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buckyispunk · 6 months

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Ocean Blue

Aloha Chapter Two ~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N)

read Aloha part one here!!

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: After a great day of playing football with Bucky and his friends, he plans an excursion for you. However, Bucky might not be as perfect as he seems.

A/N: thank you to everyone who liked, commented on, or reblogged chapter one! I was so so so thrilled with how well the first part did and I'm glad you all enjoyed it!

Warnings: facefucking, exhibitionism (dressing room shenanigans), brief fingering, discussion of unhealthy relationships, mention of cheating, bit of a praise kink, orgasm denial, come eating, dom!Bucky and his filthy mouth, drinking, insecure reader, self-deprecating thoughts, please lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: 8.6k

You feel the heat from the sun’s rays shining on you through the windows before you even open your eyes. You also feel a solid mass under your chest and it isn’t until you open your eyes that you remember the previous night. Bucky is underneath you - still sleeping if his soft snores are anything to go by. You feel your lips turn up into a smile as memories of last night play through your mind.

His arm is draped over your body, securing you to him. You try to gently pull his arm off you so you can get up, but his bicep flexes as he subconsciously pulls you in closer. As much as you’d like to stay here cuddled up with Bucky all morning, you have to pee. You nuzzle into his chest and begin to pepper kisses across his toned pecs.

Bucky rustles above you and you hear a soft hum as he wakes.

“Mornin, doll,” he keeps you close to his chest with one arm and raises his other to run through his hair.

You turn to look up at him and he leans down to press his lips to your forehead.

“How’d you sleep?” his morning voice is deep and gravelly.

“Really good. You?” you hold back a giggle at his tousled hair.

“Amazing, hon.”

“Glad to hear it, Buck. Hate to ruin the moment, but you have to let me up so I can pee.”

“Says who?” he uses both arms to hug you tighter into his chest.

You gently slap his bulging arms and squeal, “Bucky! Let me up!”

Bucky scrunches his face up as if in thought. “Fine, but it’ll cost you. One kiss.”

“Ew, I have morning breath.”

“Don’t care, doll,” he guides your face to his and leans in to take his payment.

After a couple of seconds, he releases you from his grasp. It isn’t until you’re about to pull the covers off of you that you realize you’re naked. Sure, he saw everything last night, but it’s different in the light of day when you don’t have any alcohol in your system.

“Um,” your cheeks heat as you sit on the edge of the bed, covers pulled tight around your body, “could you, uh, look away for a minute?”

“Doll, you’re beautiful and you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. But if it’ll make you more comfortable then of course I will.”

He rolls over onto his stomach and presses his face into his pillow. You lean over and plant a kiss on his shoulder blade before jumping up and running to the bathroom. You go pee and brush your teeth before grabbing one of soft bathrobes with the resorts logo on the breast and tying it around your waist. When you open the bathroom door, Bucky is standing, pulling on his boxers.

“Would you wanna go get breakfast with me?” he asks, adjusting the elastic of his underwear.

“That sounds great.”

Bucky smiles and gathers his clothes from the floor, blush forming across his face as he does so. With an armful of clothes, he turns to look at you.

“I just want you to know, I don’t usually do that. Sleep with girls I just met- I mean. I mean, yeah I’ve done it before,” he begins to ramble, “but like, not often. I just felt like there was something between us and you were just so gorgeous last night, you’re still gorgeous. Shit, I’m so-”

You cut him off with a hand on his bare shoulder before he gets any farther.

“Bucky, it’s okay. I understand what you mean. I don’t normally do stuff like this either.”

“Well, I’m gonna go to my room to put on some different clothes. I’ll come back in a couple of minutes and we can go downstairs?” he starts to pull on his dress pants from last night. He pulls the wrinkled button up over his shoulders, not bothering with the buttons.

He holds his shoes and belt in one hand as he makes for the door. He opens the door and steps out. You follow him, standing in the doorway. Before you have a chance to say goodbye, you hear a familiar voice coming from over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Nice clothes, Buck!” Sam is walking down the hallway toward the two of you, Steve beside him. “We didn’t hear you come back to your room last night,” Sam continues his teasing.

Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh before turning to face his friends. You’re mortified that they’ve caught you. But at the same time, you want to laugh at the murderous look on Bucky’s face.

“Not another word, Sam,” he goes to hold up his hand, as if in warning, before remembering that his belt is dangling from his fingers, and quickly lowers it, trying too late to hide further evidence.

Sam doubles over laughing, meanwhile Steve stands still as a statue, eyes trained on the ground. He looks almost as embarrassed as you do.

“We were just headed downstairs,” the blond explains.

“Sorry, Barnes,” Sam says your name and nods at you, “I’ll leave you to continue your walk of shame,” he lets out another roaring laugh, slapping Bucky on the shoulder before continuing down the hallway, Steve in tow.

The blond looks up to give you a sheepish smile, “I’m sorry,” he mouths an apology to you.

Once his friends are gone, Bucky turns to you. “I swear to god, I’ll kill him if you want me to,” he says with a straight face.

You laugh at him, “It’s fine, Bucky. He’s just being funny.”

Bucky gives you a thankful smile and leans down and pecks your lips before making his way to his room.

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes!” he calls to you.

When Bucky knocks on your room door exactly two minutes later, you’re running a brush through your hair. You had thrown on a pair of shorts and a tank top.

“Just a second!” you call out.

You grab your things and slip a pair of flip flops on before opening the door. Bucky apologizes again for Sam’s bevahior and you tell him not to worry - you enjoy the lighthearted fun. You grab plates and get in line for the buffet.

Bucky piles his plate with so much food that you’re worried it’s about to start falling off. He reaches for the tongs to add bacon to his stack of food.

“There is no way you can fit any more food on that plate,” you look at him in disbelief.

How is he planning on eating that much?

Bucky grins at you before taking the bacon from the tongs and sticking it directly into his mouth, giving you a smirk.

“That better, sweetheart?” he mumbles around a mouthful of food.

You roll your eyes at him and walk to the first empty table you see. Bucky follows behind a minute later with his plate and two cups of orange juice, you’re mildly impressed at his ability to carry it all without spilling anything - like you surely would’ve. But then again, his hand dwarfs the cups of juice, so you suppose that helps. He sits down across from you and sets one of the plastic cups in front of you.

“Thank you,” you tell him after swallowing your bite of food.

“‘Course, doll,” he answers around a mouthful of toast.

You figure it’s just your luck when Brock and Marissa walk into the dining room. Did they eat breakfast at the same time as you every day? You let out a sigh, hoping they don’t see you. You really don’t feel like explaining who Bucky is, Hi, Brock! This is the guy I just met who called me “his girl” when I slept with him last night, isn’t he great?

Bucky turns to follow your eyeline, landing on the couple.

“Is that…” he trails off.

“Yep. Brock and Marissa.”

He looks down and nods, dejected look on his face, “I can leave, if you want,” he offers. “I mean if you don’t want them to see you with me.” How is it that you just met this man, yet it appears he can read your mind?

You would never do that to Bucky, though. He didn’t deserve that. So what if Brock found out? You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. You’re a grown woman. You’re single and you decided to have some fun with a man who’s interested in you. It’s not like you’re the only person who’s ever had a one night stand - if that’s what you’d call this, anyway.

“Of course not, Bucky. I don’t care if they see us. Besides, you haven’t even started your cereal or your eggs.” This earns a grin from Bucky.

“Hey, you keep that up and you’re not getting any of my waffles,” he points his finger at you.

Brock and Marissa sit down. You try not to watch them - you really do. But they’re sat right in your line of sight and it makes it hard. Brock eats with one hand and scrolls through his phone with the other. Marissa does the same.

Bucky notices you watching them and turns to look. Marissa says something to which Brock just gives a noncommittal nod and continues scrolling. It’s no wonder he doesn’t see you with his face buried in his phone.

“Was he like that when you were with him?”

“Yeah. Especially toward the end. It was like he won me over at first by doing all this stuff for me and taking me out on dates. But then after a while he stopped doing all of that. I was lucky to have a conversation with him that lasted more than a couple of minutes.”

Bucky gives you a sad look. “I’m sorry doll. Glad you don’t have to put up with that anymore.” He mutters the next part under his breath so quietly you almost miss it, “Asshole didn’t deserve you.”

“What about you?”

He looks confused and you realize your question had been rather vague.

“Have you ever had any serious relationships?” you clarify.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Last serious one ended just before I got out of the army. I was on a nine month deployment. The distance was hard. I called her as often as I could, had flowers sent to her. We’d been together for years. Turns out she was cheating on me while I was overseas. Said she was lonely because I wasn’t home. Needed something more, I guess,” he shrugs, “Thought she was the one. Had the ring picked out and everything.”

“Oh my gosh,” your face drops. How could someone do such a thing? He was away serving his country and she had cheated on him? He had even sent her flowers while he was gone - Brock had never once gotten you flowers. “I am so sorry, Bucky. That’s terrible.” You can tell his mood has declined from talking about it and you’re not sure how to console him.

“Don’t worry about it, doll,” he gives you a forced smile. “Besides, it’s best that I found out when I did. I got all my money back for the ring,” he jokes, but his chuckle doesn’t meet his eyes.

You simply nod in agreement. You and Bucky finish eating in silence, reflecting on the heavy topics the two of you had discussed. Bucky downs the last of his orange juice and, as if nothing had happened, the grin is back on his face.

“Wanna go to the beach? If you’re not sick of me yet, that is.”

“Don’t think I could ever get sick of you,” you chuckle before realizing what you had just let slip.

You’re not sure what exactly your feelings are for Bucky, but it’s clear that there was an instant connection between the two of you. And last night made it obvious that it’s not just a platonic connection. Regardless, you don’t think you should reveal your cards to Bucky just yet.

He doesn’t need to know that he hasn’t left your mind since you first laid eyes on him across the bar. He doesn’t need to know that he’s made you happier in two days than anyone has in years. He doesn’t need to know that you’re not sure you could go another day for the rest of your life without seeing his blinding smile. But it’s too early to be having these thoughts. So you quickly stand and clear the table before Bucky has a chance to respond. You head to the elevator without another word. Bucky follows you, confused smile on his face.

Bucky leaves you in front of your room so that you can get changed and, for the second time today, he promises to be back in a couple of minutes. You change into your bikini and put your tanktop and shorts back on over it. It’s been about five minutes and Bucky still hasn’t come back to your room. You decide to take the time to pull out your phone and text Tess, your best friend back home, filling her in on everything that has happened with Bucky and his friends so far.

After you’ve finished updating Tess, Bucky still hasn’t come back. You wonder for a moment if he had changed his mind. Maybe he didn’t want to hang out with you anymore and this was just his way of getting rid of you. You only let those thoughts cloud your mind briefly before you snap out of it and realize that that was unlikely. He hadn’t shown any indications of wanting to get rid of you - the beach had been his idea. You decide to go to Bucky’s room.

You pad down the hall in your flip flops and stop in front of Bucky’s door. You hesitate for a second before raising your hand and rapping your knuckles against the wood. You hear muffled curses coming from the other side of the door before it opens a second later.

“Shit, doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky answers the door. He’s still wearing his clothes from breakfast. He returns back into his room, leaving the door open for you to follow. “I can’t find my trunks anywhere.”

You step in and close the door behind you. His room is kind of a mess. There are piles of clothes scattered everywhere and you see why as he crouches down in front of his suitcase and begins throwing clothes out of it, desperately searching for his bathing suit.

“Whoa, Buck, calm down,” you hold back a laugh at his overly-frustrated state. “It’s just a pair of swim trunks. Did you only bring one pair?”

A visible heat creeps up Bucky’s cheeks, “Well I didn’t think I was gonna be in the water that much,” he explains.

“There’s a store down in the lobby, I’m sure they have some if you want to buy another pair.”

Bucky sighs and stands up, giving up on his search. “I’m sorry doll. You can go to the beach now if you want and I can meet you there after I find a new pair.”

“It’s not like I need to spend the entire day at the beach Bucky, we still have plenty of time. Besides, I want to look around for souvenirs.”

“Okay, doll,” he gives you a grateful smile.

The two of you make your way to the main floor, Bucky still obsessing over his trunks, I just don’t know where they could have gone.

Upon stepping into the resort’s store, you’re met with all sorts of fun souvenirs and brightly colored clothing. Bucky makes his way over to the swim wear section and you wander around, looking for gifts for your parents and Tess. You settle on a mini totem garden sculpture for your parents and a pretty bracelet for your best friend.

“Hey, doll!” Bucky peeks his head out from behind a dressing room door.

You hadn’t even noticed he’d gone into a dressing room. You make your way over to the stall he’s occupying and raise an eyebrow. “Find a pair of trunks?”

“Wanna come in and see them?” he grins and opens the door for you, but keeps his body hidden behind it.

“You need my help choosing a pair?” you sigh and step into the dressing room after setting down your gifts.

Bucky closes the door behind you and he’s shirtless, wearing only the pair of swim trunks he’s trying on. You drop your eyes to them and burst out laughing. The trunks say stop staring at my with a picture of a rooster underneath the words, directly over where his junk is. Bucky joins you in laughing.

“You just had to take your shirt off too, didn’t you?” you tease. Not that you’re complaining about the sight in front of you.

“Well we need to get the full effect so we can tell whether or not we like them,” he justifies, grin never leaving his lips.

“You’re not seriously getting those, are you?”

“Nah. You could follow the advice on them, though.”

“Please, Barnes. Says you,” you remember the way he’d stared at your bikini-clad body yesterday. “Besides, are you telling me you don’t like it?”

You turn to leave the dressing room and are stopped by a hand on your arm. Bucky grabs you and pulls you into a kiss. You deepen the kiss and he begins rutting into you, feeling his bulge rub against you. You know there’s people outside the dressing room. Anyone could overhear you if you or Bucky get too loud. But you don’t care about any of that as you sink to your knees on the dressing room floor. In fact, maybe it spurs you on a little.

Bucky stares down at you with wide eyes, jaw dropped. “Fuck, doll. What are you doing?”

You dip your fingers into the waistband of his boxers beneath the swim trunks, testing the waters. “Want to repay you for last night.”

“Doll, you don’t have to do that. Are you sure?”

You ever so slightly start to pull down the trunks along with his underwear and look up to him for permission before continuing. He gives you a nod, a look of awe spread across his face. You drag them all the way down and let them pool around his ankles before he steps out of them, leaving him fully nude in front of you.

You’d seen him before, but not up this close. His tip is pink and leaking a drop of precum. He’s barely hard and you’re already wondering how you’ll be able to fit him all down your throat.

“Stop staring at my cock, doll,” he says quietly as he stares down at you, smirk on his face.

He reaches a hand around to tangle in your hair and gently pulls you closer, dragging his length across your face. The feeling of his heady weight resting on your cheek sends a flood of arousal to your core.

You lick up his hardness until you reach the tip. You place a kiss on his slit, tongue darting out to lap up his precum.

“I don’t like teasing, sweetheart,” Bucky gives you a warning look.

You take the head into your mouth and begin to lower yourself onto his cock. Bucky’s hand rests in your hair, letting you set your own pace. You begin bobbing up and down on his shaft, taking about half of him into your mouth with each descent. After a couple minutes of letting you control things, Bucky pulls your head off of him and leans down so he’s face to face with you.

“If it gets to be too much, tap on my thigh two times. I want you to repeat it back to me if you understand.”

“Tap on your thigh twice to stop,” you meet his eyes. They look almost completely black, his pupils blown wide with lust.

He pulls you in for another kiss before rising to his full height.

“Ready, doll?”

You’re not sure why the thought pops into your head, but you decide to try something out. “Yes, Sergeant.”

Bucky’s face turns to something resembling a scowl as his grip tightens on your hair and he drags you back onto his cock. He pushes you all the way down until you feel him hit the back of your throat. And then he forces himself in even farther. Your face is pressed against his lower abdomen, nose nestled into the dark patch of hair just above his cock. You breath in through your nose, which overflows your senses with his musk.

Bucky releases his hands from your hair, allowing you to take a breath. You gasp for air before reattaching your mouth to his cock, already missing the taste of him. He lets out a quiet groan and holds your head in place as he begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. He buries himself in the back of your throat and you gag around him.

“Fuck, doll. Love feeling your throat close around me.”

He holds himself there for a few more seconds before giving you a reprieve.

“Doing so good for me, hon.” He praises, just loud enough so that you can hear him, quiet enough that anyone outside the dressing room wouldn’t be able to.

He continues using your throat to chase his high. He lets a quiet groan slip every so often, making your pussy clench around nothing each time. He picks up the pace, holding your head still and brutally jamming his length down your throat over and over. You lift a hand to his hairy thigh to brace yourself.

“Feel so good. My pretty girl.”

You reach a hand into your panties to give your throbbing clit some attention. Bucky notices immediately and grabs your wrist, ripping your hand out of your shorts.

“Bad girl. Did I say you could do that? Put both your hands behind your back now or you won’t be coming at all today.” He lodges himself into the back of your throat and holds there, cutting off your air flow until you follow his orders.

You do as he instructed and clasp your hands behind your back.

He pulls out of your throat and looks down at you, expression softening. “You can still tap out if you need to, doll.”

You’re not sure what makes you respond the way you do, but you’re quick to regret it. “Please, you think this is rough?” sarcasm drips from your wrecked voice.

Your response brings the scowl back to Bucky’s face and the hold he takes on your hair makes your scalp sting in the best way.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He uses your hair to drag you up and down his length, not stopping to give you a break.

He’s focused solely on chasing his own high, enjoying the way you gag around him. When tears begin to run down your face, he swipes them away with his thumb.

“You asked for it, pretty girl,” he gives you a mock look of sympathy, not letting up. “Fuck, I’m getting close. You’re such a dirty little slut letting me fuck your face like this. What if someone overheard us right now?”

Your moan is muffled around his cock, the vibrations making him grit his teeth in pleasure.

“You like that, doll? Want everyone to know what a little slut you are for me? Want them to see you on your knees for me?”

You do your best to nod with his rock-hard length in your mouth. He gives a few more deep thrusts and you feel his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly before he uses your hair to yank you off of him.

“Can I come down your throat, doll? Pump your stomach full of me?”

“Please, Buck,” you manage in a hoarse voice.

Bucky groans and forces himself as far down your throat as he can possibly get and holds there, both of his hands keeping your head in place. You unclasp your hands behind your back and bring one up to massage his balls, sending him over the edge. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and does his best to stay quiet as he shoots rope after rope of his seed down your throat. You feel his warm come trickle down your throat and begin to choke on it. He keeps you in place until his orgasm subsides.

He finally lets you go and you pull off of his length, sputtering and gasping for breath. Bucky kneels down in front of you and holds you to him, calming you. He runs a hand up and down your back and smooths your hair. Once you’ve caught your breath, you lean in for a kiss, which he gladly returns, groaning into your mouth when he gets the briefest taste of himself on your lips.

“You did so fucking good for me, doll,” he whispers into your ear. “Made me feel so good.” He reaches a hand down and slips it into your panties, instantly being met with your wetness. “Fuck, doll. You really liked that, huh?”

“Yes, Bucky. Made me so wet,” you buck your hips up into his touch, hoping he’ll make you come. “Please, Bucky,” you beg, “I was good for you, don’t I deserve a reward?”

“I’ll decide that for myself, doll. I’ll make you come if and when I want to,” he runs a finger through your slick and rubs a few circles over your clit.

You were already on the brink of orgasming the entire time Bucky was in your mouth, and you’re sure that all you need is a couple more strokes of his calloused fingers to push you over the edge. You’re not surprised that Bucky seems to know this too when he pulls his hand out of your shorts.

“Be a good girl for the rest of the day and I’ll make it worth your while. Give you anything you want tonight, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you pout, although the way he used you to get himself off and left you desperate for release turns you on like nothing ever has before.

He stands and helps you to your feet. He gets dressed while you use the mirror to fix your disheveled look. When the two of you look normal again, he opens the dressing room door.

You’re glad to find that the store is almost empty and it appears that no one had heard anything. You pick up the gifts you had selected for your family and Tess and Bucky returns with a new pair of trunks. They’re a solid salmon-pink color.

“Whatcha got there?” he asks, nodding to the trinkets in your hand.

“Some gifts for my family back home. See you found a bathing suit.”

“Well, you didn’t like the last one, so…” he chuckles at you and the two of you make your way to the checkout.

Just before you reach the counter, Bucky calls your name. He’s stopped in front of a display of Hawaiian shirts.

“We should each get one!” the excited look on his face is too cute to deny, so you simply nod and agree.

You pick one out and Bucky (coincidentally?) selects a matching men’s one. You set your stuff down on the counter and move to pull your wallet out of your bag before Bucky stops you and sets his own stuff down on top of yours. You’re about to argue that he’s not paying for all of your stuff, but he raises his eyebrows and shoots you a warning look.

Don’t you dare try and pull that again, he words from when you had bought dinner last night replay in your mind. You look down at your feet and blush. If it didn’t turn you on so much, you’d be embarrassed at how submissive this man makes you.

He grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge next to the cashier and sets it on the counter. Bucky pays for everything and hands you the bottle of water while the cashier bags everything up. You’re thankful for the instantaneous soothing the cold water provides as it hits your raw throat. You turn to Bucky and smile, as if to thank him. He sets a hand on your waist and gives you an affectionate smile.

Bucky takes the bags from the cashier and leads the two of you out of the gift shop.

“I have to go up and change into my trunks. I can set your stuff in your room for you while I’m up there, if you want,” he offers.

You dig your extra key card out of your bag and hand it to Bucky. He disappears behind the elevator doors. Just as you’re about to take a seat, you see Sam and Steve. They catch your eye and make their way over to you.

Once you see them up close, you notice that Sam’s swim trunks are identical to the ones Bucky had been wearing yesterday.

“Are those Bucky’s swim trunks?”

“I may have forgotten to pack my own. And Steve wouldn’t let me take his. Bucky wasn’t in his room last night, as I’m sure you know,” he finds his joke hilarious and lets out a laugh, “so I went into his room and took them,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if, by a chain reaction, it hadn’t led to you on your knees for Bucky in a public place just ten minutes ago.

“Ew, Sam,” your face scrunches up in disgust, “That’s gross.”

“Don’t worry! I’m wearing underwear with them!”

Steve chooses now to speak up, “As much as I’m sure she’d love to hear about your underwear, Sam,” he tells his friend sarcastically, “where is Bucky?” he turns to you.

“He went upstairs to change into the new trunks he just bought,” you eye Sam, “because he couldn’t find his.”

As if on cue, Bucky appears, wearing his new trunks and the Hawaiian t-shirt he just bought. You notice he’s also holding your new shirt.

“You asshole,” he furrows his brows at Sam, “Are those my trunks? That’s gross, man. I had those on yesterday.”

“Don’t worry,” you interject, “he’s got underwear on.”

Bucky gives you a confused look, probably wondering how you know that, and you, Steve, and Sam laugh.

Bucky returns his attention to Sam, “Give me back the key card to my room,” he holds out a hand expectantly.

“Told you, you never should’ve given it to him,” Steve says.

“Hey!” Sam turns on the blonde, “You helped me take all his towels!” He reaches into his - Bucky’s - pockets and hands over a key card.

“Punks,” Bucky mutters, grabbing his room key back.

“Do you guys wanna come to the beach with us?” you offer.

“We actually just left the beach,” Steve answers, “Thanks, though.”

“Good,” Bucky takes your hand and leads you away from his friends, “See you later!” Steve and Sam laugh as Bucky leads you away.

“Were they bothering you?” he looks over at you.

“No, Bucky, you don’t have to worry so much. Sam made another comment about you not going back to your room last night, but it doesn’t bother me. I like them. I think they’re just trying to embarrass you in front of me.”

“You can say that again,” Bucky mutters. “Oh, hey,” he holds up the shirt you’d forgotten he was holding, “I just thought maybe, um,” you find it adorable that the man who was just fucking your face in a public place now seems so shy, “maybe you could wear your shirt too and we could match.”

“Aw,” you smile up at him and take the shirt, “sure, Buck.” You throw the shirt on over your white tank top.

You grab two beach towels and stuff them in your bag before stepping out of the resort. You and Bucky make your way to the beach, fingers interlaced. When you pick out a good enough spot, you and Bucky lay out your beach towels and strip down to your swim suits. You make your way to the water’s edge.

“You comin’ or what?” you throw over your shoulder with a smirk.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he gives you a mischievous grin, “Just enjoying the view.” His eyes flit down to your ass and you scoff.

You do your best to refrain from smiling as you give him a mock-offended look. He makes his way over to you and you splash him with ocean water when he gets close enough. He laughs for a minute but then his expression turns more serious.

“Remember what I said about being good today, doll?” he steps closer to you and leans down to whisper in your ear, water dripping from his hair. “If you wanna come, that is,” he pulls away, smirk upon his lips.

You blush and turn away. The refreshing salt water surrounds you and makes you feel as light as a feather. It’s as if each wave is chipping away at the weight on your shoulders.

You look at Bucky, who’s busy watching a ship in the distance. His blue eyes are the same color as the ocean. He’s got a slight smile on his face and you think that he looks as content as you’ve been feeling ever since you got here. The water comes up to his swim trunks, but leaves you an unblocked view of his abs and pecs. Water droplets run down his sculpted body and you’re suddenly ultra-aware of the fact that your core is in desperate need of attention.

“Heads up!” you hear a familiar voice call out from behind you.

You turn and before you know what’s happening, Bucky is diving in front of you, landing in the water with a splash. He emerges holding a football.

“Sam, watch out! You almost hit her!” he scolds his friend, who’s standing in the sand with Steve.

“I was aiming for you, if that makes it better,” he grimaces and apologizes to you.

“Hard to believe you were the best marksman in our troop,” Bucky scoffs and shakes his head.

“Get the ball!” Steve yells before rushing into the water, Sam following behind him.

Steve makes a beeline to Bucky, who starts running in the opposite direction. Bucky loses his footing in the waist-deep water and Steve catches up to him. The large blond dives at Bucky, arms outstretched, and tackles him into the water. Sam isn’t far behind and jumps on top of both of them. You hear curses and gasps for breath as they just about drown each other. You watch, laughing to yourself at the three idiots.

Steve emerges from the pile, holding the football victoriously over his head. Bucky and Sam steady themselves, catching their breath. Your giggling is cut short when Steve tosses the ball to you. You catch it out of habit and freeze when you see the look on the guys’ faces.

“Oh, shit,” you mutter.

“Better run, darlin’,” Bucky gives you a boyish grin.

You turn and do your best to run, smile on your face growing as you surprisingly manage to keep some distance between you and the men chasing you - Bucky leading the pack. A smile spreads across your face, flashbacks of playing football with your cousins on Thanksgiving playing through your mind. One year, one of your cousins had broken his arm - he had landed on it wrong after being tackled. After that, your parents made you stick to playing two-hand tap.

“Slow pokes,” you tease the boys.

“Oh, doll,” you look over your shoulder to see Bucky gaining on you, “you know I was letting you get away, right?”

You let out a shriek as you suddenly feel Bucky’s hands on your hips. Your grip tightens on the ball as his long fingers easily span your waist.

“Sorry, babe, part of the game,” he gives you a look of false sympathy before wrapping his arms around your hips and gently tackling you into the water.

You can tell he’s trying hard to control himself, making sure he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. Bucky lets go of you quickly, letting you stand from the water just as fast as you went under.

“That’s okay, Barnes,” you give him a cocky grin, “I still got the ball,” you wave it in your hand.

He gives you a smile and holds your chin up with his hand. He leans down and connects his lips to yours. You don’t even have a chance to worry about whether or not anyone is witnessing his display of PDA because he’s suddenly ripped away from you.

Bucky lets out a loud oomph as Sam’s shoulder collides with his torso, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Bucky is surprised by the attack, but manages to overpower Sam rather quickly as you and Steve watch in amusement. Bucky gets Sam in a headlock and you can’t help but stare at the way his bicep bulges as he flexes it. You feel a pulse in your core when you think about Bucky’s arm wrapped around your own neck like that.

“Say I’m the best,” Bucky taunts.

“Dick,” Sam struggles in Bucky’s grasp, but his efforts are futile.

“Come on, punk,” Bucky chuckles.

“Fine,” Sam admits defeat. “You’re the best.”

Bucky drops his arm and Sam stands, muttering curses.

Bucky makes his way over to you and plucks the ball from your fingers.

“Thought you guys weren’t gonna come,” he tosses the ball back and forth between his hands.

“We got bored,” Steve shrugs. “Why? Did we interrupt something?” he teases.

“Haha,” you laugh sarcastically and roll your eyes.

The next couple of hours are spent playing football - you get revenge on Bucky with your own tackle - and talking with your new friends. At one point when Sam is arguing with Steve and Bucky about whether you’re currently in the pacific or the atlantic ocean - Steve and Bucky are right - you decide to take a break from the water and lay on the beach to tan.

You straighten out your towel and lay back on your elbows. You find that you can’t take your eyes off of Bucky. You smile to yourself as you watch his brows furrow in utter disbelief and frustration at his friend - you idiot, do you know anything about geography?.

You’ve only known Bucky for three days and you’re scared of how strong your feelings are for him. Maybe it’s the fact that he makes you feel safe, maybe it’s the way he listens so intently anytime you talk, maybe it’s the way he and his friends have gladly taken you in when you were desperate for companionship, and maybe it’s just the amazing sex, but something has you falling nearly head over heels for this man you hardly know. And that scares you. You haven’t felt anything like this since Brock - and even that had been different. You really hope Bucky feels the same at least a little bit.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky’s honeyed comes from above you.

“Hey, Buck,” you look up at him, lifting your hand to block the sun.

He gives you an affectionate smile and chuckles at your squinted expression.

“So I was thinking,” he starts, “you said you wanted to go snorkeling. I thought maybe we could go together? I called this place nearby earlier and they’ve got room for us both today.”

Your eyes widen in excitement, “Oh my gosh, Bucky!” you revel in the grin your squeal draws from him. “That sounds perfect!”

“Okay, cool,” Bucky offers you a hand to help you up. “You wanna go grab a little something to eat before we head out?”

You nod and take his hand. The two of you get dressed and pack up your stuff. You say goodbye to Steve and Sam and leave them on the beach as you make your way back to the resort with Bucky, his arm slung over your shoulder. You and Bucky grab a small snack from the store in the resort, not wanting to fill up before snorkeling. Bucky arranges for a taxi and when it arrives, he opens the door for you and climbs in next to you.

Once you reach the snorkeling place, a little hut on the beach, Bucky leads you inside. He makes his way to the counter and gives the worker his name. You feel a twinge of guilt when he reaches for his wallet to pay for the both of you. You tug on his arm and look up to him hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he places a kiss on your forehead before turning back to the receptionist.

The woman at the counter gives you and Bucky an overview of what will happen - you will go out back to the dock and get your gear while you wait for the rest of the people in your group to show up before boarding the boat.

Bucky thanks the lady and guides you outside with a hand on your lower back. You’re greeted by a couple of guys who look like they could be younger than you. They get you and Bucky situated with a snorkel, mask, and fins. You and Bucky put your clothes in your bag, leaving you clad in swimwear, before putting the bag in a locker for safe keeping.

Eventually, the rest of your group shows up - a married couple and their two children - and the workers hand out their gear. Once everyone is ready, they board everyone onto the boat and wave goodbye, returning to the deck as the captain makes his way over to greet you.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” the man smiles brightly. “My name is Koa and I will be your guide today.” He goes over the rules and procedures for the trip.

After his run down, he unties the boat from the dock and makes his way to the captain’s chair. You and Bucky take a seat on one of the padded benches on the side of the boat and he places a hand on your thigh. You take in the gorgeous scenery as the boat’s motor hums and takes you into the clear, blue water. After about five minutes, the boat stops and Koa drops the anchor.

You’re not far away from shore, the water is calm and shallow. Koa reminds everyone of the rules and makes sure they know how to properly use their gear. He tells you about the marine life you’ll see and points out what you should keep an eye out for.

“You guys are all set to explore,” he tells the group, “I’ll be here watching you guys if you need me. And remember, don’t stray too far from the boat.”

With that, everyone stands from their seats. The kids excitedly clamber down the ladder into the water, their mom rushing behind them yelling for them to slow down. The dad follows behind, shaking his head and smiling. Bucky goes in front of you and makes his way into the water. Once in, he reaches a hand out to hold your waist, steadying you as you climb down.

For the most part, you and Bucky stay on one side of the boat and the family stays on the other. You see a lot of colorful fish and excitedly jab Bucky’s side to get his attention when you see a pufferfish. You swim around the area, staying close to Bucky most of the time. You make sure to keep near the boat and you ask Koa questions about the fish every so often. Once everyone has finished looking around the area and observing the wildlife, Koa calls everyone to climb back on so you can head toward the next snorkeling area.

Once back on the boat, the kids excitedly chatter nonstop, jumping up and down as they talk about all the things they saw. You notice Bucky’s small smirk as he watches the children. He looks over to you and his face visibly heats when he notices he’d been caught. You use your thumb to wipe away a drop of water running down the side of his face. Bucky gently takes your hand and presses a kiss to it before holding it between his own in his lap. Thankfully, he turns to look into the water, so he doesn’t see the smile you subconsciously let spread across your lips at the feeling of your hand in his own.

Koa anchors the boat near a coral reef when the boat stops for the second time. He explains that Hawaiian coral reefs house thousands of different kinds of creatures and algae.

“The water is deeper here,” he warns, “and we must be careful not to disturb the coral. We cannot get too close to the reefs, so I ask that you view them from a distance of several feet.”

After his speech, everyone makes their way into the water again. The brief chill the water provides is a welcomed reprieve from the blazing sun, though you couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather. Bucky makes his way toward the reef and you follow him. You and Bucky swim around and observe the reef in awe, watching the way the plants flow with the water and seeing all the invertebrates crawl around in the sand.

When you come back to the surface, you make conversation with the little kids as you wait for Bucky to finish exploring.

When Bucky emerges from the water, he shouts over to you and the rest of the group, “Hey guys, there’s a sea turtle over here!”

The kids scramble to swim over to where Bucky’s pointing, you and their parents following behind. Bucky warns the kids not to get too close so that they don’t scare the turtle away. Koa tells the group that Hawaiian sea turtles can weigh as much as 500 pounds. After everyone has seen the turtle, thankfully it didn’t get scared off, you all clamber back onto the boat.

“The snorkeling part of the tour is over, but I’ll continue the boat tour before we make our way back to shore,” Koa informs everyone.

You and Bucky get settled in on the bench, sitting opposite the rest of the group. He puts his arm around your shoulders and holds you into him. Koa tells you different fun facts about the island and the wild life. He takes you past different coves and beaches, laughing at his own terrible dad jokes frequently.

“This is stunning,” you almost whisper as you pass ginormous mountains and lush trees.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky replies, “It is.”

You turn to find him already looking at you. He places a finger under your chin and presses a kiss to your lips. You smile at him before returning your attention to the majestic blue of the ocean and realize that it’s the same color as Bucky’s eyes.

All too soon, Koa is docking the boat and wishing everyone an amazing rest of their vacation. Once you and Bucky are off the boat, you grab your bag and dry off before getting dressed. Bucky calls for a taxi and soon enough you’re back at the hotel. Bucky walks you to your room.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower real quick,” you tell Bucky. “Would you- um, would you wanna join me?” you’re feeling bold, possibly because you’re still feeling the effects of what happened in the dressing room and you’re desperate for some release.

Bucky must be able to tell how horny you are because he gives you a knowing grin, “Doll, I would love to, but I promised Sam and Steve that I would meet them at the bar after we got done,” he gives you a sad smile, “Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with you, but I want to make sure I’m still hanging out with them, you know?”

“Oh my gosh, Bucky, yeah. I’m sorry, you’re totally right.”

“Hey, darling,” Bucky makes eye contact with you, “Don’t apologize. If it was up to me I’d spend the rest of my vacation with just you. But hey, how about you come find us at the bar after your shower?”

“Deal. Only if you’ll let me buy you a drink, though,” you challenge.

“Doll, you know that’s not happening.” Bucky leans down until his mouth is level with your ear, “And don’t think about touching that pretty little pussy of yours if you want me to reward you tonight.”

Your mouth drops at the sudden warning. Bucky gives you a cocky grin in response to your reddened face.

“Come down when you’re done, and leave your wallet,” with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you flustered and horny.

You try not to think about the way that Bucky had eaten you out like a starving man last night and how he had used you to chase his own release earlier while you take a cold shower. You put on some shorts and your new Hawaiian shirt before making your way downstairs.

When you step outside, you glance around the bar area, searching for Bucky and his friends. You see Steve and Sam talking to each other at one end of the bar, but Bucky isn’t with them. After another scan, you find him. He’s leaning up against the bar with his back to you, but he’s not by his friends. He’s next to a gorgeous woman in a bikini. You falter for a second when you see Bucky turn to her, talking with a smile on his face. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation. You stop in your tracks when Bucky buys a beer and hands it to the woman. He laughs at something she said and you turn away.

What the fuck?

It’s not like you two were exlcusive or anything, hell you’d only known each other for two days. You probably don’t have any right to feel jealous, but regardless, you feel a pang in your gut. His dick had just been in your mouth hours ago and now he’s buying drinks for someone who could be a supermodel?

You hold back your tears as you make your way back inside, heading for the indoor bar.

How could you be so stupid. Of course the connection wasn’t real. He was just using you to get his dick wet, and you had let him.

You take a seat at the bar and order a double shot of whiskey, good thing you did end up bringing your wallet. You mentally scold yourself for believing there was ever a connection between you and Bucky as you down your drink. You order a second one and think about what you’ll do if he tries to talk to you again. If he tries to fuck you again. You won’t let him back in your pants, that’s for sure. You wonder if he’s looking at that woman like she’s the most important thing in the world, the way he had looked at you.

You don’t understand how guys manage to put on such a convincing gentleman act just to get laid. He had you fooled with his I don’t usually do this speech this morning. Part of you wants to believe that he hadn’t bought you stuff and opened doors for you just to get you to sleep with him, but you know better deep down. Why would anyone be interested in you like that? Brock had made it clear that you weren’t anything worth holding on to. You sometimes wish you aren’t as trusting as you are, it’s not the first time you’ve been hurt because of it.

You down the second drink and resign yourself to spending the next three days alone before heading home. You’ve got plenty of experience with being alone, though.

part three!

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added!) - @vicmc624 @distancedss @kandis-mom @cakesandtom @buckbuckybuckaroo @volleyballgirl2022 @sapphirebarnes @xobabygirl143 @sarah1barnes @ladyacrasia @charmedbysarge

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luvring · 2 years

Text

— hq boyfriends in public

gn!reader | kuroo, oikawa, iwaizumi, akaashi, atsumu, osamu, sakusa

KUROO fights to pay for your things at the till. you were spending more than him and asked the cashier to do two transactions. tetsurou doesn’t protest, but while you’re on your phone planning your next shopping stop, he watches the cashier scan your items. they say the total and you reach to tap your card, only for him to do the same. you look up and make a startled noise. “tetsu, no—” “let me pay—” “oh my god, why do you do this every time?” you ask while the both of you laugh. you push each other out of the way until he’s able to hold his card long enough for the payment to go through. you sigh and pout at him, but tetsurou grins at you and plants a kiss on your head. “guess you were too slow, babe.”

OIKAWA watches you try different clothes no matter how many you try on. he's done it enough times that he knows what you're comfortable in and what colours are best—he could probably shop for you alone if you asked. you step out of the fitting room and he looks up from his phone with a smile. "what do you think?" you ask, turning so he can see it from different angles. tooru hums and taps his chin. "i think it flatters you a lot, and this would match your favourite jacket really well. do you feel good in it?" you nod. "right? yeah, i mean it looks really good and it's comfy. i could probably wear this to dinner tomorrow." he nods before standing up, clapping his hands together. "well, then there's your answer!" we'll put it in the cart when you're done. we still have more to go, yeah?"

IWAIZUMI carries your bag(s) for you, no matter how silly he might look. you take advantage of it sometimes, like now as you pick up a pink, velvet tote bag. “haji?” “yeah?” “can you carry this?” he turns to look at you and without hesitation, he takes the bag and puts it on. “oh yeah, what did you think of this sweater?” he moves on, reaching for it so you can see. “ it’s getting cold so i thought i’d get a new one.” you don't respond immediately, trying to hold back a grin, and he notices. “what?” “nothing! i just think…the design is very different from the bag.” he looks down at himself, and you think a black sweater with a skeleton torso design and a pink my melody tote was something he could pull off. hajime rolls his eyes lightly before moving toward you. he flicks your forehead, exhaling a laugh at your reaction and bringing you in for a side hug. “i think it looks really nice,” you offer. “yeah? you wanna pay for it then?”

AKAASHI asks to study with you at the cafe. he has a headband keeping his hair out of his face, and despite how messy he feels you think he looks especially cute today. he had asked you to quiz him on the study guide he made, and you try to think of a motivator. "okay, keiji, i have an idea," you say suddenly. he stops writing an answer explanation and looks up at your voice. "hm?" “if you get the next 7 questions right, i’ll get you some of that cake we see and never buy because it’s too expensive,” you promise and point. he follows your hand and looks to the register, where the cake sits next to it in glass. he leans back against the booth and sighs before looking at you with a smile. “can i have a kiss for every question instead?” you blink. it takes a few seconds for his question to process and your face starts to heat up. “keiji—” “you know you’re sweeter.” “keiji—”

ATSUMU hits on you as if you were still strangers. he walks back to your booth with your drinks in his hand, leaning on it with a grin. “hey there,” he greets you. “y’come around here often?” you look up at him and roll your eyes before deciding to play along. “yeah, actually. it’s my usual spot with my boyfriend.” atsumu makes a noise of acknowledgement. “oh yeah? where is he then? i bet i’m better-looking.” he slides back into his spot, passing your drink over at the same time. you hum. “you look kind of similar actually. are you his secret twin or something?” your laughter rings through the air at atsumu’s face before he reaches over to squish your cheeks. “no, i’m pretty sure he doesn’t have one.” "yeah? well i think saying you're better-looking than yourself is a trick that i couldn't have won." atsumu thinks for a second before letting go. a lopsided grin appears on his face. "touché, babe."

OSAMU feeds you food when you say you're tired. all you have to do is ask, maybe frown or pout a little, and he teasingly sighs before picking up your spoon. "first i'm your chef and now i have to feed you?" you open your mouth, and osamu makes sure to cup his hand to catch anything that falls. after finishing the first spoonful you reply, "yeah, it's called fine dining." he can’t help but smile a little as he gets the next spoon ready. “is it good?” he asks. you lean closer so he can feed you. you start to chew and nod, offering a thumbs up. "yeah, it always is. thank you, love you," you manage to say between bites. osamu’s eyes soften despite his initial complaint—he always did try to make his best for you. "mhm, love you, too."

SAKUSA holds you on the bus when there’s nowhere to sit. he always lets you take the last seat if there is one, but the days the bus is too crowded he keeps his arm around you, positioning himself between you and the closest person. when the bus jolts to a stop, the both of you grab each other instinctively and he keeps you from falling. the people around you all bump into each other and apologies, laughed and muttered, are shared. you move back to where you were and wrap your arms around kiyoomi, his own hold tightening. he taps your waist to get your attention. his brows are furrowed and he asks quietly, “you okay?” smiling, you nod. “yeah, sorry for pushing you a little.” “i don’t think that was really your fault, hon. we’ll get off soon.”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @leexshin @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtc @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @the-b-u-n-n-y @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #akaashi x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #sakusa x reader #kuroo tetsuro #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #akaashi keiji #miya atsumu #miya osamu #sakusa kiyoomi

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chronically-ghosted · 7 months

Text

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled.

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.”

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder.

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.”

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.”

Partner.

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself.

And then he met you and the definition changed again.

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why.

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days.

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions.

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts.

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed.

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here.

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all.

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.”

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime.

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath.

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee.

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold.

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.”

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee.

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets.

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.”

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night.

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids.

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it.

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since.

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks.

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair.

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation.

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay.

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold.

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love.

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants.

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare.

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him.

“Baby–,”

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall.

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer.

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in.

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut.

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars.

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day.

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is.

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head.

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful.

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you.

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you.

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees.

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now.

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it.

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch.

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart.

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips.

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs.

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes.

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it.

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford.

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair.

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.”

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole.

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair.

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh.

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty.

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible.

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean.

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face.

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine.

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point.

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now.

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level.

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls.

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest.

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table.

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock.

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?”

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich.

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.”

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.”

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork.

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist.

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain.

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.”

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.”

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it.

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done.

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.”

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him.

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow.

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy.

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire.

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust.

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again.

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm.

“B-baby, please–,”

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer.

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.”

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.”

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him.

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name.

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep.

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again.

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more.

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst.

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs.

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet.

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling.

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor.

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull.

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face.

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.”

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest.

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.”

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips.

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all.

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed.

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you.

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.”

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach.

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.”

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

#frankie morales #fransisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader

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redrose10 · 4 months

Text

Chapter 11! Thank you for all the comments and messages. It is appreciated! I love hearing everyone’s theories.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 2,815

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag List: @gimeow @kam9404 @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie

You swung open the door unaware of the information that had just been disclosed., “Alright guys, I got some pork and beef and a few different sides. I hope that’s enough. It smelled amazing in there so I think this will be good.”, you said closing the door behind you after returning from the restaurant. When you turned around you could tell the atmosphere felt different than what it was when you left. Yoongi was staring off into space while fidgeting with the hem of his tshirt and Jin seemed very jittery as well. You started unloading the food onto the table which Jin graciously thanked you for getting. He ate so quickly you were afraid he was going to choke. Yoongi on the other hand wouldn’t touch the food. Even when you grabbed the chopsticks and tried to feed him he shook his head and refused to eat.

“I’m going to go make a couple phone calls and see if we can get this all finally cleared up.”, Jin said before wiping his mouth with a napkin and walking out the door.

“So anything new happen while I was gone?”, you asked taking a bite of the food.

Yoongi felt the room spin again making him feel sick. All he could do was shake his head.

“Hey are you okay?”, you asked concerned with how much his demeanor had changed since you left. He gave you a tight lipped smile and nodded. You continued to eat in silence sneaking little peaks of him while he sat there picking at the skin on his thumb.

Eventually Jin came walking back in and sat down with a smile, “So as mentioned earlier the police are willing to cooperate with the cash payment and be forced to drop all charges against Yoongi. Now as far as Suri and Hwan are concerned they are willing to just drop everything as well as long as Y/N agrees to not press charges against Hwan for what happened at the auction.”

You pondered your options for a moment. You looked Yoongi over and noticed how pale he looked. The circles under his eyes somehow looked darker than they were when you left. You could only imagine how you looked. You were both exhausted physically and emotionally and just wanted to go home. You were also smart enough to know that Suri must have bigger plans and this was just some kind of a distraction or something.” As much as I’d hate to see that creep walk free I’m at the point where I just don’t want to talk about it any more and I just want it to be over with. So if that’s what gets us out of here then that’s fine but make sure he knows how much of a low life he is and if he ever comes anywhere near me or Yoongi again I promise that I won’t be so generous.”

Jin lightly chuckled and nodded, “I’ll let them know. I’m sorry that it came to this Y/N. I’m going to have Jimin give you a ride home as it’ll still probably be a couple hours for everything to get cleared with Yoongi, you know paperwork and boring stuff.”

You looked over at Yoongi to make sure he was going to be okay but he wouldn’t even look at you.

“Yoongi do you want me to stay? I really don’t mind.”, you asked secretly hoping he would say yes.

“You should go back to Jimin’s.”, was all he responded with his eyes still trained on a crack in the wall.

“Alright well call me if you need anything.”, you said to both of them but mostly Yoongi. Jin opened up the door for you with a smile and pointed to where Jimin was waiting down the hall so you could make your way there. After he made sure you found what you were looking for he turned his attention back to Yoongi.

“Look you have to keep it together. Y/N is smart. She’s going to know something is wrong right away if you keep acting like you’re on another planet.”

“What did Suri say?”

“She’s willing to give you one month to figure something out. After that she’s going to the media to announce she’s pregnant with your child and that you’ve completely abandoned.”

Yoongi scoffed, “I didn’t abandon her. She never even told me she was pregnant.”

“Yoongi are you sure you are the father? I mean is it possible that she’s lying? You did say you haven’t slept with her in a while. Does the timeline match up?”

“I mean we always used protection but you know things can happen. She’s an evil desperate woman so of course she could be lying as well. I don’t know any more. How far along is she?”

“Well according to this ultrasound it appears that she’s about twelve weeks at this point.”

Yoongi took a deep breath and groaned.

“So I’m guessing that means the baby could be yours.”, Jin wondered out loud.

“The last time was probably about twelve weeks ago. I don’t really remember at this point. Jin what am I going to do? I don’t want to loose Y/N. Not now. I was just starting to make some progress on getting her to give me a chance and I was really trying to earn her forgiveness. This is going to mess everything up.”

Jin chuckled, “Look I’m going to tell you this not as your lawyer not as a business partner but as your friend because I think you need a strong dose of reality. You have no one to blame for this mess but yourself. The day we met Y/N I told you to give her a chance. I told you she seemed like a sweet genuine person who would treat you right and be everything you needed. But did you listen? NoooOOOoo! You’re Min Yoongi and no woman is ever going to tie you down again all because one woman broke your heart years ago. You always have to prove that you’re unbreakable. You’ve continually broke Y/N’s heart over and over and she still looks at you with compassion and love. She still worries about you even though you don’t deserve any of it. Now it’s time for you to grow up and face your consequences and you should hope and pray that this baby isn’t yours and that Y/N will still be understanding once it’s all said and done. But for now let’s just keep this information between us. Hopefully we can somehow convince Suri to have a prenatal DNA test done and if we’re lucky the baby isn’t yours and Y/N will never have to know.”

“And if the baby is mine?”, Yoongi asked already fearing the answer.

Jin scoffed, “Well then let me be the first to congratulate you Min Yoongi. My gift will be in the mail.”

Jin packed up his briefcase, “I’m gonna do a final check and make sure you’re good to go. I’ll call you in the morning. Go home and try to get some sleep. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Yoongi watched as Jin’s broad shoulders made their way through the door. Not long after one of the officers came by and told him he was free to go so he grabbed his jacket and phone and went outside where a car was already waiting for him.

Just as he was about to get in the vehicle he heard the sound of heels hitting concrete and then someone spoke making his skin crawl and his ears burn.

“I told you that it wouldn’t be that easy to get rid of me.”

Yoongi groaned and turned around, “Really Suri? This is what you’ve come down to? You are a disgusting vile person.”

“Well if it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. You’re no Prince Charming yourself Yoongi. I don’t remember you calling me vile when you were begging me not to stop as I was riding you in your bed while Y/N was in other room asleep or the time I was hiding underneath your office desk with your dick still in my mouth because Y/N came to surprise you with a lunch she made. You are just as vile as me, if not worse. I believe the word that Y/N used was despicable.”

“How do you know about that?”, he looked at her through narrow eyes.

“I have my ways Yoongi. I know a lot more than you think.”

“Fuck off Suri.”

“Is that any way to talk to the mother of your unborn child? Is that how you’d talk to Y/N if she was pregnant with your baby?”

Yoongi stared at her with disgust as a car pulled up behind her. She swung open the back door before turning to him, “You have 30 days Yoongi. 30 days to figure this all out or I go to the media and tell them about our soon to be little family.”

The car sped off leaving him to stand and stare before his own driver got out and asked if he was okay. Yoongi nodded and got in the backseat.

The next morning you woke up feeling exhausted and sore. Your headache was so bad that you even made some coffee hoping the caffeine would do the trick. Jimin was still asleep and you were glad for the silence. Checking your phone you found nothing exciting just a message from Yoongi letting you know he was home and to call him when you got up. You went to hit his contact when you remembered another important call you had to make. Scrolling through your phone you found the name you were looking for and clicked dial. It went to voicemail. You tried again but right to voicemail. Finally you just decided on a text.

You: Hey Namjoon, just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. I was shocked to see you at the police station last night. Just wondering what that was all about. Give me a call when you can!

You tossed the phone down on your bed as you had a feeling you wouldn’t be getting a response any time soon. You decided to take a shower and get ready before giving Yoongi a call. Once you finally dialed his number he picked up on just the second ring.

“Good morning Y/N, how are you feeling today?”

“Alright I guess. How are doing?”

“Not bad.”

There was a long silence before he continued,

“So umm Y/N, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight. I have something I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh yeah sure. What time were you thinking?”

“About 6:00 if that works for you? That way we can eat and talk about some things and then you’ll be able to get back to Jimin’s before it gets too late.”

“Actually Yoongi, I was wondering if maybe I could move back in with you?”

Yoongi felt his heart skip a beat, “It’s up to you Y/N. This is your home too so you’re welcome back any time.”

“Okay great! I’ll see you later Yoongi.”

“Bye Y/N.”

Yoongi tried to fake a smile as he said goodbye. He never thought you’d ever want to willing move back to the home you shared. Unfortunately he knew that once he told you his news, you wouldn’t want to stay in the same room with him let alone live in the same home together.

Yoongi paced back and forth around the kitchen. He had tried to busy his mind all day by cooking an intricate dish he thought you’d like. He fixed his tie for probably the twentieth time. Was he too dressed up? Maybe he should’ve just went with jeans and T-shirt like he originally planned. He knew he put on a little too much cologne especially considering the history the two of you had with it. He took a peak at the clock to see if he had enough time to shower and change again when panic set in. It was twenty minutes after six and you were late. You were never late. He began running through every possible scenario.

What if you changed your mind? What if you found out about the baby before he could tell you? Oh my god what if Suri hired a group of assassins to find you and…?”

Before his mind could finish the thought he heard the door click open. Quickly he ran over breathing a sigh of relief as he found you taking off your jacket and hanging it on the rack. “Hi, Sorry I’m late. I stopped at that new bakery to get us some desserts and I think half of Seoul also had the same idea.,” you chuckled handing him the box of various pastries you had picked up. He noticed your bag sitting by the door causing his chest to ache. You really were prepared to move back in and he was going to chase you away again.

Once back in the kitchen he set the box down on the counter and went to ask you what drink you’d like when you surprised him by wrapping your arms around his torso squeezing him tight. You took a deep breath to inhale the familiar cinnamon and vanilla scent. A little stronger than usual but you had to admit that you kind of missed it in a weird messed up way.

“Hey are you okay?”, Yoongi asked concerned when you didn’t pull away.

“Yeah the last few weeks have just been a lot.”, you mumbled into his chest. He squeezed you a little tighter knowing that this was probably going to be the last hug he’ll ever get from you.

Once you pulled away with slightly blushed cheeks he invited you to take a seat at the table while he brought the food over.

Yoongi picked at as much of his food as he could stomach but he just tried to enjoy the moment with you knowing that as soon as he started talking things were going to take a turn for the worst. Even though Jin was adamant to not let you find out about the pregnancy right now, Yoongi didn’t want to hide anything from you any more. He barely slept all night, instead tossing and turning weighing his options but ultimately decided that it was best for you to find out from him personally instead of later on or god forbid from someone else entirely because he had no idea who else knew about his situation at this point.

“Hey are you okay? You seem really out of it?”, you asked pulling Yoongi from his thoughts. He nodded with a tight lip smile.

“You said you had something you wanted to talk about. Is that where your brain has been?”

Yoongi set his chopsticks down and took a big breath trying to calm his nerves. You noticed the slight shake to his hands which made your insides churn because this couldn’t be good news.

“Yoongi whatever it is just tell me. At this point there’s not much that will shock me.”

He chuckled to himself because you had no idea.

“Y/N, I don’t really know how to tell you this so I’m just going to come out and say it but I uh I might have gotten Su-“

Before he could finish your phone began to ring. The contact showing as Namjoon.

“I’m so sorry Yoongi but it’s Namjoon and I’m worried if I don’t answer it I won’t get in contact with him again. I want to find out why he was at the police station last night.”

Yoongi nodded and you picked up the phone greeting Namjoon a little more friendly than you probably should have. He couldn’t hear what was being said on Namjoon’s end but you seemed to get more and more upset the longer you were on the phone with him.

“Well yeah Namjoon I was just wondering why you were at the police station. It seemed a little suspicious given who you were with.”

*Silence*

“How did you meet her?”

*Silence*

“Mmhm and how long has that been going on?”

*Silence*

“Are you fucking kidding me? What do you mean Suri is pregnant?”

You glared over at Yoongi and he felt his stomach drop. Looks like the news was already broken to you.

“Okay text me the address. We’re on our way.”

You slammed your phone down on the table so hard you’re pretty sure you cracked the screen.

“That’s it. I’m gonna kill her. I can’t do it any more. She’s lucky she’s pregnant or I would go over there right now and strangle her myself.”you said pacing back and forth.

Yoongi looked at you wide eyed. He’d never seen you act like this and he was torn between being scared, being nervous, and also kind of liking it in a way.

You turned your attention back to Yoongi making him jump a little, “Come on Yoongi. We’re going to meet Namjoon at his sisters house. He said he has some important stuff to tell us about Suri and how he ended up getting her pregnant.”

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #cinnamon&vanilla #yoongi fic #min yoongi #yoongi x y/n #bts fanfic #yoongi angst #arranged marriage au #bts x reader #bts fic #bts yoongi #yoongi au #yoongi #yoo

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

Note

Can you maybe do a Wednesday and Enid x reader (platonic or romantic) where basically the reader comes from a very rich family and likes to spoil Wednesday and Enid.

(I hope this makes sense)

Is this what you wanted? Idk but I thought a headcannon format would be more sufficient for this but again idk. You tell me.

You spare no expenses when it came to Wednesday and Enid. You never bothered to try in fact because it didn’t really matter, as the money spent would eventually find itself back into your parents bank account anyways so why should you fret about accidentally crossing certain thresholds?

So when Wednesday’s typewriter starts having complications, hindering her writing time, you assured her that you would be able to get it fixed by the best people there was in fixing things. However it turns out that the typewriter was irreparably damaged and you had to buy Wednesday a new one that was personalised to be coated in a matte black colour and you even had her initials engraved on the front of it in gold cursive.

Wednesday may not have looked visibly thrilled at the new typewriter but her bland words of “I’m so ecstatic that my face can not comprehend how to convey it.” Were all you needed to know that she did in fact liked her new typewriter and began working on her book as though nothing ever happened. The next day you found a dead bird in front of your dorm, this was Wednesday’s way of saying ‘thank you.’

You even went out of your way to find enid a new part for her laptop when she complains to you that she couldn’t get anything do without it. So once again you went off to find the best shops available in Jericho that could help you in finding what you needed. Unfortunately due to it being the city of Jericho there weren’t a single good shop in sight that even had the part you needed in stock nor even in the back with the rest of the recent deliveries.

Typical.

With that you resorted to plan b and reached out online to shops elsewhere and ordered it for a next day delivery as to save yourself and enid the agonising waiting game. You even got her some other parts should this happen again but all of them were expensive and of state of the art manufacturing with the added promise of longevity and efficiency.

Enid was gobsmacked when she learnt that you did this all for her. “How can I pay you back for doing this for me?” She would ask but all you told her was that you didn’t need to be paid back for as long as she was happy and that the part was doing it’s job smoothly without any hitches, then that’s all the payment you desired.

This didn’t stop at fixing and or replacing their broken stuff but it also extended to their birthdays where you got enid more squishmellows for her growing pile, top of the range designer clothing that you’d knew she would look stunning in, new sets of nail polish, moisturisers, makeup and some new fairy lights should her current ones light their final night.

For Wednesday it was a little more trickier as she hated her birthday being celebrated in the traditional sense that you and enid were brought up with and instead you bought her an actual guillotine that she had set up next to her cello outside on the balcony of Ophelia Hall, dissection kits, things to keep her cello in top condition, some dark flowers that didn’t require much caring for, pacidermy animals much to Enid’s dismay as Wednesday would always seemingly have them face her whenever she said something that Wednesday wasn’t particularly fond of.

When Wednesday and enid try to repay you on your generosity, enid worries that due to your upbringing, you would be expecting diamonds, gold and the such thrown at your feet but Wednesday told her that she was exaggerating and that yes, you were born into an extremely wealthy family but the addams noted that you have a preference for the smaller things. So out they went to Jericho and chose a couple of things that they thought you’d might like.

Enid got you some cute toys that she though would add to your dorm along with getting you a matching snood with her and Wednesday that you could all wear to class together. Wednesday got you a necklace with a dead crow with a black Dalia sprouting from it’s heart with some of it’s crystal feathers dotted here and there up the silver chain as to give off the impression that this crow was shot out of the sky. She also got you some uncouth stuff like a hand mace or an taser for self defence for when people who couldn’t get the hint.

She wouldn’t admit it but even Wednesday was a little nervous that you might not like what they got you. However she didn’t have to continue putting belief into that thought as your eyes light up at each and everything that she and Enid got you that by the end of it you looked to both of them with the widest grin they’ve ever seen. “Thank you both so much! I love everything you’ve given me! Nobody’s given me things that I actually like!”

“What do you mean by that y/n?” Enid asks, confused.

“My parents think that splashing their money on expensive stuff for me is what I want but it’s not, I could care less about having the state of the art phone, tv, clothes, none of that matters to me but it seems that to them, that’s all that matters is to not only be rich but look rich too…so when they started putting large sums of money into my bank account, I spent it on the things that I want, on the clothes that I felt good in rather then what they think I’d look good in for their reputation. So I thank you both for these,” you told them as you squeezed one of the plushies Enid bought you close to your chest, “I love them a lot.”

“Even the taser?” Enid asked as Wednesday stared at her

You chuckled, “yes, even the taser. After all you can never be too sure when a creep is nearby.” You looked to Wednesday who’s lips almost uplifted into a proper smile but came back down into it’s neutral state just seconds later.

#Wednesday imagines #Wednesday imagine #Wednesday x you #Wednesday x reader #Wednesday fanfic #Wednesday fic #Wednesday Addams fanfic #Wednesday Addams fic #Wednesday Addams imagines #Wednesday Addams imagine #Wednesday Addams x you #Wednesday Addams x reader #enid sinclair fic #enid sinclair x you #enid sinclair fanfic #enid sinclair imagine #enid sinclair x reader #Enid sinclair imagines

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prismatic-bell · 2 months

Text

If you have ADHD or any other neurodivergence (including physical brain damage) that causes forgetfulness and disorganized thinking, THIS POST IS FOR YOU. (If this doesn’t describe you, it might still be useful to you, but it’s aimed at my fellow forgetters.)

I cannot urge you enough to try going analog.

Look at this.

Of the six things I needed that aren’t crossed off (the fruit butter was optional and I was only getting it if they had plum): three have to be purchased at an ethnic grocery, two of them this store didn’t carry my brand, and one of them I prefer the onion selection at my regular store (this store had really tiny ones). You’ll notice none of these are “I forgot it.” They’re something I need to go to another store for, and that’s it.

There are four things in this cart that weren’t on my list: kosher chicken broth (which I know I’m out of and is always good to have on hand as a staple), a yahrzeit candle for my grandfather whose yahrzeit is coming up, an extra bag of sugar because I’m about to do my Purim baking, and a bottle of red wine vinegar because I know I’m also out of that and while it’s not technically a staple I do use it A LOT. You can literally look at my cart in this photo and match everything (except the chicken broth and red wine vinegar) to the crossed-off items on the list.

Everything on this list is going into planned meals for which I have the recipes on paper. And the dates they’re needed are written on my very analog calendar, hanging on my cupboard.

Compare this to digital lists, where I tend to forget half of what’s on them and fill my cart with stuff I don’t need, resulting in a ton of snacks and disparate ingredients that don’t actually make anything. During Covid I accidentally hoarded 40 rolls of toilet paper, and if you’re wondering how one accidentally hoards 40 rolls of toilet paper, it’s because every time I went to the store I went “…did I buy toilet paper? Better get one just in case, the shortage is still going.” I DIDN’T NEED TO BUY TOILET PAPER FOR A YEAR AFTER THE VACCINES STARTED ROLLING OUT. I was never sure if I’d bought it or just forgot to put it on the digital list. Analog forces me to stop, slow down, and pay attention instead of typing things in at the speed of light.

There’s actually a scientific explanation for this, and I learned it a long time ago so I’m going to ask forgiveness for being kinda vague on specifics here, but the basic version is that you use different parts of your brain for typing and writing, and the writing part is more closely linked with the memory part, so you’re more likely to remember something you’ve physically written down.

And remember: you don’t have to be ~*~*~aesthetic~*~*~ about this. I bought my grocery pad on Etsy because I’d rather give a small business my money than fluff Walmart, but the only reason the pens are two different colors is because the pen I carry in my purse is black and the ones in my mail caddy aren’t. That’s it, that’s literally the only reason. My calendar is color-coded, but it’s not complicated (red is bills going out, green is money coming in, blue is celebrations and events, brown is my work schedule, gray is non-bill deadlines, and turquoise is anything the roommates are doing that I need to be aware of). And it is making a tangible difference in my life. For the last two and a half months—in other words, since I started doing this—my bills haven’t just been paid on time, they’ve been PREPAID. I have the payment in BEFORE IT’S DUE. I’m more cognizant of what I have, what I need to save, and what I need to spend. This coming month is Pesach and my Pesach cleaning is going on there so I can get it all done correctly and timely. The calendar hangs on my tea cupboard so I have to look at it every day and the grocery list is right next to it.

This may not work for you. But pick one thing—a shopping list is an easy one to start with—and try it, just for a month. You might be stunned by how much it changes for you.

I certainly was.

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sinkovia · 3 months

Text

Coffee Shop: Final Part

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee shop Masterlist

One year time skip...

You were curled up next to Simon, the soft glow of the TV illuminating the cozy living room. Riley, was sleeping contentedly on his plush bed nearby.

“Sweetheart?” Simon's voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Yeah?” You turned your gaze to him, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

“Let’s move in together.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt a rush of excitement and joy flood through you.

"Really? Like actually?" your voice filled with disbelief and happiness.

Simon's gaze met yours, his expression serious yet tender. He reached out, cupping your cheek with his hand, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

"Dead serious, love," he affirmed. "We already spend the night at each other's houses all the time, I think it would be a step in the right direction… but only if you're ready love."

You leaned into his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. His lips met yours in a soft, reassuring kiss.

"No pressure, sweatheart" he added, his voice filled with sincerity. "If you're not ready, I understand."

You couldn't help but laugh at his words, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Cupping his face in your hands, you looked into his eyes, your heart overflowing with love.

"Si, I've been beating myself up the entire week trying to figure out how to ask you. Of course, I would love to," you confessed, a wide smile spreading across your face.

Simon's eyes grew with happiness as he returned your smile, his lips meeting yours in another soft kiss.

“Wait, what about your house? Are you renting or buying?” you asked, your brows furrowing with concern.

Simon let out a sigh, running a hand over his face. “Bloody hell, I’m buyin,”

You thought for a moment, considering his options. “Are any of your friends looking for a house?” you suggested, hoping to find a solution.

Simon leaned back, contemplating your suggestion. “Kyle mentioned settling down a few times,” he mused, his fingers tracing absent-minded circles on your leg.

“Maybe he could move into the house and pay you the monthly payments until the house is fully paid off,” you proposed, the idea forming more clearly in your mind.

Simon's gaze softened as he considered your proposal. “That could work, I could talk to him about it. See if he’s interested.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. Leaning into Simon's comforting presence, you rested your head in his lap as he gently massaged the back of your neck.

That night, Simon called Gaz and had a lengthy conversation with him on the phone, discussing the details of the plan you had suggested.

Gaz agreed that it was a perfect arrangement. He loved the area and the house, and he had been considering settling down but hadn't found the right place until now. The prospect of living just a few houses down from his friend and his lovely girlfriend was perfect.

A few weeks later, Kyle flew into town with Johnny. As you heard a knock on your door, you hurriedly walked over, peeking through the peephole and breaking into a wide smile when you saw the two familiar faces. Opening the door, you greeted them with open arms.

"It’s so nice to see you guys again," you exclaimed, wrapping your arms tightly around both of them.

"Ah, it's good to see you too, lass! Is Simon treating you well?" Johnny joked, a playful glint in his eye.

You laughed and motioned for them to come inside. "He's the best," you replied sincerely.

Riley bounded up to Kyle, jumping up and licking his face enthusiastically. "You missed me, bud? You gonna see me around a lot more," Kyle laughed, scratching behind Riley's ears as he wagged his tail happily.

Simon emerged from the room and greeted the boys. You watched fondly as they moved over to the couch to catch up. Meanwhile, you busied yourself in the kitchen, arranging the pastries you had baked the day before onto a plate. With a satisfied smile, you carried the plate over to the table and set it down.

"Oh, y/n, ya spoil us," Johnny remarked, his eyes lighting up as he reached for a pastry and took a bite.

"Yer have any friends who bake as well as you do?" he asked between bites.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I don't really have friends, but my coworker makes some mean cookies. I could hook you up with her if you don't mind that she's in her fifties."

"Give me her number, lass. I don't mind milfs," Kyle laughed, patting Johnny's back as he nodded eagerly.

You laughed and shook your head as you made your way back to the kitchen to pour some tea. After pouring the tea into mugs, you carried the tray back to the table, where Kyle wasted no time in grabbing a cup.

Smiling, you settled down on the single sofa next to them, enjoying the warmth of their company. The conversation flowed easily as you caught up and indulged in the pastries.

After spending around an hour talking and laughing, you all rose from the table, ready to head over to Kyle’s new home. You and Simon had spent the last couple of days clearing it out, moving the few things he had into your home.

Simon handed Kyle the keys, and he unlocked the door, smiling at his new home. As you peeked outside and noticed no moving truck or boxes, you couldn't help but ask, "When is the moving truck coming? Or did you ship all your belongings here?"

Kyle awkwardly laughed and scratched the back of his neck, "The suitcase has all my belongings in it. I usually stayed on base or in apartments, so I don't have any furniture."

You glanced at Simon and smiled, he shook his head knowing what you were about to say, “Bloody hell sweetheart.” you only laughed and pulled up a picture of Ross on your phone.

"I know this amazing store that has everything you could possibly need for your house for a really good price."

Simon patted Kyle’s back, chiming in, "Trust me, mate, she isn't joking."

And so, the four of you got into Simon's car and drove down to Ross. As soon as you entered the store, Kyle and Johnny wandered off with wide eyes, marveling at everything. You and Simon grabbed a cart for Kyle, following him around.

He led you to the furniture aisle, where you helped him select a nightstand, some bar stools, a coffee table, and a few lamps, all of which found their way into the cart.

"Are you more of a movie or book person? This bookshelf looks nice," you remarked, pointing to a sleek black three teir bookshelf. Kyle wasted no time adding it to the growing collection in the cart. You laughed, and Simon shook his head in amusement.

"Do they have dining tables here?" Kyle turned and asked as you both walked into the decor aisle. "They sometimes do, but I think they're sold out. Simon actually has a dining table and a large sofa he bought last year when he moved in. We were going to donate them, but you could keep them if you like," you suggested.

"Sounds perfect," he flashed a grateful smile as he continued to browse through the aisle, picking out items for his coffee table and some basic decor. You helped him pick a few candles before wandering off to find Johnny, leaving Kyle to explore the store further.

You made your way to the food section and spotted Johnny with a cart filled with food, snacks, and toys for Riley. Just as you were about to approach him, you noticed him talking to a girl. Trying to appear nonchalant, you pretended to look at some pesto sauce on the shelf nearby.

You overheard her asking Johnny if he was from around the area, and he mentioned he was from Scotland, just visiting.

"Really? My parents are actually from Scotland," the girl exclaimed.

"No way, lass. Where are they from?" Johnny replied, his face lighting up with interest. She shared her family's origins, and Johnny seemed surprised to learn that her town was only a few minutes away from his own.

Simon came into the isle and was about to interrupt when you grabbed his hand and harshly yanked him towards you.

“Love what’s wrong-“ you quietly shushed him and motioned towards Johnny. Simon picked up a box of crackers and pretended to read it as he listened in.

"Could I give you my number?" the girl asked, and you exchanged a glance with Simon.

"I'd be a damn fool to say no, lassie," Johnny replied with a grin.

After she wrote her number down and left the aisle, you and Simon approached Johnny, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Thought you were into milfs," you teased, earning a laugh from him.

"She's from Scotland, can you believe that?" he shared with excitement. You smiled and nodded.

"I'm happy for you, Johnny. I hope things work out with her," you said, giving him a supportive pat on the back. Johnny's smile widened, and he thanked you sincerely.

"Thank you, lass. Means a lot,"

You glanced into Johnny's cart and noticed an array of snacks, including a bag of dried bananas. Simon couldn't help but comment, holding up the bag with disdain.

"Bloody hell, Johnny, you actually eat this?"

"Dried bananas are good, L.t.,"

Simon shook his head in disbelief. "Out your damn mind, Johnny. Looks like chicken shit."

Johnny just laughed and grabbed a bag of beetroot chips. "These beetroot chips are amazing too, and look at the price! Can't believe I've never heard of Ross. Wish they had this back home."

You picked up a jar of pasta sauce from Johnny's cart and inspecting it with a grin.��

Hopefully, he doesn't get sick; there's no expiration date on the jar.

Simon went off to find Kyle, while you made your way to the pet aisle to browse for new collars for Missy and Riley.

Simon texted you that they were at the register up front and asked you to grab Johnny on your way there. You searched the food aisle but couldn't find him, so you wandered through the store until you spotted him in the clothing section.

"Find some clothes you like?" you asked, amused, as he showed you a "Scotland Forever" shirt.

"Yeah, can you believe they had this in clearance?" he exclaimed, showing off the find.

You laughed, "Yeah, I can actually.”

“It was the only one and in my size. I call it fate."

"Simon and Kyle are up front paying if you wanna show them your new find. I'm sure they'll love it,"

Heading to the front, you used the self-checkout since you only had two items. Afterward, you stood next to Simon, showing him the new collars you'd picked up for Missy and Riley.

"Those are nice, sweetheart," Simon said, planting a kiss on the top of your head and wrapping his arm around you as you waited for Johnny to finish paying.

Once everyone was done, you all piled into the car, and Simon made a quick stop at the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner.

Simon glanced at his watch. "I'll be back in twenty minutes,"

You all hummed in acknowledgment, and as he left, you pulled out your phone and turned towards the boys in the back seat. "Wanna play 'What am I?’"

Johnny sat up, intrigued. "How do you play?"

"I'll lift my phone and put it up to my forehead," you explained, "and you guys have to give me vague words on what I am. No sounds, only descriptions. Whoever guesses what they are in under thirty seconds gets a point."

Kyle leaned in, his interest piqued. "What do we get if we win?"

You hummed in thought. "Tea and pastries from the cafe on me."

"Oh, you're on," Kyle rubbed his hands together and smiled.

As Simon grabbed the items he needed to make burgers and jalapeno poppers, he quickly checked out and walked back to his car. But as soon as he opened the door, he was met with chaotic yelling from you and the boys inside.

"You stab people!" Johnny exclaimed.

"Michael Myers?" you guessed.

"You kill people while they sleep!" Kyle yelled.

"RICHARD RAMIERIZ!" You yelled out pointing your finger.

"YOU KILL KIDS LASS!" Johnny screamed as he waved his hands back and forth.

"JOHN WAYNE GACEY!?" You yelled out with a smile while Kyle shook his head and tried to make stabbing hand motions towards Johnny.

"KNIVES FOR FINGERS!" Johnny clapped his hands.

"FREDDY—" You were about to say freddy krueger, but the timer on the phone rang out, cutting you off. You sighed in frustration, realizing you needed one more point to win since you were tied with Johnny.

"I won! You bloody keeches," Johnny declared triumphantly, using a term you had never heard before.

"What kind of explanations were those? You cheater!" you retorted.

"Aye, I may be a killer, but I ain't no cheater," Johnny protested. "And who the hell is John Wayne Gacy?" Kyle sat in the back, laughing at the argument between you and Johnny, while Simon stood half in the car and half out, wearing a confused expression on his face.

Simon finally sat down in the car and closed the door, handing Kyle the grocery bags. "What in the hell are you lot arguing about?" he asked, bemused, as you pointed your finger at Johnny, accusing him of cheating at the game you were playing. Johnny, in turn, pointed his finger at you, claiming he won fair and square.

Simon just shook his head and smiled the entire way home while the two of you continued to go back and forth. His life was good, and he couldn't ask for more, even as he listened to the playful bickering in the car.

When you arrived at Kyle’s house, you helped unload the car and set everything in the living room.

Simon pulled you into the hallway while Kyle and Johnny were taking everything out of the bags. His hand went to your cheek, and he gently pressed his lips to yours.

“I love you, sweetheart,”

You smiled, leaning into his touch and bringing your hand up to rest over his. “I love you too, Si,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his affection.

Simon's heart swelled every time he heard those words from you or the affectionate nickname you used. You had changed his outlook on life, bringing a sense of fulfillment he hadn't known before.

Both of you were smiling as you walked back into the living room. Kyle was rearranging his furniture while Johnny washed the new pots and pans he had bought.

“Are you going to start on dinner?” you asked Simon, looking up at him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have Johnny help me. Maybe you can help Kyle?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you agreed, eager to lend a hand.

You spent the next hour helping Kyle arrange things, offering opinions on placements, and helping him move furniture around to find the perfect setup. Meanwhile, Johnny and Simon were in the kitchen, cooking up some burgers and jalapeño poppers.

After all the rearranging was done, you and Kyle sat down on the couch with a sigh, admiring the work you had accomplished together.

“You know, you have good style,” you remarked, breaking the silence.

“Thanks, y/n. I appreciate you helping me out,” He replied, smiling.

You returned his smile and sat up, “Of course, I had a lot of fun.”

“Can you help set the table, love?” Simon called out from the kitchen, and you nodded, getting up and walking over to assist. You grabbed the new plate set Kyle had bought and arranged them on the table, while Kyle fetched the silverware and napkins. Johnny joined in, bringing over a pitcher of lemonade to complete the table setting.

The atmosphere around the table was lively as you all dug into the delicious spread laid out before you. Plates filled with juicy hamburgers and crispy jalapeño poppers adorned the table, and the aroma of the sizzling food filled the air.

You took a bite of the burger and couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh. "These burgers are amazing, Si. You've really outdone yourself," you said, casting a warm smile in Simon's direction.

Simon grinned proudly at your compliment. "Thank you, love." he replied, a hint of satisfaction evident in his voice.

Meanwhile, Kyle turned his attention to the jalapeño poppers, his curiosity piqued. "How did you make these poppers? They're pretty damn good,"

Johnny grinned proudly, "Glad you like them. You know, I've got a secret recipe for those poppers."

Kyle laughed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I still can't believe you know how to cook. It's like finding out a lion knows how to knit."

"Hey, don't underestimate my culinary skills. I'm a man of many talents." Kyle rolled his eyes and turned to you.

“Johnny tried baking something at the base, and let me tell you, it smelled like something bloody died."

"That was my scotch pie, and it was good."

Kyle raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Scotch pie? Never heard of that. Sounds like typical Scottish mystery food to me."

Johnny shot back with a laugh. "Oh, please. And here's a Brit talking about mystery food. Ye have beans on toast as a delicacy, and your national dish is curry. And don't even get me started on your lack of seasonin." You and Kyle laughed out, while Johnny smugly smiled knowing he won the argument.

As Simon sat around the table with you, Kyle, and Johnny, a sense of contentment washed over him. The sound of laughter filled the air, mingling with the aroma of the food and the warmth of your presence. He watched as you and Kyle engaged in conversation, your laughter ringing like music to his ears.

In that moment, Simon's gaze drifted to you, his heart swelling with affection. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he admired the way you lit up the room with your presence. He couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for having you in his life, for the love that had blossomed between you.

Never in his wildest dreams had Simon imagined himself sitting at this table, surrounded by the woman he loves and his closest friends and teammates. It was a surreal moment, one that filled him with a profound sense of happiness and fulfillment.

As he looked around at the faces of those he held dear, Simon felt a deep sense of peace wash over him. He was grateful for the life he had built, for the bonds he had forged, and for the love that had transformed his world.

The love he feels for you radiates from his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the happiness you bring into his life. Despite the challenges and uncertainties he faces as a soldier, in this moment, everything feels right.

In that moment, Simon couldn't ask for more. He was content, he was at peace, and he was in love. And as he savored the company of the people he cared for most, he knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

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juiceicicles · 11 months

Text

Mean and Scary | Chapter 1: King of Hawkins High

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48053206/chapters/121165750

Pts: 1, 2, 3

As he traipses through the woods, Eddie tries to get a bearing on what is about to happen and what his plan is for when it inevitably goes sideways.

Dealing pot to Hawkins Royalty like King Steve isn’t entirely out of the ordinary, but doing it alone at a picnic table in the middle of the isolated woods? Yeah, not Eddie’s smartest decision for a meeting place.

In his defense, he’s only a hop skip and a jump away from the high school, and he couldn’t be assed to drive any further for what’s likely going to be a one time payment of $20. $25, if he overcharges Steve (which, he absolutely plans to do.)

Eddie finally gets to the clearing and Steve jumps when he notices him, finally looking away from a tree he was seemingly having a very intense staring match with.

“Whoa, hey, hey, hey! Sorry,” Eddie chuckles a bit awkwardly, trying his best to subconsciously communicate that he is not a threat, because he really doesn’t wanna get his lights punched out right now “Didn't mean to scare you.”

Eddie sits down and his metal lunchbox clatters onto the table —Steve flinches again. Boy, Harrington is jumpy— and sits across from him. He opens up his Pail-o’-Drugs and watches as Steve drums his fingers on the table.

“There's, uh... There's nothing to worry about. Okay? No one ever comes out here. We're safe. I promise.” Eddie honestly didn’t expect Steve Harrington to be worried about being caught, considering that Steve apparently used to hold daily house parties.

He still can’t believe it. King Steve goddamn Harrington sitting there, in all his douchey glory. Or at least, that’s what Eddie expected. Instead he sort looks exhausted. His eyes keep flitting around, and he looks like he just saw a ghost.

You see, Harrington was never a dick to Eddie, specifically. However, he sure as hell didn’t treat the freaks of Hawkins High with any sort of sympathy. Hence Eddie’s original plan to act like the biggest asshole he possibly could without scaring off a rich customer. But something about Harrington’s eyes, a sort of dull terror etched into the hazel brown, is making Eddie reconsider that decision.

“So, how does this work, exactly?” Steve sort of mutters. This is so utterly different from everything Eddie heard about him. Steve always roamed the halls with a sick sort of ironclad confidence, with his two jackals Tommy and Carol following his every beck and call. The boy across from Eddie though? He seems so haunted. Like a flickering projection of someone. A puppet with its strings cut.

“Uhh just like any other old sale, except cash only, and for obvious reasons, no receipts,” he gives Harrington what he hopes is a reassuring smile, “I'll do you a half ounce for, uh... 20. What do you say? Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last a while.”

A squirrel skitters up a tree in the background, and Harrington gasps quietly and whips around to track it. And then, finally, it clicks for Eddie.

Steve’s worried about being seen with Eddie the Freak Munson. Figures. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from King Steve.

“Hey, we don’t need to do this. Just give me the word, and I’ll walk away.”

“It’s not that, I don’t want you to go.” Steve starts, tentatively. He’s still looking around, like somethings about to pop out of the woods. “It’s just…Do you ever feel like you’re loosing your mind?”

And, of course Eddie feels like he’s lost his marbles. He’s a super senior with the nickname the Freak. Obviously he sometimes feels a little crazy. He’s a little surprised that notorious cool guy Steve Harrington feels that way, though.

He makes the decision right then and there to see this out, because even if Harrington’s afraid of being caught, there’s something here that Eddie’s missing.

“You know on a daily basis. I feel like I’m loosing my mind right now,” screw it, might as well be honest, go big or go home right? “doing a drug deal with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.”

“Ah, well, I haven’t been king for a while…” Steve trails off.

Eddie remembers Billy Hargrove. Remembers how he made him want to beg every god there was for Steve to steal back the crown. Billy Hargrove was mean to Eddie. He was mean to everyone. And he wasn’t highschool-mean either, he was Larry Munson mean. He was a jackass who wasn’t afraid of anyone and wanted you to know it.

Unprompted, Eddie remembers the first time he met Steve. Before he was Hawkins Royalty, before he was a jock and a bully, before Eddie was the freak and not just a freak. Eddie had just gotten to Hawkins, his old man had been put away and the US government dropped lil’ Eddie on Wayne’s doorstep. He’d met some friends and formed a shitty garage band. They’d played at the middle school talent show, and Eddie had lost his guitar pick. A boy about his age had given it back, told him his name was Steve and he had found it underneath his chair in the seats.

“You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... Hung out.”

“No?”

Eddie lets out a little chuckle. Of course Steve wouldn’t remember. “It’s alright.”

He clutches at his heart like he’s been shot with an arrow and flings himself off the bench and into a pile of leaves behind him. He hears Steve let out a little gasp before he hops back up.

“I wouldn’t remember me either, Harrington!”

Steve looks a little amused, and Eddie catches a light brown blob in his peripheral vision. He combs his fingers through his hair and dislodges a dead leaf.

“Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?”

Steve lets out a little chuckle as Eddie starts to gets into his story. If there’s one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it’s story telling.

“Middle school, talent show. Carol I think did this cheer thing? You know the thing the,” Eddie mimed some pom poms. Steve was smiling a little bit, so Eddie continued his spiel, “and I- I was with my band.”

Suddenly Steve pipes up “Corroded Coffin! Oh my god!”

Eddie’s bewildered that Steve apparently remembered their weird prepubescent metal show. He claps his hands excitedly and points to Steve. “You do remember!”

“Yes, of course! With a name like that, how could I forget?”

“I dunno. You’re a freak.” Eddie’s pretty pleased with himself when his lack of brain-to-mouth filer apparently doesn’t offend Steve. In fact, Steve breaks out a smile. It’s less Harrington Charm then Eddie expected, more of a dorky toothy grin.

“No you just- you looked so-“

“Different? Yeah. Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet.”

“You played guitar right?”

“Uh-huh. Still do. Still do.” And since Eddie is an impulsive mess and isn’t totally hating this interaction, he does something that totally spits in the face of the tried and true Munson doctrine and invites a preppy jock to a metal concert, “You should come see us. Uh, we play at the Hideout on Tuesdays. It’s pretty cool. We- we actually get a crowd of about five…drunks.”

Steve laughs a bit and clamps a hand over his mouth, like he’s a bit startled by the noise. Eddie doesn’t blame him, he’s a bit caught off guard too.

“It’s not exactly the Garden, but, you gotta start somewhere, right?”

Steve looks at Eddie with a considering gaze for a moment, like he’s trying to figure Eddie out.

“You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“What, a total freak?”

“No, no. Honestly? I thought you’d be mean. And scary.”

“Me? Steve Harrington thought I’d be scary?”

“Yeah! You’ve got this whole, I dunno, chains and leather vibe. Thought you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you’d be mean and scary too.”

“Yeah?”

“Terrifying.” Eddie’s hit with the sudden realization that he’s completely forgot about the drug deal he came here for and plops himself back down at the picnic table. “Uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so... Twenty-five percent discount for the half. Fifteen bucks. You're robbing me blind here, you know.”

“…do you have anything maybe stronger?”

462 notes · View notes

icysnails · 4 months

Note

The Blade's Daughter story was so good ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Can I request a continuation, either directly or years after the incident, where reader meets and befriends Yanqing? No romance, just two tired kids ranting about their respective father figures.

A New Friend.

A/n: Hello!! Thank you so much, I’m so happy you liked it! (>v<) I decided to do bullet points for this one- I hope you enjoy, and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Warnings: reader is a teen/around yanqing's age, mentions of anxiety/grief, mentions of family struggles/arguments, takes place directly after the Blade fic

Word count: 1.3k

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst

Pairing: Yanqing x gn!reader (PLATONIC)

After fleeing the Stellaron Hunters’ ship, you began your old travel routines and quickly got transportation to a separate planet. You found a train that would take you directly off your current planet, which was a relief. But you were an anxious, fidgety mess for the entire ride, so much so that one of the other passengers in your car stopped by to ensure you were alright. You quickly nodded and looked back down at your lap, feeling too stressed out to try and make small talk. All that had happened over the last few months was playing again and again in your head, and you found yourself having second thoughts. Had you really made the right decision? Would you ever see your old family again? But even more, you wondered, were they ever really family to you in the first place?

You hadn’t gotten any news about the Stellaron Hunters, and no signs of them searching for you either. Maybe this was it. Maybe they truly wanted you gone. You sighed and suffered in silence, the rumbling of the train you were on making the pang of grief in your stomach far worse. However, you were headed for the Xianzhou Luofu, a planet that was generally regarded as peaceful. Perhaps staying there for a while would calm your nerves. A relaxed schedule might be a nice change of pace, as well as a perfect way to plan your next moves. And, there would be a ton of new food for you to try- not a bad way to close off a horrifically stressful week.

Once the train had stopped, you grabbed your few belongings and trudged onto the platform. Using your expertise in navigation, you deciphered a tourist map on a nearby wall and made your way to the closest hotel you could find. You practically ran to your room once you paid for it, falling asleep on the bed almost immediately upon arrival. Unfortunately, your mind couldn’t rest even as sleep overtook you. Nightmares plagued your unconscious mind, shaking you awake no more than an hour after you had dozed off.

It all seemed hopeless, and all you wanted to do was cry. But you couldn’t do that either. You were too exhausted to tap into your own emotions, but too distraught to sleep. So, you concluded that there was only one thing left to do- eat.

Soon enough, you found yourself at a nearby food stall, gulping down a few Berrypheasant skewers. Once you had finished, you went back to order a tea, but you realized that you didn’t have enough credits. You knew you had grown rusty when it came to traveling and budgeting, but you didn’t think you’d need to start taking commissions again so soon. However, before you could turn away from the stall, a blonde boy dressed in intricate blue and white robes handed you a bottle of the tea you wanted. Your eyes widened in confusion, and you tried to protest, but it was no use. The boy beat you to it entirely.

You offered him a seat at your table as thanks, stating that you could absolutely pay him back in a day or so. He just smiled softly and refused payment, but accepted the seat you offered him.

You learned that his name was Yanqing, the prodigal swordsman who was training under Jing Yuan, the general for the entire planet. Your mouth fell open at his confession, apologies spilling from your mouth for treating him so casually, causing Yanqing to shake his head sheepishly and deny your apologies. He was only the General’s student after all. He had no greater status, and all he really wanted to do was learn and fight.

Though you weren’t inclined to get attached to anyone anytime soon, you had to admit that he seemed kind, while still being honest and a little blunt. He was around your age as well, which was a plus. It was rare that you ran into anyone your age who was this composed and kind. You sort of admired him for that, even having just met him.

As you spoke, you revealed more about yourself to him. You mentioned that you had a hard time with family, even going as far as telling him a vague description of what had just taken place between you and Blade. It was out of character for you, but you were just so overwhelmed. This was the one time anyone had stopped to listen to you, and everything that had taken place just ended up rushing out. You never mentioned Blade’s true identity though- you didn’t want to get yourself into more trouble, and for some reason, you didn’t want to harm the Stellaron Hunters.

Yanqing’s gaze softened as you spoke. His situation wasn’t exactly the same, but he knew what it felt like to fight with family members. The closest family he had was Jing Yuan, who had been like a father to him ever since he was little. But the fact that the General was technically his boss complicated things quite a bit. Jing Yuan got protective over him often and was irritably calm most of the time. Yanqing wanted to learn, but Jing Yuan tried to keep him out of trouble as much as possible. As a young swordsman, Yanqing often felt inadequate or useless when idle, which led to him getting upset with the General for keeping him out of harm’s way. He wanted to be just like his father figure, to be of use to him. But the General wanted him to stay safe, even if he knew that was an impossible wish. It was inevitable, and the only way for Yanqing to grow and improve his skills.

You smiled for the first time that night, your own pleasant memories of Blade misting over your mind. Blade used to treat you that way too, in his typical discrete fashion. You used to look up to him so deeply and worked as hard as possible for his approval. Your situation practically mirrored Yanqing’s, save for a few circumstantial differences. Blade treated you like his own kin before everything fell apart. As closed off and brooding as he was, he still took care of you for a while. He still acted like he wanted to protect you. He was a crucial part of your life, and even if you hated him now, you couldn’t deny that he helped you grow into the person you were in the present.

Golden memories drifted from your lips in response to Yanqing’s bittersweet words, each syllable painting pictures of happier times. Times when you would train alongside Blade, or when you and the Stellaron Hunters would gather and go out to do something fun together. An unfamiliar light returned to your eyes as you spoke, and Yanqing found himself smiling as well. Though your old family went unnamed in the conversation, he could immediately tell how much they meant to you. Despite just meeting you, he couldn’t help but feel happy that you had such memories to look back on, even if it all ended in tragedy. He continued to listen attentively to you, sharing his own stories in between. Turns out both Blade and Jing Yuan were just as serious when it came to protecting their family, almost comically so, which made for some interesting stories.

But it was over now. None of it was real in the end. The light seemed to die in your eyes as you trailed off, your chest tensing up in anguish. Yanqing smiled sympathetically, letting the atmosphere fall awkwardly silent for a moment. But only a few minutes passed before a sudden chime came from Yanqing’s phone, breaking the heavy atmosphere that had fallen over you two. Yanqing’s wilted expression changed into one of frantic determination as he read over the text he got. He stood up and rambled apologetically, stating that he had to go because the General needed his help.

However, before he rushed off to go help with his duties, he scribbled his number on the receipt for your tea, along with a little note.

Number: (xxx) xxx - xxxx

Please reach out soon!! I’m sorry to cut things short- I’m not always occupied, so please don’t hesitate to call me if you're in need of a companion. I enjoyed speaking with you, and I really want to hear more about your travels! Good night!

- Yanqing

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #fluff #yanqing x reader #yanqing #honkai star rail #x reader #honkai star rail x reader fluff #hsr x reader fluff #yanqing x reader fluff #reader insert

258 notes · View notes

lulublack90 · 25 days

Text

Prompt 20 - Florist AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 20, word count 669

Every morning, Remus had to walk past a florist to get to work. He’d go the other way, but it was so much longer and going this way cut a whole ten minutes off his commute.

He had to bury his face in his jumper as he walked past. Even on the other side of the road, the smell was pungent. It made his eyes water, and he’d sneeze for hours afterwards. But he’d never been inside.

His favourite work colleague had just found out she was pregnant, and he wanted to get her a gift. Her name was Lily, so he wanted to get her one in congratulations, as she’d mentioned years ago that it was lucky that her favourite flowers were lilies or else that would be awkward.

A little bell tinkled as he pushed the door open. The shop was full to bursting with blooms of every colour and variety you could wish for. He was instantly overwhelmed by the smell and the choice. He took shallow, even breaths in through his mouth so as not to aggravate his nostrils.

A man dressed entirely in black, not a single bit of colour on him, appeared through a beaded curtain that Remus supposed led to the back rooms and flashed a dazzling smile at him.

“Hello and welcome to Kabloom, where all our flowers are an explosion of colour and perfume!” The man proclaimed proudly. “My name is Sirius. How may I be of service this fine, fine day?” Remus was quite taken aback by the level of exuberance Sirius emitted.

“My friend is having a baby, and I wanted to get her a lily,” Remus said as he glanced around at the shop, unsure what a lily actually looked like.

“Aww, how lovely. I must check, though, that she doesn’t have a cat. Just because lilies are extremely toxic to them.” Sirius warned.

“No, she doesn’t have a cat. I think she’s got a goldfish, though.” He added.

“I don’t know about goldfish, but yeah, lilies are really bad for cats. Okay, so I think the Lilium candidum would be perfect. It’s got these beautiful delicate petals and smells wonderful.” Sirius darted to the left and grabbed a pot with a lot of small green leaves along a tall stalk. The top was adorned with wide-open flowerheads with bright yellow pollen on the tips of long fingers, making them look like matches. He handed it over to Remus. “It does best outside but can be potted in a suitable pot in the house as long as it’s provided with adequate sunlight. It may need staking as it grows.”

“Thank you,” Remus said gratefully, happy to have the burden of choice taken away from him. “How much do I owe you?” Sirius went behind the till and punched something into the till.

“That one will set you back £25, but I will accept a date as payment if that is amenable to you?” A sweet smile played across Sirius’s lips, and that’s when Remus noticed just how blue Sirius’s eyes were. The man didn’t need to wear coloured clothing when his eyes sparkled like that. Remus cleared his throat. He was taking too much time to respond.

“Yes. Yes, I’d quite like that.”

They exchanged numbers so they could plan their date.

“I swear I’ve never done this before,” Sirius swore, clearly not wanting Remus to think he exchanged flowers for dates with people all the time. “I just wanted to get to know you.” Sirius had ducked his head, trying to hide his rising blush.

“Well, I’m flattered. I don’t get asked out very often.” Remus confessed.

“Then everyone’s an idiot,” Sirius declared, making Remus blush this time. He left the shop not long after, carrying his lily carefully.

Now, every morning, Remus left his flat a full half an hour early just so he could pop his head into that florist and chat with its owner. The smell didn’t seem to bother him anymore, either.

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar au #remus lupin #sirius black #remus john lupin #sirius orion black #lily evans #sirius with the blue eyes #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius and remus #remus and sirius #flowers in exchange for a date #florist au

89 notes · View notes

eunxhan · 12 days

Text

❝ But remember, in this game, there are no winners or losers. There's only survival and satisfaction. ❞

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Ꮺ 😪 Requested ⨾ HEY I looked at your profile and it’s literally so pretty, and you write for so many fandoms I’m literally dying…Now I wanted to ask for a ticci toby x male reader! Committing a crime together, covered in blood only to end up on the mansion/forest making out. Feel free to add horror, any amount of smut or anything you’d like. Thank you in advance and, is “😪” free for anon?

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ I'm sorry for taking too long but thank you! I'm still not good at writing gore but I do added smut and I tried putting on violence..? But I hope this doesn't disappoint you ^^

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Ꮺ Disclaimer — NSFW AT THE END. If you're under the age of 16-18, I'm not responsible for what content you consume.

Reader & Genre ⨾ MALE!Reader, He/Him/His

Words used ⨾ 1,236 words 6,850 characters

Character ⨾ TOBIAS ROGERS (Ticci Toby), He's an adult here.

Art Credits ⨾ @/shatteredankles

Links ⨾ My Navigation and Mandates

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Toby is known to play tricks on people. While he has been known to steal things for his own amusement, he usually returns them later or pays for them with some form of "payment" like a practical joke back at the store owner. While Toby doesn't have a conscience, he has a sense of right and wrong, but it's based on what is funny, rather than what is morally correct.

Toby takes pleasure in playing harmless practical jokes on people, especially those who have wronged him. When Toby steals something, it is generally for fun and not for personal gain. His motivation is that he finds it amusing to see the reactions of the people who he is stealing from. He usually returns the items later, or replaces them with something else that is equally funny.

On the other hand, [M/N] is more of a thrill-seeker. He love taking risks and trying new things. How do he and Toby met? That's now on you, He's also very creative and can often find ways to get away with things that most people would never even think of. He tend to see stealing as a game, with the goal being to get as much as he can without being caught. [M/N] loves the adrenaline rush he get from stealing, and he often take items he doesn't even really want just for the thrill of it.

Both Him and Toby are quick on their feet and could easily escape into the forest. They might even have a secret hideout in the forest where they could hide out and plan their next adventure. Ticci Toby would probably enjoy the chase and try to make a game out of it, while [M/N] would be more focused on getting away as quickly as possible.

Toby would likely be both impressed and annoyed if [M/N] tried to one-up his game. He would be impressed because he appreciates cleverness and originality, but he would also be annoyed because he views stealing as a competition, and he wouldn't want anyone to be better than him at it. He would likely try to one-up him back, leading to a sort of back-and-forth battle between the two thieves.

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Toby and [M/N] had been stealing together for some time now, and they had developed a strong sense of competition with each other. They would often try to one-up each other, stealing bigger and better things than the other had, and would sometimes even bet small amounts of money on who could get away with the most valuable prizes. But despite their competitive spirit, they also loved to tease each other, taking any opportunity to make fun of each other's methods or techniques. This made stealing together a fun and exciting adventure for both of them, even if at times it could also be a bit intense and competitive.

Both are competitive as hell, They're a couple of teens and one of them is a literal killer. Their competitive instincts often led to them teasing each other to an extreme, pushing each other's buttons until all that was left was pure annoyance and anger. In these moments, they would often come very close to physical violence, but neither one wanted to actually hurt the other. Making Toby in a sour mood, He would mumble slurs against his breath whenever [M/N] "wins"

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Ꮺ ⨾ ONESHOT —

As they hurriedly made their escape from the store, they couldn't help but feel a competitive tension brewing between them. They found themselves in the forest, having just pulled off a daring heist and hiding out in some gross abandoned building. Their nerves were on end and they were both feeling the adrenaline from the excitement of the robbery. As they argued over who had been more responsible for the successful heist, they began teasing each other relentlessly, their words becoming more and more heated.

In the heat of the moment In the heat of the moment, the tension between Him and Toby reached a fever pitch. The air was thick with anticipation, and the dim light filtering through the broken windows cast eerie shadows on the decaying walls. Toby's heart raced as he glanced over at him, Toby's eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of him. The two thieves were standing inches apart, taunting each other, their eyes locked in a battle of wills. They felt the anger and resentment building between them, but neither one could seem to let go.

[M/N] 's breath tickled his skin, his words sending shivers down his spine. Toby could feel the heat radiating off his body, and he couldn't help but be drawn to him despite their rivalry. His mind raced as he tried to think of a clever retort, but before he could utter a word, [M/N]'s lips crashed into his. The force of the kiss left him breathless, him lips tingling with delight. Toby' S hands instinctively gripped [M/N] 's waist , pulling him closer to him as he kissed him back with fervor.

As their tongues danced together, exploring the depths of each other's mouths, [M/N] felt a fire ignite within him. He could feel the warmth spreading through hiz body, his core throbbing with desire. Toby'z hands began to explore his body, his fingers tracing the contours of the man's curves, sending shivers up his spine.

Toby pulled away slightly, his eyes locked with [M/N] as he spoke in a husky whisper, "You may be clever, but you're also right about one thing. I do want to see who can outlast whom in this game we're playing."

They continued to tease and provoke one another, Toby couldn't help but feel his heart race with anticipation. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with desire and competition. He could see the hunger in [M/N]'s eyes, the way his gaze lingered on his body, and it only fueled his own desires.

As they circled each other like predators, their hands grazed and brushed against one another, sending electric shocks through their bodies as well as both of them grinding on each other. [M/N]'S breath hitched as Toby's fingers lightly traced the curve of his waist, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. Their bodies pressed against each other, the heat between them almost unbearable.

"Wow.. Ha.. You couldn't get enough of me, do ya?" [M/N] whispered in between the kisses, Toby frowned hearing that and lunged forward, his lips capturing [M/N] once again in a searing kiss. the intensity of their passion was overwhelming. Toby's knees buckled, his body melting against [M/N] 's as he moaned into his mouth. His hands roamed freely over his body, exploring every curve, every inch of his skin.

As their kiss deepened, Toby felt an insatiable hunger grow within him. the kiss came to an end, Toby and [M/N] pulled apart, looking at each other with a mixture of fear and excitement in their eyes. They had both felt something they had never felt before, a connection that went beyond their petty competitions and the rush of stealing, Toby's eyes locked with [M/N]'s as he whispered, "You win this round, Reader. But the game is far from over.."

They have completely forgot about the food and drinks they stole, that was now on the ground..

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Ꮺ ⨾ I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING COPIED OR TRANSLATED.

#Eun.writes #Eun.asks #Eun.😪#male reader #ftm reader #ticci toby #tobias erin rogers #ticci toby creepypasta #creepypasta #creepypasta toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x male reader

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cod-dump · 7 months

Text

Time (another monster au fic)

———

Price hadn’t foreseen ‘non-human handler’ in his future. Two vampires, an insectoid, whatever the hell Nik was (a lycan of some kind?), and a demon? Definitely wasn’t how he thought his days would go. He especially didn’t plan on sort of adopting the vampires both being older than his grandparents. Well, Soap was. Gaz was much younger than that but still older than Price.

But, their youthful appearances have most certainly made him feel like they needed guidance even though they had far more life experience. Well, Gaz seemed to return the familial connection, at least. He would often come join Price in his office just sit and talk. It was nice having that connection since Price wasn’t in contact with any of his family, distant relatives or close family members.

“Cap… I have a question,” it wasn’t often when Gaz wanted to ask Price something.

He was smart, had seen more things than Price. He was also the type to try to figure things out on his own before asking questions (thankfully he doesn’t do this on the clock).

“Question? About what?”

“Well… Ghost.”

Price felt his heart beat quicken, he knew where this was going, “What about him?”

“Why is he here? He’s a demon, they don’t do this kind of thing. Especially not on their own free will.”

He could hear what Gaz was wanting to say. The thing he hasn’t about to actually say out loud, the thing this was all about. Laswell had the worst reaction when she had found out. Tears, yelling— The works. Nik was much calmer in appearance but Price could tell he was devastated.

Price knew the risks, he knew what he was getting himself into. It was his soul after all, he could do what he pleased with it.

“I… contracted him. He’s a mercenary, after all. He works for me, and when the job’s done he gets his payment… then he’s gone. That simple.”

Gaz’s jaw as clenched, a pain in his eyes that just pierced Price’s soul, “That’s a funny fucking way to call selling you soul to him.”

Price had years to accept it. He’s the one who summoned the Ghost to this plane, the one who offered Simon Riley’s corpse for him to root him here so he had a physical form. Price gave him rank, this human mask that he could wear. Whether he kept it when everything was said and done is uncertain. Price had feeling he could make a hell of a business off of it.

“I had my time to accept it, I don’t expect you to get it.”

Gaz couldn’t look at him, choosing to stare at the wall instead. The angle allowed Price to see the light glint off his eyes, giving away his inhuman nature. Gaz was much more emotional than other vampires. He remembers being human, he cares about humanity. He was stealing blood bags almost his whole vampiric existence before Price found him and recruited him.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Kyle. When I’m gone Nik will be taking you and Soap with him to Chimera. Kate will make you two disappear and can go on to Russia.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?”

“Russia does have the highest population of any non-humans in the world. Plus Chimera is nothing but non-humans.”

“Fucking- I don’t care about finding somewhere safe!” Gaz stood quickly, knocking his chair back, “You fucking sold your soul to a demon! You have a timer on your life!”

Price watches Gaz wave his arms around, tears pricking in his eyes, “You’re dying!”

Price sighs. He had accepted this himself, he knows his fate. Unless the demon themself decides to break the contract, spare the human who made it with them… Price’s fate is sealed. There has been some recorded incidents where demons completed the contract only to just leave, not taking their client’s soul. It is possible to survive, but making a demon genuinely like you to the point they let you keep your soul is near impossible.

Ghost was going to kill him in the end. Eat his soul in probably the most painful way possible before fucking off to do whatever.

“Kyle…”

“How can you be so fucking calm? Did you even consider how anyone else would feel!?”

“I made that deal a long time ago. Before I had anyone in my life worth living for. I do not regret sacrificing my life for the greater good.”

Gaz was shaking, now quiet. Price swallows before standing, going around to the vampire and pulling him into a hug. Gaz almost instantly clung to him, a quiet sob in his chest.

“I don’t want you to die…”

“I’m sorry, Kyle. I can’t change anything.”

“There has to be another way.”

“Heh, you know trying to cheat a demon out of a soul is dangerous. You know how dangerous Ghost is.”

Gaz pulls away, wiping his face, “Fuck… Yea, I do…”

Price felt dread in his chest. The first time in years he had to truly acknowledge what he had done. He felt like this after he told Laswell, after Nik, and now Gaz. Their emotions reminded him how deeply upsetting this was. But Price couldn’t take it back. He wouldn’t if it meant he would still be able to do it. Save this world from it’s own self-destruction… all at the cost of a single soul. What he’s doing wouldn’t be permanent, the rot would always crawl back. but at least his soul would buy everyone some time.

#another monster au #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #drabble #ficlet

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lady-ashfade · 1 year

Text

Little Gremlin

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader x Jesper Fahey

This is kinda little chaotic, but small and fluffy.

Warnings: Poly relationships, but you already knew this, fluff, the reader being-Well her.

He hissed as the liquid burned his throat, he slammed the small glass down and it made a clink on the counter. Next to him he could make his “boss” staring at him with the look. The one were he seems to not know how to look even just the bit of calm, always looking angry. But jes knew that he was indeed, almost always angry, if not always.

“Light up, you know you enjoy my company.” He flashed his charming smile in his face. Kaz rolled his eyes and down to the ground, looking away from him and fixing his hands on his cane. “Much to my dismay.” The man with the hat look at him like his word’s truly hurt, “Rude, you know that’s no way to speak to your boyfriend.”

Kaz looked back at him with a dead expression. “You’re still on the clock.” Jesper gasped and hit his chest. “And? I can have two titles.” Kaz’s lips actually brought themselves up in a mischievous smile, but the smallest bit. Jesper took his silence as defeat and tapped his fingers on the counter for a refill of his shot. Jes glanced back at kaz to see if he wanted to have a drink but the man just shook his head.

The doors slammed open and their attention was drawn to the person who stepped through. Their girl, y/n. She catched her breath but a smile on her face never fell, they could tell she was happy. Kaz looked down at the strap on her shoulder and then followed it down and saw it was a satchel. His chest filled with pride because that meant you had been successful. But he knew you would be.

Making your way over to them you stood between the both of them with your hand on the brown bag. “I suppose you got it then.” You smiled as your boyfriend wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close to his side. His smirk matching yours. “Hmm, but you don’t think that’s all I did?” You ask and look at them both.

Raising a brow at you, kaz was wondering what you had done this time. He knew with you it was always random, because he’s had his fare-share of seeing what you do. Once he had you go collect money from some farmer, the person who needed the payment offered some of the money. That day you walked back in with a chicken just for fun, you hadn’t planned on keeping it but you just saw it and took it. He hated that because you kept in the your room for two days until he made you get rid of it.

You smiled at them both and stepped away from them both, “Meet me in the back.” And you walked off as the two watch you. Then both men look at each other, “Well, I want to see.” Jesper jumps up and followed you into the back. Kaz sighed and stood up on his feet and used his cane for support and follows behind the two of you.

“What do you think?…”

You look at them both as they stare down at the table in front of them. They looked speechless and their eyes filled with so many questions. You had poured out the bag onto the table of what all you had stole, the necklace you were sent to steal but there was so much more. Many golden and silver jewelry, then golden coins that looked like a fortune.

Jesper let out a laughed and kaz closes his eyes, trying not to smile. “I can’t believe this, this is a fortune. I could get so many hats with this.” Jesper thought of all hats in his head, one with a feather, one was bright red with a bow. Kaz just stayed there and then looked at you, and knowing him so well you could tell he was amused.

“This was more then I sent you for,” you crossed your arms and puffed out your lips. “But this a nice surprise.” Smiling again you went to him and sat on the table in front of him, your other boyfriend coming to be by the two of you. “What are we going to do with this?” Jesper asked.

“What do you want, darling?” Kaz leaned down a bit. Thinking for a moment of what you could possibly want, “I want to have dinner, I’m starving. Somewhere nice.” You added the last part and kicked your feet a bit.

“Then let’s get our little gremlin something to eat.” Jesper placed a kiss on your lips and you giggled. Kaz looked at the two of you happily, “It’s coming from her cut of the money.” You glare playfully at him and then jump up to kiss his cheek, Jesper moving with you and going to kiss the other cheek.

“Don’t push this.” Kaz advised the two of you.

#jesper fahey #jesper fahey x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x Jesper fahey #kaz x reader x jesper #kaz brekker x reader x Jesper fahey #shadow and bone x reader #jesper fahey x fem!reader #kaz brekker x fem!reader

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davidlcki · 1 year

Text

payment

pairing:low honor! arthur x reader

warnings: cursing, arthur is mean, being forced to drink, age gap, game typical violence. i think that’s it

summary: your parents take a loan from strauss, and when they can’t afford it, they send you off as payment instead. it’s a 3 day journey back to the van der linde camp. will you turn the notorious gunslinger soft?

an: please let me know how you guys feel about this one! i’ve been dealing with severe writers block so this took me MONTHS to write. it might not be my best, but i’m just happy to get something out. enjoy, i love you all! ❤️

words: 5,562 (my longest yet i think)

part 2

shouting from downstairs violently ripped you from your deep sleep, and quickly, you hopped out of bed. your hands shook as you slowly opened your door and made your way to the top of the steps.

“the money. NOW.”

you flinched at the harshness of the man’s words. instantly you knew it was the debt collectors, and that your family had nowhere near the amount needed to pay it off. you listened to your mother and father plead with the man for another week, but he wasn’t having it. at the sound of a gun cocking, your legs began to move on their own. you were bolting down the stairs.

“STOP! please, please don’t hurt them!” you hold your hands out desperately, standing between the man and your parents, who were dead silent. the man paused, the anger in his features seemed to be replaced with amusement. this was the moment that you recognized who this man was. you had seen him in many bounty posters around strawberry, he was arthur morgan.

“well now, why didn’t ya tell me about this fine young lady?” arthur’s gaze drifted from you to your parents, who were looking at each other with a look you couldn’t read. nervously, you looked between your parents and arthur. why weren’t they saying anything?

“she’ll do as payment just fine” arthur shrugs, holstering his gun and giving an easy smile, as if this was no big deal, just another day. you turned to your parents quickly, shaking your head and backing away from arthur.

“please don’t…” you looked between your mother and father desperately. finally, your father speaks.

“take her. if it works as payment, take her.” time seemed to slow as you stared at your father who wouldn’t look you in the eyes. your mother was looking down, you could tell she was holding back tears, but she stayed silent.

“what? wait, wait just-” you glanced at the door quickly, thinking of ways to escape. arthur, was quick to place his hand on his holstered gun.

“i wouldn’t, if i were you.” arthur’s voice was suddenly much lower, and his easy smile was gone in an instant. you knew there was no other way. you turned to your parents, lips in a flat line as you stared at them. you were thinking of what you could possibly say to them, when arthur’s rough hand had a grip on your upper arm.

“your own daughter…for some fucking cash…” your voice was shaky as you were being pulled towards the door. barely having time to slip your boots on, you give your parents one last look before you were out of sight.

for a while, it was silent. you were too in shock to cry or do much of anything, but think.

“we’ll camp here for the night” arthur’s voice startled you out of your thoughts, most of them being how to escape this situation. for now, he had at least some form of trust in you, considering your hands were untied.

arthur morgan was more of a myth than a person, to you. you heard the stories of the hundreds he’s killed and you knew this was probably a bad idea, but you needed to try an escape. once he hopped off his horse, you grabbed onto the reigns and kicked your heels into its sides, but it didn’t budge. the damned horse stayed dead still. the air seemed to thicken as you continued to attempt to get the horse to take off with a series of ‘hyah’s’ and ‘go’s’, but his horse was loyal, seeming to listen to him and only him. when you looked over, you swore you saw flames in arthur’s eyes.

plan b.

from the horse, you deliver a kick into arthur’s chest with all the power you could muster. just as his horse, he dosent budge. arthur lunges forwards, pulling you off the horse roughly and ignoring the protests coming from you as he threw you over his shoulder. you pounded relentlessly on his back, but he didn’t so much as flinch. instead, he tightened his grip on you, nearly squandering your ability to breathe. once finding a clearing about 30 feet into the woods, he throws you onto the grass and pulls out his lasso. you take a few seconds to catch your breath, but you don’t have time to move or get any words out. effortlessly, arthur ties the rope around your wrists and ankles before you could flip over, rendering you immobile.

“bastard! you let me go!” you finally manage to turn yourself onto your back and struggle against the rope that dug into your skin. arthur, clearly unamused at your shouting, sinks down to your level on the ground. his hips were nearly straddling yours as he kneeled and grabbed your face with a rough hand.

“watch it girl.” his voice was drawn out and easy, giving you the impression that he’s done this many times before. he releases his grip on your jaw, and brushes a strand of hair from your forehead. “don’t forget i know where you live. dont try nothin’, less you’re fixin’ to watch your parents die”.

“i don’t…. i don’t care about them anymore. they sold me. pawned me like trash.” your voice was shaky as you spoke up at him, and for a while the both of you sat and stared at each other, heavy breath fanning over your faces. arthur almost had a look of understanding for a moment. it was true. you were angry at them for so carelessly giving you away for their own benefit. in fact, you didn’t know who you were angrier at. arthur, or your own parents. finally, arthur hums and stands. you didn’t dare move from your spot on the ground, instead, you silently watched arthur set up camp. you really were afraid that he’d kill you if you so much as moved. you could see in his eyes that he was only going to let that trick you tried slide once.

you shivered and let out a ragged exhale, still catching your breath as the wind was knocked out of you not long ago. you were desperate for fire, for any kind of warmth. you were only in boots and a thin nightgown, that did much of nothing as the cold from the ground seeped into you.

“cold?” arthur stands next to your shivering frame on the ground. you say nothing, instead giving him an unamused glare. you refused to let him see you cry, so you threw on your best angry facade. you stiffened as he leaned down and lifted you, not letting out a breath of air until you were put down again. now, you were resting against a tree in front of the fire. you let out an inner sigh of relief at the warmth. arthur sits across from the fire, taking a bite of jerky from his satchel.

“so, that’s your parents farm huh? pretty nice, all considering.” arthur pauses, but you say nothing. “live there your whole life?” you didn’t even really hear his question as you asked your own.

“where are you takin’ me?” you watch arthur’s face carefully as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“you’re joining the gang” arthur flicks the end of his cigarette, the ashes slowly float to the ground. “we need more hands. more people to help fight.”

“i’m no good at fighting” your voice was quiet, you were starting to realize you weren’t getting out of this.

“you will be. now,” arthur stands up and pulls more rope from his horses satchel “rest up, got a long day of riding tomorrow” you scoff as he begins to wrap the rope around you and the tree you were against.

“is this necessary?” arthur says nothing, instead pulling the rope tighter. after, he goes back to his spot, pulling his hat over his face and letting out a rather large sigh. for a long time, you didn’t sleep. instead, you relentlessly tugged and pulled at the rope restraining you. you knew it was pointless, but you couldn’t help trying. your face twisted in pain as your arms scratched against the rough tree bark. arthur must have been very confident in the knots he tied, because you very quickly heard soft snores drifting from across the fire. after what seemed like hours, and a few shed tears, you fell into a restless sleep.

•••

when you awoke the next morning, arthur was up, packing supplies into his horses satchel and humming to himself softly. you stayed silent, observing the man who was so mean to you do a task so mundane. when you looked down, you noticed arthur’s brown coat was thrown over your frame. it smelled like tobacco and gunpowder. when arthur noticed you were up, he quickly took his jacket back and went over to untie the rope holding you to the tree.

“morning sunshine” he throws you a smile as he pulls the rope from around the tree off, along with the rope on your ankles.

“i trust you won’t run”

“no” your voice was hoarse and you shivered violently as the wind attacked your bare skin that was previously covered. arthur stopped, thinking for a second as he took in your frame with a slow look from your head to your ankles and back up again. he pulls you to your feet, letting you catch your footing on wobbly legs as he rummaged around for his canteen. he flicks the cap off and grabs your jaw so roughly and suddenly that you let out an involuntary gasp of shock. he turns your face towards him and inspects you for a second before continuing. you could only wonder what he was thinking, his lip twitching ever so slightly into the ghost of a smile as he continued.

“drink” he puts the canteen to your mouth and watches as you desperately gulped down the water. after about 5 seconds, he pulled it away, taking a swig of the liquid himself before stowing it back on his horse.

“long ride ahead,” arthur lifts you onto his horse before hopping in front of you in the saddle, “gonna take a few days i reckon, so get comfortable”.

arthur wasn’t lying. you rode all day, so long that you couldn’t remember what direction you came from or how to get back home. although that outcome was unlikely now. desperate to escape the cold, you pressed yourself against arthur’s back. you felt him stiffen at the contact, but were too cold to care. you couldn’t count the hours it’d been, and for a while you were pretty sure you fell asleep. throughout the day, you only made a few stops. one for bathroom breaks, and one for his horse to rest. the rest of the day was a blur, not much was said, and the only noise you heard was the trotting of hoofs on the ground and the rustle of trees in the wind. when the sun began to set, arthur finally pulled to a stop.

“seems like a good spot” arthur observes the clearing, giving you a stern look before hopping off of his horse, remembering the stunt you pulled last time.

“gonna tie me to a tree again?” your voice was dripping in sarcasm as you allowed him to pull you off the horse.

“you gonna make me?” arthur’s tone matched yours as he pulled out his bedroll and some other supplies. you waited for the extra rope to come, but it never did. arthur instead unties your hands, then reties them in front of you. you audibly sigh at the discomfort that began to dissipate, and you rolled your shoulders a few times in satisfaction.

“y’ dont wanna run off in these parts,” arthur warns as the fire lights up the clearing. “the people will get to ya before the animals do.” you said nothing in response. for a few hours, you stayed dead silent. ignoring arthur’s snarky comments and nothing more than blinking when he’d toss the end of a cigarette or a twig off the ground at you. arthur began to heat a small can of stew, smiling teasingly as he watches you eye it. he pulls gin out of his pocket, downing a hefty swig.

“if you want some, you gotta speak, girl.” arthur eats a large scoop of stew, groaning dramatically in satisfaction in an attempt to tease you.

“fuck you. that enough?” arthur snorts a laugh at your response, deciding to give you a bite. you quickly chew and swallow it, savoring the taste.

“what’s your name anyway?” arthur pauses, scooping out some more stew and holding it up. “you answer me if you wanna eat.”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N” arthur feeds you the stew and downs more gin. halfway through the bottle now.

“Y/N” the way your name rolled off his tongue sent a chill down your spine. “you gotta pretty name, Y/N. how old are ya?”

you eye the man for a while, before looking back down to the tempting spoon of stew. “i’m 22. now can you feed me the god damn food?” you were getting testy now, watching arthur eat and down almost an entire bottle of gin while you’ve had nothing for over a day will do that to you.

“you got a mouth on ya!” arthur let’s out a laugh, feeding you another bite and finishing the rest of the stew himself. he stands up, stretching his legs and yawning, before walking over to you casually. nervously, you watch as arthur squats down to be eye level with you.

“sleep” a small smile crosses his face, confusing you. then, he places a hand on your shoulder and shoves you to the side so you’re in a laying position in the grass. a yelp escapes your lips as you hit the ground. “night”

you watch in disbelief as arthur goes to his spot on the bed roll, very quickly falling asleep with his hat on his face as usual. now was your turn. you thought about running, but had a feeling that arthur wasn’t lying about the people around these parts. slowly, you drifted to sleep in the damp grass.

•••

you woke up to the sound of footsteps crunching in the dead leaves. instantly you were alert. when you looked over, arthur was still passed out. you guessed the gin running through his veins was doing its work. you stayed silent, sitting up slowly and looking into the dark of the forrest around you. the fire was almost out at this point. you tugged anxiously at the ropes binding your hands. there were the footsteps again, from behind you this time. you knew those weren’t from an animal. before you could react, a man came running out of the woods. he was on you in seconds, knife in hand. you let out a scream of terror as you were slammed onto your back. you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the knife to be plunged into your chest, but it never came. instead, there was a gunshot that seemed to shake the forest. when you opened your eyes, there was a bullet hole between the eyes of the man as he crumpled on top of you. the weight of him smothered the cry that you tried to let out. arthur was over in seconds, shoving the body off of you and pulling you to a sitting position. there was genuine worry that you saw for a mere second in his face.

“y’ alright?” he was still blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looked you over for stab wounds. he was half awake, trying to make sense of what was going on. as you opened your mouth to speak, another man emerged from the dark of the woods. he shoved arthur over, effectively knocking the gun from his hands. you were in a trance, looking between arthur, the man, and the pistol laying right in front of you. arthur’s voice startled you out of it. his voice was strained as he called your name out, he was using all his strength to hold the knife mere inches away from his chest. with your tied hands, you picked up the pistol. it was heavier than you expected.

“do… it…” his eyes pleaded with you, meanwhile, the tip of the knife was beginning to sink into his chest. without anymore hesitation, you aimed at the attackers head and pulled the trigger. your ears rung more than the first gunshot that was fired earlier, and you noticed the almost painful vibrations that flowed through your hands. arthur let’s out a sigh of relief, pushing the body off of him and sitting up, before quickly freezing again. he stared at you blankly as you continued to point the pistol at him.

“Y/N…” he holds his hands up and shakes his head. “y’ don’t wanna do this”

you looked at him for a long while, tears were dripping down your cheeks and your hands were shaking violently. you were debating killing him right here and now. but how would you make it in there woods? how would you find your way back? then, you remembered why you were here in the first place, and how your parents threw you out without a thought. finally, slowly, you lowered the gun, arthur took this oppertunity to snatch it from your hands, before audibly exhaling. he watched carefully as you broke down in tears, hugging onto yourself the best you could with tied hands and trying to wipe blood off of your nightgown.

“hey… i uh…” arthur didnt know what to say as he placed a hand upon your shoulder in attempted reassurance. to his surprise, you threw yourself into his embrace. slowly, he wrapped his arms around your frame and listened to you cry. he noticed the red marks on your wrists under the rope, and was shocked at the pang of guilt he felt. without thinking, he takes out his hunting knife and cuts the rope off of you. you use this time to wrap your arms around his waist. arthur slowly runs a hand up and down your back as you continued to sob.

“i’m scared, arthur.” was all you could get out. you had never killed a man before, and the reality was setting in. all arthur could do was mutter an awkward series of ‘it’s alright’ and ‘i’m here’s’ until you calmed down enough to let go. arthur was almost sad at the loss of your presence, and he wished he could rip this part of him out. this part that yearned for love and affection and what he was just finding out, you. half of him screamed as he draped his coat around your shoulders, while the other half cheered.

you avoided eye contact with the gunslinger as you attempted to get your tears under control, pulling his coat around yourself gingerly.

“thank you… for not letting me be killed” you kept your eyes on the fire, too afraid to look at arthur or the bodies or the blood on your skin.

“and thank you, for not shootin’ me along with this feller” you let out a scoff, lips twitching up into a small smile you mustered up. arthur took the time to move the bodies away from camp and your sight, eventually returning and sitting down again. there was a new feeling in the air between you and the gunslinger. a bond forged in blood and death. arthur never tied your hands again, and he kept watch the rest of the night. though neither of you got another wink of sleep, you stayed close to each other, shoulders touching as you sat side by side. you asked arthur plenty of questions about his gang. you were genuinely curious what it was like. you could tell he was fond of them by the way his features softened at just the thought. you realized, they were family, and it didn’t sound so bad. after hours of trying to will the sun to come up faster, it finally rose, and you were more than glad to keep moving.

you couldn’t tell how long it’d been now. you slept for a while the way you have been, your face pressed against arthur’s back in a somewhat comfortable position, but when you opened your eyes again you were in a town. upon reading the sign, you realized it was valentine. you could hear the chatter in the distance, and your eyes lit up with surprise. it had been days since you’d seen another person besides arthur. arthur must have felt you sit up straighter, because he quickly stopped his horse and looked back at you.

“i trust you’re not gonna try no shit?” he asks, exhaling cigarette smoke from his lungs. you hold back the urge to cough as the smoke wafts over your face. he observes you for a second more before straightening your messy hair. you knew it was so you looked more presentable to the town, but it was oddly gentle, intimate.

“no, but people are going to ask questions, arthur.” you spit his name out, and reference down to your now dirty and tattered nightgown. you were upset at the shift between you both after what you went through the night before, and it was hard for you to contain your anger as you spoke. the lack of food and clean clothes was starting to get to you. arthur stares at you for a while, before sighing heavily. though he still gave you attitude, you were surprised with the patience he was beginning to keep with you.

“okay… here” after a second of thinking, he pulled his coat off and placed it around your shoulders once again. casually, the two of you trotted into town, slowing to a stop at the hotel. you ignored the stares the townsfolk gave you as you walked inside. being in a tattered gown and a jacket two big was definitely turning heads.

“one bath for the lady please” arthur tosses the owner a coin and nudges you towards the bath house. once in front of the door, he grabs your wrist and turns you towards him.

“you clean up, i’ll be right back. dont get no ideas of runnin’ off now, because i will find you.” his voice was low as he looked down at you, though you were starting to notice the facade he was putting up. the way he gently held your wrist told you all you needed to know, and unbeknownst to him, you weren’t really planning on leaving. the last place you wanted to go, was back home.

“wouldnt dream of it” your voice was dripping with sarcasm as you pulled your wrist from his grip and pushed your way into the bath house.

once you finished cleaning up, you pulled the towel around yourself and waited awkwardly, leaning from foot to foot as you waited for arthur to come back. the last thing you wanted was to put your old clothes on, so you stood by the fire and slowly dried off. finally, arthur pushed his way into the bath house holding a bag. he froze for a second as he took in your frame, only covered by the small towel. once you started walking towards him, he looked anywhere but at you as he handed you the bag. you say nothing, pulling the clothes out and dropping your towel as you began to pull them on. it was a simple brown dress with yellow detailing on the sleeves, collar, and bottom. you could tell arthur had picked it out, considering how it matched to his own clothes. there was also a new night gown in the bag, and you smiled to yourself.

“could you?” you turn away from the man who was doing most anything but look at you. when he shifted his gaze to you again, your back was turned to him, revealing an unlaced corset.

“yeah… yeah sure” arthur’s hands gingerly fiddled with the string, trying his best to will away the reddening of his cheeks as he observed your exposed back. it had been forever since he had been with another woman, and he cursed the feelings arising in him for you. you turned towards him afterwards, unable to help the smile of relief from being in clean clothes.

“you… you look nice” arthur looks down at your dress, then quickly he turns and pulls you out of the bathhouse with him before you can utter a ‘thank you’.

“you hungry?” arthur wasn’t really asking as the two of you headed towards the saloon, though you almost cried tears of joy at the thought of food. with a glance to the clock on the wall, you realized it was already 6PM. the scent of food that floated through the saloon nearly made you drool. eagerly, you sat at the bar and waited for your steak and potatoes that arthur ordered to arrive.

“2 whiskeys please” arthur tosses a few coins at the bartender who nods in compliance.

“oh i… i don’t drink” arthur looks at you straight faced, sliding the shot glass to you.

“drink” his eyes stayed trained on you all the way until the shots were taken, the burning liquid slides down your throat roughly. arthur let out a hardy laugh as you coughed, instantly digging into your food as it arrived to get rid of the taste.

“another” arthur tosses more coins, not batting an eye when you protest.

“i’m not drinking anymore, arthur!” you glare in his direction angrily. arthur pauses for a while, before leaning in close and bringing the shot to your lips.

“drink the damn whiskey girl.” his voice was low and gravelly as he parted your lips with his thumb, before tilting the shot glass forward. nervously, you swallowed it. this moment reminded you that you were still technically being kidnapped by him, and that he wasn’t messing around. arthur smiles a little, taking his own shot.

“good girl.” you silently turn back to your food, eating slowly and trying to keep track of the amount of shots he was taking. eventually it became too many to count. luckily, he didn’t make you take anymore, too preoccupied with himself.

“arthur that’s enough, let’s go” it had been an hour now, and arthur was shitfaced. the wooziness you had began to feel went away quickly as you scarfed down your food. “you’re drunk”

“am not” arthur smiled lazily, attempting to order another drink, but you snatch the coins from his hand and tell the bartender we’re done. arthur gets up angrily, towering over your frame that was still sat on the stool. he opens his mouth to speak, but instead bumps shoulders with another man who was walking past.

“you bastard! watch it” arthur shoves the man back, sending him tumbling into another man behind him. shit.

in a flash, it was an all out fight between, well, you couldn’t count how many men. you stumbled back, trying to look for arthur in the crowd of men. finally, you spotted him falling to the ground and out of sight again. you debated for a while. do you wanna keep saving this fool? you bounced from foot to foot anxiously, cursing under your breath before bracing yourself and shoving your way through the fighting men. you dodged punches left and right, some of them had to have hit you, but your adrenaline blocked out the pain. finally, you spotted arthur on the ground unconscious.

“son of a bitch!” your voice was drowned out by the shouting, but you finally managed to hook your arms under arthur’s and drag him from the fighting, all the way outside, to the hotel across the street.

“one room please” you spoke to the clerk between heavy breaths, fishing into arthur’s pockets and pulling out the last coins he had for the room. you realized how bad this looked, so you tried to explain yourself. “i- i know him, i swear.” the clerk just nods wearily, recognizing the two of you from earlier and handing you the key. with help of the clerk, you got arthur into the bed.

the next hour or so you spent wiping arthur’s face down with any cloth and water you could find. he looked bad, face bruised and bloody, clothes ripped, you couldn’t help but think he looked beautiful even in this state. finally, you turned to the mirror to tend to your own wounds, which happened to only be a few bruises on your arms and ribs. you sigh in frustration at the new rip on the side of your dress. you almost didn’t notice as arthur began to wake.

“oh… what… happened?” arthur’s voice was slurred as he sat up slowly, wincing in pain and blinking hard.

“you almost fucking died, that’s what!” your voice was nearly bubbling over with anger as you stormed from the mirror over to him. “and so did i, pulling you out from all those men. you’re lucky i haven’t ran off or killed ya! you’re a fool, arthur. a damned fool.” you were tired of holding back your anger, you were pushed to your limit with him. arthur was looking at the bruises on your arms and your waist through your ripped dress, then up at you with the most puppy dog eyed look you’d seen on him.

“m’ sorry.” arthur’s voice was quiet as he spoke and you watched as a drop of blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. “really, you can go. after the hell i dragged you through…” arthur scoffs a laugh and looks to the side. when you don’t speak, or leave, he looks back at you with confusion.

“i’m not gonna leave.” you paused for a while, trying to decide if this was the right decision. “i wanna join the gang.” arthur’s eyes widen at your words, but he nods slowly in response.

“i knew you’d come around” he smiles what you assumed was a genuine one. he then begins to stand, nearly toppling over on you before you grab onto him, steadying him.

“jesus, take it easy!” you push him back down into a sitting position on the bed and lean closer to his face. “i hope you have some doctors in your gang. you’re going to need stitches” you wipe at the blood on corner of his mouth with your thumb and sigh as you observe his wounds once more. when you went to pull away, arthur grabbed your wrist gently. your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes nervously. you didn’t know what he was thinking. his face was unreadable. was he angry? you couldn’t tell. you opened your mouth to speak. you were going to utter your best form of apology for your assumed anger on his part, but arthur silenced you by leaning forwards and pressing his lips against yours. you let out a smothered gasp against his lips, taking a stumbling step back and tilting your head up as arthur stands again. a quiet moan of pain escapes his lips as he leans some of his weight against you. after a few moments of silence, that felt to you like minutes, you pull away, turning your head from him in uncertainty. you didn’t know what you wanted. if this was right. he was dangerous, you knew that, but something about him drew you in dangerously.

“i… i just” you tried to find the words, anything to say to him, but your feelings were like a big tangled ball of string and you couldn’t figure it out.

“i’m sorry.” arthur cuts you off, letting out a cough of pain as he backs off, limping his way to the other side of the room.

“let’s rest. we can talk about things tomorrow.” you watched in disbelief as he laid himself down on the floor by the entrance of the room, pulling his hat over his eyes and breathing deep. you could taste his blood on your lips. you took this time to change into your new night gown and toss your dress to the side. you assumed it would be trash, being unable to sew or afford a tailor.

upon crawling into bed, you fell asleep almost instantly. you missed the feeling of a bed after sleeping on the ground for days. you slept through the entire night, ignoring the throb of your bruises and the commotion of the streets of valentine. when you awoke in the morning, the first thing you noticed was that arthur was gone. the second thing you noticed, was your dress, folded neatly at the end of your bed. slowly, you crawled over and unfolded it, noticing the rip had been carefully sewn shut. with it, there was a piece of paper.

“i’m sorry for what i put you through. you deserve a choice. if you want to run with us, i won’t stop you. if you want to go back to your family, you have my word you won’t see me again.

-A”

upon flipping the note, there was the location of the gangs camp. you knew what you were going to do.

part 2

388 notes · View notes

genshin-impacted · 1 year

Text

Exchange of Rings

(Alhaitham x Reader - 2/?)

You and Alhaitham get settled into your shared home in the beginning of your year-long test run of your marriage. The both of you try to figure out how to best live together piece by piece. OR apartment shopping + eating dinner + packing lunch

Word Count: ~3.7k

Notes: afab!reader, second person pov “you”, switches pov with Alhaitham, modern au, arranged marriage, fall first/fall harder, mentions of sex, slow burn

[Previous - Next]

The first thing in order is to get an apartment that the two of you can both agree on. As the two of you are fiancés, there really is only a need for one bedroom and one bathroom. You’re almost excited to share a bed with someone else again, but temper it with the knowledge that you’ll only be sharing a bed with Alhaitham and nothing else.

For now, at least. You try to not let your mind linger on what Alhaitham said at the first meeting regarding any… sensual possibilities. Regardless, the step to share a home is something inherently intimate.

The location of the apartment is at the halfway point between your parent's homes in a cozy suburban area with amenities close by and with enough space to fit two people. For one, the kitchen is spacious, and they leave you with a nice living room for activities next to a cozy dining room. With the both of you making wages, the payment is honestly not bad at all. You agree to split fifty fifty with him.

The apartment comes partially furnished. Together, the two of you bring enough furniture to make the apartment look more like a home. Alhaitham was kind enough– or would you say, meticulous enough to share a document between the two of you so you know what is still needed and who is bringing which item. It makes it easier to determine which item belongs to whom to return to if things go sour, but it also lets you see what the two of you still need to buy together.

It’s a very efficient way of doing things, and you see that in the other ways he plans things to make it as easy as possible: You come to pick him up at the apartment so the two of you can carpool together to shop since the store is in the same direction; Alhaitham tells you that he intends to rent a delivery van for any big purchases to reduce any of the hassle of doing it yourselves. And he’s fair too– he tells you he can pay you for gas for the car ride, and though you feel like it’s unnecessary, you feel inclined to agree anyways.

Alhaitham pauses in the middle of the conversation, and you take your eyes off the road for a second to glance at him.

“Anything wrong?” You ask him, “Did we forget something at the apartment?”

“No,” he says. “I suppose I’m just surprised you’re agreeing with all of this so easily. I expected push-back.”

“Push-back for what?” You say, genuinely curious. “It all sounds good to me. You’re very organized.”

You glance at Alhaitham again to see his hand at his chin, thoughtful. You expect him to elaborate, but he doesn’t, deigning to continue the conversation where he left off. It isn’t until you’ve parked and Alhaitham is waiting for you at your car door that you decide to ask again.

“So about earlier,” you begin, walking a few steps more to match Alhaitham’s long strides. Gratefully, you see him slow down for you to catch up, and the two of you begin walking side-by-side. “You said you expected me to… say something about what we were going to do? Why would I do that? It makes sense to me: buy essential stuff, unpack what we have, go buy what we’re missing if need-be…”

“I just have contingency plans in case something doesn’t go according to plan,” Alhaitham says. Now it’s his turn to glance at you, and there are those eyes again, piercingly observant like everything you do he will catalog for future reference. “Not everyone agrees with the way I work. I anticipated something like that would happen.”

You have a small feeling that the ‘disagreements’ Alhaitham mentioned happen often. You can see it: Alhaitham has a tone that may not sit very well with other people. It’s brusque at worst and matter-of-fact at best, but you find comfort in the confidence he exudes and the instructions he provides. You also don’t take his tone personally, which is for the best, you think, for this union. You have a feeling it is hardly personal when it comes to him.

“We can work things out if we disagree, can’t we?” You tell him. “We’re reasonable people… for the most part.”

At your last words, you hear Alhaitham huff in amusement, and his lips upturn into the smallest of smiles. You try not to look so bewildered when he tells you he’s going to get a cart, but you think that’s the first time you’ve seen him really smile.

You catch up to him the moment your heart stops leaping.

It’s fun shopping with Alhaitham. It’s nice having someone to ask for their opinions or taking turns pushing the cart with your collected items. You like to think Alhaitham doesn’t mind shopping with you either, mainly because he seems like the type of person to speak his mind, and he hasn’t complained about you taking too long to decide between what type of bowls you want for the apartment yet. (He chooses porcelain over plastic– microwavable safe.)

For the most part, you aren’t a very imposing shopper, moving through aisles quickly and only glancing over the things that aren’t important. You do take some time sifting through the candles though, and Alhaitham clears through your hesitation between cranberry and peach by putting both stacks of candles into the cart.

Just take them both– that definitely solves your problem of picking between the two. You try not to laugh at how his efficiency extends to shopping as well, even if it means indulging in your purchases. You think it's kind of cute of him, but you try not to let your hopeless romantic side speak too loudly (even if it's right!).

The moment Alhaitham finds an empty table, he brings his cart over and sits himself comfortably to wait for you. You’re at the middle of the line now to buy your frozen yogurt and cinnamon bun at the little shop at the exit. He lets his eyes follow your movement for a moment before he takes out his book from his bag to get some light reading in.

Or so he had planned, but he takes the time of solitude to gather his thoughts.

Some people who don't know him well at all may say that he treats interactions with other people as though they were transactions. Tit-for-tat, this for that– but Alhaitham could care less about receiving any favors back. Truth is he will only do something if he truly wants to, so the thought that someone needs to pay him back for something he’s done that has benefitted them is unnecessary to him. He lives by his own set of rules and morals, and however everyone else does it is none of his business.

It is his business, it turns out, when it comes to his roommate and fiancé: you.

Maintaining a relationship requires equal effort from both sides. An uneven distribution of labor, for example, sharing chores and duties of the household is a one-way ticket to the destruction of a relationship. It only makes sense to him that the two of you will divvy up the workload and weigh in on decisions together. He gives back what you provide, and hopefully it will be the same when he does it as well.

Like you said earlier, the two of you are reasonable adults. Thankfully. Alhaitham knows he has spoken with you at length during the first meeting and in short snippets since then, but he never really knows someone unless some time has passed. What are you like under stress? How will you react to unexpected situations? What will you do when the two of you fight? Power imbalances, as he has read, causes a greater rift when conflict occurs, so it’s best if he sets the precedence now for shared responsibility.

Tit-for-tat, this for that– Alhaitham has never felt the need to return what is given but then again he’s never really attempted to make a relationship work now, has he?

“Here you go.”

Alhaitham looks up from the book to see you hold out an ice cream cone toward him. He glances at your other hand to see another cone and at the table to see a cinnamon bun steaming from its small container. He takes the cone and you sit across from him, tearing off a piece of the cinnamon bun before smearing ice cream onto it.

Before you take a bite out of the sweet, you look at him with growing confusion. “Oh, sorry,” you say, “did you not want the frozen yogurt? I guess I just assumed you would; I always get one when I come here.”

“I don’t mind it. I actually enjoy sweets in moderation,” Alhaitham replies. Tit-for-tat, he thinks. “Let me pay you back for it.”

You wave a hand flippantly. “Nah, it’s okay. It’s really cheap anyways. You’re already paying for my gas so it’s really not a big deal. Here-” You slide the cinnamon bun roll closer to him. “Have some of this too. I got it for both of us.”

A small wrench in his plans. Perhaps he’ll pay you back another time? In another way? Or would it bother you if he treated every favor and action like a transaction to be paid back– he hasn’t considered this yet, and hasn't taken into account your personality in regards to what he should do. To his knowledge, you are… quite honestly, reasonable. Even-tempered, adaptable, even easy-going: it may do him good to review his plan and make some changes.

Perhaps he’ll just follow after you for once.

“Thank you,” he says, turning to his frozen yogurt and taking a taste. He looks up at you right in time to see you look away, smiling. For good measure, he rips a piece of cinnamon bun and, emulating you, smears the vanilla onto it.

It’s sweet.

The apartment ends up being an amalgamation of both your styles. The bookshelves are his, the couch and television are yours, and all the utensils and cooking ware are all bought. You had taken Alhaitham with you to buy everything, but he had very little to contribute to when it came to style. He commented more on practicality and only when you had asked him to choose between two did he make a stylistic choice. You find that he is a minimalist at most except for when it comes to his books, his bookshelves specifically from his own room. You find that oddly endearing, and when you suggest he purchase bookends, he denies it only because he already has his own.

For the most part, with the apartment, it feels like any agreement with a roommate. When will each person do their chores, what chores, how frequent? What are your schedules like? You tend to stay up late while Alhaitham is more than likely to sleep earlier to get his full night's rest.

"I work at 9 AM so I'll most likely be awake by 8," he tells you, "and come home at around 5:30 PM."

"I'll let you know my schedule for each week," you offer. "It's not as consistent as yours so I might work weekends too." You laugh at the quick grimace from Alhaitham. "It's not too bad. It's not like I work weekdays AND weekends. It just depends." You check your watch. "I can cook for tonight," you tell him, rummaging through the newly stocked drawers for utensils. It's been cold lately, so you think some stew would taste nice. You glance up at him right as he nods, and you wonder if he would be open to eating together.

It would be your first meal together, and the thought makes you a little giddy.

You open your mouth to say something when he speaks first. "Thanks," he says simply. He begins to turn away when you scramble to gather your courage and speak up again.

"Um, Alhaitham- ow!" You wave your hand in pain briefly after you bump it onto the corner of the drawer.

"Yes?"

"Would it be okay if we ate dinner together?" You ask. The ladle is still in your right hand, making you feel more childish than you want to be.

Alhaitham pauses for a second, and you hold on hope that at the very least, his first instinct isn't to say 'no.' "Based on your question," he says, "I'm assuming you mean for all our dinners, not just this one?"

Passively, yes, but you had intended to work up to asking him to eat dinner with you as a routine rather than come out the door with the suggestion. "Yeah," you say, not one to play coy. "I was thinking of tonight but if we could make it a 'thing' we do together that would be nice."

A part of you who still rejects the concept of an arranged marriage roils at the thought that you have to ask to eat dinner with your fiancé. The other part finds it a welcome challenge. And the other, larger part of you just wants to eat dinner with your fiancé; you try not to look so eager.

You are very adept at masking your emotions, as Alhaitham has observed. You are careful to not react when you ask him a question about his opinions on this or that so as to not sway him one way or another. You freely express yourself any other time though, your emotions painting your eyes, brows, and mouth to convey how you feel.

Alhaitham can see the way your eyes widen in anticipation and the grip on your ladle tighten as you hope that he says yes. He doesn't particularly find the idea whichever way. If anything, it is a natural thing to eat at the same time considering how you split your roles as cooks evenly.

But, hm, eating together is more than just eating at the same time, isn't it? It means eating at the same table with your presence at the forefront. Luckily, he finds that you are not an unpleasant person to be with, so until further notice, Alhaitham finds no problems with doing this with you. It is only a matter of time for the two of you to get to know each other, if only to gauge for compatibility. Besides it's a small act for something that makes you giddy and smile all throughout dinner.

There is no conversation at the table yet; you hardly know each other to come up with any worthwhile topics. But when he compliments your food for being flavorful (much like his mother's cooking, actually), he watches you hide your smile behind another bite of food before going into depth about the recipe.

Alhaitham thinks that you may be easy to please, but he finds that he does not mind that at all.

Alhaitham offers to do the dishes and it is hard for you not to beam at him at the suggestion. You clean up the table and set away any leftovers for another day. You don't have work tomorrow on this Tuesday but you know Alhaitham does so you glance over your shoulder and ask if he would like to pack lunch.

His shoulders are broad and his back expansive when you look over. When he responds, you try to not look so dreamy.

"The leftovers?" He asks, glancing down at the bowl. "If you won't be needing it then I wouldn't mind taking it to work."

"Okay, then I'll pack it for you?"

"Thank you."

The tupperware seals cleanly over the dinner you made, and you place it into the fridge for Alhaitham tomorrow. You sneak another peek at him as he places the dishes onto the rack to dry. It's not as if you are easy to enamor, but the domesticity of him washing dishes makes your heart flutter with affection.

You're almost tempted to write a note for him on his lunch. Something cute, but not too much. Something basic to start with? You take another glance at Alhaitham before shaking your head. Best not to start off too strong; Alhaitham seems like the type of person to go at a steady, calm pace while you're the impatient one, trying to race off without preparations.

Maybe you can write him a note next time?

Alhaitham is not a heavy sleeper, so when he feels you climb out of bed at around midnight, he wonders where you went if not straight to the restroom. You pad back to the room just as quietly as you left, much to your credit, and slide back under the sheets.

The next morning, Alhaitham readies for his day at work, brushing his teeth and washing his face with only basic soap and water-- you had stared at him enviously at the lack of product he uses-- as you sleep on in your shared bed, unaware of it all. He opens the fridge when he heads into the kitchen to find his packed lunch to see the tupperware with an addition sitting on top of it: a small bag of peeled orange slices and a note that he concludes must be in your handwriting.

"Have a good day at work! The oranges are yours too. :)”

Alhaitham finds a pen on the counter and writes his own message below it before placing it onto the counter where you can easily find it.

(It's a short 'thank you' from Alhaitham. It's not much, but it is something– or at least it's enough to put a smile on your face the next morning. You pick up the paper and let your eyes scan over the words. His handwriting is neat, to the point, and somewhat elegant, much like himself.

You sigh dreamily.)

It isn't unusual for Alhaitham to prepare meals and pack his own lunch. He goes for whatever tends to be available in his fridge or opts to eat in the first-floor cafe for the sake of convenience. Having someone pack his lunch is a novelty; the last time someone has done that for him was in middle school when his mother did it for him.

It takes him the entire fifteen-minute commute to work for him to notice that he is still thinking about your note. That must be why you had stepped out last night: to write the note. Your handwriting is neat, rounded and connected as though you are used to thinking too quick for your hand to write. The note is ripped from a little notepad that you had brought over, like you're used to writing messages for little lunches that you make. Little details in the actions that he gets to find out. It gets his mind off of traffic well enough and even as he walks through the office building door.

The oranges are a nice touch. Alhaitham doesn't remember you peeling them before the two of you went off to bed, so you must have done it the same time you wrote the message. He'll be sure to remember to tell you not to put in the hassle of doing something that late at night; no need to waste time sleeping doing this for him.

Alhaitham pauses his movement as he clocks into his workplace.

For some reason, the phrasing doesn't sit right with him. He has a feeling that it will only discourage you and push you to do more, which is the opposite of what he wants. He'll need to think of a better strategy to tell you, but that's a problem for later. He manages to dodge most of his coworkers on the way to his secretarial office where he sits on his ergonomic chair he purchased himself; no need to wear himself out doing his job, after all.

He lets out a long breath as he turns on his monitor and checks his emails, only to find that he has two meetings to go to that morning that, based on the descriptions, might as well just be emails. It’s going to be one of those days, he thinks blandly and gets to work.

Though most days pass by without much event, Alhaitham, much like anyone else, looks forward to the half-hour lunch break. He normally doesn’t need an alarm to remind him, because like clockwork, Dehya will come into his office and pop her head in. "Hey, Alhaitham," Dehya says, right at noon. "Nilou was asking the office if we wanted anything from the cafe so she could go grab it."

“No, I have lunch today,” Alhaitham says, and he doesn’t need to look at her to know that she shrugs before closing the door. With how loud it’s getting, it seems to be the cue for his break as well.

The lunch he takes out from the tupperware is as good as it was yesterday. Alhaitham eats his lunch and wonders if this is the type of life he would have if he got married. So far, so good– though he supposes it's too early to say having only been living under the same room for a few days and speaking on regular terms only a few days more. The two of you are bound to find something to disagree on: it's only a matter of when. Though, for the first time, Alhaitham thinks perhaps it won't be as much of a hassle as it could be with you.

It's sweet, he thinks, popping a slice of oranges into his mouth. It seems to be a theme with you, if the past few days are of any indication. Alhaitham has yet to update his grandmother (or parents, by extension) but he can already feel the mild smugness she’ll exude when he eventually calls her and tells her how well it’s actually going. So far, anyways. The cynic in him knows they could be one argument away from dissolution, but he is anything if not a pragmatist. With how willing you are to compromise and to talk things through with him, he thinks there’s a possibility that the two of you can get through any possible conflict.

It’s a foreign feeling, he thinks, to have belief in something to last, but he supposes there is always a chance for something new, even for him. Something tells him that if you knew that was how he felt, you would be elated.

You’re easy to please in that way, with your perpetual smile and abundant laughter; Alhaitham finds he does not mind that part of you at all.

#alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #al haitham x reader #any guesses to where they went shopping flajsdflkajsfl #oh frozen yogurt how i love u

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