conclusion based on the rubric of your childhood, and Akaashi fit the bill.

Maybe not your bill now, but he still fit it.

Akaashi Keiji was who your should have been prince charming looked like, with the ocean blue eyes and poetry for words.

Even though he asks you that now, when you’re seated in the passenger seat of his car parked outside your apartment building, you still can only bring yourself to just blink. You stay true to the fact that you are surprised, and you do admit that, but that’s all there is to it. Nothing feels like it’s leaping out of your chest, and there’s no flutter of anything in your stomach.

His words register in your head, but so does confusion.

“This?” you parrot, trying to find meaning through the limited context he provides.

Akaashi nods, hands still at 10 and 2 on the wheel, while his foot hovers over the brakes. You can see that the car’s in park, but he’s tense. He lets a couple more seconds pass—that felt like it was stretching a lot longer than what it really is—before inhaling and turning to face you.

“Yeah,” he nods, looking like he’s saying it to himself rather than towards you. “This,” he confirms, then after it looks like he convinced himself, he looks at you, and nods again.

You stare at two pools of the sea, that immediately has you wondering if it’s either the Atlantic or the Pacific. Your feet that had long been digging into the warmth of the sand on the shore are suddenly hit with the first cold kisses of the water, and you’re caught.

“This,” you sound out, and by now you’re already well aware of where the conversation’s headed. The both of you still skirt around the words anyway, the silence quickly settling in.

He’s breathing in and out, steady, and tapping his finger against the steering wheel—steady. You’re sat beside him wearing a jacket that’s always been yours, and the AC in his car is just the right kind of cold. When you shift, you’re not exactly comfortable enough to want to stay, but you aren’t uncomfortable to the point of wanting to leave right away either. The space between the both of you feel appropriate, and you know even if he leaves later, his place is only a ten minute drive away.

Convenience, you think; it’s an appropriate word to describe this.

So you turn to face him.

Ocean meets earth, and you’re aware of the cold waves touching your ankle now. You’re nodding your head when you hear the click of his seatbelt unbuckle, then keep your eyes on him when he leans close.

It’s like staying on the edge of the shore, hesitant for the long while, before the moon beyond the daylight loses patience and calls for the tide to favor the yearning of the sea as it grants the tips of its waves to reach further inland.

From your seat, you watch as the ocean comes to you.

Your hands are empty, still, but you did finish that paper two days early so you suppose a slice of something is okay.

“This is convenient,” he finally hears you say, and Akaashi wants to say something else, but he shuts himself up when he sees you finally look at him, like you found an answer to a question that’s boggled with your head for a while now.

He knows there was always something unanswered that bothered you, but he never had it in himself to breach past the boundary the both of you had situated right in the middle just for the sake of asking.

He was curious, but they did say that curiosity had its ways of killing the cat.

Akaashi doesn’t want to be killed—and because he didn’t want this to be killed either—he chose to keep his silence.

Still, he still has it in him to hesitate. The moon can only push the tides so much, and the water will only go so far to where it rarely ventures before it must recede back to where it should be come daylight.

It’s daylight that you yearn, and he sees that.

A faceless kind of sun—that he can only guess is the answer to all the questions he knows you still have.

What’s above the both of you is the gleam of moonlight now, he reasons, so he goes as far as he can and waits. You’re still standing by the shore—still sitting completely still—until he watches you break out of the hesitation laced with your thoughts, right as you move.

“What are we doing?” he hears you whisper, so Akaashi begs for the moon to push him forward just a little closer.

(He hopes you don’t pull away.)

“We’re doing what’s convenient,” he offers, a set of words strung together at the very last second that he knows is just a crafted lie, then prays for the best.

You’re nodding your head, and you give yourself just those few more seconds as you weigh your thoughts, deciding what’s still okay and what isn’t.

You think back to the bullet points of your journal, and mentally recite the facts written in an organized list.

You like to eat cake, and treat yourself a slice after a job well done, because that’s only when you deserve it. You (love)d Miya Atsumu for a whole novel of your life where the reason fell under just because instead of the specifics you try to fit in places for the sake of accuracy and detail. Miya Atsumu was the sun that was always with the sky, and you were never blinded even if you did always stare at him directly in the eye. (Next to that part is always a quickly scribbled why—but you don’t know the answer to it just yet.)

(You say you should really be getting back to it later, to fill in the blanks, and give it some closure—but you aren’t ready for a closure.)

(You aren’t ready to open page 223.)

Then next on the list is Akaashi Keiji. You had two classes with him and went to the same university for your masters and the most you know about him is that he likes his coffee with just a splash of caramel. He lives just a ten minute drive away from you, and he’s okay enough to share a laugh with on weekdays and breakfast with on weekends if you had class together that day. He’s okay with 7am lectures, even if he did have bags under his eyes, and he’s the type to always carry a bookmark with him or at least just a scrap of paper to fit in between the pages because he hated the idea of just folding the corners as substitute instead.

It’s not that he’s convenient, but rather this is convenient.

You got along well, and you suppose that you’re comfortable enough with the ocean to wade deep within it and still not drown.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you hear him murmur, so you take a step and wade in a little deeper.

Ankle deep, and you’re unbuckling your seatbelt as you shift and fully face him.

Ocean blue, and the waves are swirling, swirling, swirling—you’re pulled in. Waist deep, and the water’s cold enough to wake you up and remind you that it’s fine. You’re fine, and you can breathe; you aren’t overwhelmed, and when you stretch your fingers and try to feel for the sand beneath the waves, you can still feel it. There’s a certain security found in being grounded, then you’re thinking to yourself that whatever this is, is okay.

You try to stare down, and face the waves, and will yourself to not think of the sky.

There’s no daylight, and the sun slumbers, so the waves around you heed to the call of the moon and move back and forth, in motion, but still, around your waist.

So it’s you who buckles your knees in waist deep water and pull yourself under.

It’s the feel of the water, cool and not exactly cold that greets you, as you push yourself forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt before pressing your lips against his.

Akaashi sighs against your lips, as if he’s already discovered the ending to a story he conceptualized himself but never really had the courage of writing out.

He’s kissing you right back, and it feels good—for the moment.

You try not to think of the nagging feeling that pokes at you again and again, saying that the warmth of the sand under the sun in daylight feels much more like home than the cool feel of the water.

You’ve always known to yourself that there was the undeniable contrast between Akaashi and Atsumu.

Comparing the two wasn’t a bright idea—it was stupid, if anything, and didn’t help with shit, honestly speaking. (You always were honest to yourself.)

Akaashi hummed his praises, and never was the type to really shout them out. He called you when he’d pull up to your building, instead of wait outside the door and surprise you with a couple pieces of chocolate and a cheesy grin that you swore to hell and back you hated to boot.

Atsumu was everything unpredictable and freeing, but Akaashi was predictable in the way that eventually grew sentimental. He, alone, had forever been great. You knew well that there was so many things he could take pride in, and never bothered to hide your compliments when it came to his achievements, because you knew he deserved the recognition.

Akaashi spoke to you in metaphors, while Atsumu told you like how it is. You admit to yourself, that even if there were some days where you liked the challenge of trying to understand what was written underneath the underneath—the days where you just wanted to hear it as it just is were just as equal.

For the next few months after the first, time still moved okay. Sixty minutes was still an hour, while twenty four hours was still one whole day. Whether Akaashi’s hand was on yours, or if his lips were on your neck in the car, time still just moved.

Your heart skipped a couple beats, when his thumb would always caress the corners of your lips before and after he kissed you, and your cheeks would bloom into all the shades of scarlet when he’d whisper your name in between the kisses that never felt rushed.

But it was just that.

You felt the rush of what love was supposed to be—the hype that it never failed to bring—in the car.

At 11PM, in the parking lot of your apartment building, the height of love thrived on the fumes of serendipity for an hour or two every couple of nights, and would trickle fast when you’d open the door and tell him goodnight.

Atsumu was goodnight, my love, with the cheesy smile and your montage of eye rolls but secret blushes when you’d turn your back and make your way inside your house. Akaashi, on the other hand, you think is just your goodnight, then go, because at the end of the day��because of convenience—the both of you are somehow dragging out the goodbye.

So you part from him, wipe your lips, and try to ignore the way his thumb lingers just a little longer on the corner of your lips. You turn away when the look in his eye turns softer, because it shouldn’t, and pretend like you didn’t just see the shift the both of you have been trying to get away from.

Just two years, then goodbye, you tell yourself.

This isn’t love, Akaashi thinks to himself, hand on the wheel and foot on the gas pedal instead of the brakes. He watches you walk past the hood of his car, the hand that was just balling up the collar of his shirt only moments ago raised to give him a goodnight wave as you walk past, and shit, he thinks.

He still smells honeydew even after you’ve shut the door, and he can’t help but notice how silent the car feels despite the low hum of the air conditioner blasting inside his car.

Akaashi sinks into his seat, forehead pressed to the steering wheel, before he sighs his deep exhale.

“Ah,” he mumbles. “Shit.”

This wasn’t supposed to be love.

If there was one thing he excelled at above the rest, and kept as a constant since day one, for Akaashi it was playing it safe.

This route was set to be the one he’d take when he’d drive home, because it was safe. Traffic was inevitable in the city, but this on had the least turns. A couple stoplights, and some convenience stores would be in every corner as well as a gas station at every couple of miles was convenient.

Safe, like choosing just plain vanilla for his cake flavors ever since he turned old enough to pick out his own cake, and safe, like just a splash of caramel in his coffee to lessen the bite of espresso.

You were what challenged him to walk a little ways outside the circle he’d always deemed as safe.

He didn’t run away from it, on the other hand, because he realizes that it’s curiosity that made him take the bait. You weren’t just the girl who shared a couple subjects with him and wrote her notes in the same order, the letters written in print instead of scribbled with questionable cursive.

Truth be told, it was before he even took the risk that night and begged for the moon to let him reach just a little further in the shore for him to unconsciously begin redesigning the face of love into the contours of your face.

You looked like love.

What it could just possibly be at the start, until he waded too far into the shore for that thought to turn into the beginnings of certainty.

And when Akaashi Keiji was certain, he took no time in looking for somewhere to bury his roots as deep as he can possibly go in.

It started with noticing that some weeks you prefer red velvet over chocolate mousse, then making a mental note to himself that you prefer the bakery on the east side of campus than the one on the west. You never made too much conversation with the teenagers that worked there part time, because he understands that there’s never really a point in doing that when you could just be on your way, but he took note of how you’d smile a little more towards the uncles that trimmed the hedges on the garden outside.

In his eyes, not only did you look like the textbook definition of love, but you also looked like his dream of what love is supposed to be.

It’s supposed to be looking at someone, doing something so mundane, and realizing that having a name beside you written in a book that was supposed to just tell your journey wasn’t all that bad—at all.

And all it took was a Sunday morning, on the twenty first of some month he can’t quite recall in the moment, for him to catch a glimpse of you making your way to the library with a cup of what he knows is just boba in a coffee mug in hand. The sky behind you looks like it opens, as if there’s something with it that’s always been with you, and even though you’re at a distance—in his eyes, you’re glowing.

You smile at the uncle who’s trimming away at the hedges to your right, then right before you make a turn, you’re raising your hand as a good morning and giving him a smile.

And fuck, Akaashi thinks.

He holds a heart that beats, where for the moment it’s not because of the fact that he still needs to breathe.

He’s okay, and this is okay.

He thinks to himself that there’s a chance, because the both of you work. So it just means to say that this, can too.

“Okay,” he exhales, the whisper more as a reassurance to himself than to anyone else. The world covered in daylight slumbers at his words, and as he stands, his own schedule in place, he wishes for the blessing of the moon to push him with the tides back into the shore again.

“Tonight,” he texts you, instead.

“I’ll pick you up tonight.”

(March 13 2022)

In shades of grey, Akaashi Keiji loves you.

Grey car, oceanic yes that look grey under the stormy nights you’d always meet him in, and the rainclouds of tonight blending the skies into the muddled shades of one palette. Making out in his car, a couple times a week, because even if he wanted to hold your hand and kiss you out in the world—you always did pull back.

But he has this, and for an hour and some minutes, has you.

Your palms on his chest, where his breaths are huffed out and fucking heavy. There’s smoke out the engine, the air conditioner’s blasted in just the way he knows you like, but it’s those hazy eyes of yours he could never read that stare at him.

Or towards him, rather.

Akaashi thinks to himself that it’s always looked as if you mean to be staring at someone else other than him, living through the moment that was somewhere else but here. He knows love is meant to be screamed at the top of his lungs, so he tries to at least do that.

He’s never really thought the rest of the world should know, because all he really wants is for you to know.

Words don’t come out, and his hands are under your shirt before they even try to run through the skin of your neck like he usually does. Cold palms flat against the curve of your back, and you’re confused. Akaashi’s staring at you, breath held as he holds onto your smell of honeydew for as long as he can like it’s the lifeline he needs. Your eyes are even hazier, looking like you’re even more lost, and he’s frustrated.

He kisses you again, pulling you flush against him, until eventually you’re pushing at his chest when the center console begins to dig into your skin a little too much.

“We can go upstairs?” he usually tries to suggest, and now, looking at your red lips and mused hair, he wants to ask the same question again, but because he thinks he knows you like the back of his hand, he also knosws that you’ll just wave him off with a half hearted no chuckled out instead.

This is just a pit stop, and he knows. He is just your pit stop, and even if the agreement was the same on the flip side, it bothers him that he fucking knows.

“Someone will see us,” a thing you say, because he’s just your for now.

Akaashi Keiji, in your head, is going to be your almost mistake, almost enemy.

(And you don’t want to hate him. It’s not that his limbs have been too entangled with yours for you to come up with that decision, but rather, it was just how you just didn’t want to hate someone you shared slices of your truest you with.)

“Someone will see us, Keiji,” you warn again, ducking a little when a group of people make their way out of a building and head in the general direction of their car.

Akaashi knows that you’re aware of the tinted windows he had installed just two weeks before, and that they fucking worked, so why were you still hiding?

What is there to hide?

So it’s him saying, “I don’t care,” that lights a kind of flame in his gut. They travel up to the veins, reminding him of their existence.

It’s a risk, he thinks. He holds your face in between his hands, shaking. You allow yourself to finally tremble with him, because broken has been the only side of you that he’s ever known.

Akaashi’s frustrated, again, because watching you watch him in the dim—despite the haze of your dark brown, he still tries to jump at the chance that perhaps this could be love.

He wants to know what you look like in every shade in between black and white. There’s a lot of pastels and violet blended in with your choice of wardrobe, so it fits.

Akaashi wants to hear the sound of your voice at twenty three, and not just at a zero or a hundred. He knows your heart breaks a little more when October 5 around the calendar, but he wants to know why.

“Someone is going to fucking see,” you’re hissing now, but you still don’t pull away.

Akaashi knows he’s just the getaway car, but he still keeps his foot on the pedal, always ready to go when you are.

He sees the look in your eye and recognizes the tendrils of goodbye before it’s even completely thought out from your end, but he shuts his mouth, swallows his own doubts, and kisses you like you’re his.

(For tonight, you are.)

(Under the moonlight; away from daylight; within the waters, ever drowning in the depths—you’re his.)

So Akaashi locks his doors, starts the engine, and kisses you again and again and again and again like the world within this little space is all the world will ever be. He drowns out the voice in his head that tells him to pull away; to push you and himself away, because this isn’t okay—but tonight he is selfish.

“I don’t fucking care,” he repeats; in between the kisses and the façade.

“Lena I don’t care.”

You don’t understand, but at the same time you do.

You’re still kissing him anyway, and leaning into his touch. You only look at him when he opens his eyes, to pull yourself back into the water and away from the memory of daylight and sun and fucking sand because not yet—you think. You don’t want to think about the word deserve, just yet. There’s a fire that’s been lit in your veins, and the world feels like it’s kicking you off of somewhere again so you could just soar.

It’s not the same, the voice in your head cries.

And it’s not.

Love, is Miya Atsumu and daylight. He’s the whole tier of cake always put on display that you mean to buy, but never do because you feel like what you carry with you would never be enough. He’s the masterpiece against the skies, against the backdrop of your world, and he deserved nothing short of the greatness that he is too.

Akaashi’s lips are on your neck, where he mumbles your name, once, then twice, but never enough to feel like he’s endgame. There will never be a number to match to that what could be enough, you think, so you let it be and leave it at that.

Akaashi Keiji isn’t a secret, but you still shield whatever you have from something. You think you shield it from the sky, but some days has you feeling like it’s really meant to be understood as working like the other way around. He’s kissing you, still, then when his lips move to kiss the side of your forehead you still.

You know he means to leave a kiss on your eyelids, but you keep your eyes wide open—staring at him. It’s the ocean blue, but you’re not being pulled away, swept out to sea this time, because there’s no current. Within the depths, you see a reflection of the skies that always watch, and the clouds above look like they mean to weep.

Your toes hit the sand underneath the waves, and you take one step back��closer to the shore.

You’re not there, yet, but you’re headed there. Akaashi looks at you, looking a little more broken than whole, and while there’s an apology at the tips of your tongue, he beats you to the punch by saying “What’s wrong?”

He knows he’s asking a question he knows the answer to, and he probably shouldn’t be doing that, because it will only bring more harm than good at this point, but he says it anyway. At every chance that falls on his hands here he can at least try to make his presence be known, to root his name and him into the grounds of your earth, he’ll do it.

Pinpricks that poke and prod at his chest before they dig a little deeper, and a whole lot fucking deeper when you turn away from him and pull away, taking with you your traces of honeydew and love.

“Nothing,” you answer. A lie. You both know, but neither of you confront the clear sins of the other. “Nothing,” you say again, solidifying your answer.

The list comes reappears in your head, and the facts that you’ve been gathering lay themselves side by side beside you in the most cohesive order.

You like to eat cake when you did something worth celebrating for. Fact.

Your name is Lena, and there’s a lot about the lyrics to Ayahuasca that sends you spiraling. Fact.

Fruit tarts over cheesecake, because even if you didn’t mind cheese all that much, cheesecake felt weird. Fact.

Miya Atsumu, forever and always; spring to winter, will always be love. Fact.

You let him go because he deserved better. Fact.

You mark the pages of a book you haven’t finished reading by folding the corners of the pages into the little triangles resembling dog ears instead of buying an actual bookmark, while Akaashi Keiji, does the same. Fact.

Your truth is that even if he stares at you right now, with the eyes of a man in love, you know that the sinking feeling in your stomach is the fact that you think as if he’s just meant to be with you in the moment, but not after it passes.

“Keiji, I’m sorry.”

It’s the way you looked as you said the words instead of the words itself that sticks in Akaashi’s head the most. He’s up, awake at 2 in the morning, tossing and turning in bed, frustrated. There’s a misplaced sense of anger inside, but he knows it isn’t towards you.

He isn’t angry at himself, nor you, nor the two fucking words that sounds like a consolation prize if anything.

Akaashi sits up, back against the headboard and ponders to himself if this is the kind of extremity Bokuto had to face whenever he was going through the motions. It’s the kind of fire that bubbles up but never explodes. First, he remembers. Then, he’s angry. Next, he’s swallowing down the words he wants to say because the problem is—he doesn’t know who to say them to.

He could call you and ask what your fucking deal was, but he knows that’s out of pocket. Your deal had always been the black and the white. He knew you as someone who appreciated it most when things fell into what was in accordance to the list you always write in order. It’s always been either this, or that, and he should have drilled it into his head at the very least.

Then after those thoughts eventually settle into his head and accumulate into a pile in front of him, the anger that already had rose to the neck area suddenly simmers down.

Then, finally, Akaashi realizes, as the exact moment settles in—he’s just tired.

He’s a little sad, and tired. Slumped shoulders, tired eyes, and thoughts a whirlwind of just you, you, and you.

This wasn’t part of his norm, he thinks, but he thought you were. He thought all there was to you were boba or juice shoved in a coffee mug and friendly hellos to the uncles who trimmed the hedges. You were the color lilac despite having a love for all the shades found in the rainbow. There was probably a semblance of love, in your life, before him, but he knows that inn this part of your life—he was bound to meet someone who’ve had endings of their own.

He sighs again, realizing the truth that he doesn’t want you to be just an ending for him to reminisce over with a group of strangers some time later.

And of course, Akaashi Keiji was the type to demand answers, because it’s only minutes later here he finally makes up his mind, standing up in a rush and picking up his phone as he dials your number, the digits memorized despite your contact having been long saved.

You don’t pick up after the first ring, but it’s only two am and he sees your game activity on discord so he knows you’re up. He’s tapping his foot, a little impatient, but because tonight he made the abrupt decision to suddenly be selfish—just this once—he didn’t care.

The second ring still rings, but there’s silence. Your status changes from online to do not disturb, and by the third ring, he hangs up, and grabs his keys.

To be fair, you did count down from ten to one.

Akaashi’s at your door before you can even say hello. He doesn’t look like he’s lost much sleep, taking into consideration the fact that you already are well aware of how little he even sleeps, but it’s you who leans by your door and says hello anyway.

He shifts in his place, left leg supporting his whole weight before the other. You watch, somewhere between amused and indifferent as he parts his lips once or twice, shutting them close each time before he eventually just settles with looking away and murmuring, “Wanna go for a ride?”

“To make out?”

He looks at you, then sighs. “Just wanna talk.”

And to be fair on your end, even if he did say that, there really isn’t much talking going on. The both of you are only wearing your pyjamas, just a couple hops away from going to bed—until this—obviously. He’s driving around the street of the neighborhood park nearby in circles; the one with the two stoplights on either ends, and just one corner as the only way that lead to your house, while his route was the turn a couple more ways ahead.

He misses the turn to your home every time. It’s a fifteen minute walk at best, and truth be told, if you were already sick of this, you would have long gotten off and started walking already, but you suppose that tonight you were a little more patient.

There’s a lot of factors that have to deal with Akaashi being patient with you too, so you could guess that it’s safe to assume that this was just a give and take situation.

You give him your words, while he gives you his.

He gives you his time, then you give him his.

There’s a balance that needs to be maintained, so while he gives you silence, in return, you do the same.

Until he breaks it, saying, “What happened back there?”

“It is what is is, Keiji,” you hum, head turned to face the window to your right.

“We were working out,” he reasons, and you widen your eyes, looking at him, baffled. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we had an agreement, Ji,” you retaliate.

“We didn’t say anything, Lena,” he scoffs.

Scoffs, you think. Then it fucking dawns on you that he was actually already wading in the deep end, too fast, too hard.

You shake your head, always having been resolute with your decisions, as you were transparent with your intentions. Akaashi, on the other hand, seemed to just squint right through it and look at the mirage instead of the actual desert that was right there.

“But it was still said,” you tell him, and when he stops the car near the sidewalk just to gawk at you, it really fucking hits you that he was way too deep in something that was only waist deep in hindsight.

“That’s what you think,” Akaashi tells you, but he doesn’t sound angry. He doesn’t sound tired either, so it messes with you in a weird way to realize that this is just his truth.

“I can’t tell you what you can and can’t think just like how you can’t be putting words in my mouth that I never even said, Keiji,” you bite back, flustered and frankly a little appalled at the bluntness off his words. When you stare at him, you try to give it some reason that maybe he’s just tired, or maybe he just had a bad day and was spewing shit out of his mouth at best, because at the moment, absolutely nothing is making any fucking sense.

But then he’s sighing, tired. The back of his head thumps the car seat headrest when he leans back and loosens his grip on the wheel. The streetlights flicker, but stay, while the stoplight with the corner that has your turn on it signals yellow.

You bite the bullet and turn to him, but still slow yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean—“

From his peripherals, Akaashi sees the stoplight further up ahead that leads to his turn blink from green to red.

He pauses.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m—fuck. Fuck, okay,” he continues, pausing to rub his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, Len, I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

“I think,” you begin, exhaling, and frankly feeling a little more worn out. “I think we were looking at different stoplights this whole time.”

Akaashi laughs, finding it a little out of your character to be speaking in metaphors, especially knowing that that was always his sort of thing. He nods, anyway, a little past worn out, and just fucking tired at this point. It dawns on him that it is three in the morning, and he’s pulled you out of your apartment just to try to find a common ground in something that had been completely one sided from the start.

You’re yawning, in your spot just beside him, but you still look at him anyway with blinking eyes that look more sleepy than anything, but he supposes he’d rather take that kind of look over frustration or sadness.

He fights the urge to tuck in the strand of hair behind your ear, looking away when you blink a little too long, because he knows that his lips will never find a home against the skin of your eyelids he knows he’ll still periodically think about from time to time when nostalgia decides to visit him a little later down the road.

He remembers his stoplight’s at red.

“This kinda feels like a breakup,” he laughs anyway, giving himself this little bit to stay in the moment and pretend like car rides with him, and you, will still be an okay thing for tomorrow.

“Does it?” you smile, slowing down, and thinking of yellow.

Yellow.

He smiles, but doesn’t say a word, and the conversation ends just like that.

“Let me drop you off at least,” he says, and you shake your head, eyes cast towards your stop light as the countdown to green begins to tick.

“I think I wanna take a walk.”

“At three AM?” he prods. “Alone? In Tokyo?”

It hits green, and you stifle a laugh, a little drunk on the kind of adrenaline that doesn’t make you feel like running, but rather, soaring, instead.

“Yeah,” you snort. “At three AM, alone, in Tokyo.”

He knows he probably should have said something to at least get you close enough so that your building can be seen, but by the looks of it, your mind’s already long made up as you open your door, and walk out, shutting the same door softly behind you. Akaashi’s quick to lower the windows on that side, tilting his head as you do the same, leaning down give him a little smile.

“I really don’t mind dropping you off just so that I know you’re safe,” he says.

“And I really am okay,” you laugh, waving him off. “No need to be so nice, I just probably broke your heart.”

“Probably’s an understatement,” he laughs, but waves you off when you look like you’re about to say something.

“Why are you being nice to me? I didn’t do anything to you,” you laugh again.

Then you watch as Akaashi shrugs, smiling the kind of smile that you think he does when he’s alone as he looks at your stoplight turning to green ahead instead of the one on his. “You don’t need to do anything for anyone to get stuff, Len.”

“—You really don’t.”

It isn’t as much as looking at heartbreak straight in the face, Akaashi thinks to himself. It was really just a matter of pulling his head out of his own ass and realizing that the first look of a break of his mundane isn’t what fate has in store. Serendipity works weird, he realizes. People say it’s the happily ever after you’re supposed to be craving for, but he realizes it’s a lesson.

You were a lesson, to which the exact words he can’t exactly have a solid grasp of as of now, but he knows in time he’ll find them.

The reality of heartbreak is that it just comes, for the sake of being there. It doesn’t trickle slow, or give a warning. In his case, Akaashi realizes that it’s just there because it’s the result of something.

He’s driving down a street, passing your turn, where he has to peel his eyes away at the sight of you walking past a no U-Turn sign, because it just hits him that you were never for his to cradle to begin with.

There’s not much about you, but he can just about tell that you look like the kind of woman who holds on to the best kind of book, shoving it away during the best part, because you’re afraid of the inevitable that the story will still end.

He taps at his steering wheel, coming to another stop at the red light of his street, where he turns on his signal to turn to the right when he’s given a go. For a moment, his eyes flicker towards the passenger seat, where you were just hours ago, in the exact same moment where he was high on something and thinking that the world was just made of 2.

Akaashi looks at heartbreak in the face, but it’s just fragments of you, and a couple sentences he can’t connect to each other, and just like that he knows that this little slice of your life will just be a piece of a puzzle he isn’t a part of.

It’s okay.

It will be okay.

But right now the light’s red, and he allows himself to feel that it isn’t. He tells himself that it’s not because he isn’t enough, but rather, he’s not enough for the kind of fulfillment you were looking for. Perhaps love and happiness looked like the skies, and not the seas, because that would explain why most of his memories with you always involved you facing the clouds, as if caught in a daydream.

Akaashi laughs to himself, a little dryly, when the lights turn green and he’s easing off of the brakes. His world will always be in motion, and he’ll always be headed towards something—but right now he thinks of the moment as a metaphor that he’s heading out of something.

Out of the first phase of love; where it’s just an idea and not exactly it.

He was the getaway car, but it was okay. In shades of grey he supposes he’ll always see you, but perhaps one day he’ll find the perfect shade of orange to let the blue in his eyes finally come into a full bloom.

It’s in the exact same moment that you pass by the no U-Turn sign that you’ve always just ignored on your street, where a lot of things hit you.

First is the memory of Atsumu.

At first, you feel bad, because you know you probably just walked out of a situation that had to deal with you breaking a heart instead of healing it, but your truth had always been your truth and there was no point in sugar coating something whose end was prewritten right from the start.

So you shake away the thoughts, and remember Atsumu again.

It’s undeniable, that who he was had always been your truth regarding what love would always be. Miya Atsumu as the gold to your lavender, and even if the color wasn’t just your neighbor in the palette, standing beside him fit.

It fit, but just saying that it does doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

The No U-Turn sign stares at you in the face, so you stop.

You’re standing in the sidewalk again, like all those years ago, and even if you’re pretty sure that you just broke a heart only some moments ago, the only name running through your head in the moment was Atsumu’s.

Love was as ugly as it was beautiful. Selfish as it was selfless.

No U-Turn, so you keep walking.

You pull back from the waters, and ignore the moon, and stare at the skies, pretending that you’re in the presence of the sun where the sky that blankets your side of the world is bathed in the colors of daylight. Every shade of the sky saturated, where the sun looks more of a gold than a blinding yellow.

You laugh, briefly recalling the time when he decided to let you be with the spiral of your thoughts, and it’s tonight where you come into a full realization that he only did that because he knew this was the something you needed to go through yourself before even letting him in.

Your thoughts drift, and you look up to the sky, searching for the big ball of light, because in your heart, you’re calling for love. You’re alone in the streets, at three in the morning just loitering around in your pyjamas that don’t match in any angle, but love is what drives you to keep walking home.

No fucking U-Turn, and it hits you like a damn truck.

Miya Atsumu will always be the love that you’ll still find in the silence. In every shade of yellow and gold, and every walk home. He’s the presence—or a fucking entity, you laugh to yourself—that drives slow next to you who decides to take it slow and just walk home, talking the long route on the sidewalk.

There are streetlights that glow in the distance like fireflies, and you’re suddenly thankful for the burst of light.

Light, like your Atsumu, who will always be the face of your love.

You don’t know if you deserve it, but it truly had to take reading a damn side story and coming into terms that the most you could ever give the rest of the world was an honest I’m sorry.

“You don’t need to do stuff for anyone to get stuff,” you hear Akaashi’s voice chorus in your ear again, so you smile to yourself, not exactly changed, but a little enlightened at most.

Change and acceptance doesn’t happen overnight, but like love, who came into your life like a rush, epiphanies also held the nature of just arriving without warning.

The tears that begin to dribble down your face afterwards worked sort of like that. You recall sitting on the floor of your kitchen, tears on your hands, down your cheeks, on the floor, and on your shirts. You told yourself again and again that you were crying because of the cake and not because of how unkind you were to yourself, because even if your hands were empty—you know that word is only subjective at best.

You’re walking down the streets now, along the streets with the lights that look like fireflies at three am and you could just feel Atsumu smirking beside you if he was here.

Tears that feel warm, but it’s liberating.

Nothing strikes you one minute, only to change you a whole 180 in the very next because it just doesn’t work like that, but what does stay is Akaashi’s words. They swirl in your head again and again, like a broken record that has you realizing isn’t playing such a bad song at all.

Love is as selfish as it is selfless.

You loved Atsumu selflessly, but now you want to hold on to a semblance of him again—albeit it just being a memory, for now, and love with the intention to take.

It’s to accept, he would correct you, if he was there, but then again, those will always just be the words that you are yet to hear.

But for now you walk along the sidewalks and reminisce. You reminisce the view of the summit, and the feeling of being so high up. You think of Akaashi and the ocean blue eyes you thought were just great at best, and whisper another apology into the universe you pray will deliver your words to the rightful ears, because right now, you just want to love selfishly.

There’s a book on your shelf with a dog eared bookmark on page 223, and you think that tonight you’ll pull it out and at least dust the cover.

When you look in the mirror, you know that you’re in love and that fact alone is as undeniable as the truth that your name is Lena.

It’s okay to be in love, and a little broken, and it’s okay to eat a slice of cake just because.

You’re crying still, when you stumble out your door again, Atsumu’s hoodie around your frame, as you drive to that only bakery in town, forty five minutes away, because you know that they sell the best kind of red velvet.

The funny thing about epiphany is that once the smallest bit of it strikes you, it keeps coming. Reality is messy, you think, and your eye opening moment doesn’t happen like how it does in the books where every moment plays out one before the other in perfect order.

There’s a method to the madness that is life, where the order is called spontaneity because the very nature of it is to defy just that.

Serendipity that’s always found you through the face of Miya Atsumu and the amber skies that were yours and his every six thirty. Eyelid kisses and I love you, just because. Climbing from one straight to a hundred, and even a fucking thousand that quick because love is as much of a whirlwind as it is a slow burn.

You tell yourself time and time again that all you do is take without giving, but at this point it’s the universe that wishes for you to understand that there is no such thing as ever giving too little.

Love, as selflessness and purity will keep giving because even if you open your hands and offer it nothing, it will only smile back fondly, telling you that you are always deserving—as you are.

You surpass the word enough—as you are.

You are loved—as you are.

There will always be someone who will sit behind the door and eat cake with you in the silence.

Right now, it’s just you, but you make do anyway.

You’re in the driver’s seat of your car, frankly a mess, primarily because of three things.

The first, you’re finally feeling everything you’ve told yourself you shouldn’t be feeling—all at once. Second, the cake is really good, and you don’t feel guilty about eating it this time around.

And third, the auntie selling you cake commented that there was a gentleman just last week who wore the exact same kind of jacket that you’re wearing, buying all thirteen flavors of cake and taste tested each one on the table by the window. She asked him if he was waiting for someone, and apparently he’d always say that he is, but she was just taking her time getting caught up in a little something, but “she’s worth the wait,” he’d repeat.

“She’s worth a lot of things, so waiting a little bit is okay.”

Apparently he would buy everything but cheesecake, even if he did stare at the piece a little longer, looking like he wanted to try.

You’re crying at the thought that there was still a piece of him that was all you, even after all the one sided conclusions you didn’t even talk him through with.

“Okay,” you say, whispering to no one but yourself in particular. The container with your one slice of red velvet is on your lap, while there’s an unopened one that’s the mango cheesecake you would never in a million years order, in the passenger seat of your car.

“What do we do now?” you say again, looking at the reflection of yourself in the reflection of your windshield.

You’re nodding your head, the words to write beside the bullet points in your head already listing themselves out in a neat line, written in print. You shake your head afterwards, for the first time without the presence of anyone really, overwhelmed with all the things you thought would be your end, showing you all the epiphanies you’ve been pretending you never saw all this time.

There’s a comfort found in listening to the sound of your own sniffles in the car, your own arms around you like the anchor Atsumu’s have always been, and just like that you break down again because not only are you in love with him, you’re also giving yourself the kindness your soul has been needing to realize that you need to love yourself just as much too.

It’s not easy, but it’s tangible.

Accepting love, as the selfless something, and not just a factor that worked like the give and take system was also not right here, but in time you’ll be right there with it where it’s tangible.

“I’ll eat cake today, just because,” you finally say, and at your first bite of red velvet, the weight of your demons lessen just a little bit.

April 16, 2024 | New York City, USA

Miya Atsumu has always thought to himself that love worked in an oddly sadistic way. It came without explanation, stayed without boundaries, then would just fucking up and leave like it didn’t just build a whole world and there would be no consequences.

Thankfully for him, love was the one thing that never left.

He saw you through a myriad of what you think are your lessons, and Atsumu smiles at every candid memory of you.

He saw you think to yourself that you were falling for ocean eyes, then saw you again, a few months after what he assumes was the fall out, at your graduation.

You wore your cap the other way the first time, and he chuckles, snapping a photo from the distance—to which you rapidly turn your head towards his direction at—a feat of yours that he can never guess how it was made possible. He was there, from a distance, cheering when your name was called, and you walked to the stage. Lilac flowers and every slice of chocolate was something he dedicated forever to you, and every time he’d close his eyes before a serve he would lightly tap at his eyelids reminding himself that that will always be yours and his.

The future is where time moves slow, and then it doesn’t.

The demons are there, but you suppose that it’s because they’re sort of a lifetime deal. Somedays you’ll still look away from the slice of cake you’ve been meaning to eat after a job well done, but the better days also come right after the plunge where you’ll drive yourself to the auntie’s bakery located in the OK part of New York at three in the morning just because.

You were connected to the world, despite your demons, and it was okay.

New York had went from just a postcard on your wall to the skyline that greeted you every morning before you went to work.

The smell of coffee and the feel of sunlight at 9am. Love, as the something you can still hear in the silence, because it works just like that.

Silence, as the word that’s nothing more than the absolute contrast to what New York is, but it was you dulling even the noise that comes with Time’s Square to realize that this is the kind of atmosphere good for you.

And because serendipity works like a bitch, it really shouldn’t have surprised you when through the crowd, it’s still Miya fucking Atsumu who you see staring back at you like he’s found you far longer than you found him.

(Perhaps there’s more than just truth to that.)

You don’t think you want to cry, because the love that’s always been there still feels the same, and when you walk towards him, a pace like your usual, you feel weightless.

There’s a comfort about meeting smack in the middle, and you think that this is it. You gave your twenty steps while he gave his. Maybe some days he gives you a little more than just twenty, and maybe some days you’ll find yourself in bed, taking zero steps while he’ll go as far as flying some thousands of kilometers just to be with you.

You let serendipity be, as you stand before him, feeling like no time has passed.

A little over three years has passed, but see the same streaks of amber in his eyes of earth, and you think that love, also has a face that looks timeless.

And it’s this.

It’s you, and it’s him—in a city that uses noise that works like silence.

It’s New York and the sea of lights. Miya Atsumu and his dopey smile, that somehow still crossed more than just a couple oceans to a land foreign to him, and he still managed to come to you halfway, like a whirlwind.

An unprecedented presence that you welcome anyway, because love, you suppose, will forever be so many things.

It’s one face that one name that holds all of that though, Atsumu thinks.

He’s looking at you, where in his head he’s already laughing because your lipstick’s smudged on the left side, the culprit obviously being the piece of croissant looking a little lame in your hand.

“I love you, still, but I think you know that,” he says immediately, as if he’s just continuing a conversation.

(In a way he is; the last you talked to him, you never really heard a reply. You said goodbye and then you left, and Atsumu never got a chance to get a word in.)

And as if he read your expression, he laughs, hands low on his waist as he stands in front of you, present. “I wanted to tell you that then so I’ll say it now too I guess. My voice has got a little deeper so it probably has more effect now.”

You shake your head, already past the state of disbelief considering the rollercoaster that is your life. “It still has the same effect,” you mumble, croissant long forgotten.

You think that you want to cry again, but Atsumu’s grinning and you feel breathless.

It’s like mercy that greets you after you think you’ve done nothing but sin—you’re breathless but your lungs feel full.

So it’s Atsumu walking up to you, looking at you like you’re his daydream, saying “Hi Lena, what’s your name?” that grounds you back to the earth after freefalling from the summit.

The world has always looked different from the view at the very top, and even if you closed your eyes throughout the fall, there was a certain comfort you realize only now and that’s the fact that the whole time you were falling—it was the sky that held on to you and never let you go since.

“Hi ‘Tsumu,” you say back, closing your eyes when you lean in halfway as he reaches forward and pulls you the rest of the way, towards him—towards love, and towards home.

“I’m sorry I don’t have something with me right now to give you,” you mumble out anyway, and your heart bursts at the feel of his hand stroking the back of your hair, as his voice anchors you down again to keep you from floating right by your ear.

He kisses your eyelids, then your forehead, and the white noise of New York has you feeling both connected and safe.

“You’re okay,” he says. “You’ve always got me like how I’ve got you, and I’ve never thought there was anything more that I could try to ask for other than that.”

“You are everything that love will always ever be and that’s it for me, Len.”

He smiles, and while things still don’t fully click into place because healing has a habit of doing just that—you also let yourself feel the lightness of just this.

“You don’t need to do anything. I got you,” he says. “You got me too,” he reassures, and you believe him.

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