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kaisacobra · 3 months

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Calypso's Curse - Tara Carpenter

Summary: Tara was used to having bad things happen to her all the time. She was used to see people leave her life as if she meant nothing, but she never thought you would be one of those people, especially if she was the one who caused it.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, mentions of violence, angst

Word Count: 5.1k

Second part of Second Best

Tara had gotten used to waking up with the sunlight bothering her eyes and having a strong headache caused by the hangover. Like any other Saturday, she got up slowly and stretched with a grimace, proceeding to go through the rest of her morning routine.

Everything seemed to be as usual until she stepped out of the room and into the kitchen. There she felt the unusual heavy mood in her apartment, normally filled with life and multiple voices chatting animatedly. Something had happened the night before. Something was wrong.

Sam had her back turned, cooking something in a pot that smelled very good. Sitting at the table in front of the stove, their roommate Quinn was scrolling through her phone with no expression until she noticed Tara standing right in front of her. With a playful smile, the redhead lifted her head to face the girl.

"Good morning, roomie. Did you have fun yesterday? I heard it was a blast."

Tara noticed when her sister's back tensed upon hearing about her presence, but she still didn't take her eyes off the stove to even offer a greeting. Flashes from the previous night appeared behind the younger Carpenter's eyes, and she remembered some things, especially the part where Sam broke into the house and tased a guy.

If anyone should be annoyed, it should be me. She thought with irritation as she crossed her arms. Deciding to ignore Sam's apparent bad mood, Tara turned her gaze back to Quinn, who still had a look of amusement on her face, as if she knew something Tara didn't.

"It was great! Until someone ruined my fun." Tara replied with sarcasm in her voice, making a point to increase the volume of her speech so that Sam could hear it well.

Perhaps it was a bit unfair to be so rude to someone who only wanted to protect her, but Tara was fed up with feeling like she was in a prison while attending college in a city of endless possibilities. The girl didn't want to be stuck dwelling on the past, and what better way to keep her mind occupied than drinking and dancing with strangers until 5 in the morning?

Besides, she wasn't alone. She knew that y/n would never let anything bad happen to her. Tara was safe.

"Oh, I think you had more than enough fun." The older Carpenter finally turned around, carrying a plate of omelets and a judgmental tone. She placed the plate on the table in front of Tara, and the girl felt some of her anger dissolve with her sister's gesture. "You don't remember anything that happened?"

From the corner of her eye, the younger girl could see Quinn looking back and forth between the two sisters as if witnessing a tennis match. Tara sighed and finally sat at the table, picking up a fork to start her breakfast. "I remember you ruining the vibe by attacking some random guy."

"There's even a video!" Quinn added with a laugh, placing her phone on the glass surface of the table and showing the screen to the two girls. The video was an endless loop of the exact moment when Sam used the taser on the guy's groin, and he fell flat on the ground. The redhead lifted her head, expecting to see smiles on the faces of the two sisters like hers, but upon seeing Sam's stern expression, she quickly added, "But he deserved it, Tara. He was a jerk."

"No, no." The older Carpenter shook her head negatively, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter behind her, her face displaying a mix of irritation and sarcasm. "Apparently, Tara's idea of fun is to be harassed by a disgusting man. I'm so sorry for ruining your incredible plans to become a victim of some idiot."

The younger one huffed with irritation and aggressively stabbed a piece of the omelet with her fork. Deep down, she was grateful for what Sam had done, even though it might become gossip of the week at her college. But Tara was too proud to admit it. So, instead of thanking her sister, she rolled her eyes and started chewing on her breakfast. "Nothing serious was going to happen, okay? Y/n was there; you know she would never let me do something like that."

The already awkward atmosphere in the room seemed to chill even more. Sam straightened her back further, and her jaw clenched as she stared at her own feet. Quinn, notoriously known for not taking anything seriously, raised her eyebrows and looked at Tara like a deer caught in headlights. Something was definitely wrong.

"What?" The girl asked, trying to swallow the food in her mouth, pretending that her anxiety didn't weigh on her throat like a bowling ball.

"Tara, you were awful to y/n yesterday. Seriously, she left the party crying because you said some outrageous things." Sam sighed and ran her hand over her forehead as if she were exhausted. Her tone wasn't angry, but it was worse because it was the calm voice of someone so disappointed that they had given up. "Why do you do this? You know she loves you, so why do you hurt her like this?"

Tara's stomach twisted into a knot upon hearing what she had put you through last night. It was true that she wasn't the best friend, but she would never wish harm on you, especially if she were the one at fault.

"Are you sure about that? Are you sure you don't enjoy breaking her heart into pieces every time, and she brings you the shards, hoping you'll glue them back together?"

"Shut up." Tara silenced her intrusive thoughts and looked at Sam as if nothing were wrong with her. "We're friends. We argue sometimes, but it's normal. I'll talk to her today, and everything will be fine."

That statement sounded more like wishful thinking from Tara than anything else.

"I don't know, maybe you should call her to make sure," Quinn spoke again, this time looking at Tara with a kind of amusement. "Who knows, maybe she's tired of being your plaything?"

"Oh, because you know all about turning people into your playthings, don't you?" The younger Carpenter retorted angrily, grabbing her phone with a sudden need to prove the redhead wrong. She searched for your contact number and pressed the call button, muttering a curse at her roommate. "Fuck you, Quinn."

The call rang twice. The other two girls stared at Tara with curiosity as she held the phone close to her ear, silently pleading for you to answer soon so she could wipe that smug smile off Quinn's face.

"The number you called is currently unavailable."

Huh?

The girl looked at the screen with confusion on her face. That had never happened before. You always answered her calls, even the ones made at 4 in the morning. Could it be a signal problem?

She went to her text messages and started typing a message. It wouldn't be as instant as a call, but at least you would respond when you read it. Tara typed a simple message (are you up?) and pressed send, but...

The text was green. Why was it green?

"Oh... Maybe she blocked you, roomie." Quinn's voice made Tara jump a little. The girl was so stunned that she didn't even realize she had spoken aloud. She looked between Sam and Quinn, one with evident disappointment and the other with mild surprise.

"No! No, this..." Tara vehemently shook her head, gripping the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. "...This has to be a mistake!"

"Tara, I told you that you went too far-"

"NO! Okay, just... just no!" The girl interrupted Sam with a shout. Her breathing was erratic, and she suddenly felt dizzy. You always promised her that you would be here, always came back, no matter what happened. "I'll call Mindy, okay? They must be together, and y/n will explain that her phone broke or something. Everything's still fine."

With trembling hands, Tara searched for Mindy's name in the contacts list and pressed call as soon as she found it. Her feet were tapping on the floor at a frenetic pace, and she had to restrain her own hands to avoid biting her nails and showing even more of her anxiety in front of Sam and Quinn.

Tara knew that sometimes she pushed you too far, but she only did it because it was necessary, right? She wasn't like her intrusive thoughts suggested, she didn't truly wish you harm, right? She couldn't have hurt you that much, she just... couldn't.

"Tara, why the fuck are you calling?" Mindy questioned as soon as the call was answered, not waiting for any greeting beforehand. Her voice overflowed with impatience, which wasn't uncommon for her personality, but Tara felt surprised by how hostile the tone sounded.

"Shh. Speak quieter; Y/n just went to sleep." A whisper belonging to Anika was heard not far from the microphone. Mindy apologized, lowering the volume of her voice, but Tara had already heard enough to feel her heart racing.

"What do you mean, she just went to sleep? It's 9 am!" She spoke with concern, standing up from the chair she was sitting in, letting her restless feet carry her back and forth. "Is she sick? Does she need me to bring some medicine?"

On the other side of the table, Sam frowned in concern at what she was hearing. "Y/n is sick? Does she need anything?"

Tara gestured for her sister to wait with her free hand as she tried to calm herself. She could barely remember the last time you were sick, but she vividly remembered going to your house and seeing you lying in bed, looking like you’d been hit by a truck, loopy with fever. She was so young at the time that she had been terrified, thinking that her curse would finally catch up with you, and she would lose you to some stupid illness.

She remembered helping your mom make soup and feeling like the happiest girl in the world when she saw you eating it with great effort despite your sore throat, just because she had made it.

The curse didn't catch up with you, and Tara felt useful for the first time in her life.

"She's not sick; she just took a while to sleep because she was too busy crying her eyes out yesterday." Mindy retorted venomously. "What the hell is your problem, Tara? You destroyed her!"

"I-I didn't mean to... It wasn’t my intention to..."

"Wasn’t your intention?" Mindy interrupted the girl's stammer with an aggressive whisper. "You've been an asshole to her for years, and you still want to tell me you had no intention?!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I don't know why..." Tara let the words come out of her mouth with effort, trying not to let the tears that threatened to fall escape. "I don't know why I'm like this; I just... Tell her I'm sorry."

Mindy scoffed mockingly. "Tell her yourself. And preferably, wait a week to do it because I don't think Y/n wants to see you anytime soon."

When the call ended, Tara could swear she heard her own heart crack. She looked at her hands, one still holding the phone, not knowing what to feel or what to do in the moment. Maybe in a few moments, everything would hit her like a tsunami. Anger, shame, panic, sadness, all directed at herself. But at that moment, she just felt nothing, as if a void had opened in her chest and gradually expanded, consuming her entire being.

Sam asked if you were sick again. Quinn wanted to know how you were feeling. Tara didn't answer any of the questions and ran as fast as she could to lock herself in her room.

It had been a week since Tara last saw you.

Your absence hit her like a train, but the girl was doing her best to respect your space since all this situation was her fault anyway. It was so strange not having you by her side, even as a silent presence, that she felt like an incomplete puzzle.

At least she knew you were okay, and that was enough to calm some of her nerves. Of course, psychologically, you weren't in the best place, but Mindy had assured Tara (after much insistence from the girl) that you were eating, sleeping well, and attending classes just like always, which made the younger Carpenter feel relieved for not ruining even more of your life.

The group of friends seemed to be under the custody of divorced parents. One day, Tara would meet Mindy and Anika for lunch, and they would talk civilly, even though the disapproval of the twin about her actions was evident. The next day, she would have lunch with Chad and Ethan, who tried to lighten the mood with silly jokes and sought Tara's opinion on "guy stuff."

She knew this rotation scheme was also happening with you, and Tara couldn't help but wonder how you were dealing with it. Did you talk about her when she wasn't around? Or maybe you were trying to erase any trace of Tara from your own mind?

Either way, in your absence, Tara had plenty of time to sink into her own pit of guilt, which gave her time to analyze her own actions. She didn't know how things had escalated to this point, but she knew exactly how they had started.

You were both 13, nearing the end of summer, and about to embark on the frightening world of high school. Tara remembers every detail of that day perfectly because it might have been the best day of her life. She recalls the two of you lying on her bed, the bedroom door closed to keep the cool air from the air conditioner from escaping into the hallway. Her mom wasn't home, as usual, but Tara couldn't remember the excuse this time.

Tara remembers seeing you laugh at some scene from Child's Play playing on TV while finishing your watermelon popsicle. She noticed that the sweet treat seemed to make your lips redder and more hydrated, and a question about their taste seemed to pound in her brain like a drum. She shook her head to shake that off, feeling her own face warm.

"What nonsense! Can't you just, like, kick that doll hard?" You were lying face down, but turned your head to flash a smile at Tara. She could barely comprehend your words, finding it more interesting to notice how your legs were stretched upward in the most adorable position and how your eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement. You were clearly happy, and Tara was happy about that.

"It's the power of the script! I don't think you can defeat a possessed doll with just a kick." Tara answered your question, shrugging and looking at her own hands, where the remnants of a strawberry popsicle were. Anything to avoid looking at you and feeling whatever was happening in her chest.

A moment of silence settled for a few seconds, and Tara thought you had returned to watching the movie until she heard your voice again. "Was it good?"

She raised her head in confusion and looked at you with a frown, which was met with a thoughtful look from your side. "What do you mean?"

"The popsicle. I wanted to taste it, but I know strawberry is your favorite, and there was only one." You pouted, and, God, how Tara felt something inside her sway. Her gaze fixated on your lips for a few seconds, and all her thoughts turned into mush.

"You can taste it on my lips if you want."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The girl closed her eyes and grimaced, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. Damn her intrusive thoughts. "I-I was joking, sorry." She spoke next, trying not to make the situation even more awkward.

Still with her eyes closed, she felt the warm touch of your hand on her arm, and one side of the bed sank a bit closer than before. "No! It's fine. You know, it's not such a bad idea..."

"What?" Tara widened her eyes, unable to believe that she had actually heard that come out of your throat. She could see you clearly now, sitting cross-legged with both your thighs almost touching.

"I mean... All our friends have kissed someone." You started to argue, gesturing with your hands as you always did. "Chad has already kissed someone, Mindy even kissed a girl! I don't want to go to high school and be teased for being a bad kisser! At least this way, we both would have some experience!"

Tara felt her own head short-circuit. She couldn't even interpret what she was feeling with your suggestion, with sweaty palms, a rapidly beating heart, and a dry throat. Maybe she was just too scared by the idea of kissing someone.

Yeah. That makes sense.

"But we're friends. Wouldn't that be weird?"

"Of course not!" You countered with the energy of someone who clearly had thought about the answer to that question before. "It's even better! If we're bad, we can just tell each other and practice until we get it right!"

The young Carpenter's head was spinning just by thinking about kissing you not only once but multiple times. She couldn't stop staring at your lips, the question about their taste now seeming more urgent and necessary, like some kind of thirst.

Without trusting her own voice, let alone her self-control, Tara just nodded and hoped you understood the signal to take the initiative and get even closer.

Your mouth still carried the scent of the damn watermelon popsicle, but the fragrance of your subtle perfume also mixed and invaded Tara's senses with the force of a wave. She kept her hands close to her body, not knowing what to do with them as your faces got so close that your breaths collided.

When your lips finally met in the sweetest and gentlest kiss possible, Tara saw an explosion of colors behind her closed eyes, like fireworks. In fact, her whole body seemed to catch fire, and her chest could barely contain her heart. That was the first time Tara felt so... alive.

She understood everything now. She loved you. Fuck, she loved you.

Fuck. She loved you.

Tara immediately felt panic churn in her stomach, but she acted as if nothing had happened, just like you did. Inside, however, all her senses were on high alert for an imminent catastrophe.

She loved you, really loved you, and Tara knew you well enough to know after that kiss that you felt the same way about her. That was the problem. Tara wasn't made to be loved; she didn't deserve it.

You see, Tara felt like a myth she studied in one of her history classes, the myth of Calypso. A nymph who had been trapped on an island by the gods, and her eternal punishment was falling in love with people who could never be with her, causing a cycle of broken hearts and unrequited love for millennia.

Every time Tara loved too much and was reciprocated, the universe took someone away from her. It had happened with her father, with Sam, and more recently with her mother. She couldn't let it happen again; she couldn't lose you.

It was then, in desperation, that she stopped talking to you for a week, trying to make the feelings of at least one of you decrease until they completely vanished. But the days passed, and nothing changed. Tara still felt intense and conflicting emotions for you, and from the messages you sent, everything pointed to you feeling the same.

Avoiding you forever wouldn't work, and Tara missed you too much to simply cut you out of her life completely to avoid future suffering. She decided, then, that the best way to resolve this mess would be to get closer to other people, trying to force what she felt for you onto someone else.

She could lose anyone else, but not you.

A few weeks later, high school finally began, and she met Amber. The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Tara Carpenter might have many flaws, but one thing she had always been good at was reading people and their intentions. The moment she met Amber, Tara could identify that the girl was exactly what she needed: interesting, attractive, but fundamentally distant.

She knew it hurt you. The distancing, the increasingly scarce conversations, her sudden interest in someone else even after you had shared the best kiss of your lives. Tara didn't want to hurt you, not really, but it was necessary if it meant she could keep you in her life.

And Amber... Amber was perfect for the role. Tara always knew that the girl would never love her more than she loved herself, knew that she was the type to disappear for a few days without explanation, but always came back with a sly smile and lame excuses. Tara loved her because she would never love her enough to leave, she could love without fear, even if the feeling wasn't reciprocated with the same strength.

At the end of the day, what mattered was that the relationship made Tara suppress what she felt for you, so nothing bad would happen to your friendship, right?

You loved her. She loved Amber. No more Calypso's curse.

After replaying all these memories in her mind, Tara felt a desperate urge to laugh. Wasn't it at least a little funny that she had concocted this entire plan and included a psychopathic killer in her group of friends (which consumed her every day as she blamed herself for last year's attacks) only to end up losing you anyway in the end?

She shouldn't be laughing, but Tara didn't know if she had the capacity to control what she felt anymore.

It was expected that the halls of Blackmore University would be empty during that afternoon period. Normally, other students were attending elective classes, participating in clubs, or training in some sport to enrich their academic resumes. Tara, contrary to that, roamed the halls like a lost soul without direction, as if walking aimlessly would solve any of her problems.

But maybe this walk had indeed been a good idea, as she managed to see the exact moment when you came out of the campus counselor's office. She sighed when she saw you, looking carefree and definitely less miserable than she was. You even smiled, and even though the smile wasn't for her, just that sight made her heart beat excitedly and a sense of peace ran through her body.

At least, that was until the girl who was receiving your smile appeared in Tara's view.

She was... something. She had a confident posture that made her seem even taller than she was and a carefree expression on her face that was almost charming. The girl seemed well-off, dressed in clothes that seemed to be designer and a sports duffel bag hanging from her shoulders. She was... pretty, maybe? Tara didn't know why, but she was reluctant to give any compliments to that stranger.

Maybe because Tara didn't know her, but you spoke to her with the ease of someone who had known her for a lifetime. You were laughing together and maintaining eye contact in a way that, for some reason, bothered Tara. So, she let her impulsiveness take over and marched toward you without the slightest plan.

"Y/n? Hi!" She announced her presence, and something in her chest hurt when she noted the change from your previously happy expression to a closed one. "I haven't seen you in a while! I thought it was because you were sad and needed some time, but you're clearly better than I am!"

She didn't know why she had said those words in such a passive-aggressive tone. Tara knew she was in the wrong, but still, watching your interaction with this stranger made her blood boil. However, she felt shame for her own reaction when you looked at her with a disappointed expression.

“Seriously, Tara? Is that all you have to say?” You spoke, crossing your arms as if you needed protection. Tara couldn't help but notice how the icy tone in your voice was new and cut through her like a razor.

The blue-eyed girl next to you seemed to straighten even more, positioning herself a little closer to you as some sort of bodyguard. Ridiculous, if you asked Tara. "Is there a problem here?"

"And who are you?" The younger Carpenter asked, trying to control her own voice not to make you even more annoyed. The new girl didn't seem to care about the hostile atmosphere and flashed a confident smile, looking down at Tara in a way that she didn't know if it was intentional or not.

"I'm Kate. Kate Bishop. Maybe you've never seen me if you're the same age as y/n here." Kate made a point to touch your shoulder when mentioning you, and Tara felt like a tsunami of hatred was forming in her stomach. "I'm a junior, so we probably don't have the same classes."

"Speaking of classes..." The taller girl turned completely to you, as if Tara wasn't even present. "I have to go now, but I'll see you later, y/n?"

Tara watched begrudgingly as your face formed a small smile when addressing Kate. "Sure. See you later, Bishop."

You exchanged a hug that, again, in Tara's opinion, was a bit longer than it should have been. She watched as the so-called Kate Bishop walked away down the corridor, adjusting the sports bag on her shoulder and striding like a damn show-off model.

"If she's a junior and you're a freshman, how did you two meet?" Tara inquired, feeling protective of you. After all that had happened in the past, she thought she had a bit of a right to doubt people's intentions. That was the only reason she was so intrigued by your new companion, obviously.

You sighed tiredly, as if you already expected that kind of behavior from her. "We met in the counseling center line." You pointed to the counseling center door a few meters to your left. "I'm going to therapy sessions, you know? Not that you'll care."

Tara felt an immense guilt instantly. She could now see the dark bags under your eyes and a clear loss of the bright energy you normally carried with you. The girl wanted to cry and plead for forgiveness, but she knew that would only make you feel worse.

Maybe Tara, overall, would only make you feel worse.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I said horrible things, and-"

"Apologies won't work now, Tara." You admitted, turning your gaze away. "It's not just about what you said; it's about how you've been acting for a long time. I shouldn't have to put up with this kind of thing."

"You're right, I know. I feel-"

"What? You feel sorry?" Tara was startled to hear your tone becoming more pained as you interrupted her. She had never heard anything like that come out of your mouth before, and she almost wished you were shouting in her face instead. "Tara, you can’t even give me an explanation for why you do this kind of thing to me? Do you find it amusing to make a fool out of me? Is it fun to hurt me and see me coming back to you like a fucking boomerang?"

"No! I just... I don't know why I do this." The shorter one confessed with a trembling voice. "I swear to you that I... You are one of the best people in my life, okay? And I know I don't do enough to deserve you, but I... I need you. I'll do anything, just... could you forgive me?"

She wasn't lying when she said she didn't know the reason for continuing to hurt you this way. She didn't know why it had been so easy to listen when Amber suggested that you might be Ghostface. God, she didn't even know why she kept bringing up Amber, even though she preferred to forget about everything Amber caused.

Perhaps Tara just felt the need to make you feel the same pain she felt inside, so that you would be intertwined even unconsciously.

"I don't know if I can, not now. I have to put myself first at least once in my life, Tara. I'm really sorry." Your eyes were still avoiding Carpenter's, avoiding her gaze like a plague. "But if what you say is true, and you don't know why you do this... Tara, you need help. Professional help. I can't be your therapist, let alone your punching bag."

The girl nodded slightly and bit her lower lip to keep from crying in front of you. With a remaining bit of willpower and a little courage, she lightly touched your hand, silently pleading for your attention. "If I do this... seek help, i mean. Will you forgive me? Please, I don't want to lose you because I'm an idiot."

You looked back at her, and Tara could almost see conflicting feelings swimming in your irises. Finally, something seemed to snap you out of a trance, and you gently squeezed Carpenter's hand, a small gesture of support. "I don't know, Tara. I hope so, but that's not up to me, you know."

When you took a step back, and your hands parted, Tara almost let out a sob from her throat, instantly missing the touch. You hesitated, as if you wanted to say something, but chose to shake your head and quickly wipe away a lone tear rolling down your cheek. "I hope you get better, Tara."

The girl watched helplessly as you walked away, clutching your own bag as if it would keep you grounded in reality. She hated herself for making you feel this way, hated herself for being a problem for everyone she loved.

Maybe there was never a curse on Tara. Maybe she was simply the curse in other people's lives.

She glanced at the door to her left and sighed resignedly. As immense as her pride was, and as much as she had avoided this moment until now, she had promised you that she would change, and she couldn't break another promise. She swallowed hard and let her legs guide her to the frosted glass door.

Tara read and reread the words on the door. Counseling Center. And with one final sigh, she entered.

#scream #scream vi #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #scream 2022 #scream x reader #scream imagine

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russellsppttemplates · 1 month

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Just say the word (Max Verstappen)

A secret relationship is hard enough to deal with when you don't have people constantly shipping your boyfriend with someone else

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first time I'm writing athlete!reader, so I thought about the sports I know better and swimming seemed fitting for what I wanted!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: secret relationship

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"You're alone today, Y/N?", one of the other girls, Ella, asked as you retrieved your waterproof workout plan sheet from the folder.

"I'm going away tomorrow and I won't be back until Monday morning, so I squeezed in my Saturday session now; Carol is coaching with the younger group today later", you explained the fact that you were at the pool without your coach.

At first, swimming was an after school activity since your parents worked long hours and they needed you to be occupied and somewhere with someone looking after you, but as you grew older, your passion for the activity became more serious. Combined with your natural skill and hard work - and, truth be told, a dust of luck from deep pocket sponsors - you were able to become a full time swimmer. Tokyo 2020 Olympics was the proudest moment of your career as you stepped on the podium next to two of the people you looked up to the most, wondering if you were ever going to stand in the top step and hear your national anthem play. Baby steps - Carol told you immediately - this is already a huge achievement, Y/N!

"Do you want to stretch together?", Ella wondered, throwing a foam roller for you to catch once you nodded and getting one for herself.

"Where are you off to this weekend?", she asked curiously. You were playing a risky game, you knew that much, going away only on weekends and travelling to countries where, coincidentally, the Formula One Grand Prix was being held.

Luckily for you, no one seemed to make the connection as the last two years you managed to keep your relationship a secret. You first met Max in a sponsor party at the beggining of your professional career when you needed to up your earnings as the costs of travelling to competitions was getting higher and heavier on your savings. It fell through, but other sponsors came your way and you and Max started hanging out after it. The Dutch driver was funny and charming and after winning your first Olympic medal, you felt unstoppable and confessed your feelings for him. When he admitted he felt the same for you, you went from there on. At first, the decision to keep it secret was both strategic, as Max didn't want you to miss out on any sponsorships or teams backing you because you were in a relationship with him, and personal as he didn't want the world's prying eyes on your relationship.

Two years later, you felt like there had never been a right time to do it so things stayed the way they were, and most of the time, you didn't mind it.

"Austria", you kept the city to yourself as you worked on your hips as they were still tight from yesterday.

"Didn't you go there last year?", she quirked an eyebrow.

"Last year, I had more of a city break weekend, this time around I'm going for a nature approach, you know? No phones, no Internet, digital detox and all of that", you offered, doubling up the excuse so she wouldn't expect to see and Instagram stories or posts from your weekend away.

"Sounds nice! It can really get in your head when you're too long on them - I have a timer on my phone because otherwise I won't even notice the amount of time I spend on social media", she smiled before silently asking if she could take the foam rollers back to their box.

Getting yourself on the water and used to the temperature, you started with your usual warm up routine before following the plan you stuck to the platform.

On some days, the session felt quick, before you knew, the other athletes were already stretching and getting prepped for their own session. Today, it seemed like it would never end, as you looked at the clock and only fifteen minutes had gone by since the last time you checked it. At least your times were improving, you thought, drinking some water before going back to practice your butterfly stroke as dictated by the workout sheet.

It was already evening time when you sat down on your bedroom floor, packing everything you had laid out to take on your trip with you when your phone rang.

"Hey, liefje", Max said as his face showed up on your screen, "how was your day?".

"Good. Had training in the morning, then a physio session because my hips kept hurting, and I found some time to buy a replacement for my moisturiser before I came home to have dinner and pack", you showed him the suitcase, "and you? The car seems good, a nice gap to the others as well", you mused.

"The same old Friday, really. Woke up, came to the track, a little debrief with Alice and then we headed to the track. Only tomorrow will tell, but I'm confident on the pole", he smiled, "can't wait to have you here with me and see your gorgeous face up close".

"You can see it now", you ridiculed as you rested your chin on your phone and looked into the camera so Max could have an interesting angle of your features, "beautiful, am I right?", you joked.

"The most beautiful", he complimented, "are you nearly done packing?", he wondered.

"Yes, just my charger and a few other last minute things left - I'll put them in my backpack tomorrow morning", you reasoned.

"You better get to sleep, your flight is early", your boyfriend encouraged, "I really need it - a proper shower first and then I'll go to bed", you assured, "I love you, Max, see you tomorrow", you blew him a kiss.

"I love you too, gorgeous! Text me updates from your flight, okay?", he smiled, smooching his lips for you to see before you ended the videocall.

The shower helped you unwind for the night, a little list on your kitchen counter to remember you of the last minute things as you turned off the lights and got back to your bedroom, your bed waiting for you so you could sleep a decent amount of hours.

Sitting on the waiting area of the airport, you placed your backpack on your legs and rested your elbows there, grabbing your phone to scroll through social media.

Ella was right, people did spend too much time on these. Everyone around you seemed to be on their phone or tablet devices.

A photo of your boyfriend showed up in your explore page, a fan page showing his walking back to the garage after FP1 and Alice was trailing right beside him.

Scrolling through the carrousel of pictures, you found a small video of them laughing together about something. The comments under it were the same as usual.

No one can convince me they're not together!😌 (to be read as I know I'm delulu)

If they're not, I'll volunteer to show them how good they would be for eachother! 🫣

Such a power couple 😮‍💨🥵

When they finally knock some sense into eachother's head and realise they're meant to be together, I'm claiming them as my parents! 🥹

No matter how many times you saw it, it never got easier. For all everyone knew, Max was single, so they weren't acting as a disregard of you. They didn't knew a regard of you to begin with. So they took interest in his love life and hoped he was in a relationship with some of the women he interacted with. Max usually didn't let many of them start to begin with, but Alice worked for the team, he could only get so far away and be distanced from her.

Max wouldn't cheat on you, you knew that. But the comments made you wonder. Would he be better off with someone else? Someone who could follow him anywhere?

The thoughts often plagued your mind, and they hadn't yet turned to the your other insecurities, so you had to be thankful for that.

Boarding on the plane, you played some music on your earbuds as you fished out your kindle to continue reading the book you started at the beggining of the week.

The buzz was installed on track as you found your spot in the stands just in time to see the marshalls tidying up whatever was left on the concrete so qualifying could start without a hitch.

This was usually how you did it. On Saturday, you would watch qualifying from the stands, waiting a little in the fan zone before Max whisked you into the hospitality with Gianpiero's help. On Sunday, you either stayed on the stands and repeated the same procedure or you arrived early to the track and stayed in his driver's room so to not lift any suspicions. You had been invited to watch a few races with the Paddock Club pass with some of the other Olympic athletes, but it hadn't happened in a while.

To anyone, you were a regular fan. You had your RedBull cap on and sunglasses, and you had never been recognised in one of the races, so you felt calm. The tricky bit of keeping your relationship hidden from the public eye was going to be later, for now, you could just wait and appreciate the fast laps.

"I'm sorry, you're Y/N Y/L/N, right?", a girl in a Ferrari cap called your name. Crap.

"Hi, I am", you smiled, "I'm sorry to ambush you like this - I am a big fan and you're a big inspiration to me. I also swim", she reasoned as she fumbled with her phone, "do you mind if my father takes a picture of us?", she politely asked.

"That's okay, yes", you smiled, taking off your sunglasses briefly as the older man snapped a picture before he shook your hand, "she won't shut up about your achievements! Did you tell Ms. Y/L/N that you're going to be in the qualifiers for Paris?".

"It's Y/N, please", you requested, "That's fantastic, congratulations! I hope it all works out for you and I'll see you around there!", you hugged her quickly before she thanked you and found their seats.

She seemed nice enough and it wasn't like you were a public figure, at least to the general public anyway really, so between all of the people who could've spotted you, she was fine.

"C'mon Max!", you yelled as he and Charles seemed to be separated by a few tenths of a second, cheering loudly when the times were set and your boyfriend got the pole position.

The timing was perfect as Max took a little longer than expected on his interviews, fans scattering to the fanzone and track experiences while you spotted Max's engineer, walking with him when no one seemed to be paying attention to it.

"I'll tell Max you're already here", he smiled before he closed the door of the driver's room.

It always felt a little odd. Like you were doing something forbidden and illegal by being there.

"Yes, we'll meet in a bit", Max told whoever was in the corridor after he opened the door, closing it back when you jumped on him, legs wrapping around his waist, "hey, pole sitter", you smirked, nuzzling your face on his neck and kissing the soft skin.

"Hello, liefje", he mumbled against your skin before you pulled away, "kiss?", you asked for his lips to settle on yours for a bit, filling up on eachother's presence.

"No one saw you come here?", he asked. You shook your head, "everybody was paying attention to other things, the only people I encountered already know so we're safe", you stated.

Max noticed the change of tone, but you wouldn't have time to properly discuss it so he let it slide for now, telling you instead about the session and how the car felt, as well as the dinner plans her had for you since the room service menu was "so varied we could make our own little buffet".

You stayed in the room while he had the debrief, leaving together when you made sure no one would see you two.

"Room service called back, they said they'll bring the food in ten minutes", Max said as you got out of the bathroom, dressed in pyjamas and fresh out of the shower, "That's good, I'm starving", you smiled as you sat down.

Max always received the food at the door to ensure no prying eyes would see something he didn't want, along with other precautions like packing up all your things in case someone from housekeeping enjoyed the gossip and took the rumours somewhere else.

"I know something is bothering you", Max began you had taken a piece of chicken to your much, "I noticed it when we were in my room, and even now there's something", he nudged your arm.

Chewing and swallowing afterwards, you moved the broccoli around your plate, gathering your thoughts before speaking up, "do you know people ship you and Alice?", you spoke up.

"Don't change the subject, darl - is that it?", Max tried to understand.

"People seem to think you'd make a great couple, like, they have your whole relationship panned out. Everyone thinks she's very pretty - and I agree with them -, and that you two have chemistry and that it would be nice for you to be with her - looks exchanged and all sorts of ideas", you mumbled.

"Liefje, I'd never do that to you, I don't interact with her that way", Max replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone - and they know who that person is, so really it's just a matter of putting two and two together!", you let a tear fall down your cheek.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much and bringing you such sadness", Max cupped your cheek, thumb wiping the tears that followed suit and looking into your eyes.

"I can ask the team to issue or statement - or we can go public. I don't care what we do as long as you feel better about it", he comforted.

"Do you want to go public?", you asked, afraid of the answer.

"Y/N, my love, being secret was just to protect you, for your good. If going public is the solution for this, I'm the first one to walk into the paddock tomorrow with you, holding hands and everything", he moved his hands to cradle your own.

"You mean that? It's just, I don't want people to assume you're single and throw themselves at you - or throw someone at you! I know Alice won't do it, but other people might and I'm tired of having to lie to people about where I'm going and saying no to dates they try to set up and why I gave a RedBull rain jacket on my car", you chuckled at the last one, remembering your coach's reaction when she saw it, "Since when do you follow F1?", Carol questioned.

"We'll do it tomorrow if you want, or whenever you feel ready, Y/N. I'll be by your side, always", he smiled kissing your lips lovingly.

"I don't have any paddock wag outfits with me", you giggled, "have to make a good impression".

"Please, you could go in these pyjamas and you'd still be the prettiest woman there", he pulled you to sit on his lap as you finished your dinner.

The next morning, people couldn't believe their eyes as Max walked hand in hand with a young woman, the pair of them talking about something between them as they giggled.

A few were unsure of it was really you while others asked their colleagues to please repeat your name, googling you quickly and finding out your achievements.

Soon enough, pictures flowed social media with the paddock's new power couple, gossip Instagram pages having a field day and it wasn't even lunch time.

"This is news", Daniel said as he spotted Max. He had been one of the few people outside of the team who knew about you two, you having made him swear that he would never tell anyone, and if by chance he did let something slip, you trusted him to make a joke out of it and for people to assume he was just teasing Max indeed.

"You won't have to keep it to yourself anymore, Danny", you said as you hugged his side quickly.

"That's good, actually, I think that's what has been keeping me from being focused in racing, it's a real relief, Y/N", he stated and for two seconds, you felt bad for putting such pressure on him, "I'm just kidding! C'mon, you know what I'm like", he gave you a big smile, "now, I have to go, will pop by to see you though!", Daniel said as he waved while he carried on to his team's garage.

Your interactions with Daniel and the team spurred curiosity as the media started thinking and hypothesizing that maybe your relationship was as new as they thought it was. As it turns out, once again, Max Verstappen knew how to keep private aspects away from the media.

For now, they would try to dig more and find out how the Olympic medalist swimmer stole the heart of the Formula One driver.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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firsttimewriter92 · 8 months

Text

Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 1; Part 2; Part 4

Description: Your first date with Simon draws near and it turns out to be absolutely magical

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, pining and longing getting stronger, reader is not vegetarian; mentions of previous mental abuse by an ex; Please be careful when reading

Word count: 4.368

A/N: Hi everyone <3 Part three is here. Please read this one with a bit of caution.

I´m discussing something that has happened in my last relationship and it might be a bit difficult to read. It´s how I cope. I did something like this in another fic of mine and I realised how much it helped me and apparently others. So I incorporated another experience in this fic, hoping that the toothrotting fluff will make up for it.

Please enjoy none the less <3

It was Friday and your heart was already pumping so many different hormones and feelings through your system that you actually began to doubt your sanity.

You hadn’t seen Simon since he hung up your shelf and introduced you to his dog. The dog. God, the moment you thought he had a girlfriend and had seen how he behaved around you had made you so angry for a second. Thankfully however it was all just a misunderstanding and Simon had given exactly what you had needed at that moment.

Total and complete clarity.

He seemed like the type of man that was not socially awkward per se but definitely a bit of an isolated character. You couldn’t see him at lavish social gatherings or busy events. I think the mask would be too much of a conversation starter for it to not get awkward eventually. If he wanted to wear it, whatever his reason was, you were in no position to question him. You didn’t lie when you told him that it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You were just curious, and if he didn’t want to tell you why he wore it, then that´s what it was going to be.

Secretly though, your mind was itching with the numerous faces you´d conjured up in the middle of the night. You found yourself awake wondering how his nose was shaped, how plump or not his lips were, if he had stubble, a beard or was he clean shaven? It didn’t matter to you as much as you thought. You´ve had crushes on men before that had shown even less than hair and eyes. Given they were fictional, the cush itself was real.

And so was the one you´d developed on the brown eyed, whisky voiced half stranger living next to you.

When you got out of bed Saturday morning, you dreaded the whole day ahead of you. He´d only pick you up at 8 so you had to occupy yourself for, what? Another ten hours?

“Fuuuuuuuuck” you sighed as you made your daily dose of coffee and got some eggs and toast ready.

Taking it all to your living room you plopped down on your couch and started your TV. Narcos was silently playing in the background as you made some mental notes about what you needed to do before Simon picked you up.

Shower, shave (maybe even exfoliate), pick out a casual outfit, clean up your apartment at least somewhat. Enough time was spent living out of cardboard boxes and not really settling. Being comfortable in your home would surely help making you more comfortable with yourself and therefore comfortable with the thought of an absolute hunk like Simon being interested in you.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unlovable, no. Not at all. But the men than had shown interest in you before were never like Simon. And that didn’t mean just physically.

Your last relationship opened your eyes to the men that you usually attracted. Insecure boys, hiding behind a strong masculine façade and instead of working on themselves, or realizing what they lacked, always bound someone to them that wasn’t yet aware of their own worth.

Unfortunately, you used to be that kind of person. Your ex was one of the most interesting men you´d ever met. When he started to take an interest in you, you were ecstatic and soon after you began dating. Over the years however, he slowly chipped away at your confidence, misused your people pleasing tendencies and slowly…oh so slowly made you emotionally dependent on him.

So much so, that there was a time where you actually thought there was no other man for you on this planet other than him. That his actions and words were only for your benefit even if you felt deep down that something wasn’t right about the way he was treating you.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, however. So, every time you tried to have a talk with him about how his behavior made you feel, he only needed about 5 minutes of constant talking to make you believe he was actually a great partner and that the problem was either nonexistent, only in your head or your fault.

This led to the fact that trying to argument in your favor was something you´d completely lost.

By the time he almost convinced you that you couldn’t do anything right or at least without him, that you weren’t very much intelligent but super sweet, so it was worth staying with you, you had already forgiven him for cheating on you once.

The second time however was your breaking point. The fact that the girl was underage opened your eyes about him so quickly, that you basically ran for the hills. Behavioral therapy and some new complexes were the result of all that. It did work though. Two years later your life was yours again to take and you grabbed it tightly.

Still, some of the things that had happened changed the way you saw yourself.

Simon was different. He seemed confident in a way that didn’t need to put others down for it. He was friendly, mild and cheeky. And you were going on a date with him. You probably would have never asked him so his direct confession that he was indeed trying to flirt and him asking you out first, made your confidence spike like nothing had done in the past two years.

You tried not to let it go to your head. Never again would you define your worth over the attention of an attractive man. But that feeling never once arose when you thought about Simon. Only excitement and juvenile glee. You marveled in it as you practically danced around your apartment, cleaning, putting stuff away, getting a load of laundry going.

Around three o´clock you got hungry again and decided to walk to the market around the corner to get one of your favorite sandwiches.

You walked into your bedroom to put on a pair of lose, flowy beige pants and a black tank top before putting on your shoes. You grabbed your bag and walked outside. The sun was shining brightly, only disrupted by one or the other white and fluffy cloud as you made your way to the market. It was like the busy streets of London as well as the weather congratulated you on a successful and productive day so far. Smiling and humming happily you purchased your lunch and made your way back with an additional fizzy raspberry lemonade you just couldn’t pass up.

Back in your apartment you closed your door and looked around. It was all coming together. No more boxes, the plastic plants all where you wanted them, and the handing shelf finally filled with a colorful display of your favorite books. A deep breath came forth as you enjoyed your meal and lemonade on your couch. It was still a little weird to you to be fully responsible for your own feelings and the actions you had to take to achieve them. Making yourself happy was never something you put much effort into and that had also been something you had to learn the hard way.

Now, you thought about your life and for the first time in years felt content. Like you didn’t need anybody else to feel this way. Just yourself. And with this feeling you noticed, came the confidence and willingness to let somebody else in again.

There it was again. Your inner eye producing a mess of blond hair, brown, expressive eyes and an impressive body. With all the nonphysical attributes he´d shown you so far that made him so endearing, it was hard not to notice how your body reacted whenever you thought about his broad back, his waist or his massive thighs. You didn’t want to objectify him and still, in the late hours of the night you and your mind had managed to get you off so hard, you had to use a pillow over your mouth to drown out your screams and whimpering.

A shiver ran down your spine when you thought about last night. Even though it took you about 15 minutes to calm down enough from your orgasm to catch a coherent thought, Simon still managed to invade your dreams. His raspy voice in your ear telling you to go to sleep. Telling you gently to rest and leave it to him (whatever he meant), holding you close to his chest, tangling his legs with yours and drowsily stroking your back.

Waking up without him though always put a bit of a sting to your chest. That feeling was soon replaced with an embarrassed giggle as you fell backwards into your pillows again with your palm covering your eyes.

Maybe, just maybe these dreams could become a reality. If you played your cards right.

Determined to make this date a success even though you had no idea what his plan was, you made your way into your shower. Humming along to your little radio you turned off your shower to start shaving when you stopped dead in your tracks. There he was again, and your heart swelled twice its size. He was taking a shower, singing along to some tune you´d never heard before. It was mesmerizing. Slow and deep. The wall prevented you from hearing what exactly the words were, but the melody alone was so beautiful that you didn’t care.

You´d just finished shaving and were reluctant to turn on the water again when his shot off and the singing yet again stopped. “Bloody hell” you muttered with an airy, fluttering feeling in your stomach. Pampering was the next step. You used your rich body butter and your loveliest perfume. Feeling great and refreshed you used the rest of the time to put on your fluffy bathrobe, sit on your couch and tend to your toes and feet since you decided to wear sandals.

Only five minutes left, and you just finished putting the last efforts into your hair as you heard three strong knocks on your door. Hurrying over to your door you almost tripped over your own feet. Taking a deep breath, you opened your door. Holy gosh darn fucking crap!! That was not fair. It just wasn’t.

Matching his black mask, he wore a black polo shirt that hugged him way better than the other shirts you´d seen on him. His dark washed jeans were held up by a brown leather belt with a silver buckle. You knew he was built but this? The way his biceps was stretching the material and the jeans clung to his thighs made your mouth water. He´d styled his hair only slightly but it sat still adorably tousled upon his head.

You smiled up at him and squeezed out a breathless “Hi”. Simon looked down at you with slightly bulging eyes as he took in your outfit of fitted blue jeans and a flowy, emerald-green blouse. Flitting his eyes to yours again he smiled. “Hi” he repeated in a happy tone.

You grabbed your bag and walked out, closing your door behind you and locking it. Only now did you realize that Simon was carrying a small basket. A blanket attached to it and your heart started galloping in your chest. “Did you cook for us?” you asked in an impressed tone. He shook his head slightly. “Nah, I didn’t cook. Not this time.” This time, oh God help me. “But I did assemble of sorts.”

“I see” you said happily and started leaving the building next to him. “I thought we´re doing casual” you said teasingly as you eyed him from the side. Simon snorted shortly as he raised an eyebrow and let his eyes wander down your body. It gave you a sensation unlike any other. “So did I. But I´m glad I wanted a little more than casual. Otherwise, I would have been fatally underdressed.”

A violent shiver ran down your back when you saw his eye wink at you. Your face was burning, you were sure of it.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you noticed him leading you towards nearby park. “Patience” he scolded good naturedly.

About 15 minutes later you ended up on a slight hill in the middle of a beautiful park. Simon stopped next to a tree and began rolling out the blanket. His hulking form seemed a little out of place there, trying to straighten out the blanket. You felt your features soften as he gave out a small grunt before sitting up on his knees and looked up at you. His eyes were glimmering in the gradually setting sun and he patted the blanket next to him softly.

Grinning you lowered yourself and got comfortable. From your place up on the hill you had a stunning view of the soft, carpet like plane of grass spreading out in front of you. Many other people were out and about, walking their dogs, going for a run, casually hanging out with friends. The glimmering skyline of London was seen in the background of massive oak trees at the very end of the park.

“You hungry?” Simons deep voice seeped into your ears and with an excited smile you turned your had and nodded. You observed as he opened the basket and pulled out several boxes with tuna sandwiches (no crust), deviled eggs, veggie sticks, tomatoes, a bag of tortilla chips and what looked like self-made guacamole. The last item he produced was a bottle of what looked like expensive white wine before his eyes caught yours again. Your mouth hung comically wide open as you stared at the feast in front of you.

“You´re not vegetarian, are you?” he suddenly asked and looked at the sandwiches sheepishly. You almost squeaked the way he looked so adorably worried for a second.

“Vegan, actually” you said dryly and almost doubled over laughing when he gave you a shocked look. He rolled his eyes and handed you a tuna sandwich. “Sorry” you mumbled as you took it from him. Then, something came to you. “Uhm” you said carefully as your eyes fluttered down to his mask.

His eyes crinkled again. “If you don’t mind” he said quietly and produced something else from the basket that almost made you choke on your bite of tuna. The silk scarf dangled promisingly and naughtily between his fingers.

You couldn’t really tell if it was supposed to be a joke or not. You looked around you but there were no other people on the hilltop other than you. The next group of people so far away, their heads were the size of a pinhead.

“I´m asking too much, aren’t I?” Simon said as he lowered the scarf back into the basket. “No,” you said quickly. Your voice octaves higher. Did he not realize that this scenario was the beginning of almost every woman’s wet dream? “Give me the scarf, Simon. Please.”

“You sure?” he asked you. You nodded firmly. “If you need me to wear it while we eat, I will.”

His chest seemed to inflate dramatically. “Let me” he breathed and moved his body closer to you. This is a dream; it must be! Closing your eyes, you felt your hands shaking slightly in your lap as you felt the scarf being put over your eyes.

Simon´s warm breath cascaded over your face as he carefully knotted the piece of fabric behind your head. Your pulse was hammering away when you felt his heat, smelled his wonderful musky, citrussy scent cling to the skin of his throat and face. The deep breath you took before you felt him retreat slowly was nothing you could have stopped and again your ears were blessed with an adorable ´hehe´.

“Alright?” he asked. “Yep,” you breathed. “Can´t see a damn thing.” Grinning you tried to feel for your sandwich a little clumsily.

“Hold on” you heard Simon chuckle. “Seeing as I´m taking your ability to see, I think it´s only fair if I-“ a warm hand touched yours and placed your sandwich back in it. “Help you out a little.” His voice lowered even further. Something you would have bet on wasn’t possible. “Y-You really thought this through, haven’t you?” you asked with a hitch in your voice before taking another bite to occupy your mouth.

“Well. I really didn’t want to pass up an opportunity with you” he answered truthfully. A little strangled sound escaped you seconds before a huge smile split your lips.

You sat for another moment in comfortable silence. “How´s the food?” he suddenly asked. Something was off about his voice and suddenly you realized that he had to have removed his mask. A bead of sweat ran down your back. “It´s delicious” you said as you took the last bite of your sandwich. “Did you make all of it yourself?” Simon hummed. “I did. I usually only cook for myself so I don´t get too fancy with it. But I do enjoy it.”

You carefully patted around you to get to the devilled eggs, trying to remember where Simon had put the container but all you suddenly touched was smooth jeans. “Oh, ´M sorry” you said and retracted your hand quickly. “No worries” Simon said. “What do you want?” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Deviled egg, please” you sang and held open your hand.

“Nuh-uh” Simon said and moved in front of you again. “Open up.”

Oh you´ve got to be absolutely shitting me. This cheeky bastard wasn’t really going to…

You obeyed of course, what else was there to do? You opened your mouth and a moment later your lips wrapped around the egg. You could feel Simon´s fingers holding it to your lips before he retracted them in the last second. “Oh my god” you moaned around your mouth full of egg. “Simon, these are incredible.” You heard a gurgling noise in front of you; a bottle of wine being opened shortly after so you brushed it aside.

This is how you spend the next hour. Simon occasionally feeding you with deviled eggs, chips and guacamole. Only the veggie sticks he let you eat by yourself. He handed you the bottle of wine whenever you asked for it and you really tried not to think about how as teenagers, you and your friends had argued many times about weather drinking from the same bottle was equivalent to a kiss or not.

The alcohol settled comfortably into your stomach as did his delicious food.

“Almost time” he said. “Let me get the scarf off you.” Your senses already heightened, you knew exactly where he was on the blanket, when he was in front of you and when his fingertips were about to touch you.

“Time for what?” you asked with a curious smile. You heard a chuckle before the scarf was removed and Simons face came into view. So much closer than it ever had been. He didn’t move an inch, your noses almost touching. His eyes wandering over your face slowly it was almost like you could feel their path burning on your skin. The sun had already set and a warm breeze was wafting all around you, carrying the scent of hot soil, food and the distinct scent of the city.

“You´ll see” Simon murmured into his cloth before lifting his hand and gently touched your cheek. He looked like he was in some sort of trance. His posture was relaxed, his eyes attentive and staring into your soul. It wasn’t like you were any better off. The whole situation was written straight out of a romance novel and the main characters were about to share their first kiss. Even though it was already dark, the lights of the city were still bright enough to see how his breathing becoming heavier, his chest rising and falling in deeper breaths.

A high pitched tone cut the thick air and you saw how Simon momentarily froze before both of you looked over to the skyline of London. Not a second later with a huge bang, a display of beautiful golden flecks decorated the nights sky.

You grinned ear to ear as the fireworks really started and several explosions of light colored your face in green, red and gold. “I love fireworks” you breathed and looked over to Simon with a thankful look in your eyes. He was already looking at you. He stayed seated where he was when you´d moved to see the fireworks better so he was still quite close. His arm was brushing yours when he looked down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

“I´m glad” he said almost too quietly.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or the fact that this man made you feel at ease, lighthearted and without a worry in the world. You couldn’t remember. You just let your head fall onto his shoulder, looking at the firework in front of you and smiling contently.

Simon´s POV

Simon didn’t dare move. The soft skin of your hand slightly brushing his was enough to make him lose his damn mind. Almost. The first firework had startled him but the way the golden light had illuminated your face and the smile you´d given him had made him forget almost everything.

The moment he saw you he knew that he wanted something special with you. You didn´t mind his mask, respected it even. That was something new he had never experienced with a civilian before. You´d managed to sneak into his life and heart so quickly and with such force it worried him a little bit. Any day now he could get called back to base again. Maybe he needed to speed it along a little?

No. Not with you. You didn’t deserve that. He´d let you know if he had to leave again and just take his chances. For the first time he wanted a kiss more than a night of passionate sex to get the edge off. He could take his own edge off, god knows he had to do it in the barracks often enough.

Your whole being however made him yearn for something that went deeper than that. A hug would be worth more than undressing, a kiss worth more than foreplay.

He took a deep breath without moving his shoulder too much, just letting himself fall into the moment. Watching fireworks, having your head lean on him, his fingers playfully chasing yours.

___ POV

By the end of the fireworks you felt like you were floating. Simons fingers were tangles with yours by this point and it felt so delicate and new, you felt like a teenager again. Your heart was doing summersaults in your chest. Thinking about this evening would end eventually made your heart sink.

The last colorful explosion brightened up the sky and you let out a deep sigh. “That was beautiful” you whispered. “Thank you.”

“You´re very welcome” Simon rumbled, locking his picky with yours. You were glad at this point that your position hid your huge grin. Now that the fireworks were over, the alcohol, food and late hour caught up with you. The small yawn you tried to stifle wasn’t lost on him however and he sighed contently. “Come on. I´ll bring you home.”

He stood up and held out his hand which you took immediately. As if you weight nothing he pulled you upright holding your gaze and your hand for several moments longer.

You helped him gather everything before you made your way back to your apartment complex. He didn’t try to take your hand again which made you wonder a little bit. The both of you talked about anything and everything until you were standing in front of your door.

“That was a lot of fun” you said as you turned to him and smiled. You saw how his cheeks lifted again as he nodded. “It was. I´m glad you liked the fireworks.”

“I did” you said. “How did you know there were going to be fireworks tonight?” Simon shrugged comically. “That´s my little secret.”

You giggled. The awkward silence you were afraid was going to come at any second now, did not come. Simon yet again proved that he was a man of action and the direct approach.

“I´d really like to do that again.”

You nodded immediately, feeling heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, me too.”

“Great” he said happily before stepping closer. He took hold of your hand and lifted it to his face. Without breaking eye contact he waited for the fraction of a second for your reaction. When he saw your almost pleading eyes his clothed mouth came down on the back of your hand, kissing it.

Your knees got week and yet again grew heavy with longing. The breath was propelled from your lungs by the way he did it so gently and sincere.

The soft material of his mask was slightly damp from his breath but you couldn’t care less. He was kissing your skin. His mouth was on you. Cloth or no cloth it made you vision blurr.

Simon let go of your hand after what felt like an eternity.

“Sleep well, darlin´” he muttered almost carefully as if the pet name could somehow be a deal breaker for you.

It wasn’t. On the contrary. You felt like your legs were about to give out.

“You too, Simon” you smiled at him dreamily. Reluctantly you turned around and fumbled for your keys. You opened your door and took another peek to your right in his direction.

He´d done the same thing. Pushing his door open he gave you that juvenile little wave again before disappearing from your sight. Sighing deeply as soon as your door closed behind you, this time you didn’t make it to the couch. Your knees gave out then and there and with the silliest of smiles you glided down your door. Your trusty little toy would have to work overtime until the next time you´d be able to drown in those hazel depths again.

____________________________________________________

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saturnsorbits · 1 year

Text

Voice Over

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Angst, Smut, Insecurity, Spanking, Cream-Pie, Soft-ish Sex, Nipple Play, Friends to Lovers, Background Suggested KiriBaku and IzuOcha.

Word Count: 6.7k.

Summary: Shinso has been using his voice modulator to fulfil other people's fantasies, but all you want is for him to be himself.

A/N: This is my first dip into Shinso. It was a lot of fun and I quite liked discovering 'my' version of his character for this!

It’s by accident that you bump into Kirishima leaving Shinso’s apartment at almost eight on a Saturday morning. He’s dressed, just, in a pair of lounge shorts that look half-pulled up and an open shirt that is half tucked into his boxers. There’s only one sock on his foot when he topples over the threshold and his eyes blow wide when he sees you, phone half out of your pocket in the hallway.

‘H - Hi.’ Swallowing hard, Kirishima forces a smile to his lips. It doesn’t crease his eyes. ‘I - Uh, I was just… Uhm, I - What’re you doing here so early?’

Lifting the small paper bag in your hand, the logo of a local eatery emblazoned on the front, you raise your eyebrows. ‘De-brief and breakfast.’

‘Oh.’ Kirishima’s lips form a circle as he clings to the duffle bag he has pressed to his chest.

‘There’s enough for three, if -.’

‘Oh. No. No. No. I should, I need to get to work…’ He gives you that smile again, although it’s a little dimmer than usual.

‘If you’re sure…’

‘Yeah. Yeah… I -.’ With his legs unlocking under him, Kirishima makes for the stairs. ‘Thanks for the offer, anyway!’

‘No problem.’ You call after him as red hair vanishes in the stair well. ‘Tell Katsuki I said hi!’

His voice is dim in the stairwell. ‘I will!’

Chuckling to yourself, you turn back to the door and knock with two shallow taps. There’s barely a beat before it’s pulled open, a tired and shirtless Shinso occupying its frame.

‘He’s subtle.’ You smirk. ‘And you look like you’ve been mauled.’ Slipping past him, you try not to stare at the thick scratches across Shinso’s hips and down the length of his back.

Shinso rolls his eyes, but smiles as he drawls a bored: 'Don't know what you're talking about.' before turning to shut the door. Yawning, he stretches, lithe body pulling taught as he pulls up onto the balls of his feet and links his hands together over his head with straight locked elbows. 'You got tofu?'

You clench your jaw shut when it falls ajar and quickly avert your gaze in favour of unpacking your bag onto his low-set coffee table. 'What do you take me for?'

Padding over to the couch, he tosses himself down with a groan and tugs on the back of your shirt. As soon as you turn, peering over your shoulder with an arched eyebrow he reaches out with his palms and grabs at the air repeatedly.

'Didn't your mother teach you how to use words?'

He makes the gesture again, a grin slowly stealing his lip.

Shaking your head, you collect the few items you'd ordered for him together before dropping them into his hands.

There's a beat as he rifles through his stash and then, he's huffing and yanking a large cup from the center of the pile. 'You got tea, too?'

'Usual for now, chamomile for later.'

Shinso groans as soon as he finishes taking a long, drawn out sip from the edge and lets his head loll back against the sofa. 'You're a dream come fucking true.'

You chuckle, sifting through the bags until you find your own meal and set it on your lap. 'Are you talking to me or your tea?' From the corner of your eye you watch him smirk and press a kiss the side of his cup.

'My tea... Who else?'

Rolling your eyes, you poke around in your small take-out box hoping that the distraction will soothe the butterflies in your stomach. Your cheeks are heating, your limbs light and tingly as you steal another sideways glance at your partner.

'So...' Shinso catches your eye and straightens up. 'When do you wanna start, y'know...'

You swallow, watching the way the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex as he gets comfortable again. It's hard not to stare. Especially, when he's sat in front of you, lazy and relaxed with no shirt and his sweat-pants so low on his hips the elastic of his boxers is clearly visible. 'Huh?'

'… Going over the mission?' Leaning forward, he digs his elbows into his knees and furrows his eyebrows. The fat over his abs bunches, rolling adorably. 'You okay?'

'Yeah... Yeah.' You force a smile to your lips and shake yourself, trying not to look at his stomach and think about how his skin would taste. 'You wanna start now?'

'Right.' Stuffing a mouthful of rice into his face, Shinso shifts his food onto the coffee table and stands. He wipes his hands on his sweat pants, inadvertently pushing them further down his hips as he pads off towards his home office.

It takes a second for you to steady your heart, a palm pressed to your sternum telling you that you're a few beats shy of almost passing out as you bite your lip. The thick scratch marks down Shinso's spine are bright red and harsh, standing out vividly against his skin and dipping low into his underwear. They make your mind drift, wondering just what it would be like to leave your own marks...

'So -.'

You jump when he reappears, too caught up in your day dreaming to notice him.

Shinso stops, smiling. There's a collection of folders in his arms, binders and loose files piled high, along with a collection of discs and his mask that balances awkwardly atop the pile. The weight makes his biceps bulge. 'What's got you so distracted?'

'Huh?' Clearing your throat, you blink. 'Just – just thinking about the case.'

A wry smile takes hold of his lip, but even though he doesn't believe you he doesn't push. Instead, he skates around the front of the sofa and sits himself back down with a soft: umphf. Scattering the folders on the cushions between you, he plucks his food back from the table and re-fills his cheeks. 'That's everything, knock yourself out.'

You hum and wipe your hands on one of the small, brown napkins before digging into the mess of files. In many ways, Shinso is the perfect partner. The papers are organised perfectly, dates and times ordered, reports immaculately filled out and all the research stapled together to stop it from getting lost or mixed up. You look up, chewing on your lip as a warmth blooms once more in your stomach to see...

Shinso's eyes almost roll clean into the back of his head when he takes a bite of the sweet pastry you'd sneaked into his breakfast order. There's crumbs on his lips, the skin wet and rosy from where he's licked them. A groan breaches his mouth, the dull timbre vibrating in the back of his throat and making his Adam's apple shake.

In many ways, Shinso is the perfect partner, but in other's he's the worst.

'Can you, like, not.' An all too familiar rush of heat makes its way up through your stomach making you want to curl over around it. Clenching your jaw, you suck at the sides of your cheeks and will the heat not to drift lower.

'What?' He speaks around a mouthful, cheeks puffed out, all evidence of his former seduction wilting quickly as he tries to chew.

'N – Nothing, just...' You swallow and attempt to roll your eyes, adverting your gaze, but get caught as he anxiously licks his lips again.

His eyebrows raise, concern etching itself onto his soft cheeks. 'Have I got something on my face?'

'No.'

'My chest? I haven't managed to drip...'

'No.'

'Why're you staring then?' He blinks.

Finally managing you wrench your gaze from him, you glare at the folders on the couch. ''m not staring.'

Shinso wriggles closer, a smirk itching at his lip. 'You were.'

'Can we just get on with this?' Snapping your eyes back up to him, you sigh. There's something wriggling in your stomach, something that only seems to worsen when his look of smugness transforms into one of reservation.

'Yeah. Sure...' Twisting, he slips his meal back onto the coffee table before taking up his mask. He fiddles with the dials on it, large, calloused hands looking almost dainty as he manipulates the metal making it click dull into the new silence of the room.

You try not to sound dejected when he falls straight back into work mode. His shoulders are still relaxed, but there's a new tension making the vicious scratches on his shoulders look taught and angry. There's a littering of bruises too, still purple and fresh scattered down the side of his neck – only visible when he tilts his head just right. It makes your stomach flip. ‘We need the voice mod frequencies you where using too…’

Shinso nods, pulling the mask onto his face he secures it quickly and hauls in a breath before... 'This was the -' Bakugo’s voice sifts through the air, pushed easily through the metal bars of Shinso’s mask with an airy breath. His eyes are dragged wide, a soft blush peaking out from above the edges of the voice modulator. He laughs, attempting to break the tension, but winces as soon as Bakugo's harsh snorting leaps into the air from his mouth. Unbuckling the mask, Shinso slips it off of his face to reveal reddening cheeks. He looks caught, like a child preparing to be scolded.

You tilt your head, feeling a rush of something cold trickle down your spine. 'Why'd you do it?'

'What?'

'Fuck people who want you to pretend you're someone else.'

Shinso blanches, the redness of his cheeks quickly vanishing back into the paleness of his skin as he blinks. Swallowing, he sinks into the couch, turning just enough to press his entire back to the cushions. When he speaks, it's quiet, but firm. 'I'm helping them.'

You shake your head. 'You're hurting yourself.'

He shrugs. 'Are we going to go through the report, or -.'

Part of you wants to push, wants to force him to explain... but, you drop it when you notice that he's knotting his hands in his lap. His knuckles look red, raw from where he's bending them around each other. You grit your teeth. Then, before you can think better of it, you reach out leaning across the folders between you to prise his hands from one another, stopping his twisting. He let's you take his hand with surprising ease, replacing his own fingers with your own as you press your palm to his and entwine your digits.

Staring at your hand, encased in his as it sits in his lap, Shinso feels his heart stutter in his chest. Feeling your touch loosen his tongue, he keeps his eyes trained on your hands when he lets his jaw drop to speak. 'Me and Kirishima...' He starts. 'We haven't been... It's only been a few months.'

You hum. 'He wasn't the first?'

Shinso shakes his head and chuckles. 'Nah...' Shifting his grip, he resists the urge to brush his thumb across the soft skin of your hand. 'Uraraka.'

'What?'

'It was Uraraka. The first one, the one who... Y'know.' He chuckles, but there's no humour under his words. 'She was trying to get over Midoriya before... Well, before they figured their shit out.'

'That's...' Your nose wrinkles. 'And you said, yes?'

'Seemed like a good idea at the time... Didn't expect it to, y'know, turn into a whole thing.'

Lifting your thumb, you brush it across the back of his hand and shuffle until the folders are digging into both of your thighs. 'But, doesn't it -.'

'I don't really think about it any more.' Despite himself, Shinso finds himself sinking further into the touch. He drags his eyes up, following the flow of your body from hand, to wrist, to elbow and shoulder until his gaze is dragging across the plain of your neck and settling on your lips. 'It's just sex.'

'...Where you pretend to be other people.'

'Role play is a thing.' For the first time in a while, a smile tugs at his lip. He squeezes your hand.

You let his smile infect you, bringing one to your own lips before curiosity is itching at the back of your neck once again. 'When was the last time you didn't use it?'

'The modulator?' He blows air of out his nose and whistles low. 'Uh... Maybe -.'

You arc an eyebrow and reach over him, pinching at his elbow with you empty hand. 'You can't remember, can you?'

He flinches, but chuckles. 'I can, I can – I just...'

You pinch him again. 'Don't lie.'

'Just let me think!'

And again. 'You're thinking up a lie.'

Twisting himself, he snatches at your hand and wraps a palm around your wrist. 'So what if I am?'

Rolling your eyes, you play at his hand with your fingertips, routinely lifting each digit and putting it back down with a soft little tap. 'You're insufferable...' You twist your wrist in his grasp until you can get hold of his forearm. 'Why won't you give me a straight answer?'

A cold chill breaks out across his shoulders when your question hits him, but it melts easily off of his shoulders when he catches your eye, replaced by an awkward smile. He wants to tell you, to open up his stomach and spill his guts, but he can't. The words jam in his throat, caught below the idea of appearing pathetic to... Well, to you.

'Just spit it out... Shin, it's just me... I -.'

He groans. That's the problem, he thinks.

'C'mon, it's hardly as if you can't get laid without it. I mean, fucking look at you...' You giggle, eyebrows raising high off of your forehead. 'You can't not know you're hot.'

Shinso's mouth drops open.

'Oh, fuck off, Shin. I've been sat here trying not to drip onto your damn couch because you're just wondering around with no shirt on...' You slip your hand from his and gesture at him, voice slowly growing more animated as his eyebrows somehow migrate higher into his hair line. 'And those pants are so low I can practically see the start of your cock, so I don't know where you get off trying to -.' You yelp, flinching back when Shinso leans over to wrap a large hand around your jaw, effectively silencing you.

'Really?'

With your cheeks pressed together, your words come out awkward and slurred. 'Huh?'

'You...' He licks his lips. 'You think, that I'm – me – I -.'

'Hot, yes... How're you struggling with this?'

'But...' Shaking his head, Shinso releases your chin. 'We work together.'

'Yeah.' A chuckle leaves your lips as you mourn the heat of his hand on your skin. You're tempted to chase it, to press your cheeks back into his palm, but you don't. 'So you can imagine how hard my life is...'

A smile creases Shinso's mouth, lips stretching wide as something curious creeps into his eyes. 'Would you want to...'

'Want to...'

He rolls his eyes so hard the strain burns. 'You've just admitted that you're wet -.'

You squeak and hit him. 'It was hyperbole.'

'So, you don't want to fuck me then?'

Licking at your teeth, you squirm. 'I didn't say that.'

'So...' Shuffling, he untangles his hand from yours and snatches his mask from the table. His hands manipulate the buckles, twisting and turning until they unlatch and he can raise it to his face. 'Who do you want me to be?'

Your shoulders sag. There's a stone in your stomach, one that only sinks deeper as you watch him hold the modulator over his cheek bones.

'You already know I do a pretty good Bakugo...' He fiddles with the dials at the sides of his mask. 'Or... I could do: Todoroki?' This time, when his voice slips into your ears its encased in ice. Todoroki's flat tone is a weird comparison beside Shinso's natural lazy drawl. 'Or...' Giving one of the dials a decent turn and causing the machine to whirr horribly, he coughs twice before... 'I could be Midoriya?'

Your nose wrinkles.

'Definitely not Midoriya, then...' Instantly, his hands are back twisting at his mask, but before he can spit out another foreign voice your hand is covering the front of his masks grill.

''Toshi...' Shifting closer, you move the folders that separate you and test the waters by laying a soft hand on his shoulder. He presses into your touch, which bolsters your confidence encouraging you to swing a leg over his hips. You come down softly at either side of his thighs and catch his jaw in your hands tossing the mask off to the side to reveal his face again. 'I don't want you to be anyone else...' You smile, pressing in close until you can feel his breath hitch against your lips. '… I want you.'

'Holy shit.' In his chest, his heart races beating an odd beat against his ribs as he sinks into the couch. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, doesn't know what to say or how to breathe. 'I -.'

'I just want you, 'Toshi.'

For the first time in a long time, Shinso doesn't have to think before he acts. There's no thought behind the way he reaches for your waist and kneads at your skin in his hands, no wondering if he's acting like the person he's pretending to be, if the movement matches the voice. No. Instead, he acts. Just acts. Surging forward, he cranes his neck to kiss you and swallows down the soft moan you grant him when your lips touch his.

There's something easy in kissing him. Your lips knead against his, stealing soft gasps as you rock yourself deeper into his lap. Your pelvis meets his, the thin material of your pants doing nothing to cushion the growing swell poorly hidden in his sweatpants. Pulling back for half a second, you let your forehead rest against his. Your heart is beating out of your chest, the thin later of muscle and bone separating it from your skin seeming more fragile by the second as you wriggle, paused and nervous. 'Don't you want me too?'

'Yeah.' Shinso leans up, forcing you back on his thighs, but before you can get far he's wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest. 'Fuck, yes.'

A smile tickles your lip as he echoes your expression. You feel it, the grin, on your chin and neck as he pecks at your skin. The first kiss he litters on your body is at the turn of your jaw and dry. The second, wetter – thanks to a quick lick of his lips - is placed gently along the line of your pulse. The third however, isn't a kiss at all. Starting at the base of your neck, he licks a thick, long stripe from the plain of your shoulder to the edge of your ear.

'Can feel your heartbeat...' He mumbles, lips pressed to you skin. The dull thumbing of your heart radiates through his skin, each beat like a siren call as he wonders how worked up he can get you. 'Feels like you're a little excited.'

You chuckle, but rock forward making sure that your pelvis presses heavily over his hardness. A gasp leaps from his throat for your trouble. 'Feels like I'm not the only one.'

He hums and bucks, forcing you to feel more of his cock. His hands squeeze at your waist, palms flattening as they slip down your back with his fingers playing at your spine. Slipping his hands half-underneath your ass, he gropes at you kneading the flesh before sitting up straighter. 'You keep on like this and we're not gonna get to my bedroom, baby.'

Reaching behind you, you prise his hands from your ass and slip off of his lap. His forwardness has you eager, your body already flaming and desperate, but as the mood steadily grows heavier you come to one, startling realisation... It's Tuesday.

He reaches for you, fingers brushing the skin of your wrist as if to pull you closer once more, but before he can gain purchase on your limb you're taking a solid step backwards.

'Best get moving then...' Tilting your head, you offer him nothing but a coy smile and a raised eyebrow before darting off in the direction of his bedroom.

'Oi!' He's on his feet in an instant, eyes wide with a chuckle on his tongue as his socked feet and hard cock make a mischief of trying to catch you. 'Come here you little shit!' Slipping, he skids around the side of the couch and all but tumbles down the corridor after you, only to have his own bedroom door slammed in his face. 'Oi – what...' Pushing against it, he's surprised to meet resistance. 'Baby?'

Behind the door, the pet name makes you shiver, but there's no time to indulge the tingling that seeps through your stomach as you flick open your pants and fight with the hem of your shirt. 'One second...'

'You're -.' The door handle jiggles. 'You're in my room. I thought – I don't know what kind of sex you've been having, but I don't really get how I'm supposed to fuck you through the door.'

'You're not!'

He presses a shoulder to the door, pushing a little harder against it. Whatever you've jammed behind it is already giving. 'Then let me in...'

'In a second.' Struggling still, you're almost all the way out of your t-shirt when the door slams open, revealing a confused and slightly panting Shinso.

'What...' He hauls in a breath. 'Was all that about...'

'I -.' Biting at your lip, you try and swallow the embarrassment coiling in your stomach. Your whole face is burning, you can feel it even obscured by the bulk of your shirt as it sticks to your elbows and shields your face.

Slowly, he pads towards you. Taking hold of the hem of your shirt, he peels it upwards and grins crooked when you finally reappear. With your t-shirt in his hands, he thumbs at the material. 'What's all this about?'

Your hands cover your chest.

'If you don't want to -.'

'No...' It leaves your lips as a shout, louder than you had intended.

'Okay. So... What's with the...' He gestures you with your shirt. 'Y'know.'

'You can't laugh.'

'At what?'

Hauling in a breath, you squeeze your eyes shut. There's hardly any hiding now anyway. Gingerly, you remove your hands from your chest and slip your thumbs into the open waistband of your pants, slipping them down your legs. 'I didn't know that... Y'know, and – Well, I'm not exactly -.' Your explanation is cut short when cold fingertips meet your hip.

'Is that a hole?'

'No.' You squeak and swat at him, batting his hand away from what is definitely a hole in the seam of your underwear. 'Yes... I – I've been working overtime and with this stupid mission I haven't had time to go shopping and -.'

This time, when Shinso touches you, he drops your t-shirt to place both hands on your hips. His thumbs brush across your skin just above your underwear. 'That's what this was about?'

You nod, biting viciously at the inside of your cheek. 'I kind of...' Swallowing a chuckle, you look down at your feet. 'I kind of wanted to be sexy... Not -.'

'You are sexy...' Releasing your hip with one hand, he places it under your jaw to tilt your head back up. 'Even with holes in your underwear.'

Part of you wants to snap back, to deny him and call him a liar, but that's hard when he's looking at you like he wants to devour you. His eyes are dark pits, molten and burning as he tears his gaze hungrily across your body. Tip-toeing slightly, you press your nose to his – a silent request.

He grants you it easily, letting your lips come together. His hand return to roaming, slipping down your back and cupping your ass to give it another healthy squeeze. When he pulls away, his eyebrows are furrowed. 'Have these got writing on?'

'No – I.'

A broken chuckle escapes his mouth when he grabs your arm and spins you on the spot. His eyes land on your ass, the plush flesh wrapped in green cotton that has definitely seen better days – the word: 'Tuesday' written in faded gold right across your cheeks.

'Stop laughing at me...' You whine.

'Not laughing...' His voice is smoky as he places a kiss on your shoulder. 'Just admiring.'

The slap that meets your ass is hard enough to sting. You gasp and tilt forward, only to be caught by strong arms wrapping around you. With his chest presses to your back, you're free to grind against the cock pressing to your ass – earning yourself your own chuffed moan of appreciation.

'Appreciating...' Purring over your shoulder, he kneads your ass in his hands. 'You have a great ass, you know.'

'Your sudden obsession with it might have given that away...' A soft kiss is placed on your shoulder, making you stretch out your neck. Your cunt flutters, heartbeat causing it to drool straight into your underwear as Shinso continues to grope at you and litter kisses up and down your neck.

Letting his hands reluctantly drift back up your sides, Shinso leans back just enough to unclasp your bra and slip it from your shoulders before spinning you until you’re chest to chest again. He urges you backwards, slow steps pushing you closer and closer to the edge of his bed until, with a squeak, you fall backwards onto it. You're barely given a second to bounce before there's a knee at your hip and his body is towering over you.

You reach out, fingers pressing to the skin of his chest as you trail soft touches down his stomach. It makes your stomach tense and flutter, being able to feel him like this. Each hard ridge of muscle is cushioned, layered gently with fat the squishes under your hands. Dragging your nails back up his chest, you thumb at his nipples and earn yourself a sharp groan.

'Fuck.' With his head rocking back on his shoulders, Shinso makes a place for himself between your thighs. Hauling them up, he encourages you to cling to his waist as you play at him earning more moans from his throat.

Licking your lips, you lean up to press your lips to the cleft of his pecs. 'You like that?'

'What? Me moaning isn't enough?' He snarks.

'Maybe I just want to hear more?' Laying out your tongue, you press the flat to a nipple and flick at it making sure to keep your eyes on his. The bump of his Adam's apple bobs, locking away a whine that makes his whole body shake. Wrapping your legs around him tighter, you dig the heel of your foot into his ass to press him close making him feel how wet you are even through the layers still separating you.

Shinso hisses. Snatching at your hands, he pins them above your head against the mattress in one of his. He smirks before dipping his head to your chest and treating you in kind. Kissing at the highest point of your breast, he takes his time working his way down to your nipple. His teeth graze your skin making you buck and wrap around him tighter as your chest arcs from the bed, but even if you wanted to escape, you're not sure you'd be able.

Just by tasting your skin, Shinso knows he's done for. Sucking a bruise into tit, he finally lets his mouth wrap around your nipple. A chorus of moans flood his ears making his cock kick in his sweats. Already he can feel the simmering heat in his stomach bubbling.

You grind against him, cunt searching for a friction it can't find as you roll against him again and again while forcing his hips flush with yours.

You feel good, almost too good. Shinso pulls back. He's no stranger to sex. There's barely a week when he doesn't have at least someone anxious to join him in bed and yet, now, he finds himself paused. Something vicious wriggles in his stomach, sharp thoughts poking at the soft sides of his mind.

Usually, he takes his lovers from behind. It works better that way... If they can't see him. Allows them to squeeze shut their eyes and lose themselves to the feel, to the voice of their choosing that snakes into their ears after being warped by his mask. It allows them to forget that it's really Shinso that they're sleeping with.

In this position, with you on your back underneath him, he can see everything. Not just your tits, that sit perfect and inviting barely a foot from his lips, or your throat and the way it hollows as you gulp down air, preparing the next pretty sound you'll let free, but your face. It's your eyes that do it. The cupid's bow of your lips and the easy fall of your mouth is tantalising, but it's nothing compared to the raw and complete lust that burns in bright iris' as you look at him.

Him.

It makes him feel hot and suddenly, he becomes frighteningly aware that when the final throws of pleasure slip from his tongue, it is his voice you'll be hearing.

'Shin...' You mumble, eyes searching his face as you watch his cheeks pinken while the rest of the colour slips from his features. 'Hitoshi...'

'Are...' Gulping, he lets the pit in his stomach eat away at him. 'Are you sure you don't want me to get my mask?'

Your eyebrows knit as the hand wrapped around your wrists keeping you down loosens.

'I could do -.' He's half way up, hands now placed on your calves as he moves to try and wriggle entirely from your hold.

''Toshi.' You follow him, unhooking your legs from his waist to let him sit on his haunches at the end of the bed.

'My Grand is a bit rusty, but -.'

''Toshi.' Reaching out, you cup his cheek and brush a thumb across his skin. 'If I wanted to fuck Bakugo or Todoroki or Shindo... I'd be in one of their beds right now, not yours.'

His mouth drops open. He wants to believe you, wants to be able to submit to the fluttering in his stomach, but -.

'Stop it.'

He blinks.

'I want you, 'Toshi... Just you -.' Shuffling closer, you bump your nose to his and fold your knees until they box in his hips. 'Let me show you... Please. Let me prove it.'

Your eyes swell, iris' bursting as he finds himself unable to turn away. His cock is still hard and bobbing, unperturbed by his emotional dilemma as he slowly lets himself melt into you. It's a new feeling, this, being wanted... Being seen, but as he watches your gaze eat hungrily at his features he can't help, but allow himself to believe you, just a little. 'Okay...'

A smile almost ruins your next kiss as you bring your lips together slow. Linking your hands around the back of his neck, you urge him down until your body is covered by his once more. 'Take your pants off...' You mumble against his mouth. 'Let me see you.'

He hauls in a breath, but consents moving only far enough away to be able to awkwardly shuffle out of his pants. They're tossed aside, his underwear too in the vague direction of his washing basket leaving him bare to you. His hands skate up the outside of your thigh, thumb slipping under the hem of yours. 'Can I?'

You lift your hips in answer and let him strip you, although his hands are gripping your hips where the elastic had been moments before.

'You're so fucking pretty.' Shuffling on his knees, he straddles one of your thighs and inches closer.

Biting your lip, you share your gaze between the wildness in his eyes and the heaviness of his cock. He's not the biggest you've ever seen, but solid and lithe. Longer than he is thick, his pale skin darkens as it reaches the tip where it glosses a deep rose and leaks in translucent droplets that dip against your stomach. Winding violet veins weave their way down his shaft, pulsing slightly with each twitch of his cock before vanishing entirely into a wiry mess of purple pubic hair that runs from his base all the way up to his belly button thinning as it goes. ''Toshi...' You whine.

He shivers, breathless, cock kicking again. 'Yeah?'

Releasing his neck, you slip a hand down your body and skate a feather-light touch along his cock before reaching the mound of your cunt. You make sure his eyes have followed your hand, glowing orbs locked on the stickiness you spread for him between stretched fingers. 'Touch me...'

There's no telling him twice. His thumb taps at your clit causing a shock of pleasure to shoot down your spine. Rotating his finger slightly, he rubs at you until his skin dampens with your slick and then, he's slipping down, down, down.

He stretches you out with two fingers but despite his being larger than your own – it isn't enough. You writhe and roll your hips, attempting to force him deeper, but each of your efforts reward you with nothing. 'Hitoshi... Hitoshi, I need more.'

His stomach tenses, something spinning in his chest as the sound of his own name slips your lips. It's music – something he'd never thought he'd hear and coming from you... Well, he doesn't think he'll let anyone else say his name again now. Licking his lips as spit collects in his mouth, he still somehow finds his mouth dry when he asks: 'Say my name. Say my name again and I'll give you anything you want.'

'Hitoshi...'

'Again.' He curls his fingers.

Struggling to keep your eyes on him, you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. 'Hit – oshi...'

'Fuck...'

You almost whimper when he pulls his fingers from your cunt. His absence burns, making you desperate, but the soft kiss of his cock against your folds is enough to lock the noise back behind your teeth.

'You want it?' He rubs his tip against your clit, smearing both of your stickiness together.

Nodding, your hands snap around his elbow as he curves himself over you and presses in. The first inch feels like heaven. He carves you out, forcing your body to submit to his as he feeds you more and more.

Shinso shifts, rocking his hips just enough to bottom out as he encourages one of your thighs up and holds it close to his chest. The position lets him sink in an extra inch and he revels in the dul hiss it earns from between your teeth. His other hand falls to your clit, massaging barely-there circles into your skin as he begins to move.

'Shit...' Pleasure fizzes impossibly in your stomach, your whole body burning as you press your shoulders back and into the pillow under your head. 'Feel so good... Just – just like that 'Toshi.'

Preening under your praise, he thrusts into you harder while keeping his touch on your clit light. You feel divine wrapped around his cock, tight and warm and squeezing him so perfectly that it's hard for him to keep a set pace. Fixated on the connection of your bodies, he watches how you swallow him down, cunt hungry as you take everything he's willing to give, but his breath is stolen from his lungs when his eyes flicker to your face.

'Shit, 'Toshi... Ha – Harder...'

Your eyes have glossed over, wet lashes glowing faintly as you struggle to keep your eyes on him. He can see it, the urge to let your body snap back and curl, but you fight it. There's nothing, but pleasure glowing on your cheeks, making you look like a vision. A vision he wants to see come undone. Adding more pressure to your clit, he makes sure each of his strokes hits the sponginess inside of you, earning more babbling moans. 'Don't...' He clenches his jaw, feeling his balls pull up and tight. 'Don't know how much longer I'm going to -.'

'Close.' You choke. There's a static in your mind as Shinso somehow shoves you closer to the edge. It takes barely a minute before you feel the tell-tale rush, the blinding pleasure that has your cunt pulsing and beckoning him to a mutual end. A dull scream is torn from your throat, hands balling in the sheets beside your head as he fucks you through your orgasm and almost makes your vision blank.

'I'm – I -.' His chest heaves as he tries to rein himself in, even with his hips still frantically rutting into you. 'Where... Shit – where do you want me, me to -.'

Curling upwards, you drop your leg from his chest and wrap it around the back of his waist forcing him flush against your pelvis. He pulls out, despite the pulse of your cunt, but before he can wriggle more than a few inches free you're tensing your leg and urging him back in.

'Shit. Baby, baby, I can't – I'm gonna – Gonna cum in – ins -' It isn't panic that zips down his spine when he finds his cock spilling while still buried deep inside of you, instead, his whole stomach fills with heat. There's something about filling you that clouds his vision and turns him stupid, allowed to think of nothing that isn't your body and how well it takes his. Tipping forward, he braces himself at either side of your shoulders and lets his forehead rest to yours.

It's ethereal, watching him come apart as you swallow each of his needy pants and whines. He's shivering, cock still pulsing and spreading white in your cunt as you wrap your arms around him and cling. One of your hands slips into his hair, nails scratching and tugging, forcing more stuttering moans out of his mouth.

You won't look away, eyes burring into his as he feels his entire body grow heavy and pleasure fade to his fingertips. It's takes a while for him to come back to himself, for his cock to settle and his breathing to level out again, but when he does... You're still looking at him.

'You look beautiful when you cum.' You itch at the base of his skull and smile.

His chest expands. It's strange, he thinks, he quite likes being looked at by you. Your touch is soft as you trail fingers down his spine and he's helpless not to sink into it. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah...' You press a kiss to his lips. 'Sound pretty good too.'

A blush blooms on his cheeks causing him to shuffle back. His cock slips free, bringing with it a gentle flood of cum that has him somehow, blushing deeper. 'I – uh...'

'Still think I want you to wear that stupid mask?' Cocking an eyebrow, you pull him back down and tangle your limbs as soon as he hits the mattress beside you. You settle against his chest, his arms looping around your shoulders as a smile tugs at his lip and a dull chuckle vibrates in the back of his throat.

'You might have convinced me.' He presses a kiss to your forehead.

'I can fuck you again if it'd help?'

'You know what?' Tilting his head, he shifts you until his hand can travel down your side gripping at your flesh as he goes. Rounding the turn of your hip, he lays one, hard slap against your ass. 'It might.'

You squeak, jolting against him, but nip at the turn of his neck in retaliation. He groans, settling to take a grip of your ass to squeeze instead.

'Hey, baby...' Shinso noses your cheek.

'Mmm?'

He taps your ass. 'Isn't it Saturday?'

-> Masterlist

#shinso x reader #shinso smut #shinso hitoshi smut #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi smut #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

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highhhfiveee · 6 months

Note

okay, this has been my literal roman empire. what if gf!y/n and abby are having a little karaoke moment to a song and mike walks in and sees both of them together, and you can write the rest.

i don’t know why but i can’t stop thinking about it.

remember to take care of yourself 🫶🫶

this is so very cute (,: but alas, for "to crumble" mike and reader, this is but a thing of the past.

tags: "to crumble" mike and reader, foreshadowy fluff (: pretty cute stuff that hurts in retrospect 💔

karaoke therapy

a "to crumble" ficlet.

original fic: 🩹 / additional ficlet, facetime: 🤳🏽

you come over to watch abby on a friday night so you're able to stay with her and mike for the entirety of saturday. your weekends are usually occupied by grading since you're nearing the end of the fall semester, but you're forcing time with abby and mike into your schedule because it's what you really want. life wasn't all about work and bills and adulting; you could do the things you enjoyed if you planned for it and so you did.

you'd driven over with enough haste to get you pulled over, toting enough stuff to last you a day and your excitement, large and beaming brightly in your demeanor. you were jittery walking up the drive, shaking out the anxiety in your body as you knock on the door.

abby answers the door, causing you to shift your gaze downward. she's already in her pajamas, the cute, pink bunny slippers you got her for her birthday donned on her feet. she smiles at you, opening the door further so you can step inside. "hi, y/n. you're just in time, mike made lasagna."

"yeah, it's on the stove. it's slightly burnt," mike calls from down the hall, walking into the living room as he slips his arms through the holes of his security vest. "but we'll say crispy on top instead. hi, baby." he grabs your face, pulling you into a couple small pecks, ones he backs away from with a lazy smile. you twist your lips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. you and mike hadn't been dating for long, a short but serious four months, and you always felt so dizzy when you saw him, bewildered at the fact that he was your boyfriend. he was so sweet, so caring, hard-working, and unlike anyone you'd dated before. he worked so hard to provide for abby and change his future, and it made your attraction to him greater. he wanted you in that future, and it excited you for what was to come.

"gotta leave so soon?" you pout. mike's eyes soften as you caress his cheek, sighing as he reaches down for his bag.

"unfortunately. traffic's bad tonight, there was a huge crash and i gotta take backroads, howeverrrrr," mike ruffles abby's hair, causing her to grumble and gives you one last kiss, the dreamy, far-off look in his eyes accompanied with a lip bite, "i will see you both tomorrow morning, bright and early. have fun, and goodnight."

mike gives abby a kiss on the top of her head before he exits to his car, and you close the door behind you, dropping your duffle onto the floor. "okay," you announce, placing your hands on your bent knees as you turn to abby. "lasagna while we play board games or do karaoke?"

karaoke wins by a landslide. abby's been loving to sing recently, starting to get more comfortable with her growing vocals. she really only shows it to you, and ever since you've showed her karaoke, you've encouraged her to have fun and try different things; different inflections, tones, anything else she feels like she could do to make it her own. you loved to see her blossom singing in front of the brightly colored, ever-changing lyrics, using her hairbrush as a microphone.

you use your own too, setting it down on the coffee table to take a bite of lasagna and garlic bread while you watch abby sing along to call me maybe. she rocks on her heels in front of the tv, eyes tracking alongside the moving text.

you encourage her between forkfuls, providing her with background vocals and hype, giving her an "okay!" once she gets to the prechorus. she begins to dance, bouncing around the space between the coffee table and the tv. she gives her all to the chorus, making a good attempt at belting the notes.

"you sound so good, abs," you praise, wiping your mouth off on a napkin before grabbing the remote to change the karaoke video. "here, let's try some other ones. eat some food while i find them, 'kay?"

meanwhile, mike is sat in his car, idling behind others on the backroad he decided to take. traffic on these roads had increased because of the crash on the freeway, and there was no way he was getting to work any time soon. he'd been sitting bumper to bumper with these cars for about ten minutes, and he feels irritation creeping up into him, tapping his fingers against the wheel and leaning his head into the palm of his hand, elbow resting on the window. not even listening to the radio helps him, and eventually he just turns it off, succumbing to the sound of bad brakes and purring engines.

his mind floats away with thoughts of you, and how happy you looked he saw you at the house, all giddy and excited to be there. he loved you, loved when you were around. abby did too. you'd both agreed that your presence made the house feel complete, and that's all mike could think about, wondering how to bring up the question he'd been dwelling on for the past few weeks.

he should be home, on the couch watching tv with you and abby, or eating dinner, sat at the table and talking about your days and what hopes you had for the future. what things you found interesting. interacting like humans, having real moments; being present. mike had trouble with that, sleeping so much to keep up with the demand of working overnight. he tried to be there for abby as much as he could, helping her with her homework and making sure she was fed and feeling okay after her school days, but sometimes he felt like it was just an autonomous thing he did, moving on autopilot. the days blended together until you entered the equation, completely breaking up the monotony in his life with your being.

he should be home, not sitting in between all these aluminum machines, breathing in the acrid smells of oil and gasoline.

"fuck it," mike mutters, checking his blinds before pulling a turn off the main road and making his way around all the traffic, heading back towards the house.

freddy's was locked. no one would be around to do anything, no one ever was, and he was sure that it would be fine if he missed one night. he speeds back home, gripping the steering wheel with intent. he has people to get to, time to spend with the ones he loves. life's too short, he ruminates, and there's never enough time for moments of happiness like the ones he gets from you and abby.

he pulls into the driveway, exiting the car with the same jaunty energy you had earlier and unlocking the door with zeal. "decided to come back home. traffic wa---"

"my loneliness...is killing me,"

"and i...."

"i must confess, i still believe..."

"still believe!" you point your index finger to the sky as you hit the note, giggling along with abby as she attempts it too. "when i'm not with you, i lose my mind...give me a signnnnnnnnn," you're spinning around with your brush clutched in both hands, eyes closed and body fully invested in the music. mike doesn't think he's heard you sing before, not so solemnly like this. your voice is beautiful.

"hit me baby---oh jeez, mike!" you squeal in time to the music as abby finishes out the chorus, turning to face her brother as well. he's just staring at you two, jovially twisted lips and crossed arms and this twinkling look in his eye that makes you squirm. no one's ever looked at you like that, and you replace your hairbrush with the remote, stopping the video.

"sorry, i'm just...helping abby expand her iconic pop song repertoire. gotta start with one of the classics." abby nods as mike waves off your apology, setting his bag next to yours on the floor. "yeah, y/n is introducing me to such great songs. i'm really enjoying britney spears. what was that other song we did?"

"toxic," you reply, tucking your hair behind your ear. "that was a really fun one."

"uh huh, it was! it was all---" abby mimics the whiny synth strings, causing mike to laugh, coming around to the front of the couch. he wraps his arm around your waist, twirling you to face him. you place both of your hands on his shoulders, gazing deeply into his content eyes. "let me hear more of your singing, abs," he asks, and she starts the video up again, pretending the small sliver of space where she stands is a professional stage.

mike begins to sway your bodies, slowly waltzing you around as abby's untrained voice soundtracks your dance. "don't know why you were apologizing. hearing and watching you two have fun is the greatest thing ever, baby. love seeing you spend time together."

you blush, ducking your head into his collarbone. "it's just a silly thing i do by myself at home. guess i kinda got abby super interested in it...lots of fun though. lots of fun."

mike is quiet for a while, spinning you around gently. you can feel his heartbeat through his clothes, speed up-ticking with every second. he's looking down on you, watching your eyelash flutter with each serene blink you take, then looking at abby, who's searching through other karaoke videos and humming the melody of baby one more time with a bob of her head.

all mike can feel right now is this moment. he feels every second pass, overly-conscious to the fact that he's living and breathing in this instant. this was the present he'd always wanted to be in, and he doesn't want to let go of it. he wants this forever. his question gnaws at him, chewing away at his stomach, and he finally just blurts it out.

you're about to pull away from him to ask him if he's okay when he whispers, "move in with us." you're taken aback, raising from his chest and staring at him, eyebrows furrowed and lips wrinkled.

"mike.."

"you don't have to answer right now," he clarifies, sighing as he shakes his head. "i meant to ask it as a question, i'm sorry." you chuckle, reaching your fingers up into the hair at the nape of his neck. "just...let me know if you want to. i love having you here, abby loves having you here. i know it's still pretty early for us but...we could be a bona fide family, the three of us."

you squeeze mike a little tighter, a sort of answer to his question. there wasn't anything stopping you, truly. his house was closer to the school you worked at, and you could drop abby off at her school in the mornings so mike could get enough rest to pick her up in the afternoons. you could have home-cooked dinners, and spend the weekends together, taking abby to art museums and libraries, theme parks and other attractions.

you really could be a family. you were still young, your relationship with mike moderately fresh, but...the idea sounded nice.

"think about it," mike instructs, pulling away from you and ducking down to look at your obscured face. "no rush, okay?" he steps away from you after giving you a kiss to the forehead, grabbing for your hairbrush. a video for i'm like a bird by nelly furtado has started playing, and mike saddles up to abby, hip bumping her as he prepares to sing. "gonna be your backup singer, that okay?"

"yeah, yeah, just do it well! c'mon, c'mon it's starting! you're beautiful, that's for sure..." you take a seat on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest as you watch and listen, giggling along to mike's off-pitch ad-libs and timing mistakes. abby squeals at him, bursting into a fit of laughter and incorrect lyrics as he tickles at her torso.

you could get used to this, you think. maybe moving wouldn't be so bad.

how cute for it to all just go ka-blammy (,: going to write a part 2 for "to crumble" and i know y'all said y'all wanted it sweet but hmmmm...i think we need some angst. just stay tuned 🤞🏽

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #faire answers asks #faire is writing stuff #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #this is just so cute and it sucks what comes after it #like writing their past is kind of sick of me #it's not like that anymore and i'm just reminiscing #so are they </3

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 1 year

Text

Pomegranate Lips Ch 3: Under Against My Heel ~Sub!Larissa Weems xFem Fallen Angel!Reader

Part 3 of Pomegranate Lips! Sorry this one took so long… Larissa falling for Fallen Angel/Demon reader- Coffee dates, smut has arrived 😏

Link to Part 1 , Part 2 & Part 4

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smut, heel riding, public fucking, teasing, taunting

Enjoy (;

Ever since that first meeting with you at the Weathervane, Larissa had been unraveling. And now you two had a pattern of weekly coffee dates…

Larissa could barely focus on her work anymore. Hell, she could barely focus on anything… Anything but you of course.

Oh, the things she could focus on about you…

You were the thing which now occupied and owned Larissa’s mind.

Your mysterious, hidden eyes…

Your silky, dangerous voice…

Your plump, pomegranate lips…

Nowadays, Larissa spent her whole week waiting and inching towards her next coffee date with you. As well as bashfully avoiding you at all costs at the school.

The next Saturday rolled along and the pair met up in their usual booth. You sat down with a click of your signature heels, never ceasing to take Larissa’s breath away.

You loved how much you made her squirm.

How much you made the principal of Nevermore squirm.

“What’s on your mind…?” You purred, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Larissa snapped into reality from a rather vivid fantasy. She became another blushing and stunned mess.

Today was the day, you had decided since the second she had walked in that particular coffee date morning. You were gonna watch the uptight woman unravel…

crumble under your touch…

Larissa suddenly gasped as she felt your heel in between hers legs on her inner thigh.

You inched your foot forward as you mock-innocently purred, “Cat got your tongue, Larissa? What’s on your mind, hmmmm?”

Larissa’s breathing had become heavy and her pupils were dilated.

“I expect an answer.” you sternly commanded.

“I…” Larissa stuttered, trying to concentrate as your heel lightly ground against her heat.

“Use your words…” you purred, watching the show with a devilish smirk.

Larissa instinctually bucked her hips to meet your heel.

“I want you…” she panted in a harsh whisper.

“You want me? Want me to what?” You taunted, easing off her clothed, soaking cunt.

Larissa muffled the whine that she elicited from your departure of friction.

“I want you to make me cum… please make me cum…” Larissa whispered, her eyes directed towards her coffee, and her hips bucking desperately for some friction.

“Look at me.”

Larissa’s hooded and glazed over eyes met your mysterious sunglasses. You smirked in satisfaction, bringing your heel back for Larissa to rut against, which she immediately did.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You taunted her, as she ground her hips needily against your foot.

Larissa’s eyes fluttered and rolled back, as she was nearing her edge.

Her hands gripped the table harshly, her knuckles white.

“I’m…” Larissa whimpered, barely able to form a coherent sentence, “Can I cum?”

“If I let you cum, will you be a good girl and be quite?” You purred back.

Larissa nodded desperately.

“Then yes, you may cum.” You purred, quieting down your voice even more as Larissa rutted herself against your heel, “You may rut against my heel I front of all these people and cum against it as if you aren’t a respectable principal, because that’s not who you really are, right?”

Larissa didn’t respond, instead your words caused her to fully tip over her edge. She muffled her moans, as she ground her core against your heel to ride out her high. You then removed your heel swiftly and got up to leave.

But before you left, you leaned down to Larissa’s ear, as she panted trying to recover, you purred, “No… you’re mine. That’s what you are. My good girl.”

And then you left the Weathervane and a stunned, post-orgasm blissed Larissa…

~~~

Part 4 is here!! 😏

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Tag List @wierdpersonononelikes @principal-weems09 @sapphicobsesssion @xx-state-of-mind-xx @constantanxiety @poorwritingandstalecoffee @thoroughly--confused @gaydonutdino @walkethisway @yourfavoriteweirdo19 @justcallmelittleone @gwendolinechristieiscute @larissaweemsgf

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writtenbysprout · 1 year

Text

One in a million

Aaron takes pride in his work. It brings him somewhat comfort being able to read people like they're nothing but an open book. He can choose wether or not he want to engage or leave it half read. And most times he ends up going for the later.

Even in everyday interactions throughout his day he encounters people he dissect and pick apart. It's become a habit of mostly shoving his habit under the blanket and trying to go about his day as normal. But that comes to a full halt when he sees you for the first time.

Seated in a chair at his favorite coffee house, you have your headphones on. A pair of noise cancelling ones that allow you to devour your book in peace and quiet.

His eyes search you for something, anything, solid to get a grasp on, but he wounds up empty handed. Sure he could easily dissect your surroundings, your choice of beverage, your choice in literature, but that wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't see you.

The real you.

Looking around he glanced over a few people too see if he was just off by some chance today, but as per usual his mind easily searched each and every person he'd caught a glance off and easily gotten a read on them.

His eyes found their way back on you, still seated in the armchair. Now nursing a cup with one hand and holding your book in the other. Eyes glued onto the pages as you kept existing in your own little bubble.

Baffled by the sudden abnormality in which yoy made him feel, he caught himself starting at you. Mostly in confusion, but also a sliver of awe. In all his years as a profiler you were the first he hadn't been able to get a propper read on.

It frustrated him, but somehow it also intrigued him.

It was a busy Saturday morning and the coffee house was slowly filling up with all kinds of people. Also meaning seats was rapidly being occupied. Yet somehow the one spot opposite of you was still left.

Before he knew it, he made his way over and gestured to the spot opposite of you. This was far out of his comfort zone, but he knew that if he didn't find a way of figuring out the puzzle of you, he'd regret it deeply.

You notice the figure approaching before he came to a halt just as you placed your empty cup on the table in front of you. Moving one side of the headphones away from your ear you tilted your head to one side awaiting his question.

"Mind if I take this seat, it's starting to get pretty full in here.."

"Sure thing!" You beam in response, adjusting your seat as if he was to take your own spot. "Be my guest."

"Want a refill?" He nods at your empty cup and before you can answer he adds, "I'm on my way over anyways so I might as well."

You present him with your name. Allowing him to taste it before you follow it up with: "just tell them I sent you over and they'll know what to make."

He offers a simple nod, the gentlest of smiles and heads off to get you both drinks. Meanwhile you throw your cardigan over in his chair to reserve it for him before diving back into your book. Unaware of the brown eyes barely leaving you for too long.

Perhaps scared you'd vanish if he looked away. Or maybe it was the curiousity he felt towards you.

When he returns you're once again religiously reading the novel. Only when he places the cup on your side of the table do you notice his return. Quickly packing away your stuff you grant him your full attention.

"Thank you.." You quickly reach out for the beverage, curling up in the chair as you nurse the cup in between your hands.

"Aaron."

"Thank you, Aaron." Had he not already been intrigued by you, he sure would've been upon hearing you muse his name. It just felt right having you say it. Like a long lost tune he heard at some point in his life, but never could find again. Until now.

"I haven't seen you here before." You lull him out of his mind as you continue the conversation curious about the handsome stranger.

"I only come around when I'm off work." He admits, his eyes softens as he notice your gaze upon him.

"Oh, let me try to guess.." You jump up in your seat, correcting your posture before you knit your brows together, looking him up and down. Aaron can't help but find it amusing having you try to do the thing he'd been trying to do to you all this time. He manages to hide his smile behind the coffee as he brings it up to his lips.

"You present yourself with authority.. Maybe a boss or supervisor of some kind." You resonate loudly for the both of you. "My initial thought was lawyer, but something tells me you'd much rather do something about injustice right off the bat rather than wait for the legal process to send them too you.. So I'll guess a officer of some sort or maybe even a agent with the CIA.."

You conclude your analysis of him by taking a sip of the coffee. Awaiting his reaction patiently. And much like anticipated you watch his eyes widen before his brows furrows in confusion.

"How'd you.."

"Oh it's easy really.. The way you claim the room when you walked in was the first strike." You chuckle as you think back to when he first entred the coffee house. You were a curious person of nature and loved reading people for the fun of it. Yet you rarely presented the deduction to the people you observe. "The second go was how you chose your words carefully, leaving no room for wrong interpretations. In a way only a boss or someone who leads a team would do."

A deep chuckle escape him and fills you with the most content of feelings in ways you didn't think were possible.

"Spot on"

"Really?"

"Really, except the CIA part."

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. His eyes coam you and you can't help but feel blessed. Having spent less then a few minutes with this man and you were already at his mercy. He could step on you and you'd thank him. But somehow you managed to show some self restraint by not melting completely under his gaze.

"Then what?"

"FBI."

You offer a hum in response, not truly sure if he's trying to pull one on you or actually telling the truth. There was way to many using the FBI as a way to check up people. But upon seeing the smile hiding in the corner of his mouth you knew he was telling the truth.

You found yourself unable to avoid looking at his perfectly carved features. Unable to think straight when he looked at you like that. Unable to maintain a single thought without creating a fantasy in which the two of you could spend eternity together.

When he calls your name you quickly snap back to reality where he great you with the gentle smile. He then speak up saying the words you thought you'd never hear;

"I'd really like to get to know you better, would you want to go out with me some time?"

#criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you

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vividwritinglove · 2 years

Text

next door - a Pierre Gasly series

I am simping for this man.. so I started a series. Hope you guys enjoy it!

pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

warnings: not much.. we‘ll see where this goes

words count: 1.4K

————————————————————————

Finally you arrived at your new apartment building in the Milan city center. You stepped out of the Uber and buttoned up your coat. It was the last weekend in November and the days became colder.

The driver helped you getting your three big suitcases out of the trunk. Right behind you stopped a small truck with workers of the moving company and they started to unload furnitures and other personal belongings of yours.

You grabbed your suitcases and entered the high-rise building. The new apartment was on the 11th floor and after a little wait in front of the elevators, you were able to step in. You and your suitcases almost occupied the whole space of it.

"Per favore, aspettatemi!” you heard someone shouting in your direction. Unfortunately you didn’t understood any word of Italian yet, but instinctively you pressed the button that held the doors open.

A young man sprinted towards the elevator and greeted you with a stunning smile, "Grazie!".

You just gave him a brief smile back. He was a little taller than you, brown hair which was messy and a well groomed beard. You couldn’t deny that he was good looking, but he seemed to be a bit younger than you.

He attempted to press the button of the 11th floor as well and then noticed it was already pressed. He gave you another smile and now you noticed the little tooth space, "Sei la mia nuova vicina!".

You just gave him a puzzled look with an apologetic smile, "Sorry.. I don’t understand.”

"Oh, my bad! I assumed you were Italian!” he immediately switched, "I am Pierre, your new neighbor.”

"Nice to meet you, I am y/n!” you two shake hands and for the rest of the elevator ride both of you remained in silence.

You felt his eyes on you, but tried not to cross his gaze, so you simply looked down to your suitcases. He noticed that you become shyer every second and he kinda liked what effect he had on you already. You were definitely his type!

The doors opened and Pierre got out of the elevator first, only to hold the doors with his arm open for you, so you didn’t needed to hurry.

"Thank you!” you said and rolled the suitcases in the hallway.

"In Italy you say Grazie!”

“Grazie it is, I guess..” you murmured and looked for your apartment door.

"It’s this one." he pointed towards the door on your left. "I live in there and since these are the only two apartments on this floor.." and then he pointed behind him.

“Well that does makes sense.. Grazie, Pierre!”

He really liked how his name rolled of your tongue, “Good. You're already making progress!".

You waved him goodbye, walked towards your new apartment door, easily unlocked it and slipped inside your new home. Pierre was still standing in front of the elevator and waited until you closed the door behind you.

————————————————————————

You were living in Milan for 3 weeks now, Christmas was around the corner and slowly you developed a routine. There was a nice little café a short walk away from the apartment building and the barista already knew your order by heart. On Saturday mornings you went to the weekly market to buy the freshest food and some flowers. Just like this Saturday.

Usually you and Pierre met daily in the elevator around 10am, right after his workout in the gym. Had a little chat and Pierre taught you one Italian word each time your paths crossed. You really liked your neighbor, he was friendly, easy-going and uncomplicated. Today there was no sight of Pierre, he probably went later to the gym, since you heard loud music and other sounds from his apartment last night.

You stepped out of the elevator with your groceries and was immediately greeted by a loud laughing female voice.

Pierre was standing in his apartment door with a girl. He looked tired but still tried to give his full attention to his visitor until you entered the hallway.

"Buon giorno, y/n" he gave you the biggest smile. You couldn’t help yourself and chuckled, “Buon giorno, Pierre!".

His overnight guest was not amused and glared at you angrily. She wanted to became the center of his attention again and tried to kiss him. He shrugged her off by just giving her a friendly hug and accompanied her towards the elevator, you just stepped out of. In the mean time you walked to your apartment door and entered the key into the lock.

As the elevator door closed, you dared to look back to Pierre and saw his smile fading. He let out a big sigh and runs his hand through his face.

"Tough night?" you asked with a smirk.

"You have no idea.."

"Well, it could not be overheard."

"Shit! We we’re that loud?!” he truly seemed shocked and also a little embarrassed. His cheeks flashed red.

"At least she was!” you couldn’t hide your grin anymore and Pierre joined you.

"I am so sorry!"

"It’s fine. Don’t worry!" you quickly wave it off, "You look like you need some vitamins. I just bought loads of fresh fruits. How about a juice?"

"I'll take a coffee and maybe a croissant?" He pointed to the paper bag from the bakery in your hand. A kind of cocky behavior, but you liked it.

"Sure."

"I’ll be over in 5." he smiled and rushed back to his apartment.

You left your apartment door open for Pierre, started making coffee and set the table for two - it’s been a while since you had breakfast with a man. It was a strange feeling.

As you set the juicer up, he entered your apartment and closed the door behind him. He was freshly showered, hair still wet and had changed into different clothes.

"This looks amazing!" he mentioned as he took a seat and looked over the richly laid table.

Your strange feeling vanished as you two chatted carefree about everything and anything. You found out that he was a F1 pilot, was now preparing for the upcoming season and therefore stayed in Milan. Also that he was really into rap music and hanging out with friends. He indeed was younger than you, but it didn’t seemed to bother him at all. You had to admit, that you didn’t have a single clue about his sport.

"Well your hereby more than welcome to be my guest at the paddock!"

You gave him a slight smile and took a sip from the fresh juice you just made yourself. A little silent break came up. The two of you were just looking at each other. He was wearing a beige polo shirt and left it unbuttoned. You noticed his chest hair and a golden necklace. Even though you were not into younger guys, this made him extremely manly and sexy to you. Your gaze wandered up to his mouth. His rosy and pouty lips turned into a cheeky grin - you couldn’t deny that his lips looked very kissable - and then there was this little tooth space again. It looked good on him.

Lost in thoughts you bite your underlip which Pierre instantly noticed.

He knew you were checking him out and that you liked what you saw. It made him feel good and confident. To break the silence he cleared his throat and sat up straight. This made you wake up from your daydream and also a little ashamed.

"So I was the reason, that kept you up all night?" again he was cocky and he hoped to see you blush once more because of him.

"Well, not you. More your girlfriend."

"She is not my girlfriend!" he answered quickly and it felt to you, that he needed to justify. "I don’t have a girlfriend.." he said more calm now and drank from his coffe mug as a distraction.

"Okay…" you just mouthed, "But she was really loud!"

All of a sudden you imitated her exaggerated orgasm from last night and Pierre almost choked on his coffee. He looked at you with big eyes and started to laugh out at his loudest. You joined him.

"Wow. What a performance!" he had to admit, "Poor guys.."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you sound like that faking it, then I don’t want to know how a real orgasm of yours sounds!"

You just twitched your shoulders, "Your loss!"

And with that the teasing between the two of you had started - not knowing how and where this will end.

next part

#pg10 #pierre gasly #f1 things #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #f1 #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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enchantedchocolatebars · 5 months

Note

As usual, my favorite topic, redeemed Belos lives in Noseda's house with the HexSquad

Fic - Camila told Philip about Luz's favorite book and does not understand why he has such a strange reaction. Philip suddenly finds out that Luzura is not the full name of Luz

It's Azura, Not Luzura

Saturday morning was house cleaning day at the Noceda household, as everyone who lived there was doing their part to make the place look spick and spotless.

Everyone was occupied with their assigned task.

Luz was pushing the vacuum cleaner back and forth in her room while Amity was arranging books and notebooks neatly in her girlfriend's small bookcase.

However, she noticed that a particular purple book that they both loved was missing from its place.

Hunter and Willow were using the appropriate cleaning tools to clean the tub and toilet, while Vee cleaned the bathroom sink, mirror, and counter, and Gus and his illusions were taking out the trash and doing the laundry.

Downstairs was where Camila and Philip were doing their cleaning.

Camila dragged the head of the broom along the kitchen floor and swept the pile of dust and debris into the dustpan for disposal, while Philip dusted the furniture in the living room.

As he approached the window sill, he noticed a lavender-colored fantasy novel lying down on the dining room table.

Behind a gold banner in black letters, the title was displayed on the hard cover of the book.

Featured on the front was a mint-haired witch heroine standing in the foreground with her staff held high in the air.

An old witch dressed in a red cloak and a fluffy little doglike demon creature were accompanying her in the background of the cover art.

"'The Good Witch Azura?'" Philip quietly read the title to himself as he picked up the book.

Camila, upon entering the dining room, soon takes notice of Philip holding her daughter's favorite book.

The sight of it made her smile.

"Oh, The Good Witch Azura!" She said cheerfully as she approached the old man.

"Luz loves that book. Azura is a favorite of hers and she reads it all the time."

"Hmm..." Philip examined the pages with squinting eyes before making his comment.

"From my understanding, it seems that Luz shares a similar name to this Azura character. Is that why you named her Luzura?"

He looked to Camila to verify his suspicions, but the mother only gave him a confused look.

"Luzura?"

"Yes."

There was a bit of silence between the two until Camila broke it with an awkward chuckle. "Oh, uh, I never named Luz... that."

Philip's blue eyes widened with genuine shock when he heard that. "You... didn't?"

Camila shook her head.

Philip's realization caused memories of the past to replay in his mind.

"So, Luzura. You and your Aunt Dirtrude started travelling together after the Toe-gres attacked your castle and covered it with an impenetrable mist?"

...

" I told you once before, Luzura."

...

When the memories came to a close, Philip was embarrassed and hung his head.

He couldn't fathom the fact that he had been mistakenly calling her the wrong name for hundreds of years.

Why didn't Luz correct him, he wondered.

"Let me guess," Philip murmured under his breath, slowly gazing at Camila, "I also made an error with Aunt Dirtrude's name. Is it Aunt Dirce?"

Camila noticed his low state and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," she reassured with another awkward laugh. "You didn't know. Don't beat yourself up over it. Mistakes happen."

Camila blinked, becoming more confused than ever. "I'm sorry, who? What are you talking about, Philip?"

Philip sadly sighed, hanging his head a second time.

"Here," Camila gently took the book from his grasp as she walked away. "Let me go give this back to Luz. I'm sure she's looking for it."

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astridhollow · 9 months

Text

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

✧ feat: kita shinsuke x you (as aeris)

✧ wc: 2.27k (approx)

✧ note: this is my first time writing in a while, and my first time writing another pov besides 2nd person so please bare with me also i didn’t proof read this >-<

It was summer yet again and even though it’s the time when students take a break, Kita was still following his own strict routine. Kita was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for his grandma and himself.

The sun is shining through the windows with the soft singing of the birds. While waiting for the food to cook, Shinsuke also began to brew some coffee for himself and some tea for his grandmother.

“Ah Shinsuke, you awoke before me.” Yumie spoke and giggled. Kita, who heard his grandma, took a pause from what he was doing and went to Yumie, helping her to sit down at their dining area.

“Good morning grandma, breakfast is almost done.” he said with a soft smile.

“Thank you Shin.” A few minutes later the food was done and they began to eat. “So Shin, tell me, do you plan on doing anything this summer? I mean I wouldn’t want to waste your summer days just helping around the house and our farm..”

There was a pause before Kita answered, “I mean my friends and I plan to play some volleyball this Saturday.”

“And besides that?”

It was just silence as Kita and Yumie looked at each other. “Oh come on Shin don’t waste your youthful days, it’s been a while since your last date hasn’t it?”

“Oh gran, don’t tell me you’re implying that..”

She just smiled as she finished eating her meal. “It will never hurt to try once more, Shin! Oh how I miss the old days with your grandpa..” she smiles at the thought.

He shakes his head and laughs softly and he starts to clean the table, he says to himself in his head, ‘It wouldn’t hurt to try.. right?’ .

The days flew by pretty quick, in a blink of an eye it was already time to meet up with his friends. “I’m off now, gran, just call me if anything happens.” He smiles and grabs his bag and he leaves.

As per usual Kita was the first one to arrive at their meeting place, which was a public beach in their area. He finds a place to sit down while waiting for the others. He spots a bench which he then walks over to and takes a seat.

Kita scrolls on his phone and suddenly he feels someone sit down next to him. He looked up from his device and he wasn’t expecting to see such beautiful eyes and just a beautiful face in general. He can’t seem to break eye contact as if he’s been captured just by her gaze.

The girl speaks first, “Hi there! You seem to be waiting for someone?” she asked with a bright smile on her face. She was wearing a flowy white dress and a flower on one side of her ear.

Kita wasn’t one to smile around others but he couldn't help the corner of his lips lifting when her smile was so infectious. “Hello, and yes I am, my friends and I are going to play volleyball.”

“Oohh that seems like it’s fun, I’m not really active though.” she said as she put her hand on her neck giggling, “Oh by the way I’m Aeris!” the girl put out her hand for him.

Kita looks at her outstretched hand and back to her face, “I’m Kita Shinsuke.” a small smile crept its way to his features. ‘Her hand feels a bit cool compared to her personality and energy..’

“Ooh I love your name, It’s pretty! Just like you!” she exclaimed and gave him a closed eye smile. A blush appears on the man’s face at her compliment.

The pair talked for a few moments before Aeris spotted a group of teenage boys were about to approach them, “Well it seems like your friends are here Shinsuke, it was nice talking to you! Hope to see you around!” she offered one last smile and a wave before walking away. Kita’s heart seems to feel content with their small but genuine interaction.

“Kita-san!” He looked up and he saw his juniors walking towards the bench he was sitting on. He stood up to go up to them. They said their greetings to each other, but the girl from earlier still occupied his mind.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Your mind seems to be occupied, Shin..”

“It’s nothing gran..” he replied as they cleaned the house together.

“I’ve known you since you were young Shinsuke, what’s on your mind?”

He thought to himself, thinking about what to say to his grandma, yet one thing still wanders in his mind. “I encountered a sweet girl at the beach while waiting for the others.. And I find her personality rather admirable.”

Yumie was in pure shock at what her grandson spewed but she was so happy at the same time. She held both of Kita’s hands and said, “Oh Shin I’m so happy!”

“Gran, It’s nothing really, just a small interaction with a lovely lady..”

“I doubt that it’s nothing more than that, but if that’s how you see it for now then sure.” she giggled, many thoughts already in her head.

His grandma’s words stuck with him till bed as well as Aeris. He couldn’t help but wish for their next encounter to come soon.

𓆩♡𓆪

The God’s seem to be in favour of Shinsuke because he finds the familiar beautiful face when he was running an errand at the farmers market. She was wearing yet another dress but it was shorter this time, it had a pastel yellow plaid pattern. She was wearing sandals and her hair was in a loose ponytail with flowers that covered her hair tie. Shinsuke can’t help but admire the female as she does her own mundane tasks.

The said female felt a pair of eyes on her to which she turned her head to look for whose eyes it was, and then she saw the pretty man she met at the beach the other day. To that she smiled and offered a small wave.

The male was embarrassed from being caught admiring such a beautiful girl. But he was quick to reciprocate her actions, and soon after he approached her.

“Nice to see you again Shinsuke!” She greeted me enthusiastically.

He smiled to himself before answering, “It’s quite nice to encounter you once more, Aeris.”

They both talked as they shopped around the market, it was so casual yet it made him feel a certain way. He couldn’t understand what feeling it was but he most definitely liked it.

Once more they had to bid their goodbyes, and again, he hoped to see her for another time.

𓆩♡𓆪

Kita’s grandma is at her monthly check up and of course he accompanied her— being the amazing grandson he is. He didn’t mind going with her but he can’t lie the wait is horrible. So he decided to check out the boba shop he saw on the way to the clinic.

He’s very fond of bubble tea and he couldn’t help himself when he saw a shop nearby. He enters the cute little cafe and once again he sees Aeris. Who wore yet another dress, it was still as flowy as ever but he noticed it was just a tad bit shorter than her last dress. This time the design was floral, her hair was loose with a matching floral headband to match her dress.

Aeris sat near the window, a book in hand and her boba on the table. How come she always looks so ethereal? Was the question he asked himself everytime he sees her.

“Hey there Aeris. It seems we meet again.” He greeted the female with a soft smile as he sat down on the unoccupied seat next to her.

She was surprised to say the least, not just by the sudden greeting but the fact that he went up to her first. It was such a small thing but she adored it so much. “Hey there Shinsuke! What a small world isn’t it?” a giggle emitted from her, she put down her book to catch up with him.

Their conversations seem to happen effortlessly. Kita feels some way when he’s with her, a feeling of peace, happiness, and the feeling of home. ‘Is this the feeling gran was talking about whenever she’s with grandpa back then?’ he wonders to himself.

𓆩♡𓆪

Before meeting Aeris, Kita was a man who followed a very strict routine. One thing in his routine is having a fixed sleeping schedule— he sleeps early, he wakes up early, he wakes up early, he gets things done.

But after every encounter, late at night his thoughts and what if’s are screaming in his head. He can’t fall asleep, his mind has been occupied by a pretty lady he met not long ago.

‘Why am I feeling this way?’

‘If this is love, does she feel the same?’

‘Should I ask her out on a date?’

‘What if she says no?’

‘What if I got everything wrong?’

‘If she says no, will I ever get to see her again?’

‘Is this even worth the risk?’

Kita’s quick to shut his last thought, of course she’s worth the risk. He’s never felt this way before with anyone. It's like once in a lifetime for him, and he feels so lucky it was with Aeris.

Shinsuke has made up his mind and has decided to ask her out on a date. He just needed to figure out when, where, and how.

Kita want’s their first date to be special if Aeris ever accepts his offer. He thought of so many possible date ideas. He felt like he was going mad for the first time,, every date idea that he comes up with he automatically thinks of the worst case scenario. After a very very very very very very long time of brainstorming he’s finally made up his mind.

A picnic date on the beach where they first met. He’ll bring her possible favourite flowers. Yellow tulips, he’s noticed that she wears them often. He’ll bring some of her favourite snacks to their date. Now all he had to figure out was how to ask her out.

Even though Aeris and Shinsuke had met a couple of times before, she never really mentioned her family name at least once. So he couldn’t look you up on social media and ask her through there. Kita could try and be patient for your next encounter, but he’ll never know when that could be.

Then, he remembered that one time they met at a convenience store, and he vaguely remembers her school uniform colours but it was— Fukurodani Academy. He also remembers that she mentioned on their first meeting that she’s in her 3rd year.

So, he decided to call someone he knew from Fukurodani to ask about Aeris. On Kita’s phone, he was looking for a certain setter's name— Akaashi Keiji. He grew close to the young boy during some of their teams practise matches together. It took a bit before Akaashi answered, after waiting a few more seconds he picked up.

“Hi Akaashi, it’s been a while, how have you been?”

“Hello Kita-san, I’ve been well. How about you?”

“Same goes for me, anyways I was wondering if you can do me a favour?”

“Oh sure thing, how can I help?”

“Thank you so much. I was wondering if you know anyone by the name Aeris?”

“Oh uhm Kita-san, if you don’t mind me asking, why?”

“I met her a few weeks back at the beach, and after that I kept encountering her.”

“But how?”

Kita was confused by Akaashi’s response and so he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How were you able to see my sister.. when she’s been dead for a year now…”

Kita didn’t know what to feel at this moment.. This wonderful woman was a piece that

completes his heart, but right now, she’s the reason his heart is shattered into a million bits.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t know..”

“When did you first meet her or I should say when did you first start seeing her?”

“It was on July 31.. Why?”

“That was the exact same day Aeris was born and that day last year was the day she died..”

His heart throbbed, he felt Keiji’s words tug at his heartstrings the worst way possible.

Akaashi spoke once more, “I’m sorry you had to meet her that way..”

“I’m sorry for your loss as well..”

The sound of the call ending was heard, and all Kita felt so many emotions hit him. Why had Aeris chosen him to be close to? Why did he have to fall for her? Why did he have to meet her on that day? Will he be feeling like this if he was 10 minutes later than he usually was? Will he be holding his head in his hands as tears stream down his face, while all of their shared memories play like a movie in his head?

Everything made sense now that he looks at it, people never really approach Aeris in public places, even though she had the beauty like Aphrodite. When their hands touched for the first time it was cold in contrast to her personality. The way her dress grows shorter every next encounter they have means the shorter amount of time they have left together.

Kita Shinsuke, a man who never really feels love for simply just anyone, finally fell in love, but with someone he’s fated not to have. He never even has gotten the chance to be loved by her, because of the cruel fate the universe has bestowed upon him.

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#inarizaki #reader insert #inarizaki x reader #elise writes for: haikyuu

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bu1410 · 2 months

Text

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971." - Chapter III - March 5th, 2024

Bari - Italy

Bar - Montenegro

Kotor - Montenegro

Sveti Stefan - Montenegro

Dubrovnik - Croatia

Lake Skadar - Montenegro.

BAR - MONTENEGRO- FORMER YUGOSLAVIA – October 1982

I returned from Saudi Arabia quite disappointed by the behavior of the Works Director, Eng. Birago. I liked the Taif hospital project, but I think the old Engineer had the whiskey affair tied to his finger, and at the first opportunity he got rid of me. I therefore responded with enthusiasm to the call from VOLANI, a company from Rovereto (Trento, Italy) specialized in industrialized architecture, essentially a direct competitor of FEAL Milan. I went to Rovereto for the interview with the Chief of Staff ''accompanied by Mother''! In the sense that my mother, as soon as she learned that I was going to Rovereto, immediately jumped on the car: beyond the desire to go around, it was one of her favorite destinations! The interview went well, and I was offered a job at their construction site in Bar, Montenegro, then still a territory of Yugoslavia. Before leaving for Bar, I wanted to spend a weekend in Madesimo, in Italian Alps. In 1981 there was no Internet, and therefore we had not booked the hotel. When we were in Medesimo we soon realized that the hotels were all closed (we learned that October/November are the months in which hoteliers go on holiday). In the end we turned to the local Carabinieri station, who suggested we go up to Alpe Motta where there was an alpine refuge that was definitely open.

JOURNEY TO BAR I had bought a new jacket, grey/blue on the outside, and with yellow padding on the inside. I took the flight to Bari, and then from Palese airport a taxi took me to the port. The ferry to Bar would leave in the evening. I enjoyed a single cabin, and the crossing of the Adriatic was uneventful. In the morning, when I tried to open the cabin door, I bumped into the bodies of those less fortunate than me, who had spent the night sleeping on the floor in the ship's corridor. We went ashore, and I noticed that I was surrounded by the usual dozens of women who at the time were shuttling between Italy and Yugoslavia, bringing all sorts of merchandise to their country. One of them, a middle-aged woman, asked me in in somewhat broken Italian:

Do you have something to declare?

No….

Well, it means that you will go through customs with these bottles of cognac, these shoes and these t-shirts on my behalf.

Ok…… Once we passed the customs control, the woman hurried to collect her goods, and she didn't even say thank you!!. I had made a first approach to the typical rudeness of Montenegrins; I would later have to experience other, even worse examples.

HOTEL SUTOMORE At the port exit there was the Site Manager waiting for me. A nice gentleman originally from Mantua: middle-aged, beard, open smile, had already been in Bar for several months with his wife and a few-month-old daughter in tow. He took me to the Hotel Sutomore, located in a village of a same name, a few kilometers north of Bar. The semi-deserted hotel given the season, a 9-storey building, was directly on the small but beautiful beach - the transparent sea reflected the sun of the afternoon that has just begun. It was lunch time, and after a shower, I went to the hotel restaurant, located on the mezzanine. Very large dining room, on Saturdays it was always occupied by receptions and weddings, with horseshoe tables, full of bottles of whiskey as per local custom. (Perhaps this is the reason why wedding dinners often resulted in furious arguments between relatives and friends?) I sat down in the half-empty room, took off my jacket and placed it on the back of the chair in front of me. The waiter, a young man around 20-22 years old, appeared out of nowhere, and without saying a word he took off his white jacket, took my jacket and put it on. -It's fine with me - he said, looking satisfied in the large window - how much do you want?

I looked at him astonished, with a mixture of surprise and anger and told him: it's not for sale, take it off immediately.

And he: but why not? Here all foreigners do this?!

''As well as? I said annoyed.

In the sense that they come wearing new things, sell them to us, and then leave again.

Well - I replied - I'm not "everyone" and I bought the jacket for myself - end of negotiation.

Oh well… if you say so….

What is there to eat? And here was the second unpleasant impact with another locals.

NIGHTCLUB Below the hotel there was a disco-dance hall. On Saturday evening it was packed, with a musical group that performed a Slavic variant of the rock songs popular in the 80s. The evenings inevitably ended in fights, to which alcohol, which was consumed in large quantities, made a substantial contribution. One evening I was at the entrance of the club, and an obviously drunk guy, with the help of a chair, demolished all the telephone booths positioned at the entrance of the club. I asked the girl at the checkout why no one called the police.

It's better not - she replied - things would take a worse turn - and in any case we know who he is, and the police will show up at his house around 5.00 am tomorrow, when he will be sleeping and will be unable to resist.

Ah… okay – I said.

OUR PROJECT The project consisted of the construction of a building for the Municipality of Bar, one to be use by the new Court, plus a school complex. Also included in the same contract were the rehabilitation of an analysis laboratory building in the hospital of Podgorica, 50 km inside Montenegro, as well as the capital of the state - The construction of a clinic in Ulcinj, 26 km south of Bar, the last city in Montenegro next to Albania border. In view of the supervision and some particular processes in which Italian labor was used, the bulk of the workers employed in the project were Yugoslavians. I noticed a detail that I remembered later, when the war broke out in Yugoslavia in the 1990s: carpenters, bricklayers, structure assemblers, were organized into ethnic groups (Slovenes – Serbs – Croats etc) and had no relationship between them. The construction time was from 7.00 in the morning to 2.00 in the afternoon - at 10.00 am there was a break, during which meals were consumed, sometimes cooked on site, with improvised barbecues. All the buildings were of a high standard, with continuous aluminum facades - the Bar complex stood out for a certain elegance, and the imprint of Italian design and materials immediately caught the eye.

THEFT ON CONSTRUCTION SITE Unfortunately the construction site had been the subject of a series of thefts, which essentially never stopped. An estimation made showed that the total value of the thefts amounted to the considerable sum of 870,000 USD. Several reports to the local authorities had brought only one result: one day we Italians were all summoned to the police station where they took our fingerprints. The Chief of Police told us that ''thieves don't exist in Yugoslavia, so it must be one of you who steals the materials''.

We had noticed - and photographed - that numbers of shacks buildings used as garages or warehouses had arisen in the vicinity of the construction site and beyond - all made with particular metal sheet that only VOLANI imported from Italy. One morning I arrived at the construction site very early, and I saw a man had loaded into a van some our anodized aluminum sheets - we used it as pillars cladding - I stopped him and asked him outright what he was doing: - Well – he replied – I saw these sheets of metal on the ground and I thought you didn't need them anymore.

Put them back where you found them – I told him

Okay… okay… no problem….

PODGORITZA Every now and then it happened that for work reasons I had to move to Podgoritza. The road first wound along the coast, and then inland, passing through Lake Skadar, the largest in the Balkan peninsula, which Montenegro shares with Albania. For lunch we used to stopp at a restaurant on the lake shore, where they served excellent fried carp. These gigantic fish were the result of cooperation between the then allies Albania and China: the Chinese had introduced millions of carp's fry into the lake, repopulating the waters which risked being left without fish. One morning we were going from Bar to Podgorica – me and a colleague of mine in two different cars. It was late November and very cold. It had rained during the night, and the morning frost had formed a thin film of ice on the road. Suddenly my colleague's car began a series of spins - I was following him closely, but luckily I managed to engage a low gear, and without touching the brakes I stopped on the edge of the road, also scraping the side of the Ritmo FIAT against the mountain rock that flanked the road. The colleague's car stopped in the middle of the road, with its nose facing against the direction of travel. I ran to help him get out of the car, just in time: another car arrived, the driver had lost control and crashed into my colleague's car! We realized that the situation had become very dangerous, and that we had to go to both sides of the road and try to signal the oncoming cars. Luckily the traffic was light at that time and we somehow managed to stop the traffic before anyone else ran into the two damaged cars. Then other drivers who arrived helped us to push the damaged cars towards a nearby dock. Once everything was over, and traffic was restored, the police arrived. First thing they asked me why we had moved the cars.

Because they were in the middle of the road, and represented a danger to other drivers – we replied.

No, said the policeman, you had to wait for our arrival, how can we do the investigations now?

Well, do as you like – my colleague told him.

But since the local police, when they meet a foreigner, always looked for every excuse to steal money, they gave us a report for having ''caused danger with dangerous driving''. And we had to pay immediately, otherwise the cars would be confiscated. So eventually we could leave that nightmare of wind and ice.

LIFE IN FORMER YOUGOSLAVIA IN '80. We stayed in Podgoritza for about two weeks, there was a need for a major overhaul in the work at the local hospital. Our Construction Manager had reached us and brought his family with him. His wife was desperately looking for diapers for her daughter, a rare commodity in Yugoslavia in 1982. Finally one day, through one of our local employees, the lady came into contact with a transporter who made frequent trips abroad and who had availability of otherwise unobtainable diapers. They met at a newsstand, generally in the early hours of the morning, and packs of diapers were wrapped in newspaper, so as not to arouse ''suspicions''. Annother day a colleague who had just returned from Italy told us that he had brought an 8 kilo bag of coffee. Unfortunately the coffee was in grains, therefore someone suggested to go to a small supermarket, where he had seen that there was a machine for grinding coffee near the cash registers. Very bad idea! While my colleague was inside the supermarket grinding the coffee, when by magic - perhaps attracted by word of mouth - dozens of local people showed up asking ''where is the coffee'…we heard that the coffee has arrived…'' The cashier said no that the coffee had not arrived (we learned that it had been missing from the supermarkets for some time) and that it had been brought by an Italian who had just arrived from Italy. But the crowd did not want believe it, and began to shout that it was ''the usual story of making the goods disappear and then selling them on the black market at increased prices''. My colleague, frightened by the crowd, didn't even finish grinding all the coffee and left the shop in a hurry, fearing for his own safety. In the meantime a couple of cars from the ''Milicija'' had arrived and quickly put an end to the uproar.

NOVEMBER 29TH - DAN REPUBLIKE PARTY

November 29th was a special day in the former Yugoslavia. Two important events in their history were celebrated: the second plenary session of the AVNOJ (Anti-fascist Council for People's Liberation of Yugoslavia) in 1943 and the first session of the Yugoslav Constituent Assembly in 1945. Propaganda via radio and TV had begun about ten days before , and it portrayed Germans and Italians as oppressors, occupiers of sacred Yugoslav soil, and responsible for countless war crimes. We had been instructed to keep a low profile, not leave the house or hotel in the evening, and to limit inspections on site as much as possible. Despite this, we suffered various provocations from the local authorities, until the day when a delegation from the Municipality of Bar held a remembrance ceremony inside the complex still under construction, where they had forced us to prepare a classroom complete with carpet and stage for the authorities. And so after having set up the classroom, the mayor gave a speech lasting almost two hours, during which he did nothing but insult Italy and Germany. The sovereignist and nationalist rhetoric still took root in a nation that would soon descend into a war which, as an Italian journalist said during the Yugoslav conflict ''was fought with the ferocity of ancient wars but with the lethal weapons of the era modern''.

A SAD STORY OF AN ITALIAN COLLEAGUE. There was this colleague, Adriano, a young man from Udine, who had been datinga beautiful local girl for some time. Adriano would be returning to Italy for a period of holidays, and was preparing for the return journey with his own car, with which he had reached Montenegro along the entire Adriatic coast. He asked his girlfriend's mother if he could take advantage of this trip to take her with him to Italy. Permission was granted, and on the morning of departure Adriano arrived early at the girl's house. At the honking of the horn the girl looked out from the balcony and urged Adriano to go up into the house. What happened a once the Italian boy entered the apartment it was never really clarified. From what we learned from Adriano it seems that his girlfriend's policeman brother had returned from Belgrade during that night, where he served. And had said he was against his sister's relationship with the Italian guy. The fact is that we were called around 10.00 am from the local emergency room, where Adriano had been admitted in a state of shock and with multiple fractures, especially in his face and upper limbs. A complaint was filed, but the local police, knowing who was involved in the beating, dropped the matter, classifying it as a ''Private Accident''. Adriano returned to Italy after 2 weeks in hospital, with an ambulance sent by VOLANI Rovereto.

WEEKEND's During weekends I always took the opportunity to visit the region around Bar. I have beautiful memories of Dubrovnik, a walled city built by the Venetians modeled on Venice but dry. Very beautiful and evocative is Svety Stefan, the islet connected to the coast where General Tito spent his holidays - Kotor, a picturesque fjord which during World War II was used to hide warships. Cavtat, a fishing town near Dubrovnik, where you could enjoy excellent fish and local wine. I also visited Cetinje, little more than a mountain town, birth placeof ''Jelena Petrović-Njegoš, princess of Montenegro, and then Queen of Italy'' following her marriage to Vittorio Emanuele III, King of Italy. At the time, Montenegro and Croatia showed great potential for tourism development, even if heavily penalized by the socialist system. In essence, the reception was modest, the infrastructure was missing or insufficient. With liberalization - and the arrival of the large international hotel chains - I believe that these shortcomings have been filled.

END of 1982 - ABANDONMENT OF THE PROJECT At the end of 1982, VOLANI decided to abandon the project in Montenegro, given the continuous thefts on the construction site, and the lack of payments by the Yugoslav Government. All Italians returned safely home for Xmas & New Year Holidays. I board a flight of then JAT Yugoslav Airlines, which reached Milan' Linate airport after a stop over in Sarajevo.

VISIT TO BAR IN 1984 In August 1984, on the way to a holiday in Greece, I did made a detour to see what had become of the Bar complex. Arriving near the former construction site, I found a disastrous situation: the project had been abandoned unfinished, the local population had wreaked havoc, stealing and dismantling everything they could. The unkempt grass reached up to the first of the 4 floors of what should have been the new town hall. Broken glass, false ceilings, doors, blown out windows, everything was in a state of abandonment. A disconcerting and somewhat incomprehensible vision. I didn't understand the reason why the local administration hadn't finished the project and taken the buildings into use, given that it was so close to finishing them.

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real-jane · 2 years

Text

poet laureate

part 2 - [prof bucky barnes x fem!reader]

summary: bucky embraces the chaos of a new job, and his girl finishes the project.

warnings: rampant fluff.

a/n: this is posted. i have been trying to finish it for literally ages and finally just forced myself to stop fiddling with it. I hope you enjoy!

series masterlist

Bucky awoke to two furry paws palpating his chest, Alpine’s sharp talons prickling like they did when she was being affectionate. There was something else waiting for him on his phone screen, which he didn’t see until he had squeezed every last drop of coffee out of the grounds in his french press, plopped a heaping spoonful of wet food into Alpine’s dish, and knocked his shin into the open dishwasher door. Bruised and under-caffeinated, Bucky sat at the kitchen table and blinked wearily at his phone. His eyes widened.

PL: Are you dead?

“Shit-shit–Alpine, this is your fault!”

Bucky was late to meet her at his office. They had finally set down solid plans: Saturday at nine o’clock sharp. In his cat’s defense, she had tried to rouse him from a particularly lurid dream, so that he could meet ‘PL’ to start cleaning out the tiny storage room in the guise of an office he had occupied for four years. But he had slept poorly since the night he saw her at Howler’s, and he was an enemy of early mornings.

He hit ‘dial’ before he could think twice and touched the speaker phone, so he could throw on a shirt at the same time.

“You had about two minutes before I called Search and Rescue,” she said, amusement coloring her tone.

Bucky huffed, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “I overslept–”

“Let’s try again tomorrow?”

“I’ll be fifteen minutes, doll–”

“Bucky, it’s already eleven-fifteen. I gotta go.”

“Wha–you said you were free.”

“I was free. At nine,” she said gently. “I can give you a few hours tomorrow morning.”

Bucky sighed. He was in the wrong–he knew that. Over two hours late, of course she had something else to do! Oh–

“Your thesis.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Among other things. Are you okay?”

Bucky ignored the question, to which he did not have a sufficient answer. “Do–uh–you need me to look it over?”

“...I’m meeting up with Wilson for final edits.”

He sat down slowly on the bed, with his buttons askew and one side of his hair attempting to stand straight up. “Oh. Good. He’ll set you up for success, no doubt. Glad you took my advice.”

“I usually do,” she chuckled.

“Don’t let him trap you in a lecture about cult fantasy authors from the 1960s, or his career playing college football. Trust me.”

“...you’re serious?”

“Deadly. Sam ‘the Falcon’ Wilson will hold you hostage talking about the differences between wizards and sorcerers.”

“Noted. Hey, have you called Mike, yet?”

“No. I don’t–ah. No.”

“I won’t push. When you get here, I didn’t touch any of your files. I wasn’t sure if that was a breach of confidentiality.”

Bucky groaned. “...you are not standing inside my office right now.”

“The cleaner let me in. Bill likes me. I tutored his granddaughter last semester. I hope you don’t mind wine boxes, that was what Mike had to offer. They’re sturdy at least–”

“Doll… I’m so sorry.”

Her laugh bloomed in his left breast, cushioning his heart from slamming against his ribs in self-flagellation. “Hey. I’ll put it on your tab.”

“I’ll be there at nine tomorrow, I swear.”

“Let’s make it eleven, you bring the cold brew.”

“Eleven it is.”

“Oh–if you’re not busy tonight. I’m having a thing. Well, Mike’s throwing me a thing–I won’t let him call it a party. To celebrate me being done with my Master’s. It’ll be low-key.”

“You know I’m not busy,” he said.

“Then I guess I want you to come. Eight thirty?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Mmkay. I gotta go. I don’t know how one man owns so many copies of Our Town, but they’re safely packed away.”

Bucky carded a hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

“Pssh. I’ll see you tonight.”

“If I’m up to it.”

“Call me cautiously optimistic.”

She hung up without any ceremony, leaving Bucky to stare at his phone on the dresser in defeat. Not only had she waited for him, she had asked someone to let her in–and then took it upon herself to start packing up his books, as if she had any inkling about how he wanted them organized. Who was he kidding–she probably had a better idea than he did. Nevertheless, the shame curled around his ankles like weights.

It had been three days since he asked to kiss her.

Of all the sensations from their fleeting night together, he couldn’t remember what her lips felt like, and it seemed like something he might never know again. She had wanted to kiss him back, but she didn’t trust that it wasn’t the whiskey talking. I still want to kiss you seemed like a contrived message to send via text, and calling her just to say ‘about that–kissing still sounds great, if you could just pencil me in’ was just about the most mortifying idea he could think of. So he kept that admission on the tip of his tongue. In-person delivery was the only acceptable option. People don’t write about kissing, much, he thought. The yearning for it, yes, but not the act itself. Maybe with good reason.

Imagine typing out such a thing with his thumbs on the world’s tiniest keypad: I want to memorize what your lips feel like with mine. No tongues need even be involved. Just touching. And if we could do it three or four hundred times, that might be enough to start.

His phone buzzed.

PL: Stop overthinking.

Oh, sure. It was that simple. Just stop–easy.

Trouble was, his organs all seemed to be functioning on the same train tracks, for better or for worse, and his brain was that pesky third rail. Deadly for sanity, electrified… all because his heartlines couldn’t stop thrumming her name. Her telling him not to overthink was like lightning telling thunder not to crash. I’m not me without you.

He let out a slow breath. Bucky hadn’t been in that much danger–of losing himself, going under–since he was a skinny twerp in too-big fatigues, far from home. And where had that gotten him?

PL: If you don’t text back, I'll call you again.

Bucky snorted. ‘You’re not the boss of me,’ he replied, imagining her wrinkled nose when she read it.

PL: I'm not keeping score, you know. PL: There won't be a test.

‘what if I am?’

PL: How am I doing prof?

‘at annoying me? top marks’

PL: There he is.

‘i am really sorry about this morning,’ he sent.

PL: One of these days you’ll stop punishing yourself for being human. ❤️

The audacity of that little heart…

He didn’t go to the office, no. He laid back on his bed and let that sweet emoji run circles between his ears.

“What do you think?” she asked as Professor Wilson flipped over the last page of her gargantuan thesis. Wilson sat back in his chair and shook his head.

“I still think it could be about ten pages shorter.”

“You sound like Barnes,” she snorted. “You’re lucky. He probably read a hundred bad poems before we got here.”

“Must be stressful finishing without his insight,” Sam said. His sincerity hit her square in the chest.

“Nah, it’s my fault,” she murmured. It was stressful, but less so for her than for the man in question.

“What is?”

“Putting revision off to the last minute.”

“Girl, your advisor did not quit because you were procrastinating. I’m sure his reasons were his own.”

She smiled. “No, I know. Still feel like it’s my fault a little bit. Can’t help it. Anyway. Here are my acknowledgements, and the Table of Contents. I’ll revise it if you think it really needs it, but I think this order makes the most sense.” Y/n produced a small stack of papers from her binder and slid them across the table.

Sam took them, but he gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay to be annoyed with him. Heaven knows I am, between you, me, and the wall.”

“Hmm. You talk to him at all?” She tried not to sound eager–she could talk to him, she had his phone number, but being stood up to help him that morning had rankled enough that she packed all of his books spine-down so he wouldn’t be able to see what was what when he reopened the boxes again. It wasn’t felonious retaliation, but it would make him sigh and roll his eyes… and send her a grumpy text.

“Have you?” Sam muttered.

Her face fell out of the unwitting smile which pulled at her cheeks as she pondered annoying her former mentor. She bit her lip guiltily and shook her head.

“Hmm.”

“Wilson–” Y/n stopped. She hazarded a glance at the professor who had so graciously agreed to help her with one of the most important projects of her life at the last minute, and found him studying her with narrowed eyes. “Thank you. Really. I, uh. Sorta thought I was on my own with this thing.”

“Believe it or not, I thrive under pressure. Unlike my pal Barnes.” Sam sat back with her list of acknowledgments but it was clear he wasn’t reading it as much as he was analyzing her.

“It wasn’t that, for him. I don’t think. Pressure.” She shrugged. “He just doesn’t ever think about what he wants, and when he finally did… teaching wasn’t it.”

“Maybe so.”

“He’ll figure something out. A mind like his can’t be idle for long.”

“Right. Sure we’re talking about the same guy?” Sam asked. They shared a little laugh at the expense of Professor Barnes, though neither of them thought the least bit ill of him.

“You work with somebody long enough and you see a side of them that they don’t even know, themselves,” Y/n said. “He’s got a purple heart, but he doesn’t talk about it. His classes are full within minutes of enrollment opening. And he never makes somebody feel like shit just because he doesn’t like their work, like–do you know how many of these he hates? But they’re my work so he doesn’t talk about them like my feelings don’t matter. He critiques the form, or the word choice. But not me, not the heart of it. You can’t know how much that makes a person grow when somebody believes in their work like that. I’m not–I don’t blame him for quitting, I just wish I could bottle that time we had.”

Her cheeks warmed when Sam remained silent, but he cast his focus onto the papers in his hands, and didn’t press her to go on. Which was for the best because she probably could’ve gone on all day about how special Bucky Barnes was to her. How beautiful he made her feel without ever telling her that she was, because his hands once hovered around her face like a makeshift halo. And Sam was the one who’d monologue? She wondered what Bucky would say if he knew how intensely she ached every minute they were apart.

And what she would do if he showed up at Howler’s again, on second invitation. She needed him close, to surround herself in whatever the expansive knowingness was which bloomed whenever he was in proximity. To smell cedar and sandalwood and know it was because he stood nearby. In arm’s reach. Maybe reaching back, if she was lucky.

Yes, she was sad he had resigned because working with him had changed her life, but… she didn’t want Bucky because he was a good professor. His intuition and wit fit with hers like two halves of a wishbone. Bucky quitting was not their breaking point. It was the wish which would allow him to be more to her than a dream, than her muse.

She had written more intensely about love since meeting him than she could have fathomed possible, and watched that image shift from childish butterflies to a steady flame. She wasn’t sure if she loved him, but she could. If he let her.

Consequences be damned.

She watched Professor Wilson shuffle her papers together in the right order to finalize the body of work she had amassed over two years as a fellow of the program, and she was hit with a stunning realization:

If I have to give this up to have him… I’ll do it. Two years of work? No price at all. It was an investment in someone who gave words new meaning. Words like ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you.’

It made her palms itch to rip her phone out of her pocket and call him right at that moment–I want you, I don’t care what happens!--but she wanted to give him a choice. She wanted to see him make it. Hopefully tonight.

“I don’t even like poetry, but this is incredible,” Sam said finally. “You should be really proud of yourself. I’m sure Barnes is.”

“I know he is,” she murmured. “Hey, I’m having a celebration thing at Howler’s in Bed-Stuy tonight if you and your lady-friend wanna come!”

Sam chuckled. “We could be convinced. Who’s going?”

“I dunno, really. Whoever I ask. It’s my cousin’s idea, he owns the place. I don’t know a ton of people.”

“You say the word and I’ll have my senior lit TA’s all over that bar. Nobody likes to drink like overworked undergrads with Senioritis.”

“Sure,” she smiled. “I’m game.”

“What time?”

“Eight-thirty? Barnes might be there, actually. So.”

“If my man shows up to a bar, that would be a miracle,” Sam scoffed. “That’s a homebody if I ever seen one.”

“He might surprise you!”

“When pig’s fly. Do you wanna do anything else to this before we seal it? Or are we calling your thesis done-zo?”

“Done-zo? Why did I ask you to help, again?”

“For that, you’re over!” Sam slid the finished manuscript into the padded envelope, which he had pre-addressed to the company who binds all theses for the university. “There! You make fun of me, you get no more edits.”

“...did we put my name on it?” Y/n asked in mock seriousness. Sam glared at her.

“Get out of here, you! I will see you at eight thirty sharp with a beautiful woman on my arm! And no sooner.”

“Okay, okay!” She stood up, but Sam stopped her with a hand extended. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed. “Thanks,” Y/n breathed.

“Welcome.” Sam waved her out the door, and she practically skipped down the hall… past the office which used to belong to Professor Barnes. Her fingertips brushed the plaque bearing his name as she silently thanked him for helping her get there.

Someday soon, she’d be able to hand him a bound copy of the legacy they made, together.

Mike had been almost relieved to get Bucky’s call, enquiring after the barback position. Bucky had stopped by to pick up his shirt early that afternoon, and so Mike could give him some official-looking papers to sign, and take a photograph of Bucky’s ID with his cell phone. Standing outside the bar on the small patio (smoking an anxious cigarette) was the perfect opportunity to question why he had sought out this job, why he ever thought it was a good idea.

But he had to be okay with life not being quite so cut-and-dry for a while. He was bad at spontaneity. Going with the flow was not his forte. Practice would certainly help… in theory.

And she was inside. He had already spied her through the window on approach and developed an instant arrhythmia at the thought of seeing her again.

Is this what addiction feels like? he wondered, as he took another hit of the lesser drug. He could probably stop smoking in a weekend.

“If it isn’t Mr. Free Agent!” Sam Wilson came out of the bar through the side door.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asked as his friend joyfully shook his hand.

“Didn’t you hear? My mentee finished her thesis today. Submitted and everything.”

Bucky looked down at the ash he flicked from his cigarette. Sam’s mentee. “Right,” Bucky breathed.

“I gotta ask you a frank question. I think I already know the answer but I’m curious what you’re going to say.”

“Shoot.”

Sam made certain there was no one within hearing distance and then leaned close. “Did you sleep with her?”

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed, closing his eyes. He brought the cigarette to his lips, and he inhaled until his chest burned. At first, he didn’t look at Sam, but the other man held out a fresh beer. Bucky took it but Sam didn’t let go.

“You’re a stupid fucker, I’ll give you that,” Sam growled.

“Careful–”

“You have no idea the shit being thrown around the water cooler about why you quit, professor.” Sam pushed Bucky back further into the shadows as a flock of co-eds filed out of the bar. “You showing up here is only gonna fuel the fire. Do you know how many of your former students are in there sipping Old Fashioneds? Are you prepared for the firestorm of questions about to come your way?”

“...Are you finished?”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I’m done.”

Bucky undid the zipper on his coat and held open the placate. “You’re looking at Howler’s new barback. And yes–I am aware how stupid I am, thank you. Which is why I quit.” Bucky ground the remnant of his cigarette beneath his boot. “And thank you so much for your concern.”

“Man, I–shit.” Sam rubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky shook his head as if to say forget it. He and Sam shared a look of regret, which cooled Bucky’s mortification. But Sam leaned against the brick wall, sipping his beer. Waiting. Bucky mirrored his posture, and handed Sam back the unopened can, however tempting it was to chug the drink before throwing himself into the lion’s den.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Bucky said, with a heavy shrug. “I didn’t have a drop of alcohol in me. I just–for once, I listened when the idiot–” he tapped his temple– “had a wild impulse.”

“Ah.” Sam drank deeply.

“Yeah. And it was the best night of my fucking life.”

“...so you quit.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“You love her?”

“What does that even mean?” Bucky asked.

“You’re the poetry guy.” Sam finished his beer and crushed his can against the brick. “For what it’s worth, her thesis is brilliant.”

“I know.”

“Wait until you see the bound version. I sent it off to the printer this afternoon. It’s a beast. Even the acknowledgements are beautiful.”

“Good. God–you should’ve seen her symposium, Sam.” Buck scratched his chin. “Two hundred people… dead silent while she read. Never been so proud in my goddamn life.”

Sam whistled, low and slow. “Sure sounds like love.”

“She packed my office today, before she saw you,” Bucky sighed. “She suggested this job, and she invited me here. She doesn’t know that I got hired though, so.”

“You were gonna surprise her.”

“I dunno, man. I’m trying to just… do things that feel good. Somehow, she has aligned with that. And I’m scared out of my mind, but she’s clever, so I figure if it’s her idea…” Bucky trailed off. “If anyone asks, just tell ‘em I had a quarter life crisis, and all i've ever dreamed of is sweeping up broken glass in a whiskey bar.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re gonna be late, mister barback.” Bucky saluted and turned down the alley to make his way to the front entrance. “Buck–”

“Hmm?”

“If this is you stupid… I hope you’re happy. You’ve been a miserable bastard.”

Bucky smiled. “We’ll see.”

He tucked his chin when the bell on the door tinkled; it was just as busy as it had been the first time he came, and he felt several sets of eyes settle on him, but he just pushed through the crowd until Mike caught sight of him, motioning for him to go through the kitchen door. Bucky stepped to the side to allow someone past him, but–

“You’re two-for-two, Barnes.” If she hadn’t grabbed his elbow, her words would’ve been enough to freeze him in place.

Bucky couldn’t help the smirk which pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he looked up at her–the woman of the hour. “Yeah.” She was beautiful, but that word failed to portray just how radiant she really was, especially with a look of happy surprise.

“You came.” She slid her hand down his forearm, but she didn’t link their fingers like he wanted her to. “Dare I hope you did it for me?”

He straightened and gently shook his sleeve from her grasp. He presented his new shirt. “I do have bills to pay,” he murmured. “I’m late, though.”

“Oh my god. You’re just full of surprises.”

“Call it a new leaf,” he said softly.

“Talk later?”

Bucky chuckled. “Tomorrow, remember?” Of their own volition, his fingers brushed her chin, and he ducked behind her. The moment he was on the other side of the kitchen door, Bucky sighed heavily… happily. Her expression had betrayed some kind of pride. If he had just shown up for her little gathering, he was sure she would be pleased, but this brought another reaction, one he hadn’t anticipated.

“You good, brother?” Mike stuck his head back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, sorry. Where can I throw this?” Bucky shucked off his coat.

“Hooks behind the door. Hey, uh–it’s a bit of a mad house right now, so can you help me 86 empties from the tables? Don’t take orders, just send ‘em to the bar. Take a rag with you. Any tips left on the table go into the jar behind the bar, anything handed directly to you is yours. Questions?”

Bucky blinked. “Where do empties go?”

“Glasses in the sink, bottles and cans in that recycle bin. If you think you can handle washing glasses and pressing ‘start’ on the dishwasher, you can attempt to tackle dishes.”

“I can handle that.”

“Oh, uh… you’re gonna get hit on. Comes with the territory. Don’t care if you flirt back, but don’t be a creep, and don’t fuck anyone on-property.”

“I’m not much of a flirt, but noted.”

“So I hear,” Mike chuckled, but he shrugged when Bucky’s eyes widened. “My cousin likes you. And that’s rare, so. I figure you’re a decent dude.”

“Rare how?” Bucky pressed, even as he fished a clean rag from a bin labeled FRESH in red marker.

“I don’t know, man. You should ask her. I got a line forming–you good to stay until bar close?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I hope you don’t live too far. Hard to catch a cab at two am.”

Mike disappeared again into the belly of the busy bar, and Bucky winced. Fuck. By the time they cleaned up and he got himself home, he’d only catch a few hours of shut eye before he had to be up again if he was going to make it to the coffee shop before his rescheduled packing date. What the hell, right? Either way he would’ve stayed up late–the insomnia had been stretching the limits of exhaustion for months, now, and at least she was out there. He had something to prove. He was rare. Rare sort of guys had to earn the designation, and if that was going to be the gig which kept the lights on, he had to make the most of it.

Bucky slung the rag over his shoulder and tugged at his shirt sleeve. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually showed his scars in public. Heck, he rarely walked around without them covered at home, but the bar was way too hot to wear the flannel he had brought over the top, and… well, it was dark, and probably nobody would notice.

“Hey, newbie–” Mike called through the doorway– “can you grab the broom and dustpan? Broken glass near the door.”

“On it!” Bucky looked around the cramped kitchen until he located the scraggly broom with mangled bristles, and hastened out through the crowd to find the spill.

The night progressed with much the same level of chaos; it turned out that a fair number of the patrons were in fact his former students, most of whom had been wrangled there by Sam. None of them knew the guest of honor very well, but his–the woman Bucky very much wanted to be His Girl, that is–mentee mingled through the room with ease. He envied the way she could open herself up to new people, as if they didn’t have one hand behind their back with a hungry knife. Bucky didn’t have any idea what that felt like. To him, new acquaintances were unwelcome unless they had no ulterior motives. Mike seemed alright, but Bucky couldn’t imagine himself becoming close to a guy who owned a whiskey bar–

“Think I could get a refill?” Bucky shrugged off a handsy woman and pointed at the bartender.

“Gotta ask him.”

“Ugh. But you’re right here!” she huffed.

“Candace–it’s not his job. Walk to the bar like a big girl.” Sam appeared at Bucky’s side and gave the woman a knowing look. She rolled her eyes and pushed off the hightop which she had been using to stay aloft.

“Whatever Wilson.” She flipped Sam off, but then a mischievous smile pulled at the corners of her eyes. Sam sighed dramatically and held out his hand for her empty glass.

“The things I’m willing to do for a pretty face,” he mock-whispered to Bucky.

“You never do things for me,” Bucky snorted. Sam narrowed his eyes.

“My suddenly heavier class load disagrees, bud.” Sam nudged him with his elbow. “Your naïveté is cute though, I’ll give you that. Want the same thing, ma’am?”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Candace stroked a finger down the buttons of Sam’s shirt, and the professor winked at her. Bucky put Candace on the list of things to bring up to Sam, along with just how much he had taken onto his plate with Bucky gone, but… that was for later. He followed Sam towards the bar, snagging bottles along the way, only to catch a startled look from Mike. He nodded over Bucky’s shoulder, and held out both hands to receive the empties. Bucky handed them over and whirled around, only to see a huge guy looming over one of his former students. Natalie? Natasha–someone else beat him there, and Bucky’s heart dropped into his feet.

He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he knew that sudden hand-on-hip posture meant Y/n had inserted herself. The man straightened and Bucky launched forward at the same time. He had a lot of people to push through to get to her, all the while watching the man’s face twist in anger.

“--I’ll give you five seconds to get the fuck out of here,” Bucky’s girl growled, just as he reached her side. The moment he realized that the attention of the bar was turning on him, the disruptor turned on his heel and left.

Natasha reached out for Y/n. She was mortified by the attention, even if she was relieved to be rid of the man. Y/n made eye contact with Bucky. Her face lit up. Water? she mouthed. He held up a thumb. Bucky jogged back to the bar, through the crowd which was happy to part for the hustling barback. Without needing to be asked, Mike handed him one water… and an Old Fashioned.

“Thought I wasn’t serving,” Bucky snorted.

“Wouldn’t deny my cousin her drink, would ya?”

No. No, he wouldn’t.

Bucky returned to the table where Natasha and Y/n sat, now surrounded by a passel of concerned women. He silently delivered the water to Natasha, and slid the cocktail in front of Y/n… much to the delight of several women–blessedly none of whom were his former students.

“What a gentleman!” a woman with bright pink lipstick cooed. “I bet you gotta girl who swoons over you.”

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, deliberately avoiding eye contact with his girl at all costs.

“Awe, he’s shy!” Another woman said, in a tone which made Bucky bristle.

“You got somebody, honey?” The first woman wrapped her fingers around his left elbow. Bucky flinched, but she didn’t seem to notice. For reasons he couldn’t conjure, Bucky couldn’t force himself to move. He was frozen, like a deer in headlights, under the scrutiny of women old enough to be his mother.

“Leave the poor guy alone,” Y/n said lightly.

“It’s okay,” Bucky coughed. “I do have a girl, ma’am.” Then, he looked up. Y/n could mask her surprised expression. “I don’t know if she swoons, but she sure knows how to bust some balls. I like that about her.”

“Oh, she’s a broad!” one of the women exclaimed, as if that were the highest compliment on this side of the Hudson.

“Is she pretty?”

Bucky scoffed. “Prettiest girl you ever saw.”

The women giggled, including Natasha, who seemed quite relieved to no longer be the center of attention.

“How long you been together?” This time, it was Sam who spoke, and all the blood fled from Bucky’s cheeks. His friend clapped him on the shoulder, effectively trapping him into giving an answer.

“It’s new. I’m trying my best not to fuck it up. Almost did.” He scratched his chin and looked over his shoulder in the hope that Mike would throw him a Hail-Mary–but the bartender just shook his head with a big grin.

“Bring her flowers! My Stan knows that a good apology comes with flowers. It’s a garnish.”

“Huh,” Bucky said. “I don’t know if she’s a flower kinda girl.”

“Pssh. All women are. If you don’t know what she likes, then bring her something small. It’s the effort.”

“Good to know. I gotta get back to work, but uh–thank you, ladies.” He backed out of the small circle, and out of Sam’s teasing grip, but not before he caught Y/n taking a sip from her cocktail. She smiled softly, as if she had greatly enjoyed watching him get grilled by all those gathered. As he turned away, he saw her pull her cell phone from her pocket. A moment later, his back pocket buzzed.

PL: so you got a girl, huh

‘I'm so sorry, it just came out’

PL: you’re cute when you’re flustered. PL: sunflowers are my favorite.

Bucky looked over his shoulder once he was safely concealed in the doorway of the kitchen. Over the heads of rowdy bar patrons, the girl who liked sunflowers smiled at him. Then, she turned back to Natasha, who she had defended from a big creep, and Bucky was overcome with a feeling of pride in her.

It was strange… to feel young and embarrassed, and like the only worries in his life were answering invasive questions from nosy women.

Y/n waited him out until bar close; she nursed a few old fashioneds, while her new acquaintances got progressively drunker, and she dutifully helped pair people up for shared taxis back to campus. Sam departed without much pomp, but with the woman named Candace. For Bucky’s part, he got the hang of running empties back to the kitchen, and putting glasses through the dishwasher, and he thought that he might actually have fun with this job… even if it wasn’t intellectually stimulating. It still forced him to quiet his mind. He couldn’t worry about things outside of his control when he had spills to clean and bathrooms to restock with paper towels.

When the front door locked under Mike’s thumb, Bucky sat at the bar beside a woman who looked exhausted… but happy. She traced over the mottled scar, which peeked out from under his left sleeve, as if revering his skin. With a familiarity which wasn’t forced. Bucky put his shoe up on the footrest of her stool, and their knees pressed against one other. Mike drew no attention to the special privileges granted to his cousin, or to the obvious affection between the two of them. He merely handed Bucky his share of the tips, and then shooed them both out the door.

Once they were outside in the cool evening, Bucky put his hands in his coat pockets. Y/n curled her fingers around his elbow.

“Help me catch a cab?” she whispered, leaning closer to him when a chilly breeze swept down the street.

“I’ll take you home,” he said quickly. “I drove. Didn’t know how late I'd be here.”

She dipped her head so her laugh at his eagerness wouldn’t appear at his expense, but Bucky nudged his shoulder against hers. She peered at him through exhausted eyelids, but she nodded. “I know better than to argue.”

“I’m not sending you home with a serial killer,” Bucky said. He meant it sincerely, but it only made her laugh harder–a sweet, sleepy giggle.

“I already said yes.” She thumbed over her shoulder as if to ask where he had parked. Bucky nodded in the direction of his car (he had lucked out catching a spot just a few blocks away, so he wasn’t far.

They walked slowly. She hummed a bit. Bucky pressed his hand over hers at his elbow. Eventually, she hooked her fingertips with his.

“Mike said something I’ve been wonderin’ about,” he said, as they waited out a turning cab on the corner.

“Shoot.”

“He said it’s rare. For you to talk about anybody to him.”

“Oh boy, he’s giving away all my secrets,” she breathed. “Yeah. It’s true. You gotta be pretty great for me to tell Mike.”

“You told him about me.”

She shrugged. “Everything.”

Bucky switched their postures for the remainder of the walk so his arm was around her shoulders. She sidled her own arm under his jacket, to warm the small of his back. Every once in a while, he brushed his nose against her temple.

The car ride was shorter than Bucky hoped–just fifteen minutes on fairly deserted streets. For once, he wished traffic was bumper-to-bumper, so he had an excuse to sit beside her while the street lights bathed her in a golden glow every thirty feet. But she held his hand over the console, and that was consolation enough.

She directed him to her apartment building, and Bucky pulled up beside the curb. He sat back against his chair. She just watched him. He raised a brow.

“What?”

Y/n shook her head. “Sort of wanna kiss you, but I’ve been drinking. You know how I feel about that.”

Bucky held her hand up to his mouth to cover a grin. “How’d it go with Sam today?”

“Wasn’t much to do. Just choose the final poems and put them in an order which made sense for my thesis.”

“He said it’s a beast.”

She laughed. “Yep. I refused to cut anything.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Bucky studied her face. “I uh. ‘M glad you were there tonight.”

“You were nervous.”

He shrugged. “What the hell do I know about being a barback? Nah. I just… forgot how good it feels to be in a room full of people, doubting myself, only to catch you smilin’ at me.”

She groaned. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, you better cut that out.”

“I mean it, doll. You make me brave. Don’t know why.”

Y/n brushed his jaw with her free hand. “Do you wanna know how many people talked about you tonight?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fuckin’ rumors–”

“No, not like that! Just… how cool it was to see you relaxed.”

“I guess I was.”

“And who this mysterious girl is.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Fuck, I really didn’t handle that well.”

“You were fine. And if people assume, then so what? I’m almost outta there–”

Bucky turned in his chair so he could better look at her. “I was serious about the Dean finding out, doll. Or the board. I–shit. Should’ve dropped you off around the corner–”

“Ooookay. Listen–we’re consenting adults. Yeah? And unless you kiss me in public, it’s all just rumor. I can take a little talk. Besides… it’s not like you’ve asked me to be your girl. You just… hold my hand academically.” She squeezed his hand, which at least warranted a small smile from him.

“Once you’ve graduated,” he whispered.

“Then you’ll ask me?”

Bucky sighed. “Then I’ll stop looking over my shoulder for Stark, and worrying about kissing you–”

She cupped his jaw with both hands and silenced him with thumbs over his lips, so that she could press her own close without giving in to the joy of a real kiss. He felt her huff of frustration not to kiss him for real, and the rub of her thumbs over his bottom lip.

“A kiss is not a commitment,” she said lightly. “What if we just make that how we say goodbye and hello, and that’s all it has to be?”

Bucky folded forward, engulfing her in a tight hug. She turned her nose into his neck, and sighed. He fought the words he wanted to say–because he needed her to hear them, but more than that, he needed to actually say the thing he meant to for once in his life.

“Trouble is: that isn’t enough,” he mumbled into her temple. “Not when it’s you.”

“Bucky…” she breathed.

“I’m tired of doing the right thing. You told me to do something for myself–so here I am.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, memorizing the texture of her sweater. “I want to kiss you. And when invasive old ladies ask me if I’ve got a gal, I want to point across the table at you. I’m scared shitless. I’m–shit. It doesn’t matter.”

“God, Barnes…” She paused enough to push back, so she could brace her hands on his chest and look him in the eye. “You are so hard on yourself.”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “I’m acutely aware.”

“So, you’re fighting yourself because of Dean Stark? The guy who wears gold goggles for sunglasses?” she giggled. “No–hush. Maybe you’re worth taking the risk for. Huh?”

Bucky straightened, determination thrumming through his body. “Tomorrow.”

“What about it?” She couldn’t stifle a delighted grin.

“I’m gonna kiss you. And it’s going to mean something.”

“Don’t have to convince me, Buck.” She peeked at the time on her phone and winced. “We should be asleep. We have somewhere to be in the morning.”

“Eleven,” he confirmed.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” She patted his cheek, and slid out of the car before he could break his own promise to wait on that meaningful kiss. Bucky pressed the button to roll down the passenger window. He leaned over the seat.

“Hey!” he called. Y/n turned back to him with raised brows.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get kissed tomorrow.”

“Consider me warned,” she laughed. “Oh!” Y/n fished something out of her bag and jogged back over to the car. She held out her hand to him, with a folded up paper. “This is the only one I didn’t put in. It was ‘too indulgent’, according to Wilson. So.”

She winked, and unlocked her building door. The last thing he saw before it shut again was her fingers waving him off.

He unfolded the note–a poem, of course.

switching hour there was never a lonelier hour than three never a bleaker time never so uneasy a body and yet there never was a falser stretch where intrusive thoughts feel like gospel than three to sunrise.

Indulgent, maybe. Certainly nothing like her other pieces, which focused so much on her inner life, but… it was still special. He could remember the origin clearly–a conversation about a series of hers, based around who she was in the morning vs. the night. He had said to her–early mornings are bleak–something so simple, and watched her eyes sparkle with an idea.

He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. 3:18 am. Hmm. For once… she was wrong. This 3 am had been a turning point.

Bucky drove home in a daze. Alpine mewled at him indignantly when he nudged her off his pillow. He fell asleep, and he didn’t dream. What could his mind make up which was better than reality?

Morning came quickly. Bucky was delirious in his determination, but he managed to stumble into the shower and acceptable clothes, and feed the other woman in his life in her little dish before dashing out to meet her.

He swung open the office door, and there she was. Y/n sat in his leather desk chair, looking out the window across the quad, but she swiveled towards him when she heard the latch slide in the lock.

Bucky had spent years of his life chasing one good rush, and he had never found anything close. Until her. Looking at her then was like watching every failed happiness in his life fall away. He was sleep-deprived, and the cold brew cups sweated in his hands, and he had barely run a comb through his hair, but Bucky still felt like everything was perfect in that moment… especially with a small bouquet of sunflowers tucked under his elbow. He nudged the door shut with the sole of his sneaker. He set the coffee on the desk. Neither of them spoke.

He knelt beside the chair, and handed her the sunflowers. The tissue crinkled as she accepted them. She placed her hand on her forehead in a mock swoon.

One kiss brought her hand to his lips, and then those blessed fingers slid into his hair so she could fully lean forward. She kissed him on the mouth, soft like a whisper. Bucky raised up on his knees to cash in a third, and she hummed–she moaned. He knew very little in the grand scheme of things, but it was certain that he wanted her. He didn’t know if he deserved her, but that seemed to be irrelevant because their lips fit. And her fingers wound into his hair, scrubbed at his scalp, tugged him back to her the moment he seemed in danger of stopping.

As such, neither of them heard the knock, or the door opening, until heavy knuckles rapped on the doorframe. Y/n pulled away from Bucky with a start, fingers clasped over her lips, while Bucky cleared his throat.

He looked up into the face of Dean Stark.

Part 3

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