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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

Sidewalk Chalk

Pairing: Basketball Player! Yoongi x reader (non-idol! au, childhood friends to lovers! au)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Summary: As a child you had always loved to play in the park. Loud and obnoxious you made an array of friends, but you soon discovered that the lonely boy sitting on a swing on the playground is much more fun to draw with. Bonding over chalk drawings in the heat of the summer, little did you know that he would become your rock for many summers to follow.

Word count: 9k

rating : g

A/N: This is square 7/25 for the @bangtanwritingbingo (Square: Chalk Drawings). Thank you @min-yoon-kween and @sunshinejunghoseokie for trying even when the house was burning i appreciate you guys so much. I am also really grateful to my best friend who told me off for my general writing mistakes and for keeping me together.

A massive massive massive thank you to the amazing @ttaetae for her amazing skills of pulling a crappy banner i made and making it a masterpiece. You have saved me!

I have not written so much fluff, but it was needed after all the angst and all the angst that will follow after this.

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for the work

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

The sound of the birds chirping in the early hours of the morning, as you walked through the park, was the perfect soundtrack to your day. Smiling softly to yourself, you took a deep breath in, savouring the scent of the late summer blooms. Your feet carried you slowly towards your destination. You were in no rush. Today time was just a concept, and you would make the most of it. You caught yourself checking the clock multiple times before you left the house and decided that you would leave your watch at home. Today was your day. Nothing would ruin it, not even the rain forecast for later in the day. The sound of children laughing was a telltale sign that you were quickly approaching your destination. Excitedly you sped up only to stop abruptly. Under your foot lay the faded outlines of a chalk drawn hopscotch. Smiling brightly to yourself you looked carefully around you, your eyes taking in the scenery, there was no one in sight. Placing one foot on the starting line, you proceed to hop through the numbers laughing quietly to yourself. You were definitely over the age where that would be considered appropriate, but you did not care. Sidewalk chalk games have always been your favourite.

“I see you have found something more important than meeting your own boyfriend.” The voice startled you and with a yelp you stumbled right before your feet could touch the squares with the numbers 9 and 10 in it. Turning towards the source you pouted at the man standing in front of you. The wide smile and soft features were unmistakable and your pout quickly dissolved into a beaming grin. “Yoongi.” You laughed, your feet carrying you towards said man. As you approached him, your pace quickened before you broke out into a run jumping into his arms at the last minute.

“Y/N.” He grunted, the impact knocking the air out of him. His displeasure was not real though and once he gained his footing back his arms wrapped around you tightly. Looking down at him, your heart swelled with affection. His eyes were half closed, the bright smile taking over most of his face, his black hair long enough to brush over his pale complexion. He was handsome and he was all yours. Squeezing him in your arms again to gain his attention you pecked his cheek. “Hello.” He couldn’t help but laugh at your redundant greeting but nevertheless responded. “Hello love. Have a good morning?” The arms wrapped around your waist tightened, you realised he was still carrying you. Worried for his back you wriggled yourself to get him to let you go. His arms only tightened around you, not ready to let you out of his arms just yet.

“Yoongi.” You whined with a pout. “Let me go! Your back.” You patted his shoulder. He knew you were not actually angry at him, if the laughter lines at the corner of your eyes were any indication. “Just a bit longer love, I haven't seen you in so long.” Your pout lessened and you laughed at him, “it’s only been 2 days silly.” Despite your words your arms wrapped around his neck once more as you buried your head in the nape of his neck. Inhaling deeply you took in his warm scent, a smell that has become so familiar to you, it made you feel like coming home.

“Exactly,” he laughed, and you could imagine the sight of his gummy smile in your head. After so many years, the thought of it still makes your heart race. He was not very liberal with his smiles, but when he did share them with you, it was the most beautiful and uplifting sight. The intensity of it took your breath away. Suddenly you felt the world around you shift as he started spinning the two of you round. You screeched holding onto him as if your life depended on it. This was another uncharacteristic Yoongi behaviour, this playfulness only rearing its head few and far between. As a public figure he always had to be careful of his outward appearance and behaviour, his moves always calculated and thought of beforehand so as to avoid any potential scandals. However, with you he always let his guard down. The aloof Min Yoongi morphed into a child, ready to do anything you asked of him. Even if it was building a fort at 4am to cuddle under and listen to the sound of the rain pitter-pattering outside. “Yoongi stop!” You cried out, the colours of the trees around you morphing into one as dizziness started to set in. He did not stop until the echo of voices reached your ears, signalling the approach of a group of people. Putting you back on your feet, his hands lightly gripped your elbows making sure you did not fall over. Once he was sure you were firmly planted on the ground, his hands dropped to yours and with a silly grin he enclosed his palms over yours.

“Come on, we have company.” You chuckled, but followed him, his bigger strides keeping him a few steps ahead of you. The sight of his back brought back so many memories. Over the two decades you had been close, it had become a sight so intimate to you, that more often than not it appeared in your dreams as a refuge, your safe haven. The voices behind you could be heard coming closer, and Yoongi turned his head to glance over his shoulder. Wide eyed he glanced at you, a quiet signal. You needed to hurry up, and so with a giggle you picked up the pace, breaking into a small run trying to reach a place where it was just the two of you.

Hand in hand, your steps in sync, you walked down the empty path, enjoying the quietness of the early morning, the sun beating down on the pavement, eyes closed in contentment. You remembered the first time you felt this complete, the day when Yoongi finally asked you to be his girlfriend. As friends you always spent time together but as soon as you decided that the furtive glances and subtle hand touches were more than feelings of friendship, something in your relationship shifted. Your days meeting in the cafe were not about two friends catching up with each other anymore, instead, they could be considered a bud waiting to bloom, the bud of your romantic relationship. Your conversations were not as easy going anymore, still lighthearted, but this time, him and you were establishing the grounds of your affection. An affection which you would build on for however long you were meant to last. In your heart, you knew that you had always loved him, even before this significant shift in your connection.

“You are making that face.” His voice broke you out of your daydream. Brought back to the present, you narrowed your eyes at him in mock offense. “What is with my face? I thought you liked this face.” Sticking your tongue out at him, you started swinging your intertwined arms higher and higher in the air. Yoongi scoffed at your childishness, but he couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through him. You were beautiful, even when acting half your age, and he wouldn’t have chosen anyone else to fall in love with. Your loud disposition was what drew him to you in the first place. Or better yet, your loud disposition was the reason you barged into his life. The thought of your first meeting made him smile, his grip on your hand tightening. “See, now you are making a face.” Your rebuttal came quickly and he couldn’t help but laugh. As he looked at you, his laugh dissolved into a fond smile. “You always have to have the last word, don’t you?” Before you could think of a response, he pulled you to his side, his hand released yours, only to wrap his arm around your shoulders.

“I was just thinking.” He hummed, glancing at the sky, its brightness making him squint. He regretted not taking his pair of sunglasses from home, but before he could dwell on that thought a poke to his side brought his attention back to you. The sight that greeted him instantly slowed his pace to a stop, and he realised it was not you who poked him, but the pair of sunglasses that you were offering to him with a hopeful smile. “Knew you’d forget them so I kept a pair on me.” In that moment, the brightness of the sky couldn’t even compare with your smile, the latter becoming the sole reason his heart started doing somersaults in his chest. By instinct his hand went to check his back pocket, its weight becoming more and more apparent. He stopped himself before he could draw your attention. Instead, he took the glasses you offered him and placed them on the bridge of his nose, his face instantly relaxing.

With a grateful smile, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders once more. “What were you thinking about?” His eyes drank in the sight of your wistful smile, your eyes gazing off into the distance - the face he’s mentioned before, the face you made when you reminisced. He’s seen that expression multiple times when you’d both be sitting on your balcony, a glass of wine in your hands, your back leaning onto him, both covered in blankets. On those nights you would talk about anything and nothing at all. You would share amusing stories of your daily life, he would share his creative processes with you, sometimes you would play stupid games and sometimes, the sombre atmosphere left no room for entertainment. On those days, both of you would make sure to stay away from any alcohol until after you had gotten all your emotions out. Those nights you would cry for each other, your hearts intertwining along with the stars, your bodies moulding into one, until the stress and pain from the day would release its grip on your souls. He knew that look all too well, it meant that somewhere in your head, you were reliving a story, and so he waited patiently knowing very well he would hear it soon. After a few minutes of silence, the only sounds to be heard were the crunch of the gravel scattered on the pavement under your shoes, you turned towards him, a content smile on your face.

“Do you remember when we first met?” At your words he looked thoughtful for a second too long, before he responded with a cheeky grin. “You mean to say I should be able to remember the time when dinosaurs existed on this planet?” You huffed in aggravation before pushing into him slightly with your shoulder. “Honeyboy,” you warned playfully, “don’t make me stuff sand down your trousers.” He guffawed at the words he heard for the first time exactly twenty years ago. “As if you had enough courage to stick your hands in that mess.” His words should’ve annoyed you, as they did before, instead you beamed at him, the butterflies in your stomach causing a storm of emotions to burst inside of you. He did remember- that was his exact response to you at the time. The knowledge that not only did he have a vague idea of what you were talking about, but he also had a vivid recollection of the exact exchange that took place at the time made you dizzy.

Indeed, that summer day on the playground, twenty years ago, you threatened him with sand in his overalls if he refused to offer you his friendship. That thought would make you blush for years to come, but at the time, it was what instigated a beautiful friendship.

The children playing in the sand screeched and laughed, each trying to create a sand castle better than their friend’s. In the midst of it, you were the loudest of them all. Loud and obnoxious, you commanded the attention of the whole group, self proclaiming yourself the queen of all the sand castles, even though yours was the one that lacked the most. Yet, no one dared to question it, they went along with what you were telling them. The group of children surrounding you soon got bigger and bigger, as your loud disposition would attract the attention of all the newcomers.

“Come on, let's play at the monkey bars!” your pudgy finger pointed towards the abandoned steel poles. You had been eyeing them for a while, not because they posed an interest to you, you could care less about them. But the lonely boy leaning on one of the bars immediately commanded your attention. He was digging a stick in the soft ground at the base of the pole, and you have seen the look adorning his face before. It was the same look you would have when your parents would take you to their grown up things, it was boredom. And on a playground that was sacrilege to you. Without waiting for a response from your newly made friends you ran towards the bar, making sure to stop a few feet in front of the boy.

“Hello?” You called out to him your voice wavering for a second, wondering if it was smart to approach a stranger like that. But as soon his eyes lifted from the intricate designs his stick had managed to draw, your resolve steeled. He looked sad, lonely, and you would not let that happen. Approaching him with a determined gaze on your face you stopped a few breaths away from kicking him in the face with your knee. “Hey, do you wanna play with me?” You smiled at him, the lack of a front tooth making it look like a comical sight. The boy carried on staring at you, not uttering a word, so you tried to extend the invitation again, this time slower, assuming he did not understand you the first time. When he remained still for a few more seconds after which he returned to his masterpiece, your anger increased, and you stomped your foot on the ground.

“Hey, don’t make me stuff sand down your trousers!” You threatened, prepared to bend down to gather a handful of the said offender. The boy scoffed under his breath and you prepared to throw an insult back at him, but the sight of his smirk made you close your mouth quickly. “As if you have enough courage to stick your hands in that mess.” His stick motions to the still damp mound of sand by your feet to emphasize his words and as if to prove him wrong you bend down your hands sinking into the softness of the sand. Giving him a threatening look you dare him to continue mocking you. “Are you stupid?” His voice is harsh, but underneath all that your seven year old brain could detect the bravado. Faltering, you gave him a thoughtful look. “I will have you know i got a golden star at school the other day, so i’m not stupid!” You responded just as harshly. How dare he call you stupid? “If you don’t want to play with me just say, fine.” You stick up your nose in distaste, ready to leave the rude boy behind when he goes to stop you, the sound caught in his throat. Your eyes scrutinised him ready to give him a piece of your mind when you spot the leg that he is hiding behind himself, a thick cast around the ankle. Your eyes widen as realisation dawns over you. Of course, how could you have been so stupid and so brash. Your mother warned you to not rush head first into being judgemental and for the first time you understood what she meant. Embarrassed at your own behaviour you blush, your eyes darting around trying to find a distraction. When you spot the empty grey pavement a thought crosses your mind. You turn around quickly, throwing him a “wait for me” over your shoulder before you rush towards your mother.

Running back towards his dejected form, you could see the tension slip away when he spies you returning. Once again stopping short from kicking him you blush, the sudden courage you had earlier completely gone. Bashfully you extend your hand towards him, a pack of colourful chalk in your hands. Staring at it confusedly, he didn’t know what to do so instead he asked, “what is that?” he pointed towards it and you scoffed . “It’s chalk, now who is the one who is stupid?” He stared at it in awe before he shifted his attention towards you, “and what are you going to do with it?” You don’t respond to him, but instead you grab his arm, your fingers were clammy and could barely enclose over his forearm but with tremendous stubbornness you managed to get him standing upright. Not letting go of his hand you slowly encouraged him to take a few steps at a time until you both reached the strip of pavement you’ve spied earlier. You made it a point to not respond to the boy’s questions until you were both settled, your bums on the pavement and you’d pulled out two pieces of coloured chalk. One pink and one blue. He extended his hand to reach for the blue but you pulled it away tutting at him.

“Not this one stupid, this one.” You handed the pink one and he stared at it in distaste. “But pink is not for boys, pink is for girls.” He complained and extended his hand out for the blue chalk again. “Blue and pink are two colours. That is all. My mommy says you shouldn’t think inside a box, you should expand your….” You stopped, your face scrunched up in concentration. “Skyline…or something.” Dejected at not having remembered the word you took a deep breath in and carried on. “ Anyways, so it doesn’t matter if you are a girl or a boy.” The boy looked at you in awe, his eyes blinking repeatedly in fascination. “O-kay.” He’s quick to relent and soon enough, the outline of a house could be seen in pink chalk in front of him. The excited screams of children could be heard from across the playground and suddenly someone is yelling a name. “Y/N!” The boy looks confusedly around him, expecting a response from the crowd of children that took up his spot near the monkey bars. Instead, you looked up and waved at the person yelling the name. “Are you coming?” They waved you over and for a second the boy thought you’d get up and leave him, like most of the people have done when they’ve discovered he was not only shy but also a cripple for the time being. He could feel his heart drop at the thought, nevertheless, you glanced at him briefly before shaking your head. “Nah.” The group didn’t even bother calling for you a second time, their attention grabbed by the colourful metal bars awaiting them.

“Oh yes, my name is Y/N!” You suddenly turned towards your companion, your beaming smile uncovering your missing tooth once more. “What is yours?”

The boy looked wearily at you, the thought of you staying with him despite his handicap warming his soul. He throws you a small smile, his chocolate eyes scrunching slightly at the action and you swore that in that moment you felt enraptured. “Yoongi.” He didn’t say anything else, his attention back to his dream house. Sure, it may have been in chalk but he was determined to have that. Admiring his work, his eyes trailed towards your form and he could feel a tender smile bloom on his face. Yes, he was determined to have that.

“You were the biggest sap I have ever met.” Back to the present, you and him had managed to make your way through the trees, the winding path taking you further into the park. The sounds of the city seemed far away from you now, the only sounds surrounding you being the busy chirp of birds and the rustle of the leaves in the wind. Yoongi laughed and prepared to prove you wrong, but if he was honest with himself, you weren’t. Taking his lack of response as a win, you grinned cheekily at him. “Do you remember the time you wanted to convince me to climb a tree with you? Because you were told that fairies lived in that tree?” You spied the redness colouring his cheeks, the memory was a blessing and a curse for him. He did ask you to climb into the tree with you, but your memory of that event was not entirely correct. He had asked you, not because he heard that fairies lived in that tree, but because he heard that if you climbed in it with your crush, you’d end up spending the rest of your life together. He was twelve at the time, barely getting out of his prepubescent phase where girls were disgusting to him. He had the shock of his life when he managed to escape such beliefs, only to be smacked head on into it with his best friend. His best friend who went on adventures with him, his best friend who’d sit on the swings listening to his stories of pirates and of dragons - no princesses because they were gross. His best friend who happened to be you. Suddenly, his stories included princesses and princes who saved them from the dragon; most often than not, his plan to be a prince would backfire and he would end up being bossed around and turned into the princess who needed to be saved. He took it all, and played the part with starry eyes, because it was you who asked this of him. Any other person and he would have kicked them in the shin. But for you, for you he was willing to face the wrath of his parents for being out late at night, he was willing to skip basketball practice, only to spend a few more hours with you.

“Correction love, I was made into biggest sap possible.” He narrowed his eyes at you behind his glasses, “who decided that being emo was the way to go, prepared to get your ears pierced and god knows how many tattoos, even though you are terrified of needles?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory, the exact conversation that you two had with each other, still ingrained in your brain. It was the first time he had admitted to feeling anything more than platonic love towards you.

You were both perched on top of your bed, your knees drawn to your chest, his, crossed at the ankles, his eyes pierced yours in the fiercest of stares and you drew your legs closer to yourself in an attempt to ward yourself from his stare. It was one of the first few times you had witnessed Yoongi this upset, and it scared you. Only because you had dared mentioning the tattoo you were planning to get, excitedly you even drew a design for it. Yoongi’s reaction was not what you’d expected. to be honest, you didn't even know what he would say, his emotions and mood swings could be extremely volatile- but it was definitely not this. “Yooooongiiiii,” you whined, his stare made you more uncomfortable as time passed and no word was exchanged between the two of you. His only response was a huff, but in your eyes that was better than the silence he’s been offering you for the past half an hour. “Look, it is not that big of a deal, I get this and then I will stop, I promise.” You pleaded, your eyes getting wider and wider, in your signature baby face. A face that Yoongi knew he could not win against, but this time, he would try his hardest. Seeing that your efforts yielded no results you sighed, the sadness that you’d tried to contain taking over you. Attuned to you and your moods more than he’d like to admit, Yoongi noticed the shift in your emotions straight away, and he shifted closer to you on the bed with a worried look. Neither of you uttered a word, the traffic outside your window being the only sounds that penetrated through the walls of your bedroom.

“Look,” you finally broke the silence, the angst in your sixteen year old heart too much to contain. “I just want to prove myself to him, okay?” Sensing Yoongi’s body weight shift on the bed, you hurriedly continued, “-and I know what you will say, I don’t need to right? But, you don’t know what it’s like. I have had this crush for so long now, it hurts physically.” Your voice broke and along with it so did Yoongi’s heart. He had tried his best to support you in all your endeavours, including your romantic ones, and yet, the older he got, the harder it was for him to dampen his own. “I do know.” He muttered and your head snapped up to look at him, he was facing away from you, a dusty rosy pink colouring his cheeks.

“What?” You whispered, your brain trying to recall if at any point Yoongi has expressed his interest in any girl, or boy for that matter. But no matter how hard you’d tried, there was nothing, not even in passing. So once he reiterated what he said before, this time louder, you looked at him bewilderment. “How, what, Yoongi, why did you not say something about this? Who is it? Do I know her? Is it a he?” In your excitement at this new reveal, you forgot all about your anxiety and hurt, yet, your incessant questions were causing him distress. Shifting away from you on the bed he rubbed the back of his neck, “forget I said anything.” But you would not have it, somehow, the thought of Yoongi having a crush on someone felt like Christmas. Maybe one day, both of your crushes would return your feelings, and then you would go on dates, you and him, and other people. Your brain froze at the thought of sharing him with other people, dread settling over you. You could not fathom not having Yoongi there for you. You have been together through thick and thin in the decade that you have known each other. He was there when your parents split up, he was there when you experienced your first teenage heartbreak, he was there to stop you when the hurt of having such a broken family made you resort to underage drinking. He was there to tell you how stupid you were and how you were not only hurting yourself, but you were hurting the people around you. He was there to remind you that you were not alone when you were faced with the hardest decision, to stay with your mother or leave with your father. He was there when high school entrance exams had a toll on you and you stopped eating, he was there to pick you up when you did not get into the same high school as he did. He was also there for the good times. But now that you thought about it, most of your good times involved him one way or another. When he took you to see a film that you had been gushing about yet he hated the genre, when he taught you how to ice skate, when you went to see his first basketball match, when he got you a puppy for Christmas so you would not be alone. He was there ingrained in your heart painting it in pink. The realisation that maybe it was not that one high school classmate that you liked hit you like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t him that made your heart race and butterflies race in your stomach. No, it was your best friend, Min Yoongi.

“Yoongi.” You hesitantly reached out to him, your hand brushing the sleeve of his hoodie. “I just…” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He couldn’t tell you, not because he was afraid he would ruin a friendship, you were both stronger than that. But he could not bear the thought of placing his emotions on you, of influencing you that way. Mentally you were already burnt out, having pined over someone for so long and not having your feelings returned, that he was afraid you would just jump at the first opportunity of an escape. He did not want his affection for you to be your getaway car. It would only hurt you and it would ruin him in the long run.

Grabbing onto his hoodie, halting him from biting his thumb, an action you have come to realise was comfort for him when he was stressed, you pulled yourself more towards him. “I love you.” You whispered, your voice drowned by the sound of a car honking outside and for a second you prayed that he hadn't heard you, but judging by the way his whole body stiffened, a rock underneath your palm, you knew it was wishful thinking.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d heard me that day.” You mused your attention back to present Yoongi, the Yoongi that has already admitted to you on more than one occasion how much he loved you.

“What made you think that?” His gentle voice was matched by the movement of his fingers playing with yours. “It took you almost a year to reply or even acknowledge it.” You smiled wryly at him. Even though that had been in the past, the memory of the uncertainty and apprehension you lived through for a whole year was still fresh in your mind. After months of not knowing how to approach him, every awkward interaction strained the bond of your friendship, you argued with yourself whether or not it was fair on him for you to push and demand an answer, just for your peace of mind.

Yoongi’s fingers grip yours tightly in an attempt to soothe the ache he could read on your face at the memory. He couldn’t deny that he tried to ignore the drift that happened between the two of you that year, thinking it was best if you both got used to relying less on each other. After all, university was looming over the two of you, he was about to leave on a basketball scholarship, and as much faith as he had in your friendship, he did not want to burden you with his feelings. The only solution that he’s come up with was to let the relationship naturally drift apart.

“You were a bit of an asshole, you know?” You smiled at the thought, the one and only time he had ever made you cry throughout your friendship. So caught up in your thoughts, that neither of you has noticed the sight of the one place that was dear to both of you. The basketball court where his life has begun. “Should we go in?” you motioned towards the closed gates. “They’re locked.” The lock was indeed on the wired gate, but you grinned wickedly, a sight that told Yoongi you were about to suggest something that he may not agree with. “When did that stop us?” You laughed as he groaned in disapproval whilst taking his glasses off and placing them in his jacket. You were not wrong, it had never stopped you, and he had his fair share of keeping you out of detention on most days for jumping the school gates.”We are not school kids anymore, Y/N.” His tone sounded as if he was scolding you, but the glimmer in his eyes told you otherwise. You pull on his hand lightly, bringing him closer to you. “Please?” You whispered as you stood on your tiptoes, your lips only a breadth away from his. Yoongi faltered, he knew he couldn’t say no to you. He smirked, that did not mean he couldn’t request bribery though.

“Y/N, we’d be trespassing.” His tone was serious, but the pull at the corner of his mouth told you another story. You knew very well where this was going, but you would not give in that easily, two could play at this game. With a huff you grabbed the lapels of his jean jacket pulling him flush to your body, your noses touching. You licked your lips, the tip of your tongue ghosting over his. “Please honeyboy?” You pleaded, your glossy lips forming into a pout. Yoongi gulped, it took all he had to not sweep you off your feet and kiss you senseless. “Please.” You rubbed the tip of your nose against his softly and he had to close his eyes to calm himself down. “Love,” he warned and you knew that with one more push he would be all yours. “Yes, love?” You let go of his jacket only to trail your palms up his torso, feeling the muscles contract underneath your touch, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“Fuck it.” Yoongi grabbed your waist pulling you to him with such force you let out a yelp. Your bodies smacked against each other, your lips clashed in a searing kiss, a battle for dominance where there was no winner, just pure pleasure. You moaned into the kiss, his soft lips attacking yours roughly, his tongue slid into your mouth caressing yours. Out of breath you pulled away from him, you could still feel the phantom of his lips against yours. Panting slightly you smirked, “I won, now let's go.” You pulled away from his embrace and grabbed his hand pulling him along with you. Gobsmacked, Yoongi followed you, his eyes never leaving the back of your head. It’s been like this ever since you met, you would somehow convince him to get into trouble with you, and he would follow you like a lost puppy. No, he thought, like a lovesick fool.

“Come on, help me.” You giggled as you grabbed onto the fence ready to pull yourself up. Yoongi sighed but did what you asked, and soon you were both running towards the centre of the court, you a giggling mess and him laughing at your giddiness. As soon as you reached your destination you plopped yourself down gesturing wildly at him. “Come on slowpoke.” Yoongi shook his head at you but increased his pace until he hovered over you. He sat down next to you, the object in his back pocket poking him in the back. He sighed, worry washing over him. Needless to say he had no time to dwell on it as you wiggled yourself next to him, settling your head on his lap. “I missed this place.” You sighed, closing your eyes in bliss. The heat from the sun was less harsh than earlier as it was nearing late afternoon. You had walked the whole day stopping in places and getting ice cream and street food from vendors stationed in the park. It was a weekday and so not many people were milling about, giving you the perfect opportunity to enjoy yourselves. With Yoongi being a well known basketball player, it was easy for him to get recognised. Whereas, it wasn’t too much of a problem usually, you just wanted some time for yourselves.

“Hey,” he called out softly, his fingers playing with the tip of your ears. You whined and swatted at his hand. “Do you remember my last high school match?”

Your laughter died in your throat, and you opened your eyes slowly. That memory always brought tears to your eyes, the whirlwind of emotions you had gone through that day left a lasting impression on you. “You mean when you yelled in my face that you loved me and called me stupid in front of your whole team?” You smile wryly at him and he has the audacity to grimace. “In my defense, you were poking a sleeping bear.” His fingers traced the line of your nose until they reached the tip. “Sleeping bear indeed. That is a good self portrait.” You stuck your tongue out at him only to break out in peals of laughter when his fingers find the side of your hip.

“Stop, stop, stop.” You grabbed at his hand trying to get him to stop but his attack was relentless. “You know the words love.” He playfully reminds you and you bite your lip. “Okay, okay, okay, I'm sorry oh mighty honeyboy. I didn't mean to poke fun at you or your skills.” You mock saluted, and he pinched you lightly as a warning, his eyes narrowing.

For a few moments it is silent, both of you enjoying the remnants of the sun, hands intertwined together until you break the stillness by asking the question that hung over the both of you. “Would you have done it all the same?” Yoongi knew what you meant, you were asking him if it were not for the loss of his team then, and the loss of his scholarship, would he have confessed to you that day?

“Yes.” He sighed, there was no need to avoid the inevitable. “Maybe not then, maybe not until years later, but I would have.” You lifted your head up briefly to glance at him, “would you have waited so long? Why?” Your voice is soft, any traces of mischievousness gone.

“Because I had loved you for a long time, even before you said anything.” He sighs, he’d never told you this. After he confessed that day, you never talked about it again. You took it at face value, never once questioning his feelings for you, or their duration for that matter. Your eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, you had?” Yoongi nods at your question, his eyes finding yours as he continues, “ever since you took my hand that day.” He smiles softly at you and you couldn’t stop the watery laugh that escapes. “Well, I enjoyed my aggressive confession, and I would not trade it for the world.” Yoongi could only laugh, the embarrassment present in his voice, he had not meant to be that aggressive but his team had lost, he was injured and you were a crying mess yelling at him for not being more careful.

“Why could you not be more careful? Who cares if you win or not? Did you have to step in at that time?” Eighteen year old you was an emotional mess. For the past year and a half yours and Yoongi’s relationship had suffered tremendously, you experienced your first heartbreak when he chose to ignore your confession, and your second heartbreak when your first boyfriend became too intimidated by your friendship. itting there on the sidelines, watching with your heart in your throat as Yoongi tried to placate the ball only to get hit in the chest with so much force he laid there on the ground for a good two minutes;Needless to say that had been your breaking point. You knew you weren’t being fair, this match was everything to him. This match determined whether or not he would get the scholarship for the university he wanted to get into. Now that they had lost, he also lost the chance to get it. You knew all that, but the sight of him sprawled on the ground unmoving was too much for you, and as soon as the referee had called for the end of the match you ran as fast as you could.

The team gathered around the two of you, after you have managed to break the ranks and slot yourself between them to reach him. You didn’t care that everyone could hear your argument, all you could see was him and his recklessness. Yoongi did not move a muscle, his impassive face not giving away any of his feelings and that only fuelled your anger even more. “Yoongi! Stop being stubborn, talk to me!” You pulled at his jersey, desperate for a reaction. You didn’t even notice the tears that had started to trail down your face, too caught up in lecturing him. He did however, and with a sigh he ran his hands over his face. He really did not want to cause a scene in front of his teammates, but you were not giving up, and the sight of your tears hurt him more than the kick to the chest he’s gotten.

“You know this matters for me Y/N, why are you being like this!” He finally acknowledged you, the tone of his voice still calm and collected. “Because I care damnit!” You pull harder as if that would make him answer you truthfully. Instead of paying attention to you, Yoongi just looked down at his shoes, dreading this conversation. He’s done so well to avoid talking about this, and even though he noticed that this was something you haven’t forgotten, he hoped that when you finally got your first boyfriend things would change, and you would forget about him. He knew it was selfish of him but he couldn't help being relieved when he was offered the easy way out.

“Why?” His voice is a whisper, but you heard it, the sounds of the crowd not even reaching your ears, all you could see was him. Sniffling you let go of his top, defeated you wiped your tears with your hoodie - his hoodie to be precise. “Because! Does it matter?” You don’t whisper, your voice rings loudly, tired or not, you can’t let your chance go to waste. That was the first time he addressed your feelings and you would take it and fight until the end.

“Yes, yes it does!” He raised his voice, the frustration at your stubbornness finally getting to him. “Why would you do this to you? To me? I tried my best to be diplomatic about this! And you are making it so damn difficult!” You flinch at his tone, he’s never raised his voice at you before, but you were not one to back down. Not now, when you finally have the chance to express your true feelings towards him.

“Because I am not a pushover! And because I am not scared! And because I believe in us! And…” the sob that escapes you turns into a hiccup and you paused to wipe at your tears again. Yoongi’s face softened, regret washing over him. He knew he was at fault, for your tears, for your insecurities. But knowing and witnessing how much it had affected you was a different story. “And because I believe in you. So then why would you do this?” If Yoongi had any mind to carry on pleading ignorance, after your confession, it had all gone out the window. Your words hit him like a ton of bricks, the love he harboured for you invading his thoughts and his heart like a tsunami. There was no way he could deny anything now, so he prayed that he would not have to be faced with the truth, one last attempt at avoiding it.

“Why would you leave me stranded like that?” Your shoulders slump, the fight leaving your body, and suddenly your knees feel like gelatin. You stumbled slightly, when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around you, pulling you tightly towards their chest.

“Because I love you, stupid.” The familiar scent of your best friend surrounded you and for the first time in a year, you smiled.

You’re brought back to the present by the warmth of a hand on your cheek. “Love, it’s getting late, and there is one more place we need to visit.” If you hadn’t known Yoongi for so long you would have missed the slight waver in his voice. But you were attuned to every little change in disposition so even the smallest hesitation that you could hear in his voice allerted you. Opening your eyes, you study his face, his pouty lips, the slightly uneven shape of his eyes, his nose, the way his hair falls onto his forehead. This was the man you loved and you would not have had it any other way. You reached out a finger slowly, his eyes following it closely, confused at your actions. When you were close enough to the tip of his nose you quickened your movement, poking his forehead without a warning. The astonishment is clear on his face and you can’t help but chuckle. “Right, where to mister?” You rise slowly on your feet, looking at him with curiosity. He didn’t mention a last spot before and you couldn’t think of any other places that you may have missed.

Taking your hand he guided you out of the court, watching you like a hawk as you descended the gate. Once out, he took your hand in his and beamed. “Where it all began.”

Reaching your final destination, your feet sunk in the soft sand, taking you nearer to the colourful monkey bars that stood proud in the middle of the playground. Twenty years had passed since you have met each other, yet nothing had changed. The sandbox was still full and remnants of castles blown by the wind were scattered around it. The sound of children playing games and running around still as much the soundtrack of the playground as it had been back then. The monkey bars looked old and rusty, however their colours were shining brightly in the light of the setting sun- clearly having been painted recently. The only difference from two decades ago stood out like a sore thumb. It was you and him. Still hand in hand at the playground, so similar to your seven year old selves and yet so different. This time you were not two children, setting out on a path of beautiful friendship, you were not even young lovers, giddy with the thrill of your first love, you were two grown ups, having gone through trials in life and love, ready to take on the world and whatever life handed you together.

You let go of his hand, the loss of heat instantly making you shiver, and you grabbed onto the top of the bar, struggling to lift your legs up. Yoongi laughed at you but at your whines he hurried to help you, grabbing you by your thighs, giving them a push. Now wrapped around the bars like a monkey, your head hanging upside down, you let your head drop and closed your eyes. The utter bliss that surrounded you alongside the warmth of the setting sun made you smile in contentment. “Hey Yoongi.” You called out for him, but after a few seconds had passed and you received no response you opened your eyes scanning your surroundings confusedly. He was nowhere in your sight, and for a second doubt gripped at your heart. Had he left without telling you?

Scouring the playground you let your legs drop to the ground. You did not know whether it was the impact of your feet touching the ground, the thrill of jumping off the monkey bar or the fact that as soon as you turned around, he was there less than a feet away from you, a gentle smile on his face, his hand extended towards you- but your heart felt like it would explode. With the feelings coursing through your veins too much to contain, your lips twitched. You wanted to scold him for disappearing out of your sight, you wanted to run into his arms and kiss him senseless, so confused at your own thoughts that you stayed rooted on the spot gaping at him like a fish out of water.

“Love?” The tender look never leaving his face, the corners of his lips twitched. He took a step closer to you, with each step the heaviness of his pocket reminding him of his mission. Taking your hand in his gently, he ran his thumb over your knuckles, the action sending shivers down your spine. Blinking repeatedly at him you closed your mouth, reminding yourself to breathe, as it seemed that you had forgotten how to. The sight of him encased by the low light of the dawn, his light blonde hair reflecting the golden hues creating a halo around him, was enough to take your breath away. The pads of his fingers gently traced up your hand until they reached your wrist, wrapping around it and gently pulling you along.

You did not question him, your feet moving of their own accord. You followed him blindly out of the playground back towards the cement pathway, as you had for the past twenty years of your relationship. Coming to a stop on the pavement where you once shared your hopes and dreams in chalk, he grabbed both of your hands. His distress was instantly evident in the way they trembled, the clammy grip he had on you, similar to the one you had on him all those years ago. Giving him a reassuring squeeze, you waited for what he had to say, your brain going into overdrive.

“Close your eyes.” His voice is soft, so unlike the tough persona he displayed for the public, yet so much like the Yoongi that you have grown up with. You slowly close your eyes, and for a few seconds all you hear is silence, until a rustle draws your attention. You can’t feel his hands on yours anymore and you drop them to the side, patiently waiting for him to allow you to open your eyes. Your ears perked up at the sound of scraping, the softness of the sound rhythmic as if it followed the beat of your heart. As soon as the noise started trailing Yoongi’s voice broke you out of your trance, and this time, the tone of his voice demanded attention, so when he told you to open your eyes you did so without hesitation.

Your eyes locked onto his, the love and adoration in them washed over you in waves, making you tremble with the intensity of it. His head tilted to the side, the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth and you knew in that moment that this was it for you, he was your forever and he would always be. “Y/N,” his voice carried over to you snapping you out of your daze, his head motioning to something in front of him. Slowly your eyes followed the movement and a small gasp escaped your lips, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Love.” That was enough to break the dam that held your feelings together and you all but dropped to the ground, sobs surging through your body. In panic Yoongi made a move to get to you, scenarios of you rejecting him playing out in his head. You did not try to stop him, basking in his warm embrace, lifting you up and giving you strength as he usually did. You closed your eyes letting another fresh trail of tears run down your face. “Love, please you are scaring me.” His voice broke, and he could feel the wetness gathering at the corner of his eyes. Your only response was to grab onto him tighter, hoping that if you brought yourself close enough to him, you would become one, and he would be able to understand how much love was running through your veins at the moment, how much respect and adoration, for the man that has constantly been by your side, the man who decided that playing with chalk that fateful day was what he had wanted, the man who decided that your loud mouth was worth loving and kissing every morning and every night. You broke away from his embrace to glance once more at the pavement. Feeling a new wave of tears gather in your eyes making your vision blur, you quickly wiped them away.

“Yes.” You sniffed as you looked up, your eyes locked with Yoongi’s teary ones. “Yes you silly man.” His smile widened little by little, until all you can see are his cheeks and his teeth. “Really?” the elatedness was apparent in his voice and in that moment you do not see a twenty eight year old man, you see the seven year old whose hand you took; the child with a broken leg you dragged along to play with you. The child whose hand you would take each year; the child whose hand would become your anchor, the hand you would get to hold forever. Nodding erratically you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips finding his.

As you kissed under the setting sun, two united souls, the sidewalk chalk writing next to you told the story of your future.

‘Will you marry me?’

Main Masterlist

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cupidsintern · 3 years

Text

the death of hyacinthus - pt. i

this is my old renaissance au with artist!billy and model!steve so enjoy lol

The light spills out onto the floor before the window, making the worn wood of the floor look bright again, like new. The light doesn't reach Steve though. Billy set up the scene like that on purpose, closer to the center of his studio. No direct light. He wants this to be lit like it's the beginning of twilight. In his head, Hyacinth dies at sunset.

The room is silent, has been for a while, other than birds outside the window, a breeze that made the window tap against itself lightly, and fabric shifting if Steve stirs from where he is at all, draped across this haphazard construction of pillows, blankets, and a bench.

That's the word Billy used; “drape”. When Steve got to the studio Billy was kicking pillows around on his little model platform, trying to get everything set up right, hardly even greeting Steve at all before launching into his explanation of how he wanted Steve to look.

“-and he’s dying, but he’s not dead yet,” Billy walked half a circle around the platform, hands out. “So Apollo would- damn-” A pillow fell over, he pushed it back up. “Would be here. So if you can just sort of drape yourself across right here-”

Steve was stripping off the last of his garments when Billy turned back around.

“Here?” Steve finished kicking his stockings off, crossed to step up onto the platform.

Billy swallowed, looking Steve in the eyes because at least it meant he wouldn't look down, slack jawed. “Yeah, that's- that’s perfect.” Steve was already settling in to sitting down, letting his head fall back against the seat of the bench, throat exposed.

The way he was sitting shifted his weight in his hips more; Billy tried to look critically. Not appreciatively. He shouldn’t be appreciating the son of the nobleman that had decided to be his patron. Not that Steve was even supposed to be modeling for him beyond the two portraits he’d already had done.

“Tip your knee down more,” Billy stepps back, takes in the composition.

Steve drops his knee.

“Turn your head towards me.”

Steve obliges. The line of his nose looks perfect at three quarters.

Billy stepps up to the platform again, pulls some of the fabric forward, lets it fall over Steve's legs more, over his groin- good. Less distracting. More poetic or something- and the line of his thighs beneath the fabric has just the heaviness Billy is looking for. He steps back again.

“What’s the myth again?” Steve’s jaw gains definition when he speaks with his head at this angle.

“The Death of Hyacinthus.”

“I know that part.” Steve rolls his hand a little. “The part before that. How does he die?”

“He- hang on.” Billy steps close again to push things around, make the lines right. “The wind- Zephyr- gets jealous of his beauty. Apollo throws a discus, and Zephyr pushes it off course, so it knocks Hyacinth in the head. Apollo holds him while he dies.” Billy says it all matter-of-factly. He's trying not to get distracted. He picks up Steve's arm to tilt back towards him a little. His skin is warm like the sunlight staining the floor.

“That's sad.” Steve says. His arm feels relaxed in Billy’s grip. “Weren't they close? Apollo and Hyacinth.”

Billy feels a familiar warmth at his neck of this topic. This thing that always comes up when he and Steve are alone. “They were lovers.”

Steve doesn't say anything back to that.

Billy gets the composition mostly how he wants it- and he’ll probably try Steve in a couple different poses, this is only for sketching. He takes ages deciding where to set up to actually draw it- Steve makes fun of him. Billy says he’s not the one naked on a pile of old curtains. That makes Steve laugh. His stomach flexes a little when he laughs.

Billy's glad Steve can be part of his process now.

He gets some general gestures down on paper. He really nails the angle of Steve’s throat- which he's proud of. He needs the arch of the thing to be perfect. And he gets the general idea of Steve's features down quick- he’s drawn Steve's face maybe a thousand times by now. The way his arm falls is tricky- he’ll come back to that in a bit.

“Billy.”

Billy looks up at Steve’s voice. He’s sat up a little, something short of coy in his eyes. “I’m cold.” “You’re cold.” Billy says back to him. Because he never does what Steve implies. Only what Steve says.

“Yeah, like you said- I’m bare ass naked on a pile of curtains.”

“Your calling.”

Steve laughs again. “Do you think we could close the door?”

“We?”

“You. Can you close the door.”

“Who’s the revered artist here?”

“Who’s the patron?”

Billy rolls his eyes, but he drops his chalk into the lip of his easel anyway, walks to pull the door to his studio shut, separating them from the rest of the house. Steve left it open in the first place.

“You’re not my patron.” Billy says when he gets back, picks up to start drawing again.

“I’m close.” Steve only sounds a little superior.

He’s right. He is close to being Billy's patron. He recommended Billy to his family, he talked up Billy’s version of the pieta, he introduced Billy to the Influentials of Florence, got him this nice new studio, set up in one of the family houses. He was only a little superior about it.

Mostly he was nice.

Nice to Billy. Excited about the things he drew, always asking him what he was working on.

Asked to sit for him once, twice, how many more times, he was part of the process now.

This might be what having a muse was, if Billy believed in things like having muses.

Steve scratches the back of his calf with a foot, then sets his legs back down.

“I’m surprised you don’t get bored doing this.” Billy cracks two of the knuckles on his drawing hand, shakes out his wrist. He’s only prying a little.

“I like watching you work,” comes Steve's easy reply.

“Still.” Billy smudges at a stray line with his thumb. “You’re always fidgety at dinners and shit. Not here.”

“Dinners are boring.” Steve sighs.

He had expressed that sentiment before. That he found Billy much more interesting than anything his family ever did. That he’d trade his infinite wealth for the virve Billy so possessed. Only he didn't say it like that. He said “I’d trade all of this shit for whatever makes your art so beautiful.”

And Billy said “You wouldn't want to. Trust me.”

Billy, having seared the image of Steve into his brain by now, was adding more definition in places, really letting his focus slide out of his head.

And it’s quiet for a bit. Billy doesn't notice when the silence breaks- the sound of shifting fabric, bare feet on wood floor-

“Shit, that’s really good.” Steve's voice startles Billy a little, but he doesn’t let it show. Just turns a little abruptly to find Steve leaning over his shoulder.

“Looks just like me.” Steve continued, hovering his fingertips over Billy's rendition of his nose.

“You don’t have to sound so impressed every time.” Billy rolled his eyes, pushing Steve’s hand away.

“Oh, excuse me for showing some enthusiasm.” Steve hummed another laugh, still looking at the paper. He traced a finger absentmindedly down his own flesh-and-blood nose, marveling at the likeness.

Billy couldn't focus enough to continue with Steve so close. Not like he’d never seen Steve in next to nothing before. But this was really and truly nothing. And even naked as the day he was born Steve exuded wealth in just the way he stood. Like clothes were nothing but decoration on something already… beautiful.

“Can you go back to your spot, please?” Billy got out, looking away like he was annoyed.

Steve just smiled at him before padding back to his platform, throwing the fabric back over his legs.

But now the composition was wrong-

“So,” Steve’s voice carried across the sun-soaked chambers. “Why Hyacinth?”

“What do you mean.” Billy was trying desperately to collect his thoughts.

“I mean, he’s dating a god, right? Why him? What's so special about him.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“And?”

“Well, I mean, he’s a Spartan prince, he’s legendary. Apollo doesn't even really pick him. Hyacinth has, like, a bunch of people to choose from. He picks Apollo.”

Billy can’t draw like this, especially since Steve fucked up the composition- probably on purpose.

Billy gets up with an unintentional little huff and gets close to Steve again, has to adjust his legs again, avoid staring at the pinks that dust Steve’s everywhere-

“You draw me a lot.” Steve interrupts Billy’s train of thought.

Billy looks up, holding Steve’s wrist like it was his own. “You sit for me a lot-”

“What's your favorite part to draw?”

Billy’s breathing feels thicker, like his throat is coated in honey, sweet but hard to breathe. “Of you?” “Yeah.”

“Your nose.” Billy says easily, because it's safe to say.

Steve smiles. “You've said that before.”

“It's true.” Billy prepares to turn away again, to tell Steve they should get more done while there's still daylight.

Steve’s fingers hook against the palm of Billy's hand. This is playing with fire.

Steve lifts Billy's hand up, touches it to the bridge of his nose.

He can feel the sharp bone under his forefinger.

“Where else?”

Billy inhales. It's a feat. “Your jaw.”

Steve pulls Billy's hand down his cheek to touch his jawline. They’ve been avoiding this forever,

“And?” Cliche game of cat and mouse. Right now, Billy’s the mouse.

“Your shoulders.” Billy watches Steve drag his hand down his perfect neck to the slope of his perfect shoulders. “Steve.”

“Billy.” Steve mocks Billy’s warning tone just a little. “Come on, what else?”

Billy swallows again. He doesn't respond he just lets his hand wander lower, lower, down his chest, to his stomach-

Billy stops his hand, pushes back against Steve’s. “I’ve never drawn you nude, if that's what you’re implying.”

“Maybe you should.” Steve’s finger’s slide up Billy's forearm to hook under the edge of his rolled up sleeve.

“I’d need a couple different references...” Billy trails off. He knows Steve is about to kiss him.

It’s still delicious when he does. No number of days, weeks, waiting for one of them to make a move, of thinking what that move would be, what it would feel like, would have prepared Billy for the spit-sweet taste of a first kiss in the late afternoon.

i might do a part ii or just leave it like this lol

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #my fic #my writing #its the renaissance au

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unloved-cadillac · 3 years

Note

I feel I'm sending too many requests to people lately but I can't help it wnsnsn

Can you do hcs of Levi, Mikasa, and Sasha with an s/o who has low self esteem? Like with their appearance and their own skills thinking they're weak? I lack confidence and tend to really doubt myself badly :[

C/n: *wraps you in a blanket* I’m just going to say: look in the mirror. That person you see there? They’re beautiful and deserve happiness. It’s hard to gain confidence, mostly because we only see the bad in ourselves, but I know one day you will see only the good parts and love yourself. Thanks for requesting and I hope that you enjoy🤍

———————————————————————

HCs on Levi, Mikasa and Sasha with a S/O who has Low Self-Esteem.

Levi:

You and Levi had only been dating for a couple of months. But you both knew each other for years.

Levi had been watching you train with the others for a while and he feels that you have been improving. He’s never been prouder.

You on the other hand, felt you’ve been doing worse.

You shot through the air on the 3DMG and flew to slay the dummy Titans nape and then went back on the ground.

“Too weak.” You mumbled to yourself. It wasn’t fast enough. If you were any slower, the Titan could’ve killed you; if it were alive of course.

“I need to train more. Maybe if I lost some of this weight, I’ll fly faster.” You continue to mumble as you talk of the gear. You didn’t even see Levi and walked past him to go to the gym.

You trained and trained for days. Sometimes going into the night and Levi grew worried.

You hadn’t been eating properly and been training non-stop. So he made his way to where you obviously were: the gym.

And thank god he did, because you were in the brink of collapsing. He caught you and scoffed.

“Y/n! What the hell snap out of it!” He shook you and you opened your eyes to see him.

“Levi? What happened?” “You pushed yourself too much that’s what happened. Why are you doing this?”

Your face frowned and woke up from his grip. “I need to get stronger. I’m too weak. And too fat. I need to do something about it and if it means I die from exhaustion, so be it.”

That made Levi pissed off. He grabbed you and sat you back on his lap.

“Now listen here, brat. Those shitty thoughts you have are nothing but fiction. “Too fat”? What are you, crazy? You’ve been doing so well lately, and for you to put yourself down like this? I’ll kill you.” He says and you chuckle.

“You really think I’ve been doing good?” You ask and he nods. “Yes. Now come on. Let’s get you some rest and some food.”

Levi Ackerman. The man who always knew how to lift you back up.

Mikasa:

Mikasa and you were the couple that everybody loved.

You being the bright and happy one and her being the dark, mysterious one.

But, your bright light dimmed quite often and it was the lowest parts of your life.

You had seen how good Mikasa looked and you wanted to look good too. She was an Ackerman and to be in a relationship with one means you had some bar to uphold.

So you trained. You trained and trained but man, you hated yourself even more.

Mikasa saw you on the training grounds and walked over to you.

You were panting and sweating and dog tired. But you had to run more.

As you were about to take off, Mikasa called you.

“Y/n! Hey there you are. What are you doing?” She asks and you sigh. “Training.” “I can see that. But why so late? You need to sleep and eat too.” She tells you and you groan.

“Mikasa. I need to do this. I need to do better.” Your voice cracks at the end and Mikasa furrows her eyebrows. “Do better? But you’re already doing great. Take a break, babe.” She puts her hand on your shoulder and you shrug her off.

“I hate myself, Mika. I can’t keep up with you. And I need to. You’re so great and strong and I just-” “Shut up.”

You instantly stop talking when she does and she walks up to you and smashed her lips to yours in a fierce kiss. She pulls away, leaving you breathless.

“Put yourself down like that again, I’m gonna smack the shit out of you. You’re so strong and what does me being like this have to do with you? There’s nothing you need to change. You put yourself down all the time but this is pushing it. You’re an amazing person and soldier. Stop hurting yourself like this.” She whispers and wipes your tears away. “O-Okay.”

Mikasa Ackerman. The girl who shuts you up by kissing you.

Sasha:

Pretty girl knew she was in love with you the moment she laid eyes on you.

You were this person who just drew her in and when you shared your food with her, she fell even more in love with you.

But when you gave her all of your food without taking a bite, she got really worried.

Sure she ate everything but she was still worried.

This lasted for almost a week and Sasha wanted to confront you about it. She knew something was up with you because when she wrapped her arms around you, it was hugging bones.

She looked everywhere but took a chance and went to the showers. That’s where she saw you, with a pair of scissors in your hand, chopping your hair off with tears in your eyes.

“Y-Y/n! Sweet potato! What are you doing?” She tells out while grabbing the scissors from you. You fell to your knees and bawled your eyes out.

Sasha threw the scissors away and hugged you. “Y/n. What happened, baby? Please talk to me. You haven’t been eating properly, you’ve gone skinny and now this. Please tell me what’s wrong.” She begs.

You lift your face up to face her and she cups your cheek. “I, I couldn’t- I look horrible. I’m weak. I can’t do anything right and I just hate myself, Sasha. I hate this body. I hate this stupid hair and this stupid face.” You pour your broken heart to her and she gasps.

“Y/n. No. No please.” She pulls you on for a tight hug. “You’re so beautiful. You’re so amazing. You’re so strong. I love you so much, Y/n. Please stop doing this. I miss eating with you. I miss you. We’ll train together, the proper way. I’ll help you. But don’t you ever, ever say that you hate yourself again.”

Sasha tells you and kisses your forehead. You sniff and look at her. She was crying too.

“Don’t cry, Sasha.” You say. “Take your own advice, sweet potato. Now come on. Let’s go eat and let me show you all the things you should love about yourself. I’m also going to get Jean to do your hair. Although, you look pretty good.”

Sasha Blaus. The girl who loves her sweet potato.

———————————————————————

“Put yourself down like that again, I’m gonna smack the shit out of you.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

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spencerreidscoffeecup · 3 years

Text

Beautiful Boy (blurb) (comfort fluff)

Summary: Spencer feels insecure about his body, but reader cheers him up :)

CW: body image issues, talk of gaining weight, talk of not eating, crying, struggling to eat, kissing, comfort fluff <3

AN: Hello my loves! I hope you guys enjoy this one shot. I've been feeling bad about myself lately and I like to express my emotions through writing so I hope you enjoy this one shot! If you want me to do a one shot like this but y/n is insecure, let me know! (This one shot is kind of a blurb btw) You all are amazing, beautiful, smart, and talented and I love each and every one of you! If you need to talk to anyone, PLEASE message me and I'd be glad to talk. You are not alone, even if it may feel like you are. <33

note: i barely checked it for mistakes, so if there are any, please ignore them lol

Reader's POV:

Spencer was a such a beautiful being.

I loved everything about him.

His bright aura that beamed so brightly around him made it impossible not to see what a kind and caring type of man he was. He was amiable and well-liked when it came to the people he surrounded himself with.

Everything about him was beautiful. His personality, his smile, his whole entire face, his body and soul. He was so pure, yet he felt so damaged inside.

The fact that he thought so lowly of himself made my heart wrench in my chest.

Spencer had been out on a case in Arizona for two days before he got home one Tuesday evening.

I was drying off in the bathroom from just being in the shower when I heard the door to our apartment open and close. Quickly, I got into a purple sweater of Spencer's and some sleep shorts, as well as purple and blue mismatched socks.

Walking out into the living room to see where he was, I found no trace of him, only seeing his satchel hung up on the rack we had by the front door, his black converse stacked ontop of one another in the small wooden cubby under the rack his satchel hung on.

My eyebrows drew together as I called his name out before hearing small sniffles coming from our bedroom. Upon further inspection, I saw Spencer, his back turned away from the door as he sat on the edge of the bed in our room, hunched over slightly as his arms were wrapped around his waist.

"Spence?" I asked sweetly, my tone soft and tender. I walked over to him to see small tears falling from his eyes, my chest tightening at just the sight of him.

"The case must have ended poorly", I had thought to myself, getting on my knees in front of him as I tried to get a better look at him.

"Spence, what happened? Did the case end badly?"

Spencer made no effort to respond with words, only responding with a slight shake of his head.

"Then what's wrong baby?" I asked, bringing a hand up to his knee as I rubbed it soothingly, trying to pry an answer out from him. Instead, Spencer turned away slightly, trying his best to hide his tears from me. "Hm?" I hummed, combing my fingers through his hair before I stood up, sitting behind him on the bed. I softly kissed his back, getting on my knees as I pulled some hair back from his face, kissing his neck gingerly.

After a moment, Spencer turned to look at me, his eyes red and swollen; his tear-stained cheeks a light crimson. He sniffled some more, his lower lip quivering slightly before he wrapped his arms around me tightly, nuzzling his head in the crook of my neck. My shirt began to get damp with his salty tears as I shushed him, sobs breaking from his throat, his breathing shaky. I combed my fingers through his chestnut hair. I knew that he was probably seeking solace at the moment, so of course I gave it to him right away.

"I h-hate the way I look-- the w-way I am." he cried softly, his sniffling increasing.

My heart practically shattered at his words as I pulled his face away gently with my hands that cupped his cheeks.

He looked so broken.

"What happened?" I asked gently, feeling the corners of my eyes soften.

Spencer swallowed thickly before responding. "On the case I brought some work shirts with me, and I've worn them throughout the years.. I mean ever since I started at the BAU, but none of them fit me anymore. T-they were all tight on me."

I felt my heart sink as I sighed softly before bringing his head back to my shoulder, Spencer grasping the material of my sweater firmly.

"Spence, our bodies change all of the time. You've been working out and eating more," I whispered through his soft whimpers, guiding him with me to lie down on the pillows behind us. "Your body has changed. And you look amazing. You always have. You're the most beautiful person inside and out...but now that you are getting stronger, your body is acclimating to that."

I felt Spencer angle his head upward to lay a soft kiss on my neck before nuzzling back into it, my arms wrapped around him as I wove my fingers through his hair.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you," Spencer responded, his voice still cracking with emotions that had seeped through; his breathing still shaking as his sniffles lessened. However, I still felt some tears roll off his face and onto my neck, but I paid no mind to it, my only goal was to show Spencer how amazing he was and how much he meant to me. It was quiet for a few minutes, his breathing starting to become less rapid. "I-I haven't eaten much these past few days. I haven't felt like I deserve food." he murmured.

"Love, you deserve food.. Your body deserves food. Do you want to eat right now? I have some thai food I ordered for the two of us tonight." I suggested, feeling Spencer tug me towards his body, pulling me impossibly close to him.

"Can we sleep for a little first? I haven't gotten much rest either."

"Of course, love."

Spencer pulled away a little to look at me, his eyes no longer filled with tears, nor did they have the essence of stress that laced them like earlier. They were puffy and red, his lips swollen and a dark pink from his incessant biting, but he smiled lovingly at me, and I mirrored his look. He pulled me close again, kissing my lips gently and with so much care.

"Spence, you are so amazing, smart, and beautiful. You're perfect. And I know it may not help but I will love you no matter the circumstances. Even if you lose or gain weight, it doesn't matter to me. The only thing that matters is that you're healthy, safe, and happy." I whispered against his lips, peppering a small kisses on them.

I pulled away to see that his face had lit up with a small blush.

Spencer slotted his lips over mine, tugging me close to him as he littered my face and neck with small kisses. I didn't expect an answer or response from him. He didn't need to answer me. His affection seemed to have answered all the questions in the world.

Spence and I had fallen asleep, our limbs perfectly woven together as we breathed in each other's calming scents.

I missed this.

I missed him.

Of course I knew he had only been gone for a couple days, but I still couldn't help but feel emotional when he would get home from cases.

His job was extremely dangerous, and the fact that he had such an amazing team that kept him as safe as possible to come back to me made my heart happy.

I don't know what I would do without him.

It had been around two hours since he had made it home. Meaning we had slept for about an hour and a half. I gently pried myself from his deadly grasp, walking to the kitchen to heat up the thai food that had been sitting in the fridge for several hours now.

If he wanted to eat, that would be great.

However, if he didn't feel the need to eat anything I wasn't going to force him. I just knew that food is what he most definitely needed after all of this.

I set some water on the table, dishing the food out onto plates as I heard Spencer call my name sleepily from our room.

My heart fluttered in my chest, my stomach filling with so many butterflies it was nauseating.

I walked into our room, seeing Spencer half awake, his eyes barely open.

"C'mere," he croaked, making grabby-hands towards me as I giggled. I walked over to him, kissing his forehead as I sat on the bed. Spencer smiled lazily, "Thank you for being you and making me feel better."

"Of course, Spence. Although I'm not really sure how to be anybody else." I joked, kissing his lips softly, Spencer chasing mine as I pulled away. I kissed him again. "There's food on the table. If you don't want it you don't need to eat it, but I think it would make you feel less sleepy." I said, combing my fingers through his hair, Spencer nuzzling his head into my palm like a small kitten would with its owner.

He nodded softly, sitting up and taking my hand as we began to walk to the kitchen.

He sat down at the table, looking down at the food nervously.

"I-I don't know if I should eat," he frowned, shoving his food around on the plate in front of him.

"Okay, you don't need to eat. You can just have something tomorrow. But if you really are hungry but you feel like you don't deserve it, remember-- you do. Your body needs fuel, and you deserve to eat something delicious." I said, rubbing his hand under the table.

Spencer nodded, taking a bite of the chicken that sat in front of him. He chewed a few times before digging into his rice.

We began eating, Spencer only focused on eating his rice and vegetables and not his chicken. Which of course was fine by me as at least he was eating something.

After about twenty minutes, Spencer cleaned the table as I washed my dishes. He wrapped his arms around me as I finished washing out a ceramic bowl. Resting his head on my shoulder, he pulled my hair back from my neck and kissed the soft tissue. I smiled, drying my hands off and kissing his lips.

"Hey, you want to take a bath with me?" I asked, and Spencer nodded fervently, bending down to kiss me once more before following behind me to the bathroom.

The rest of the night was calm and filled with so much love. We sat in the bubble bath, saying our I love you's and sharing small touches and kisses.

I had so much love to give him that it felt almost impossible.

But I was going to try and gift it to him.

Because he deserved all the love in the world.

I think that one of the greatest misfortunes is that we, as humans, are unable to truly see our own beauty. We cannot see how we look when we have a genuine laugh. We cannot see how we look when we smile brightly around others. We can only see what we wished we looked like. We can only see what we look like in pictures and in videos. And since our cellular devices do not hold the ability to show what we look like in the eyes of a fellow human, we feel bad about ourselves when we look back at the picture or the video.

I like to think of it like this: Have you ever taken a picture of the moon with your phone?

If you have, the picture probably came out to be blurry, maybe sort of lackluster. But when we put away our devices and tilt our heads back to look at the beautiful craters that indent the white glow of the moon, we believe that it is one of the most mesmerizing things. That nothing can compare to the way the moon looks on a clear, dark night; the stars twinkling around the celestial body which makes it all the more ethereal.

Fact of the matter is: our eyes are sneaky little things. They make us think that we are looking into a funhouse mirror when we look at our reflection. We may think our head is too big or too small. Or that our teeth are crooked and yellow.

But I truly believe one thing, which is that our beauty 'flaws' is what makes us all the more beautiful. The stretch marks that lie paths on our skin make us look all the more beautiful, all the more grown. The skin dimples that rest so gently upon our soft tissue creates a look of realness, which is something I find so adornful.

Because in reality, our bodies are most beautiful when we show off our so-called flaws.

#fluff #bodypositivity #criminalminds #spencerreidxreaderfluff

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iamdarkness · 3 years

Text

After the Storm

My Birthday gift for Alfonse's Day. I am one day late because I didn't know about it.

NSFW 18+

Lif x Summoner. A little bit of Alfonse x Summoner x Lif .

This can take place after the summoner is rescued and back in the castle. It also may or may not be part of To Feed a Tiger and Letters From Fodlan. It is all up to you.

He was standing right there, just in front of you….so close…and yet so far away. Dark blue hair and silver-ish tips swaying over his ruby red eyes, while he slowly approached you. His gauntleted hand reached slowly for you face. It was cold and smooth as leather, the metal fingernails not reaching your skin, he had made sure of that.

-We meet again. I thought you would not want to return.- You say and your face lean on his touch.

-I had to see it for my self…See you. That you were safe and sound. - He answers softly with that oh so deep voice that never fails to make you sway where you stand. It is true his voice had made you tremble from the first time you had heard it, he did not know it was not from fear. He had touched your soul from the beginning and drew you in like a moth to a flame. And what a magnificent flame he was.

The moonlight bathes you both in cool silver light, but you find the glow of his body a more compelling sight. You knew how insecure he had always been and knew that now he thought himself a hideous monster. If only he could see himself through your eyes; how beautiful you found him. You touch his face and you can hear the intake of breath he takes. His mask slips from his face and he tries to turn away. You use your other hand to turn it to face you.

-You are so gorgeous Alfonse.

-No I’m…

-No. You are gorgeous to me. I love you so much…- He looks down at you searchingly with knitted brows, expecting to find deception. How can someone like you find someone like him, attractive. He doesn’t understand and he doesn’t want your pity. Yet he finds only love in your eyes and even more than that. He can see desire and this surprises him and dare he hope?- Alfonse! Why are you like this? Why can’t you understand that to me, you are amazing and sexy! Your intellect and your skills and god Alfonse you learned a whole new sword style! You are so amazing. Even before, you always thought I liked other men better and…

-That was before…but now…

-Alfonse! No matter what shape you have, you are still my Alfonse and I find you gorgeous. Don’t you remember what I sang to you the first time we were together?I still love your precious heart …-You gasp. You were not suppose to say that and he catches on quick as smart as he is. He knows this Askr’s Alfonse and you had never been together. It had only been Death’s first attack; that had given Alfonse, now Lif the courage to leave all formalities behind and you had become lovers for the last weeks of your life. The words from that song had stayed with him and kept the little sanity he still had. His eyes blaze with that inner fire you had seen when he is either very angry or very exited. The deepest of passions have always lay hidden within him; restrained by the weight of his position and reputation. Lif had neither of those restrains.

-________. You are my _______!My Summoner!- There were so many feelings passing through his mind. He was surprised and happy and so angry too. He wanted to laugh and cry, but he also wanted to yell at you and hurt you. How could you not tell him the truth after everything you both had gone through? Did you prefer to stay by Alfonse’s side instead? Do you love him more? Is it because of how he looks? Of course you would prefer to stay with him. Whole as he is and not a monster like him.He was alive and could give you everything he always dreamed of giving you. He does not realize it, but the same hand that was caressing your face was now squeezing hard enough to hurt and his nails beginning to scratch.- Why did you not tell me this? Do you..

-I am not sure how it went. I lost my memories of my life in our Askr. I didn’t know and I did not want to hurt you and Alfonse. I know it has something to do with Breidablik. All the memories started coming when I was using it or when I was asleep.

There is a silence in which he looks deeply into your eyes. He sees no deceit in them but he has been hurt so much, he doesn’t dare believe. He sights and his head lowers to rest on your forehead. He did not think he would be able to cry any more ever, but he feels the wetness roll down his face.

-I wanted to heal you, not hurt you. I was willing to let you go and help you from afar but you never let me.

-I am here now…- He did not mentioned he was not letting you go now. He had given up his hope of saving his own people to help this Askr, and he was not going to give you up too. He kissed you now, deeply and full of need. The restrains now gone. Your hand lets his mask fall to the ground and you embrace him. He forgets he needs not breathe and you do need it and his kiss last so long you feel dizzy. You make to let go but he follows with a moan of protest that was almost a whine.

- Air…-You say and smile, while peppering his face with butterfly kisses. He gives you a low growl in return and kisses your neck instead. It gains him a moan he returns in kind. He hears your whispered plea and stiffens. He separates to look you in the eyes.

-Here?- He asks and he sounds scandalized. Nothing really changes.

-You do not remember that kitchen cupboard? Or the tactics tent after the meeting?- He splutters and turns a little away. It might just be you, but it looks like his light brightens.- They were not my ideas either.- You add and take this time to slip your hand under his belt close to where his abs can be felt by your knuckles.

-I remember.- He turns to you and takes his time looking at you. Then he close his eyes and takes his hands off your face to undo the clasps that hold his fur cloak. He lays it on the moon bathed grass and looks at you again.- Are you sure?- You nod. He steels himself and adds.- I…it is all of my body and half my face as you can see…

-Alfonse…I am not afraid of you or your glowing body. I find it perfectly amazing. Here, let me help you...-You tell him and go to help him take off his armor. He stops you and just takes his top hard armor as if by magic and is left with some low cut under armor pants and boots. You take a long look at him. As you had seen before, he had grown a lot. His chest and back were broader and even though you could see his bones there was a light in all of him that did not let you see through him. You could see his shape as If he was very muscular as well.

You were aware that you were staring, but you could not take your eyes away from him. He was so perfect. There was an intake of breath that was more a reflex than a necessity. He must have seen the desire in your gaze when you looked him in the eyes.-God Alfonse! Have you no idea what you do to me?

His shyness relents with your confession and he reaches up to you and kisses you deeply again. His hands roams your back. He kisses you until he reaches under your night shirt and you feel him lift the fabric. You are wearing nothing under and he caresses your skin on his way to lifting it off of you. When it is off, he looks down to you perked up breast. They had hardened with need and the night breeze. You feel his heated gaze on you as it explores once again your chest. His hands take hold of you pants as he pulls them down he leaves a trail of kisses down to your hip.

He gets up again kissing your body up to your neck. Your thigh, hip, lower abdomen, belly, between your breasts, chest, neck. All the while his hands trail up your side and back, like the sweet caress of flower petals.

His mouth reaches yours and his right hand takes your breast and squeezes gently, gaining a moan from you. He hungrily kisses you harder and starts lowering you down to where his fur cloak waits for you. You feel the weight of his body, the firmness of his glowing skin, soft and cool against your heated one. You shiver, not precisely because of the cold. It had been so long since you wanted to touch him and be touched by him. So long since you wanted to tell him how much you love him and how much you needed him.

He has taken your panties off along with his pants and now his head is between your tights and he kisses your womanhood. His tongue starts twirling around the pearl of your clitoris. His sparkling red eyes find yours as he gives a growly moan.

-Already so wet for me ______. Tell me how much you want me.- He licks at you. You had forgotten this man went from hiding his face out of bashfulness to pounding you vigorously into the mattress. He was a possessive, kinky, dominant lover with the drive to make love to you all night and the daring to take you in the riskiest of places.

-Oh …I want you please! I need you! I have waited so long for you! Mmm…aah- He introduces a finger inside you and then the second. You see him smirk while you moan and squirm.- Oh please! - His fingers go in and out in a merciless rhythm while he bites the inside of your legs, your hips, your stomach, suck at your breast and then bites you neck.- Aah …Alfonse please!- He growls at that.

-Not Alfonse!Alfonse is a child! Say my name! Say it!

-Mmmm Aaah! Lif! Lif Please! I can’t…I …- He has you seeing stars and the way he talks to you in your ear is enough to make you come. You shudder and moan his name again.

-Yes. Come for me ______- You are still shivering when you feel him lift your leg and position himself between your legs.- Are you ready for me?- He asks in your ear; then bites it. This ignites the fire within you once again.

-Yes. Please. I need you.

He looks into your eyes. -We will become one. Do you accept me? Will you be mine once again? Will you re-new our vows? - He asks, his voice full of emotion make your heart melt. You feel this moment as if this was a promise. Your wedding night. No going back. Your eyes water. How can you say not to him. The love of your life. Once you had pledged to be with him in a” till death do us part” promise. Now you knew he had gone beyond death and so had you. If there was a” for ever”; you wanted it to be with him.

-Yes. Only you. For ever.

He kisses you; tenderly this time and just as tenderly you fell him enter you. Here ,now while his hips moved so sensually against you, and he kisses you like it is the fist time; you feel him become Alfonse once again. The man that had asked you once, to promise him to never leave him. The man who had promised to never be with anyone else but you. The man who had said his wedding vows before making love to you for the first time, because there was no time to have a wedding.

He moves inside you while he utters your name like a mantra, proclaiming you as his. You respond to him that yes, you are his and cling to him for dear life because this is too much, too fast for you. Soon enough you feel the pressure build inside you and you climax again. He stops a second and gives a small rumble of a laugh.

-My _____. As passionate as ever. -He feels you shiver against his flesh and your moan of release was silenced with a long kiss. Suddenly while still kissing you he starts moving, but this time faster to reach his release. His moans are, so sensual to your ears.-You are so warm. Come for me again dearest! Come for me! Only for me!

-Oh Lif you feel so good! You are so good! - He came undone with this. He bit your neck long and hard enough to bruise and you came again right there alongside him, while he reached into the deepest part of you and you call his name.

You both ride your high clinging to each other, entangled like ivy. Your hands roam his strong back in a soothing motion. He hides his face in the crock of your neck and you hear his whispered plea.

-Run away with me. - Oh how you wish you could. You hug him tighter.

-I gave him my word. I will leave with you once the war ends.-You tell him.

-You can not return to him after this. Stay with me.

- I gave you my word. I am yours, but I need to save this Askr. I can not fail twice. I will not. I swore to you to serve you till death and I did. I will fulfill my promise to him and I will return to you. Please let me do this. If we play this right we can save this world and return ours to life.

-Ours.- he says with emotion.- I knew you would say this.- He kisses you and then he kisses your ear. Once he is close enough he whispers.

-The gods are plotting to end us. They specifically want to end Alfonse’s line. I am working with them to find their weakness. -He makes a shushing notice when he feels you stiffening.- Do not tell him anything, but prepare. Trouble comes and it comes fast.- He kisses you again and then he keeps on whispering.- I will come to you. I promise.

He separates from you and say coldly. - So you will not come with me?

-No. I… I am sorry Lif.- You play along. He just nods and gets up. You are left there feeling cold and empty. He starts dressing up and you do the same. Once you both are again standing dressed and ready to leave; he takes your cheek in his hand and with the other he touches the bruise left on your neck.

-Does he know where you are?

-Yes.

-Now he will know who you belong to. Although this will not deter him, I know him well enough to understand this.- He sighs and turns to leave.- Until we see each other again Summoner.

He does not turn around and he is gone.

~*~

You stand looking out of the window. Children run around laughing in the garden. A strand of hair comes undone from your bun and tickles your cheek. You feel a hand take the graying strands to tuck it behind your ear. You turn to see deep blue eyes watching you fondly. Alfonse’s blue hair is graying too. He looks out the window and smiles. Among your grandchildren a tall figure stands up (1). Lif’s dark blue hair swaying in the winds while he talks to a young man that looks remarkably like a young Alfonse. He looks down to a child clinging to his left leg. A blond haired and greed eyed girl of around five years. He picked her up and she giggled. His face turns to look at you and his crimson eyes twinkle in the sunlight. There is happiness and love in them. You blow him a kiss and Alfonse chuckles at your side.

With how endless you had felt the war, you never thought you could reach a happy ending and here you were. In that moment; there was only happiness.

1. It is my belief that anyone as a summoner would find that there were a lot of casualties of war and many orphaned kids. Used to so much people in the castle and with most of the heroes gone; the summoner opened up an orphanage and ended up adopting some of the kids, along side of whoever she married. At the end it is not only her biological grandchildren, but also the kids of her adopted ones.

#feh #feh fan fiction #feh alfonse x summoner #feh alfonse x reader #feh alfonse x kiran #feh lif #feh lif reader #feh lif x summoner #feh lif x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem heroes #alfonse x summoner x lif #feh lif x kiran #feh kiran #feh summoner #fire emblem fanfiction #kiralfonse

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lemonlushff-iy · 3 years

Photo

History Lesson in how OLR came to be...

A year ago, @clearwillow, @dawnrider, and @keichanz had just finished what would be known as the spontaneous Vday “hot off” of 2020, and it was decided that white day was going to just be a repeat of what we had just done...only we wanted everyone to participate and it was going to be open to all, and you could do whatever you wanted. Tease us. Post completed pieces. What have you.

Shortly after, I fell into a VERY bad depression. I’m not shy about it. I’m not shy about my feelings or saying I’m hurt. I think people should be able to say that, and have it not be taboo. So I’m open about it. I wasn’t well. I felt inadequate. Like what I wrote was terrible. Like people within the fandom ONLY liked me because I was there for them 24/7 hyping up their work and singing their praises. I was the fandom hype girl. It felt like none of my friendships were REAL.

And I’d been ok with that.

Until I wasn’t.

And a year ago today...I decided that I wanted to work past those feelings. I’d been struggling with them for about two days at this point, and I’d been looking at Carra’s pixiv and was completely CAPTIVATED by her work. Specifically, New Moon Ride, which has since been colorized. I was nervous and so low...I’d removed myself almost entirely from discord and tumblr, but I really wanted to participate in White Day, and I had this...idea in my head about this girl returning home and having a fling with a cattle rancher. I wanted it to be like Sweet Home Alabama (which is an Easter Egg for those of you on Patreon, and something to look for for those who aren’t).

Needless to say...

My depression made me miss the mark on that...

But I very nervously went to Carra who was this FANDOM GOD and asked “Hey...Would it be ok if I did this?” Needless to say...She said yes, and in doing so...She gave me this AMAZING gift.

It was supposed to be a one shot just for White Day. I’d INTENDED for it to be a PWOP. The depression got the best of me though, and that...Clearly didn’t happen. Instead I started pouring all of these feelings I had inside of me into this story instead...And it’s become one of the greatest gifts of my life. It’s my emotional support fic. It takes all the bad and painful away from me. And I WISH that what I’d been feeling a year ago was the end of it, but it was only the beginning of it...And One Last Ride has been there for me for all of it.

Providing me with an outlet for all of the feelings I’ve had. It’s allowed me to deal with a LOT. Drama. Friendships that died and times when I was shut out. Feelings regarding my own late father. General depression.

One Last Ride has become deeply meaningful and a piece of my SOUL.

So...Thank you Carra for this AMAZING gift you’ve given me. You never knew when you drew that photo what you were about to unleash...But...I’m OH so very glad you did...

And in the spirit of how I started One Last Ride a year ago...

I offer you ALL a piece of post canon smut. It’s just a ficlet because...I just FINALLY finished the FIRST ACTUAL smut in One Last Ride (nearly a year later) and wanted to save my bandwidth for MORE smut...Can ya blame me?

And now, a short fic...

“Inuyasha...she could hear…” Kagome weakly protested, trying to push her husband away from her.

“She won’t notice,” he soothed, continuing to suckle at her pulse point. “She’s watching that thing with the talking animals.”

“That narrows it down,” she gasped, feeling his tongue burn a path up the column of her neck.

“I turned on the tv and she pointed. I weren’t about to ask questions,” he growled, pushing his hips into the swell of her ass, allowing her to feel the hardness between his legs. “‘Sides. I’m still cold from building that damn igloo with her. I need my sexy wife to warm me up.”

Yes...but they had been so cute. She loved watching the two of them play together. And watching him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing when it kept collapsing. She knew that even though it hadn’t worked, he was going to go back out there tonight and figure out how to build Moroha her igloo. Even if it took him until 3 am, he was going to surprise his princess with one in the morning, no matter what.

And she loved that about him.

“Giving her a shower didn’t do the trick?”

“Please,” he snorted. “All it did was leave me soaked. And all I wanna do is make you wet,” he murmured, slipping a hand under her shirt and laying his palm against the soft, relatively flat skin of her stomach.

“Yash…”

“She won’t hear,” he promised, his hands coming to cup her breasts over the lace of her bra. “Washer and dryer will be too loud and she will be too distracted…”

“But what about the cookies...”

“We still have ten minutes.”

“And when she tries to take them out of the oven on her own? She has a little too much of you in her, you know,” Kagome replied dryly as his fingers found the tip of her nipple. The pad of his thumb gently brushed against her sensitive skin, making her bite the inside of her cheek.

“Better make it eight then...”

“That sure of yourself,” she challenged, his gentle ministrations to her body was making it hard for her to continue to resist him.

“I know you, woman…” he growled as he reached out to find the doorknob of the laundry room, and swiveled the lock into place.

Good.

No interrupting daughters.

“I know what makes you wet,” he continued, pulling the lace cups of her bra down before lifting the wire frames up and away from her breasts to rest above them on her chest. He felt their weight in his palms, tweaking her nipples and making her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“D-do you now,” she breathed as he found the lobe of her ear, pulling it between his fangs and suckling on it.

“I think I do, Kags,” he smirked, one of his palms sliding down her rib cage and over the soft, silvery lines of her stomach to the band of her pants. He felt her freeze in his arms as his palms connected with those lines, and he kissed her that much harder.

She hated those lines. She’d done everything she could when she was pregnant to avoid them, but they came anyways, despite her efforts. She thought they made her ugly.

He thought they made her sexier.

“Stop it,” he reprimanded, kissing her jaw lovingly. He knew what that look meant. She was thinking about them again. How her body had changed since giving him the most precious gift in his life. He hated when she did that. “You’re beautiful. Fucking sexy as hell. I’ll tell you that every damn day ‘till I die. I wouldn't change a thing about you.”

“Yash,” she breathed, turning her head and allowing him to capture her lips in a sweet, loving kiss. He was so good with words...but his lips were even better at this. He had a way of reaffirming everything he said with his hands. His touch. His body.

The only sounds that could be heard in the small space of their laundry room, were the sounds of the dryer turning and spinning the wet clothes inside, and their heavy breathing. The sounds of their lips moving wetly against one another as he showered her with affection. Showed her how much he loved her. Expressed his need for her and her body.

Her hands slowly wound their way into his hair, finding his ears. She rubbed them between her finger tips, starting at the base and slowly working her way towards the fuzzy tips. He moaned against her lips and lifted her shirt, lowering his head to her soft breasts. His tongue found her nipples and she felt him swirl it around her sensitive flesh as his hands worked the band of her panties and leggings down her legs.

“Yash,” she moaned, his name clawing its way out of her throat against her will.

“Shhh...You need to keep it down, Darling,” he reprimanded, pulling away from her trembling form as he worked one of her feet out the bottom of the mess of clothing. “You don’t want her to hear.”

“I thought you said she wouldn’t be able to hear,” She replied, panic beginning to bloom in the pit of her stomach. Oh god...They hadn’t had any situations with Moroha yet, but she didn’t want to explain this to her daughter yet either.

“She can’t,” he soothed, the velvety tone of his voice slowly calming her as he lifted her leg over his shoulder, kissing her thigh. “But you can’t start getting loud neither. No screaming, remember? Anyone would be able to hear that. Demon blood or not.”

Her cheeks turned bright red at the reminder of just how loud she could be, and then red from the feeling of his tongue slipping between her lips. He zeroed in on her clit, and her nails scraped against his scalp. Soft little moans of pleasure crawled out of the back of her throat.

He used them as a guide as he slipped his fingers inside. Watched the trembling of her abdomen. The heaving of her breasts as she tried to steady her breathing.

And then she was gnashing her bottom lip, her face twisting and eyes screwing shut as her orgasm swept through her body. He held her, let her ride his face as she came - let her pull his hair and whimper his name against the palm of her hand.

When she’d finished, he pulled away from her and lowered his sweatpants and boxer briefs, allowing them to pool at his ankles as his hardness sprang free.

Fuck, he was so hard.

And she was so ready for him.

“Should have a few more minutes still,” he commented, turning her around against the washing machine. She lifted her leg, his hands coming to softly grip her delicate flesh in his palms and support her.

“Should?”

“I’ll hear when the timer goes off, don’t worry,” he soothed, lining the head of his cock up with her entrance. He slowly sank inside, his head falling to her shoulder, and kissed her neck. “God Kags…”

“Mmm…” she agreed, her head rolling back onto his shoulder as his fangs scraped against her pulse point.

He slowly thrust into her, his hips gaining in speed and setting a vigorous pace as he took her from behind. He sought out all the places he knew she loved, and his fingers brushed through the patch of curls at the apex of her thighs to locate her clit. The tips of his fingers swirled around it as he continued to work her from behind until the coil that had been tightening in her snapped.

The hand that had been holding her hip, guiding hers into his, released it to slap over her lips as he nervously glanced at the door.

“Shhh...Kags…” he grunted, his eyes screwing shut. He couldn’t take much more…

He was almost there…

“Cum for me, Yash,” she begged, lowering his hand so her words wouldn't be muffled.

“Kags…”

What was all he needed. He tumbled, over the edge of the abyss, allowing his orgasm to sweep through him as he spilled himself inside her.

“Yash,” she soothed, feeling his body go limp against hers. “What got into you today,” she throatily chuckled, and he rubbed his forehead against her shoulder blade.

“Nothing,” he sighed, burying his face into her neck and inhaling deeply as his cock slipped out from between her folds.

“Liar,” she teased, watching as he dropped to his knees to use his tongue and mouth to clean up the mess he’d made in her. “You normally keep it in your pants until she’s sleeping.”

Catching him red handed, was she?

He couldn’t lie. It wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“I want another one, Kags.”

“Another one?” she pressed, her brow furrowing in confusion, and he nervously nodded his head.

“Another baby. She’s getting older...And this house is too big for just the three of us...and I miss it. Having a baby around. And she wants a sibling too. All her friends have one. And I...I...I dunno...I just...Do.”

His words were so sweet. So soft and tender.

“Yash…”

“Don’t say no just yet,” he pleaded, pulling his sweatpants up as he stood. “Promise me you’ll think about it...And...And please don’t be mad...It’s been on ma mind a while, but you ain’t even ovulating now. But thinking about another one and how much fun we had trying ta get Mo...Well…”

So that was why. It all made sense now.

“I promise I’ll think about it Yash,” she grinned, pulling her leggings back up her legs and adjusting herself within the cups of her bra as the timer went off in the kitchen.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

“That’s our cue,” he sighed, relief washing over him as he pulled away from her and slipped out of the laundry room.

She’d think about it. It weren’t a yes...but he didn’t need one right now. That could come later.

Right now, he just wanted her to think about the possibility of adding another one to their happily ever after.

And it was a pretty damn sweet happily ever after, if he did say so himself.

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyashafanfic #inuyasha #inukag #DAMNIT CARRA #Ode to Carra #Clearwillow #rancher #cattle rancher #western #romance #angst #one last ride #lemonlushff

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prideful-sins · 4 years

Text

Lucifer X GN!MC x Diavolo: Spitroasted like a boar

This is mature content 18+, you have been warned!

Ya’ll knew this was coming and I hope you enjoy it.

Ships: Diavolo X Gender Neutral! MC X Lucifer

Tags: Mature, Sexual, 2nd person (You), slight choking, double penetration (As it’s gender neutral: oral and anal), Body Worship, Rimming

Word count: 6.9K

AO3 Link

Masterlist | Buy Me A Coffee?

You sat within the walls of one the palace’s drawing rooms, thumbs twiddling around themselves as you looked upon the portraits, lighting fixtures, ceiling, and the furniture, in awe. The room was quiet, save for some music playing far off in the background of the palace somewhere, a soft and comforting classical piece that set your soul at ease.

Barbatos came to the house of Lamentation under Diavolo’s orders, he had asked you to join him and Lucifer for dinner tonight and you were more than happy to accept, truth be told, you’d always had a small crush on Diavolo, his happy-go-lucky attitude, his willingness for peace, the way his smile lights up the room no matter what, and his demon form made it oh so much harder for you to resist him. The horns, his markings, his eyes, his abs, his-

“MC?” A soft voice pulled you out of your lustful thoughts and you swung around to see Barbatos, “My Lord wishes you to join him now” he bowed slightly, with a small smile, and his hand resting on his chest.

You stood up and smoothed down your clothes, “Oh! of course” you said, bowing in reply. You walked towards Barbatos, who had turned his body to the side in order to let you through the door.

“MC truly is a wonder, aren’t they?” Diavolo was stood out on the balcony of the palace’s 5th drawing room, one of his favourites, with a glass of wine in hand and a cool breeze caressing his face.

“Indeed, a mere human able to make pacts with 6 of the members of the Student council truly is astounding” Lucifer replied solemnly, he was sat down within the room, by a table, wine glass half full and bottle residing next to it, some entrees had been laid out as a snack before the main meal.

“You don’t sound very pleased about that” Diavolo turned around and gave Lucifer a sly smile.

“My brothers are free to do as they please” a slight tone of resentment as Lucifer took a small sip of his wine, eyes keeping to the glass.

“Why haven't you made a pact with them?” The Prince walked towards the seat opposite Lucifer, a raised eyebrow and knowing smirk as his confidant eyed him suspiciously.

“If MC were to use my brothers against The Devildom, or specifically, you, I’d not like to be following their orders against my will” Lucifer’s eyes darted between his glass, the wall, and Diavolo’s dastardly stare.

Diavolo gave a chuckle, “I hardly think MC would do that, there’s another reason and you’re not telling” a teasing tone to his last words as Diavolo gave his best to try and get information.

“I suppose I’m afraid of being put on a leash, happy?”

“What if it were MC on the leash?” Diavolo’s remark was snide, his eyes glazed over with an abnormal type of lust mixed with a knowing tone, Lucifer raised a conservative eyebrow to Diavolo’s remark, the conversation was cut short by a knock at the door prompting Diavolo to chuckle and shrug, “yes?”

Barbatos’ head poked around the door, “MC is here My Lord” he said as he swung the door open to reveal you, who gave Diavolo a smile and a wave.

“Ah, the star of the show!” Both Diavolo and Lucifer stood up to face you as you walked into the room, Diavolo placed his glass down and walked up to you to envelop you within a hug, something he had insisted upon once you had given your consent in the past.

“A show I’m not aware of?” You gave a small chuckle as you patted Diavolo’s, seemingly huge, back.

“Hello MC” Lucifer’s voice was soft as you pulled away from The Prince and gave the brother a beaming smile.

“Nice to see you again Lucifer, it’s only been a few hours but it feels like days” Perhaps you’d come off a little strong but Lucifer had always held a dear place in your heart, right next to Diavolo, or in between them, sandwiched in their-

“Indeed, the hours seem longer without your company” Diavolo remarked as he gestured to a third seat at the table, which you happily took, Lucifer nodding to the statement. “Thank you Barbatos” Diavolo gave Barbatos a smile before waving his hand and dismissing him.

You rolled your eyes to their compliment as you raised your hand to the back of your neck, “Somehow I don’t think that’s true but I’ll accept the compliment anyway” you let out a giggle as your hand dropped into your lap.

You had spent the next few hours eating, drinking, laughing,drinking, flirting, drinking, and talking with Lucifer and Diavolo. You hadn’t felt the time fly by at all you’d been having such good fun with the duo, and the wine, that it just wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.

“-he ran out of the room, bare ass shining in the moonlight as the rest of the guests cheer and clap for his sheer gusto!” You and Diavolo guffawed at the story’s ending, hands slapping against thighs and feet bouncing on the floor, Lucifer, in the other hand, merely chuckled into his wine glass, composure kept close to his chest.

“Oh my god that’s hilarious!” You tried your best to make coherent words as you wiped a tear from your eye, “you really have to applaud his tenacity!”

“Indeed, I’m not sure what I would have done in the same situation” Lucifer added as he chuckled along.

“I don’t think anyone would Lucifer!” Your hand came to rest on his leg as you laughed once more, his gaze was now fixed upon your hand as a redness dusted his cheeks, or was that the alcohol? Upon realising your hand had lingered for longer than socially acceptable for friends you withdrew and cleared your throat.

“Say, MC?” Diavolo’s voice piped up and you turned to meet his eyeline giving a small ‘Hm?” in reply, “has anyone told you you have truly beautiful hair?” Diavolo raised a hand to entwine within your locks, his fingers dancing happily between the strands, bringing an instant blush to your face.

“We-well no, not unless they were trying to get something from me” You chuckled nervously and looked away, but Diavolo only got closer, his face now inches away from yours.

“Like?” His breath was hot on your face, voice hoarse and low, hand now cupping your cheek tenderly, your ass on the edge of your seat as you leaned into the caress.

“We-well li-like, uhm”

“Like this? Maybe?” Your lips met his, softly, tenderly, your world being enveloped by him in that moment as his hand pulled you into him more and more. Your hand instinctively reached out and softly grabbed his bicep, just as a way of grounding yourself and telling yourself this isn’t a dream. Wait, was the Prince of The Devildom really kissing you? You???

“Ahem” You had gotten so lost within Diavolo’s world that both of you had forgotten about Lucifer sat less than 2 metres away from you.

Diavolo pulled away from you, slightly, and breathed a huffy sigh, “If you’re so annoyed at not being included you’re welcome to join in”

“Maybe I will” Lucifer stood up as Diavolo smirked and pulled away from, a very dazed and red, you. He leaned down, placed his fingers gently under your chin and lifted your face to meet his gaze, “May I?” You nodded in flustered agreement and Lucifer took no time at all to resist you.

His lips were slightly rougher than Diavolo’s, stress biting making them seem a little coarser, but the kiss itself was entirely different. Hot and steamy as he jerked his face into yours just a little more, his other hand coming down to the arm of the chair you were sat on to support his body weight, his teeth nibbling at your lower lip ever so slightly in an act of domination and invasion. The hand from under your chin moved to the back of your neck, keeping you steadily against Lucifer, untold feelings and devotion radiating from him.

As Lucifer pulled away from you, your eyes opened, half lidded and clouded, a breath finally left your throat as a low, drawling, sigh, and your chest relieved it’s tension. Your rose coloured vision finally cleared and you saw a pair of deep, red, eyes staring back at you, filled with lust and a desire to tear your clothes off of your body. The rustling of fabric, from behind Lucifer, awoke you from your state, you saw Diavolo standing, his hands coming up to the buttons on his jacket, fingers nimbly wrapping around them, and then his back. The Prince’s jacket was shrugged off of his shoulders and thrown onto the chair he had just left.

“MC?” The Prince’s voice was soft and deep, a compliment to his kiss.

“Yes?” Your voice, on the other hand, was barely above a whisper, your soul had already departed it’s mortal vessel because of the kisses you had received, your body was rebelling, it wanted to soar directly up into The Celestial Realm where your emotions had flown so high.

Lucifer pulled away from you, his hand’s touch lingering upon your skin, and you stood up to meet Diavolo’s eye.”I have to say, I’ve admired you from afar for quite a while now” a few buttons of his shirt had been undone and the tie loosened from his neck.

“Y-you have?” The raw sexual energy that Diavolo was exuding right now had made you timid, your breath was quick and expecting, hands fumbling around with the hem of your clothes, voice barely even there as you stared a hole into his throat and collarbone.

“Indeed, there’s something about you, you know” he took a step forward and placed a hand under your chin, so soft that you could barely feel it, so your body reacted unintentionally bringing you deeper into his touch. “You draw people, demons especially, close to you. That personality, that smile, that laugh, all of you” Diavolo drew in close once more, his lips now a mere inch away from yours, the breath of his words hot upon your own raggedy sighs, “and I,for one, just can’t get enough of it”

“I’ll admit” you had gained a little confidence now, knowing what the situation was becoming, and your voice told that. The whisper was now a bratty purr as you brought your hands to rest on Diavolo’s hips, “I can’t seem to get enough of you, either of you” you bit your lips as your eyes darted between Diavolo’s lips and eyes, anxious in anticipation. You brought your face just that little ways closer to his, your lips touching in the faintest of ways, a low, almost unheard, growl came from The Prince before he made your lips touch.

As you kissed Diavolo, you heard more rustling of fabric behind you, what you could only assume was Lucifer shedding off some of his layers, too. “MC?” You heard Lucifer’s voice mumbling from behind you as a gloved hand came upon the crook of your neck, the other resting on your waist. Lucifer’s head came to rest on the other side of your neck, his lips dotting small kisses onto your skin, each contact sending a wave through your spine.

You pulled away from Diavolo and brought your foreheads together, small pants escaping each of your bodies. “Yeah?” barely a whisper of reply to Lucifer’s question as he kept dusting his lips upon you.

“You know what we’ve been doing, and what would come” you looked over at Lucifer, head leaning on his hand as your half lidded eyes met his own, a small nod, once more, in reply to his statement. “Do you wish for this too? Do you want this as much as we do?”

Never did you think this day would come, having Lucifer and Diavolo want you like this was a dream come true, something you’d wished upon yourself for weeks with no intent of it ever actually happening. Barely a heartbeat was skipped before you nodded, whispering a “Yes. Please, yes.”, one of your hands leaving Diavolo’s hip and coming up to rest upon the hand on your neck.

Diavolo muttered, “you don’t know how long we’ve waited for this MC” You were sandwiched between these two, beautiful, men and now both of them were kissing on your neck, “months of yearning to touch you like this” the words were muttered between the kisses he placed on your neck.

“I- I’ve wanted this, too- aah” Diavolo and Lucifer bit down on your neck at the same time, in very sensitive spots, making you moan, a lot louder than you had wanted to, and leading your knees to buckle ever so slightly, “alot longer than I care to admit” your words were broken by pants, very heavy pants and sighs. Lucifer licked up the back of your neck ever so slightly and bit down once again, softer this time, you raised a hand and threaded it within his hair edging him into a soft moan.

Diavolo removed his lips from your neck, the area screaming for him to return as the cool air hit your raw skin, and placed them upon your own. Once more, a soft kiss from The Prince, your eyes instinctively closing with the touch, eyebrows furrowing upwards as your hand grabbed at Diavolo’s shirt, tugging it out from the waistband it was tucked into.

Lucifer’s hands came around your stomach, resting upon the hem of your clothes, one hand sliding upwards to come into contact with your bare skin. It reacted, a shock wave was sent directly through your spine as his fingers made contact with your stomach, painted nails curled and digging, just slightly, into your skin.

Your hands worked nimbly around the edges and frays of Diavolo’s shirt, hunting for buttons to undo but your fingers just weren’t working with your brain, you struggled to find them amongst the clouds of your mind. “Let me” Diavolo whispered, his hands leaving your body and coming to his collar, tie loosened, and buttons now slowly being undone, showing more and more of his skin. As the upper half was opened you brought your hands upon Diavolo’s chest, tracing your fingertips along the markings on his chest, a faithful reminder of just who you were dealing with. Diavolo bit his lip, just a little, as he felt your hands, gracefully, along his skin, tracing over his nipples in small circles, feeling the tiny metal balls of his piercings with your fingertips.

As you had been doing this, Lucifer had removed his hands from you and began unbuttoning his waistcoat with shoes already kicked off to the side, all the while his lips hardly leaving your neck, only to place kisses. You took your hands off of Diavolo’s body and began to remove your own clothing, buttons and collars ripped off as fast as you could so no time was wasted getting back to ravishing these men and having them ravish you

All off you were now topless, admiring each other with eyes and hands, you had turned to face Lucifer, Diavolo’s huge chest now against your back as his hands roamed the skin of your hips, thumbs screwing little circles on the bone as his fingertips slipped into the waistband of your trousers, teasingly asking for more. Lucifer’s hands were scandalously un-gloved and massaging your chest, fingers twirling around your nipples, the buds reacting in sheer bliss as your breaths became hitched and moans crawled out from your lips. His lips were upon yours, tongues dancing along to your rhythms as moans and growls were sent up into the air.

Your hands had been on Lucifer’s back, nails dug deep into his shoulders as your hips bucked into his thigh, placed strategically between your own. Twirling became pinching as Lucifer’s fingertips closed around your hard nipples, you threw your head back moaning in sheer pleasure but Lucifer wasted no time, his lips, once more, upon your neck, biting down amongst the red marks before, already forming your own type of pact mark, an obvious statement that you belonged to someone once you left this room.

“Lucifer- aah“ Your nails dug even deeper, causing his back to tense just a little as your fingers dragged down his skin. There was no pain on Lucifer’s part, the friction of your nails upon his back was ecstasy, his hands moved swiftly from your chest straight down to your ass, hooking underneath and lifting you up with ease causing you to yelp in surprise. Diavolo caught on immediately and pressed against you, acting as a second support as your legs wrapped around Lucifer’s torso, the Prince’s hands coming to your chest, and lips kissing along your shoulders.

You had been so wrapped up in everything happening you hadn’t even noticed....they were both hard as hell, Diavolo’s cock pressing against your ass, and Lucifer’s on your own sex. The utter feeling of just knowing you were the cause for their erections was amazing, the way they ravished you made you go crazy, you were horny beyond belief between these two demons, and almost certain they could sense it.

“pl-please” you whimpered, alerting the men who responded with slightly startled hums, “let me down, I need one of you in my mouth, please” a low chuckle from Lucifer, and a whisper from Diavolo.

“Of course” You unwrapped your legs from Lucifer, his hands letting you down slowly, Diavolo stepped away his hands leaving your chest and now upon the hem of his trousers, seamlessly working the buttons and zipper, the image of his boxer shorts coming into view. You knelt down between them, knees hitting the cold tiles with a small ‘thunk’ facing towards Lucifer, who stood there expectantly, a smirk on his face. He wasn’t going to undo his trousers for you, he’s waiting for you to do it.

Your hands got to work, fingering the buttons and working around Lucifer’s erection, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, once again the sound of fabric hitting the floor from behind you. Fingertips deftly curled around the waistbands of Lucifer’s trousers and underwear, teasingly pulling them as slow as possible, your eyes meeting his, a hungry gaze staring into your own lust-filled eyes. Little by little you tugged his waist band down revealing more of Lucifer’s skin, neatly trimmed pubic hair, and then the base of his erection.

“If you don’t hurry up you’ll make both of us impatient, MC” you felt another hand on your shoulder, Diavolo patiently waiting for you to disrobe Lucifer’s trousers, you were brought out of your lusty haze and proceeded to continue, hands now tugging eagerly, restless to have him within your mouth.

Lucifer’s erection was magnificent, long and slender, veins almost complimenting it as they wound their way up the base of his dick. Your eyes almost popping out of your head, fingers trailing softly over the sides at the base of his penis. You heard steps and Diavolo came into view ‘oh shit’ his erection was even larger, and thicker, than Lucifer’s, veins throbbing, pubes long but neat, his head leaking thick drops of pre-cum.

Your right hand closed around the base of Diavolo’s cock, while your left was on the tip of Lucifer’s, thumb massaging gently at the underside of the tip, just over the vein. Accepting grunts and soft sighs came from the men as they relaxed under your touch, the grip on your shoulder loosening ever so slightly as your hands worked their magic.

As your fingers massaged their dicks you brought your lips to the tip of Lucifer’s head and kissing the tip where the pre-cum had seeped out, your lips now dotted with a little of his white, a new marker of your relationship. Your right hand started pumping Diavolo, slowly, moving just a little further up the shaft with every rise and fall. you lips, on the other hand, were now wrapped around the tip of Lucifer’s cock, tongue licking over the slit and sliding underneath, over the vein in a desperate attempt to break his outer shell a little.

You bobbed your head down a little, taking more of Lucifer within your mouth just another inch, your tongue flat on the underside veins enveloped by your muscle. Diavolo became impatient, your hands not working fast enough as he bucked into you, the girth of his penis being fully realised as your fingers had no hope in touching.

“So beautiful,” Diavolo whispered in that low tone that drove your insides crazy as your eyes met his, mouth still wrapped around Lucifer, who nodded in agreement, “but we aren’t going to keep being patient, MC” Lucifer’s hand moved from your shoulder and came up into your hair on the back of your head, “we’ve waited too long to savour it for hours, I hope you don’t mind” as Diavolo finished his sentence Lucifer’s hand thrust your head further down his dick, making it hit the back of your throat and causing you to gag loudly, wide smirks upon the demons’ faces.

You got the message. The spit from your previous gagging was now your lube your head moving at an increased speed, with one last deep throat you pulled your lips from Lucifer and faced Diavolo, as you stuck your tongue flat out ready for him a drop of saliva lingered at the tip of your tongue. You raised his dick high and placed your tongue on his balls, licking all the way up to the tip causing Diavolo to growl in pleasure as he lost himself in you. Your mouth wrapped around his cock and got to work, he was big, so much bigger than you had been used to but fuck if you weren't going to try your best to fit him in you.

Diavolo moved his hand to your cheek his fingers entwining in your hair as his hips bucked and moved in rhythm to your head, moans and growls from both of the men as they revelled in your pleasures. A warmth in your stomach began to roar at you, thighs clamping together in order to control your own desires, your sex becoming more and more desperate to be pleased. Your head bobbed up and down, mouth full of Diavolo’s dick, your hands moving and massaging both of the demons’ cocks, spit dripping down your chin as Diavolo hit the back of your throat. With each gag you kept going, the moans and groans of Diavolo spurring you on to keep going deeper and deeper, so much so you could almost feel his dick in your stomach.

You looked up, eyes meeting Diavolo’s and removed your mouth from his with a loud sigh, saliva beading from your mouth to his dick. Your lungs burned as you panted, eyebrows furrowing as your eyes looked between the two men, pleading for them to give you some attention. Lucifer smirked and held out his hand, you took it, graciously, and rose to your feet.

“Come” he instructed, as you and Diavolo followed, being led to the chair you had vacated earlier. “Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer asked, Diavolo responding with a sultry, low, hum. “Care to remove MC’s remaining clothes?” Your eyebrows raised as Diavolo’s hands instantly came to your waistband, fingers unbuttoning and ravaging your clothes, almost ripping them off of you, your body naked in the blink of an eye as you stepped away from the garments clumped on the floor. You had no time to feel self conscious or to blush because

Lucifer sat in the seat, his legs spread slightly and hand, once more, out and waiting for you to take it, which you did. He led you towards him and you stood there, in all your glory. Lucifer eyed your body, the longer he took the more ground Diavolo gained on your hips, his hands edging closer and closer to the base of your stomach.

“Sit.” Another order form Lucifer.

“Wh- where?” You stuttered, blinking confused.

“You know where. Now sit.” Lucifer roughly yanked your hand and you turned, bending down and sitting on his stomach, his dick between your legs and his hands supporting you. Diavolo knelt down in front of you and brought his mouth down to your ass, his hot breath making your nerves tingle with excitement. His hands came under your thighs and lifted them over his shoulders before moving his hands, one placed on your lower stomach, and the other softly massaging the base of Lucifer’s dick, keeping you both on a high.

As Diavolo touched upon your most sensitive areas with his lips you gasped and moaned, your hips bucking forward into him and grinding against Lucifer’s cock ever so slightly. A hearty sigh was felt on the back of your neck as Lucifer groaned, the feeling of your sex against him made him lose himself just a little, a hand moved from supporting your ass to your neck, lightly choking you. His fingers dug into your skin, nails providing additional marks to the love-bites, there was no way you were leaving this room with even a semblance of question-ability of whom you belonged to.

You gasped at the feeling of Lucifer’s hand on your neck, a startled yelp as your legs twitched and convulsed at the sensation of Diavolo granting you pleasure, making sure you were sufficiently lubed up for them. The Prince removed his mouth from you, your thighs twitching for him to return, your whole body whining at the loss of contact.

“MC?” he whispered as his lips kissed just above your genitals.

You looked down, with only your eyes as Lucifer’s hand restricted your head’s movement. “Y-yes?”

Diavolo still talked in a hushed whisper. his lips kissing up more and more of your stomach, “Yes what?” Lucifer briefly closed the grip on his hand, choking you out of your breath for just a second, showing you your punishment.

“Yes, Lord Diavolo?” You whimpered, body screaming to be used by them, your guard completely gone, in this moment you trusted them with whatever they wanted to do.

He smirked at your meagre response after submitting to them both so easily, “that’s better” Diavolo’s hands rested on the underside of your thighs, “are you ready?” his question was soft but his eyes were harsh, taken over by lust. Asmodeus would be having a field day.

You nodded, a little hesitantly, not to the sex but just to the question as to how Lucifer, or Diavolo, was going to fit inside of you. “I don’t know if you’ll even fit” you whispered, voice betraying you as it cracked under the pressure.

“We’ll start off with Lucifer, ease you into it. Next time though, it’ll be me” Diavolo shrugged your legs from his shoulders and stood, holding out his hands for you to take. As you did, Lucifer eased his grip on your neck and let you go, your legs a little shaky, and his dick twitching in anticipation.

“You’ll be okay MC, we won’t hurt you” Lucifer paused as he placed his hands on your ass cheeks, “too much” you could practically feel his smirk in the tone of his voice. Diavolo brought your hands to his chest, one wrapping around his neck to moral support, and as a stable foundation. You could feel Lucifer parting your ass cheeks and fingering your ass, the tip circling around the entrance. You moved your hips in response, edging them down and pressing your opening against his finger. “You’re very impatient MC. Fine, if that is what you wish”

You whimpered as Lucifer entered a finger into you, slowly, letting you adjust as your moans echoed off of the walls. Diavolo bit his lips as he watched the contortions your face made, eyebrows raised and then furrowed, your mouth parting as you sucked in sharp breaths. He couldn’t help himself, you looked so fucking cute he just had to kiss you. His lips darted to your neck once more kissing all over and taking you by surprise. Lucifer started moving his finger within you, the feeling driving your hips wild as you began riding him, your moans falling on deaf ears as your nails dug into Diavolo’s skin, leaving tiny red marks in their wake.

“Ah-ha fuck” a whimper was all that could come out, the thought of making words exist as you felt this pleasure was impossible. All you wanted to do was make these gruff noises to show them how good they made you feel, electric shocks riding your spine like a roller coaster as each bend of his finger shocked you.

Another finger entered, widening the opening for Lucifer, his fingers working double time as you panted and heaved. You grabbed a fistful of Diavolo’s hair and yanked his head off of your neck, startling him, before pulling him in for a kiss. The heavy breaths leaving your nose as you parted between sloppy kisses to sigh and pant, teeth biting at each others lips in a desperate act of domination, you had no chance of winning but damn if you weren’t going to try. Your hips clashed into Lucifer’s erection, the head hitting against your sex.

“Lucifer” your words were breathless, barely any volume compared to the heaving sighs that separated them, “please- hah- I need you in me please” You continued your attack on Diavolo’s lips, his hands clawing at your back, the painful sensation sending you into a prideful rage as your own hands clawed and scratched their way over his chest and upper shoulder. A chuckle came from the eldest brother, you knew he would oblige as soon as you felt his finger’s leave you, he wanted to make you scream their names by the end of the night and you knew he was going to make it happen.

Diavolo parted from you, just for a moment, as Lucifer manoeuvred your hips, placing your ass just over his dick. You could feel the head teasing at you, and you teased back, rolling your hips around with a smirk on your face as Lucifer’s erection ached against you. Diavolo pressed his cheek against yours and whispered in your ear.

“Bite me when it hurts” you nodded in agreement and moved your lips to his collarbone. With one last tease Lucifer pulled your hips down and began entering you, the sheer feeling of his dick invading your ass was agony. You weren’t used to this and they could tell as you let out a painful yelp, Diavolo’s hand coming up to the back of your head, a light shush as he consoled you.

“Bite and adjust, we’re only just getting started” You could feel Lucifer’s hands move from your hips and come across your back, adding secondary consolation. Sharp breaths were hot against Diavolo’s neck as you lowered your hips to fit more of Lucifer within you, his hips involuntary twitching sending a painful reception to your brain, teeth biting down into Diavolo’s skin, bringing the chain reaction to an end as he abruptly exhaled in pleasure.

Half of Lucifer was within you and all your body could do was melt, the feeling of your ass widening just that little bit more, the moans and growls of the men around you spurring your adrenaline into a frenzy. Teeth digging into Diavolo’s flesh, not because of pain, but because of that moan he makes, the way his fingers curl into the skin on your back, the sight of his dick twitching each time you bite down on his collarbone, that’s why you keep doing it. Sheer pleasure.

Once you had fully taken Lucifer, the sharp pain gone and replaced with pleasure, you nodded. Lucifer’s hands moved from your back, no longer consoling you, and were placed on your hips, gripping with intent to fuck. He lifted you, your knees already feeling weak as your stomach heated up, the spur of your own orgasm growling in the depths. Lucifer was almost fully out, the tip remaining within you, and with a slight pause he pulled you down, the first of many thrusts. You yelped out in pleasure, throwing your head back as you sighed and panted, his name teetering on your lips as the thrusts within you drove your mind crazy.

“Lu- hahh- Luciff- ha” Diavolo relished in the way you looked as you bobbed up and down on Lucifer’s dick, tongue lingering on your lips as saliva drooled down your chin. You didn’t care how you looked right now cause you were truly in heaven, or as close as you could get while in The Devildom.

As Lucifer thrust within you Diavolo stood up as gave a smirk, his hand now cupping your cheek in an effort to make you look at him and only him for a short while. “MC? I’d like you to keep me happy, too” You nodded in agreement and leaned down, still having Lucifer within you. The Prince’s cock was still hard, and you took it in your hand once again, one cupping and massaging his balls, the other pumping around his base, your tongue licked along his slit and, once more, you took it within your mouth.

The blowjob was sloppy, the pleasure made your head spin the hands caressing you sending you into a frenzy, eyes rolling around your head as you tried your best to focus on bringing Diavolo pleasure. From the look on his face, you were succeeding, his hand balled up in your hair, pulling you up and down his dick, the tip hitting the back of your throat, every gag making him push you down further. You could hardly breathe, all that was coming out of you was moaning as you serviced the men. Lucifer panting behind you, his composure deteriorating as his thrusts became slightly out of rhythm, your own attempts at moving your hips interrupted as Diavolo pushed your head down.

You could feel it, all of you were climbing that mountain, the steps getting closer and closer to all of your orgasms. Your stomach had a pi as your sex twitched and pulsated the electric shocks around your body. Chests heaving an out of sync song as the moans created the tunes. All of you were getting there, but one of you needed some more. Diavolo looked at Lucifer, as best as he could, and nodded, He pulled your head from his dick and raised you to face him, a low drawl of a chuckle before stating “my turn”

You obliged and Lucifer let you off, you stood up and bent over, mouth now over Lucifer’s cock and Diavolo’s dick teasing at your entrance. You hated the feeling of them leaving you, your whole body screaming for you to get back into that addictive rhythm, and they obliged wholeheartedly. Diavolo pushed within you, his dick stretching you even more than Lucifer’s did, another shot of pain before quickly adjusting. You mewled a sound, something that resembled positivity, telling him to go all the way, and he did, Diavolo hit something within you, something you weren’t aware of, your knees going weak and making you lose balance as you screamed out a moan, but you couldn’t keep Lucifer waiting any longer and licked up his dick. You could taste yourself on him, his moans spurring you forth to keep going, deeper and deeper, the same as Diavolo was doing to you.

“Please, keep going” you heard him whisper, a before unseen plea that attested to his feelings. The most you could muster was wrapping your mouth around him and sucking, all words evaporating into pleasure as your hips rocked against Diavolo, the light slapping of flesh echoing within the room along with sighs and moans. How could you resist a plea like that? Seeing his vulnerability, him letting you see it, all you wanted to do was praise him, in this situation you did the best you could. With your mouth and your hands. You moved your hand and caressed up his stomach all the way up to his chest, where your fingers came to his nipple. You gave it a pinch, rolling your fingers around, causing Lucifer to lean his head back and arch himself into you, a small moan escaping his lips as he let himself go. His hand entwined in your hair, the other resting on your shoulder as you bobbed your head up and down on his dick, in time with Diavolo’s hard thrusts.

Your stomach turned around on itself, the feeling of Diavolo pounding against your g-spot, each time he hit it making your knees weaker and weaker. You tried your best to keep yourself steady for them, leaning as much of your weight as you could into Lucifer as you bobbed your head up and down his dick. Your spit pooling at the base and around your lips, your hand wet and slick as you massaged in time with your head raising and falling. The grunts and moans of your pleasures only enticing Lucifer’s orgasm more and more, his fingers twitching within your hair as he bit down on his lip.

Diavolo’s thrusting was becoming sporadic, out of time and heretical, his grunting and panting edging closer to your ear as his back arched further and further down. His hands gripping onto your hips for dear life, a vain attempt to ground himself in this ecstasy. You could feel Diavolo’s sweat, pooling from his brow, on your back as he leaned his head against you. You were close, too, your whole body getting weaker and weaker as it became harder to focus on anything other than your impending climax.

“MC I’m going to cum inside of you, okay?” Diavolo panted, you nodded in response, keeping your lips wrapped around Lucifer’s dick.

“Me too” Lucifer piped up, his voice wavering as his hips jerked and thrust himself further into your mouth, your hand lingering as you moaned with pleasure, walls closing in around Diavolo are your body climbed to orgasm. You removed your lips from Lucifer’s dick, a loud gasp filling the room as you moaned out Diavolo and Lucifer’s names, basically screaming them out as Diavolo fucked you into oblivion.

“I’m gonna- hhah- I’m gonna cum, please please keep fucking me” you whined your case, hand continuing to massage Lucifer into his climax his hips jolting, and hand tugging at your hair as he breathed out his replies.

“MC hahh” Lucifer’s chest was heaving, his orgasm imminent. You stuck out your tongue, resting it on the base of his head, tip pointing into your mouth, you wanted to catch it all and leave nothing behind. His hips kept jolting and you tried your best to keep yourself steady as Diavolo thrust deep within you. With no warning Lucifer came, his cum shooting into your mouth, hitting the back, the sides, and pooling onto your tongue. He let out a loud moan as his head was thrown back in pleasure, hips bucking and thighs tensing as he moaned out your name. His seed was slightly sour, a salty taste to it, must have been all of the coffee ha drank, and you swallowed it all. Lucifer looked down at you, a prideful smirk on his face as he watched you lick the remains of his cum from your lips.

Diavolo wasted no time in pulling you up with him, standing and fucking you deeply, your own orgasm now at the forefront of your mind. You had become a babbling mess, Diavolo’s name echoing from your lips as he pinned you against him via your arms. “I’m close, MC” Diavolo muttered into your ear and you desperately nodded in agreement, your hair falling over your sweaty forehead, eyes looking into Lucifer as he sat there and watched you get fucked.

With one last thrust, deep into your g-spot, you and Diavolo came together. His seed filled you up as you screamed his name in please. The whole Devildom was sure to hear you tonight, your legs gave out but Diavolo was there to keep you up, his dick deep in you as he grunted and moaned your name into the halls.

You fell down onto your knees, a heaving panting mess on all fours. Diavolo sat down on one of the other seats a half-hearted chuckle coming from him as he finally relaxed. All of you were breathless and worn out, your body realising how much you’d just gone through, the adrenaline rush had gone and only a numb pain remained, sitting was going to be difficult tomorrow.

Diavolo broke the silence, “I have to admit, I didn’t expect that” he continued chuckling as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Me neither, you did well MC” Lucifer commended, his hand coming down to help you up, which you gladly accepted.

“Thank you but” you paused as your knees slightly gave way.

“But?”

“I may have to take some days off from RAD to recover” you tittered.

“I think we can arrange that, I can think of something else we can be doing instead” Diavolo winked at you, his voice playful and devilish. What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

#obey me!#obey me #Bal writes #Diavolo #Lucifer #MC #Obey me X reader #shall we date obey me #Diavolo x reader #Lucifer x reader #Diavolo X reader X Lucifer #Diavolo X MC #Lucifer X MC #NSFW//#Smut #Fic #Fanfic #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Diavolo

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

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MTTT AU chapter 8: A Place - Room of a Thousand Fountains

Read on AO3

Anakin Skywalker had always been an energetic and vibrant child. He drew your attention whenever he was in the room, even when he was holding himself back. It was one of the reasons Plo had agreed so readily to send little Ahsoka Tano to him. His opinion didn’t count for much, but he was still her Finder and had spent quite a lot of time with her since she had been brought to the temple. She had the same kind of spirit as her Master, and with Ahsoka around, Anakin wouldn’t be able to let his own fire burn as much, burn out, or risk hurting her.

Plo was sure that Anakin would keep her safe, be a light that would guide her.

Even now, Anakin was almost painfully bright in the Force, but he was also hurting to a degree Plo had encountered not once before. Shadows and doubts were clinging to him, stifling him. Only ashes remained of the bonfire and, beneath that thick dead remnant, new saplings grew only slowly.

The pain they had felt in the temple after Skywalker’s arrival was had been intolerable even in its contained form. It should be no surprise that Anakin was still in such a bad condition, yet Plo was taken aback when he came face to face with him.

“Anakin,” he greeted the young man. Plo was the first Council member to arrive at their chosen meeting place, had he caught Ahsoka just the day before and listened to her worries. He had hurried to catch the young Knight on his own, gain insight into how he acted when he wasn’t questioned by the whole Council.

“Master Plo,” Anakin said and inclined his head towards him.

He moved to stand up, but Plo raised his hands to stop him. The action obviously caused him further pain and Plo was not going to add another weight to the many burdens the boy was already carrying.

“I will join you on the ground, Anakin,” Plo said and sat down right next to Anakin.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had simply taken a few moments to rest in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He knew it certainly hadn’t been since the war had broken out. Plo decided to follow Anakin’s example and took off his shoes. Feeling the grass beneath his feet was soothing; did it remind him of more peaceful times. In the distance, he could hear some younglings playing, and the water of one of the many rivers and waterfalls in these halls rush downwards.

This was certainly a calmer and a kinder place to meet than the Council chambers. Plo could understand why Anakin had asked to assemble here instead of the Council room.

Not that Anakin had asked.

Obi-Wan had directed the Council to this place, the very heart of their temple and the place the furthest away from the busy world outside.

If the report Anakin was to deliver was really as earth-shattering as Obi-Wan words had alluded to, it was probably for the best.

He still wasn’t ready to believe the bits of information Obi-Wan had let slip. Perhaps Plo was clinging to the fickle hope that Anakin’s revelations would clear them up, reveal that they hadn’t allowed a Sith Lord to gain control of the entire Republic.

Plo knew that Obi-Wan had no reason to lie, but hope always died last.

Glancing towards his left, Plo found Obi-Wan was standing in some distance, typing away on his datapad. Plo wasn’t fooled for even a second. He had raised more than one Padawan and he knew that Obi-Wan’s attention was entirely on his student.

It was as adorable as it was reassuring, even if the price for their closeness was high. Over a decade ago, the Council hadn’t been quite sure what they thought Obi-Wan and Anakin would become. When they had let the young Knight take on the boy, it had been accompanied by many worries over their mental health, but the two of them had surprised everyone positively. They had grown up to bring out the best in each other, so much that Kenobi-and-Skywalker was a set expression in everyone’s mouth.

Even now, when both were hurting so obviously, they were holding onto one another.

“Ahsoka has learned well from you,” Plo said. He thought it would be for the best if he tried to ease Anakin into a conversation. Ahsoka seemed like a safe topic to start with, especially given how devoted she was to her Master. Seldom had Plo seen a Master and Padawan pair become attuned to each other so quickly.

Then again, most of the training bonds weren’t forged during wartime.

“She is strong and capable,” Anakin replied, avoiding Plo’s gaze and keeping his own fixed on something in the distance. “I don’t think I taught her anything she couldn’t have figured out on her own.”

“Little ‘Soka was always a smart one, if a bit of a wild card,” Plo agreed.

It was the reason Plo hadn’t picked her to be his Padawan though he currently didn’t have one. Ahsoka deserved a Master who was more similar to her. With Kenobi keeping oversight of them both, she and Anakin had seemed like a good fit.

“She deserves better.”

Anakin sounded so similar to the Obi-Wan from ten years ago that Plo wished he could let the lost young man from back then meet this one now, show them both how far they could go despite insecurities.

“Every Padawan does. A teacher can never be good enough. This is why we have to try.”

“But I wasn’t good enough,” Anakin stated matter-of-factly. “She-“He shut up immediately, mouth pressed in a thin line, as if only now noticing what secrets were escaping him. The Force around them shifted, cradling Anakin like a child and making it seem like he wasn’t quite there, but more a blurry image.

Plo debated pushing, learning what he wanted to keep quiet about, what had happened to little ‘Soka in that vision of his. He couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine anything happening to the sweet girl who had clung to his robes with wide eyes and excitedly babbled to him in the language of her people.

“Ahsoka is very worried about you,” Plo decided to say instead, take their conversation in a different direction. “Apparently, she is quite vexed that you won’t spar with her anymore.”

If Skywalker had tried to fade into the background before, now he was positively trying to disappear in it entirely. What happened that had made him fear every possible topic Plo could bring up? The silence between them was almost oppressive, heavy on their shoulders. Plo decided to stay silent, give Anakin time to come out of his shell again. He didn’t know who much time passed until the heavy feeling lifted and he began to speak.

“I- I forgot how beautiful it is in here.” Anakin curled his toes and spread his fingers so that the grass could get in between them. “I didn’t visit this place in years. I don’t know if it was still standing.”

“That is quite a shame,” Plo commented. “We could take another look around if you feel capable of walking.”

Anakin looked up from the ground, eyeing Plo with confusion and suspicion.

“The others won’t be here for a while,” Plo elaborated. “It would be unwise to let the time go to waste, wouldn’t it? I was told that one of the youngling clans remodeled one of the gardens. I think we have the time to look at it and pass our congratulations on to them.”

Anakin looked torn between desire and fear. Like a child, he looked back to Obi-Wan, who, indeed as Plo had predicted, had been paying close attention to the conversation and was now staring at them. When Obi-Wan nodded, Anakin hesitantly bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t offer it otherwise, Anakin.” Plo rose to his feet and held out his hand.

Tellingly, Anakin took it with his flesh hand. He held onto it perhaps for a moment longer than necessary, but then he let go and buried his hands in the sleeves of his robe, hiding them and their trembling away.

“I believe the youngling garden is a level up. Is there any place you’d like to see on your way there?”

Anakin didn’t reply at first, then he turned to look towards the right. Plo had never been the most knowledgeable about the room, preferring to spend his time with mathematics and not plants, but Anakin knew exactly what laid there.

“The yellow gardens,” he finally replied. “I’d like to see the yellow gardens.”

Plo nodded and then, with Anakin by his side, still barefoot leaving their shoes behind, they walked into the direction of the garden. Plo kept his eyes closely on Anakin the entire time, observing his reaction to the Jedi passing them; they had agreed for a meeting here for a reason after all. There weren’t many people passing them, but they crossed paths with another once in a while, though they never noticed Anakin. Perhaps his idea of wrapping himself up in the Force indeed had merit. Plo wondered whether he had learned that during the war, folding himself so much into his surroundings that he was overlooked unless he wanted to be seen. It was definitely a clever trick.

When they reached the yellow gardens, Anakin ore or less walked past all the bushes and trees without paying them any mind, straight up until he reached the very end where yellow flowers grew in small bushes.

Anakin crouched down in front of them and so very carefully traced over the petals with his fingers.

“Are they your favorite?” Plo asked.

Anakin shook his head. “No, my favorite was- there is a flower I inherited from Qui-Gon. It should bloom in a few months. These flowers are from Naboo. I hate- dislike them.”

Anakin fell silent again, still not looking away from the delicate flowers.

“What do they mean?”

“Grief,” Anakin replied, “for a life lost too early.”

The way Anakin spoke about it, Plo could feel the Force around them start to weep. It wasn’t just grief for a life lost, but Anakin’s grief. It was thick and palpable, so thick in the air, you could almost choke on it. With Anakin’s back turned to him, Plo gently raised a hand to his throat, wondering if there was a malfunction in his mask. Calming himself, he gently reached out himself, running warm fingers over old wounds torn open again.

“I will fix it,” Anakin spoke up suddenly. “I promise you that. I won’t let it happen again. You will all be safe.”

You will all be alive.

Anakin didn’t have to say it, but Plo heard it anyway.

It was, at that moment, all the confirmation that he needed. The broken bits of Obi-Wan’s statement had all been true after all and the future, even if it was one just envisioned, had been darker than all periods of the past.

“We shall do the same,” Plo promised as Anakin stood up again.

As they walked back to the meeting point, Plo quietly tried to think of who was currently on Senate duty, and how quickly he could let them know that the Chancellor was to be considered a threat.

And how much longer they could refuse Palpatine’s inquiries to talking to Anakin.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #plo koon #obi wan kenobi #medical trauma time travel au #fanfic #the softest chapter yet i think

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chubkichi · 3 years

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I apologize for not answering some requests, I hope this can make up for it. This will be my last writing in awhile, i'm sticking to drawing as of now because it's much easier and more fun for me, I hope you all understand :)) this might be bad cause I'm writing it late at night but anyways here we go a saiouma fic!

Prompt: ko.kichi is insecure about his weight and sai.hara cheers him up.

Warnings: insecurity, body shaming, self doubt. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL WITH WHAT EVER BODY YOU HAVE!!! this is just ko.kichi being insecure and blind <3

Ko.kichi has been made fun of a lot more recently, and it's all the same, each comment is on his weight. This has made the leader even more insecure, he'll never admit that though. Now thinking of it maybe he gained more weight is that why everyone's attention is on his fat? Or is it the fact they have nothing else to make fun of him for except his chubbiness? Ou.ma kept thinking about what it could be as he drew outside, well could you really call it outside if it was under a dome who knows!

The little leader was still drawing and thinking when a sudden guilt hit him, he hated it feeling this way. The feeling of his chubby tummy against the ground and how pillowy his thighs were, god! He is such a total fatass. Ko.kichi looked around he felt so out of place and just big, like a beached whale, he didn't want to be there anymore with other people outside, he felt like they were watching him and probably whispering about what an ugly hog he is. Ou.ma abandoned his drawings and headed inside to maybe hide somewhere? He didn't know what he was doing but all he knew was he wanted to be alone. Ko.kichi was walking quite fast down the halls, unfortunately for him he had his head down paying attention to his shoes and nothing else... That's when "agh!" Ko.kichi found himself in his lovers chest, he backed up to look at his beloved Sai.hara-chans face, "Hello kichi I was actually looking for you" "yeah well sorry I have more important things to do so uhh yeah see you later!" Ko.kichi attempted to sprint away but Shu.ichi grabbed ahold of his wrist before he could make his escape. Both the boys sat there in silence for a few seconds, "um are you alright ou.ma?" The detective asked, damn his detective skills always knowing everything that seems wrong!! " of course i'm fine, now let me go so I can get to my evil plans!" Ko.kichi huffed still not looking in Shu.ichi's direction "...y'know if something is wrong you can come to me" "yeah yeah what ever stop with the sappy shit" Ou.ma turned to him ,"and yes I do know ya dumb dumb you say this speech all the time" The leader grinned sideways. Shu.ichi let go of Ou.ma's wrist and waved him a goodbye which of course K.okichi waved back to.

There Ou.ma went wondering the halls again, he didn't find a good spot and it made him even more upset because he couldn't fit into all his old hiding spots, he was to fat for that even, wow what isn't he too fat for he thought to himself. Eventually he just decided to go to his room so he made his way there; ignoring everyone on the way. He made it to the dorms when he thought to himself, should he go in Sai.hara's room or his own? Shumai's room would definitely be more comforting but what if Shu.ichi walks in on him being a baby about his dumb insecurities. Ehh he'll just go to his own room then. He scurried up the stairs, he was acutely aware of himself and how every step he went up his belly bounced along with how overall he was very jiggly. He was disgusted with himself, he wanted to puke he made it up the stairs but even then walking to his room disgusted him, it was so gross how his thighs rubbed together and jiggled! He opened the door to his room and plopped down on his bed infront of his full length mirror. The leader furrowed his eyebrows, he grabbed harshly at his doughy middle, he couldn't stop himself from thinking all these bad thoughts..he grabbed and poked at all of his chub. Tears started rolling down his face, "god I'm so huge I weigh more than my own boyfriend WHO IS TALLER THAN ME!" Crocodile tears came flowing out of the sad leaders eyes, he threw himself to hit the bed and of course he noted how it squeaked and growned under him which of course didn't help his situation right now.

*Knock Knock* Ko.kichi went silent, " Ou.ma it's me, Shu.ichi you left your drawings outside" The ultimate sniffled "you can keep them" the detective noted how his boyfriends voice sounded..it sound different like hoarser than usual? "Um Ou.ma?" "Yeah?" "Can I come in? Please.." Shu.ichi questioned, the shorter male stayed quiet so that left Shu.ichi to test the door knob, he turned it and.. Surprise! It was unlocked, the detective walked in on his mess of a boyfriend he rushed to take a seat next to Ko.kichi. The taller grabbed the chubby cheeks of the leader and turned his face towards him, Sai.hara would comment on how cute it was how his cheeks smooshed together causing the leaders lips to also smoosh together but this was not the time, "what's wrong? Did something happen?" Sai.hara questioned with worry, it wasn't often his boyfriend did this, only a couple of times the leader has had a breakdown infront of him. "N-no it's stupid don't worry about it" Ou.ma whined "no your feelings aren't stupid and I want to know what's wrong, I really don't like seeing you like this" The taller pinched his eyebrows together, Ou.ma sighed and looked away not wanting to make eye contact with the other as he was about to embarrass himself. "I just... I um" he took a huge sigh "i'm too fat."

This statement broke Shu.ichi, loved ever inch of chub on the purple haired boys body he was absolutely beautiful in every way imaginable! "No that's wrong" Shu.ichi exclaimed "you are just fine the way you are" "ahaha looks like i'm not the only liar in the room" Ko.kichi tisced "i'm to big for you and you know it, hell you can't even pick me up!" Sai.hara looked Ko.kichi in the eyes "that will never be true I don't care if you get bigger or loose weight, I love you for you! your weight doesn't matter to me at all its just an added bonus" Shu.ichi smiled softly and pulled the smaller into a hug. As they pulled apart the detective stated "if I have to kiss every part of your body to show you how beautiful you are I will" "you won't" the leader betted with a shit eating grin, the detective pulled up Ou.ma's shirt to reveal a soft pillowy middle he planted a couple huge kisses to the warm skin "AH STOP!!" Ko.kichi laughed as he swatted Shu away "see I told you I would" Shu.ichi smiled calmly "yeah yeah whatever I still feel like a whale though" he messed with his fingers and looked at the ground. Shu.ichi frowned " you're not a whale" holding a finger to his own chin, "you're a... butterfly!" the detective grinned at the shorter "ha! An overweight one at most" the leader looked back up, Shu.ichi frowned once more but before he could comment some objection Ou.ma cut in "y'know i'm the king of lies you can stop lying now, I mean look at me" Ou.ma looked down at himself shamefully and grabbed his belly to shake it. Shu.ichi moved his hands on top of Ou.ma's to stop him and replaced Ou.ma's hands with his own on the sides of the boys belly. He began to rub soothing circles into the chub of both sides as he rested his head on the shorters shoulder "stop saying stuff like this..and stop rejecting my compliments" the other sighed " god do you not get it? Do you need me to spell it out for you I'm only rejecting your compliments because the aren't true" "they are true" the blue haired boy pinched the chubby sides of his lover "ow!" He raised his head back up to land a kiss on his forehead "everything i'm saying is the truth you're the one lying to yourself because your a big fat liar" Shu.ichi whispered lowly "did you just call me fat and big?! I thought you were trying to tell me i'm not wow that wasn't very funny!" Ou.ma furrowed his eyebrows down in an angered look as playful tears built up in his eyes "A-ah! I didn't mean it like that jeez" Shu.ichi stuttered.

They sat in silence for a little while after that, "you promise?" Ko.kichi suddenly whimpered "I promise what?" "That i'll never be too heavy for you.." "I promise." With that the boys intertwined their pinkies together, "okayyy I guess I'll have to believe you for now" the leader rolled his eyes at the other. Shu.ichi pulled Ou.ma over on the bed, now laying instead of sitting, the only problem was Ou.ma was laying on Shu.ichi's chest and lower body with all his weight so he got nervous again. "Hey i'm not too heavy for you right now am I? I can get off if you can't breathe," Ou.ma started pulling away, the other ultimate swifty rapped his arms around the leaders back to pull him back down "no, of course your not too heavy don't worry about me anyways it'll be fine" Shu explained blushing with how slick he was with the move of pulling Ou.ma back down. Shu.ichi did have another thought that he wasn't gonna say out loud, that Ou.ma was right, the shorter was kinda heavy laying on his chest like this but Sai.hara would never admit that. As soon as Sai.hara felt Ou.ma drifting to sleep he kissed the top of his head, "goodnight my sleeping beauty" he said as he too, fell into slumber.

#stuffedronpa #wg #koki.chi o.uma #saiouma #chubby #shu.ichi sai.hara #body dysphoria

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axwalker · 3 years

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Happy Birthday, Maskaneko! A Tears in Heaven one-shot.

The beautiful edit in the moodboard was made by the talented, creative birthday girl @mskaneko 💕💕💕

Happy birthday again!!! As I said earlier, I’m so grateful to have you in my life. I hope you’ll spend an amazing day.

I love youuu ❤️❤️❤️ @mskaneko

You said you’d be happy with a peek into Drake and Lexie’s life in Tears in Heaven. So here it is. I hope you’ll enjoy it. 🎉🎉🎉

Warnings: Mention of the death of a child, grief. Language and smut.

It’s been a tough year. Lexie and I have been working hard, and between our demanding jobs and Lennie, we’re exhausted. It’s a miracle we were both able to clear our schedules for a few days to come to Corsica to Max’s and Rashad’s house for a short vacation. We need this much more than we’re able to admit. I miss my time with Lexie. I need more of her. If there is one thing I can admit to myself, it’s that. That there is nothing more fundamental, more important to my happiness, than my wife and my little girl.

A roar of laughter interrupts my thoughts. I look through the window, and I can’t help but smile at the sight down by the shore. Jaiden is chasing Lena to the edge of the ocean, and every time the water splashes up on her little legs, she squeals and runs back, her face animated with some mix of terror and delight.

A throaty laugh harmonizes with my squirt’s high-pitched giggles, and Lexie walks into view. Her dark hair is scooped up into a messy bun, and she’s all long, sun-kissed legs and rounded baby-belly in her orange bikini. It will never get old, how my heart thumps a little harder when I see her. Desperate to get to her. I leave the home office and walk barefoot and bare-chested over to the windows and sliding door. Lexie and I wasted too many years and made too many mistakes before we came together again. We both had a lot of growing up to do, a lot of pain to overcome but seeing her with our little girl and Maxwell’s boy chasing the waves, seeing her pregnant again, this good life was worth all the patience in the world. She is worth the wait. I press my palm to the cool glass and let years of memories wash over me, all the painful years spent apart. Being with my family always provides perspective. I might feel exhausted sometimes, but my heart, my life is whole. The axis of my existence it’s those two people down there playing in the ocean like they don’t have a care in the world. Seeing that lifts my burdens, too. And it reminds me that we can’t let life interfere with our lives as a family. Work can’t take so much room in our lives, is not who we are.

After turning my laptop off, I cross over to the sliding door, slipping out and not bothering with anything other than the blue shorts I’m already wearing. Lexie is laughing as Lena tries to lift Jaiden and they both collapse into the water. I walk toward them, silent until I’m close, and then run past Lexie, playfully slapping her ass. She squeaks, jumping a little, her face lighting up when she sees me.

“Where’d you come from?” She laughs. I back my way into the cool waves and wink at her as an answer before turning to scoop up both Lena and Jai, one under each arm. “Daddy!” my girl screams in her sweet voice. I keep running until the ocean stirs around my waist and dunk them both to the neck, making sure to keep their heads out of the water. Their giggles and squeaks occupy the next five minutes of what suddenly feels like a perfect day.

“Uncle Dake,” Jai says. “Put me up on your shoulders.” Lexie takes Helena so I can lift Jaiden. The heels of his little feet kick against my chest, and he squeezes my neck as we go deeper into the water.

“I can swim, Mom,” Lena says from behind us. “Put me down.”

Lena’s five, and while she still likes me to toss her around, she doesn’t tolerate it from her smaller mother all that much. I’m not crazy about it either, considering Lexie’s six months pregnant.

“It’s deeper than you think, Lennie,” Lexie says. “I don’t think it is a good idea.”

Alexis and I went back to therapy when Helena turned three. Slowly, almost without noticing it, we were turning into overprotective, smothering parents. Lexie refused to go anywhere without her, and she’d have horrible panic attacks when her work forced her to travel. Therapy certainly helped a lot, but as much as I would love to say that it was like turning on a switch, that we don’t suffocate Lena anymore, it would be a lie. We would never be those two carefree parents we were ten years ago. But we’re trying; we both want our kids to have the best possible life.

After begging a little more, Lexie gives in, and sure enough, in seconds, Lennie is swimming past me, her skinny arms and legs slicing through the waves, her hair in two small braids.

“Baby, that’s fair enough,” I call out. The ocean isn’t turbulent today, but I don’t want to take any chances. It can change fast. Calm one second and treacherous the next. Lena turns, doggy paddling to stay afloat, her cute face wet and frowning.

“But, Daddy—”

“Do I repeat myself, Lena?” She frowns the brown eyes so like Lexie’s widening. She shakes her head.

“No, sir.”

“Then that’s far enough.” I gentle my words with a smile, take the few steps separating us and tap her head with Jaiden’s foot. She giggles and swims a circle around me, disappearing for a second underwater and then popping back up, laughing again.

“I need to learn that trick,” Lexie says wryly. “I tried last week, asked her if I repeat myself, and she just stared at me and said, ‘What’d you say, Mommy?’”

I can’t help it, I laugh, and Lexie glares at me.

“You know she loves pressing your buttons. Every time she finds a new one, she just has to push.”

“Looking forward to her teenage years.” I pull her close, anchoring Jaiden by one leg and looping an arm around her, cupping her stomach.

“If she’s as sassy as you, baby. I’m not looking forward to them either.” Lexie leans her head on my shoulder, covering my hand with hers on her stomach. There’s a subtle movement beneath my fingers.

“Lexie,” I breathe. “Did you feel that? They’re moving.” Of course, she felt it. It’s her body, but she just laughs. It’s not the first time the twins have moved, but I always seem to miss it, so it’s the first time I’ve felt the life growing inside Lexie for myself.

“One of them is moving.” She guides my hand to the other side of her stomach. “This guy has been quiet all day.”

“Guy?” I raise one questioning brow. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t find out. You got some divination powers I know nothing about?”

She shrugs. “I just have a feeling they’re both guys. God save me. Lennie and I will be outnumbered.”

I chuckle “You hear that, Lennie? Your mom says we’re getting two boys. What do you think?”

“I want sisters! Boys are yucky.” Jaiden jumps to the water, and they start a water war.

“You heard the girl,” I tell Lexie. “Boys are yucky. I sure hope she’ll think like that for a long time.”

Lexie laughs. “I honestly don’t care.” She grimaces and rubs the small of her back. “I’m so big this time, I just want them out . I’ve already gained as much weight as I had by the end with Lena. I’m huge.”

I lean over to whisper in her ear. “You’re sexy as hell, Lexie. Always.”

She turns her head so our mouths are mere inches apart, our lips separated by a single breath. “You think so, huh?”

“I’ll show you tonight,” I whisper over her mouth.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Jaiden chants. We glance down at our godson, and both laugh.

“You kiss all the time,” Lena mutters from a few feet away. She’s not wrong, but in my defense, her mother is irresistible.

“Lena, we need to get back inside,” Lexie says. “We’ve been in the water all day, and you need your lunch. I bet Max made the grill sandwiches you love so much. After lunch, we can get ice cream from Amorino.”

“A few more minutes, Mommy, please? So, Daddy can swim with me?” Lena asks, lips pouty and huge eyes pleading. If she figures out, she has me wrapped around her little finger, we’re doomed. Who am I kidding? The girl was born knowing. “You think you can keep up with me? Okay squirt. Let’s go.”

After a while, we get out of the water and join the others for lunch in the terrace. Lena claps and rocks her shoulders, some little move she and Jaiden made up. The two are thick as thieves. Jaiden’s at our house as much as Lena is at Rash and Maxwell’s.

“What’s that you’re drawing, Lennie?” Liv asks. She might not like kids, but she sure is crazy about her goddaughter.

“It’s us!” Lena grins.

“Let me see.” I reach for the paper. Lexie walks up beside me and looks down at the drawing in my hand. It’s a man-stick figure with which I assume is a stethoscope around his neck, obviously me. A shorter woman-stick she’s colored caramel and who has brown lines drawn around her shoulders for hair. Jaiden made Lexie’s stomach a circle and there’s two orange round things inside.

“Grapefruit,” Lennie says. “Mommy said the babies are like grapefruits now.”

“Ahhhh.” Lexie purses her lips against a smile. “You got them perfectly, baby.”

In her drawing, she is standing between Lexie and me, holding our hands. I tilt my head, staring at what Lena’s holding in the drawing. A white bird?

“What’s that white thing your holding, squirt?”

“It’s Tom!” She says, her smile wide and proud. “He’s an angel, like mommy said.” Tom’s name, said so unexpectedly, causes the adults on the terrace to hold their breaths collectively. Lexie goes perfectly still beside me, and her hand goes instinctively to her stomach. That old fear lives in the back of both our minds. As much as losing Tom still hurts, we talk openly about him to our daughter, making sure she knows she has a big brother looking out for her all the time, even though she never met him.

“You can have it, Mommy,” Lena offers, her beautiful smile slipping, his childish intuition sharp enough to pick up on the shift of mood in the terrace. “I-I drew it for you, so we can put it in the twins’ nursery.”

“It’s so good, Lennie. That’s a great idea,” I say, glancing at Lexie, who stares down at the paper. Even though she isn’t crying, her eyes have that look of shattered glass she sometimes gets when she thinks of Tom. Unfortunately, therapy doesn’t eradicate pain. Not for the first time, I wish I could carry it for her, but I can’t.

“This is your most beautiful drawing yet, Lennie,” Lexie says after clearing her voice, reaching down to caress the angel on it. “I love it very, very much. It will look perfect in their room.” She bends to kiss her hair, closes her eyes tightly and then cups Helena’s little head and kisses her forehead, too. She clears her throat and pulls back to spread an overbright smile and says, “Who’s ready for ice cream?”

ALEXIS

Accident. That’s how everybody described what happened to my baby boy. An accident. It does hurt less than it used to. At first, I couldn’t think about Tom without aching and falling into a black hole. Five horrible years, where I needed to numb myself or ignore my pain to keep breathing. An empty shell that had trouble breathing. I would cringe at the sound of Tom’s name, incapable of pronouncing it myself. Not because I didn’t want to hear it, but because I wanted to hold him so badly. It’s been years, but my body perfectly recalls the sweet little weight of him in my arms. His scent still fills my nostrils if I draw a deep enough breath. I remember the dark tangle of curls brushing against my cheek. His little voice calling me mommy. Some days my head and thoughts are locked in a room with those last memories, and I don’t want to leave because he’s still there. As difficult as that day was, in that memory, he’s still there. But life goes on. It has moved on, and I’m a baby two and three. I’m years into a marriage full of love I spent five years thinking wasn’t even possible.

“You okay?” I glance up from the table, from Lenna’s drawing, which I’ve found myself thinking about all day, to see Liv, wearing concern on her intense green eyes. The terrace is clear of dishes from tonight’s meal, and everyone’s gone to their respective corners. It’s just Livvie and me.

“I’m fine.” The concern on her face stays. “I swear; I’m fine,” I say. “Just thinking. Remembering.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” Her voice is unusually soft. Her gaze, as usual, is knowing.

“I’m all talked out. A lifetime of expensive therapy will do that to a girl. I guess I’m feeling more than thinking, but I’m good.”

“Okay. I’m here if you need me.”

“I know Liv. I don’t know how I would have done otherwise.”

“I think I will go join Maxwell for a nightcap”

“Now you’re talking.” I sigh and stand from the table, squeeze her hand. “I’m going to turn in. Take a quick bath since Drake is putting Lena to bed.”

“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gives me a wry grin. “I may even cook breakfast.”

I deadpan, and Liv chuckles. “Did I say cook? I meant order.”

I laugh. “That’s more like it. Good night, Liv,” I say, grabbing Lena’s drawing.

After just a few minutes in the bathtub, I dry off and belt a terry cloth robe over my nakedness, smiling when both babies move. “Hello, boys.” I don’t care what Drake says, I know what I feel. “I’d love for Daddy to feel both of you move. Can we make a deal that you’ll let him feel you both at some point?”

“Daddy would love that, too,” Drake says from the doorway. Leaning one shoulder into the door and wearing a white shirt, sleeves-rolled-up, he looks so attractive, my husband. His face grows more handsome the older he gets. He has that strong virility that somehow converts years into sexual magnetism. I walk over and reach up to caress his jaw, shadowed with stubble.

“You have a little gray in your beard, Mr. Walker.” I close the space between us and tip my toes to kiss him.

He grunts, closing his eyes and leaning into me, his hardness pressing into my belly. I want him so badly. The restlessness I’ve felt most of the day needs an outlet, and I know the best, most pleasurable way to get it.

“Lie down,” he says, leading me to the bed. My hand goes to the belt of my robe, but he stops me. “I want to unwrap you myself,” he says.

I lie on my back, and he hovers over me, connecting our eyes. I see desire there, yes, but concern, too.

“Drake, I’m okay,” I tell him, grabbing his hand and kissing it.

“You sure?” His dark brows form a frown. “The drawing—”

“It took me off guard.” I pull his hand into the neck of my robe, passing his palm over my nipple until it buds beneath his fingers. “But now I want you.”

He hesitates, searching my face and eyes before nodding. Our eyes meet, and beneath the desire filling his stare, a question lingers.

“Drake.” I place his hand on my stomach. “I’m fine.”

He bends to kiss my stomach, the underside of my breast. That restlessness needs attention, try to disturb my desire, but before I can allow myself to be distracted, the lights in the bedroom dim and my husband’s hands are on me. Drake opens the robe as if it’s a gift.

“Fuck baby, you’re so gorgeous.”

He lies down to spoon me, brushes my hair aside, and kisses my nape.

“You okay?” he asks. I know Drake well enough to hear the restraint he’s exercising. The restlessness caught him too, and in days like this, he needs wild, unbridled fucking, but he doesn’t want to hurt the twins or me. As many times as I reassure him, it’s hard for him to believe it’s okay to be as rough with me as we love sometimes.

“Drake, please, fuck me hard. I need it as much as you do.”

“Lexie,” he rasps, dropping his forehead against my hair. “Don’t ask. . .I can’t. . .the way I feel right now . . . I wish you knew what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

And he does; he takes me hard and rough. He fucks me into oblivion, until there’s nothing else but him and me. I’ve needed this desperately, craved the feeling that comes when we make love, when we’re like this, when we have this together, when he’s inside me.

“Fuck, Lex,” he growls. “I love you.”

Tears fill my eyes. The tears I wouldn’t allow myself earlier because Tom was years ago and I should be over it. I could hide that from myself, but I can’t hide anything from him. The tears run down my face, and they aren’t all grief or sorrow. They’re tears of gratitude for my little squirt sleeping down the hall. Tears of hope for the twins growing inside of me. Tears of happiness for the love of a man like Drake.

“God, Drake,” I sob. “I love you, I love you.”

Hours later, we lay together side to side, exhausted. All my restlessness gone, forgotten.

“Wow,” he says.

“Wow, I repeat. You have a magical dick.”

We both laugh at that, and he tickles me, making me wriggle in his arms. Suddenly, we both go still, feeling the movement in my belly at the same time. Like tiny synchronized swimmers, one of my boys moves on my left and the other on the right.

“Shit.” Drake’s gaze meets mine. “Both of them are moving. That’s. . .that’s amazing, Lex.”

“It is. I wanted you to feel that so badly. I feel them do that all the time, but I wanted . . . I’m so happy . . .” I stop, emotionally exhausted.

“Our life,” I say suddenly, toying with the hair on his chest.

“What about it?” he asks, kissing the top of my head.

I reach up to touch the flecks of gray in his stubble. “I’m so glad we met when we were young. That we will grow old together. That I’ll have a life with you. Despite all the years we spent apart. We lost so much, but now we have this life, our marriage, our kids.”

He tenderly rubs my belly. “These kids, all worth the wait. And no matter what comes, we’ll face it together.” I turn around, he pulls me tightly against his chest, and we fall asleep together.

#axwalker writes #tw mention of grief #tw mention death child #n*sfw

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valwrite · 4 years

Text

empty lighter; daveed diggs

masterlist

summary: it’s fascinating, the things people leave behind in our lives. memories, possessions, scars, emotions. over the course of his life, daveed had collected so much from people who he’d left behind. but all he has left of her is a lighter and a broken heart.

warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive content, way too many cigarettes.

fic style: oneshot.

word count: 11.4k

author’s note: ah! it’s finally here! my first ever oneshot on this blog. hopefully, you guys enjoy reading it. is it the best writing in the world? no. but it doesn’t matter, i’m so proud of myself for actually getting back into writing, to the point where i was able to start and finish an 11k word fic. i’ve edited this over 10 times, so if there’s still an error in it, i’m going to cry. feedback, likes and reblogs are 100% appreciated!

December, 2015

Sweat was in the air and, with it, a scent one would hardly call enjoyable. With his behind comfortably sat in a cushioned bar stool, the man done his best to ignore the scenery of the busy club: the ever moving mass of bodies on the dance floor; the headache inducing remix of California Girls, which the evening's DJ was playing for what felt like the millionth time that night; the sight of his best friend hitting on some poor unsuspecting girl just trying to order drinks for herself and her friends. Instead, he focused on the drops of condensation and the pattern they left behind as they dripped down the side of his glass.

The speakers began to play yet another remix. Daveed rolled his eyes and welcomed another sip of his drink, this time not returning the glass to the counter top until the caramel liquor was all gone. The burning feeling was familiar and anchored him down in reality, a bitter yet accepted reminder that, once again, he found himself in the same situation he'd been in for over a year: alone, while being surrounded by sweating bodies. Sat at a bar, his friend off chasing some nameless girl and nothing but his loneliness, which only grew with each breath he drew, to keep him company.

His friend, Rafael, made eye contact with him and beckoned him over. So he stood but made no attempt to approach and discover whatever plan Rafa had in store for him. He knew the blonde haired man just a little too well at that point. He knew that the man was desperate to get his friend back to the state he'd been in four months prior, where every night was a thrill and an opportunity to get tangled up in some sheets with a pretty stranger and some pain numbing lust. In Rafa's weak defense, he had no idea what had switched in his friend to revert him back into a self pitying mess. He hadn't bore witness to the scene Daveed had stumbled upon all those months ago, a scene which sent him rapidly spiraling back to the rut he'd been stuck in the first two months after the break up.

Daveed shook his head, his wilder than usual curls bouncing from side to side as he focused on getting his mind off of the break up, off of the ring store, off of her. He couldn't afford another night of wasted tears. He headed in the opposite direction of Rafa and found himself breathing fresh air for the first time in hours as he stepped out on to the busy New York street. A car honked in the near distance and the street lights just about matched the neon lights which had lit up the club but Daveed felt as though a weight had been lifted off of his chest. Clubs had always been a part of his social and professional life yet recent events had left him feeling claustrophobic inside them. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't like that this was his social life again. Nights spent in clubs, mornings spent with uncaring strangers, afternoons spent in regret and nausea. Where had the nights of home cooked meals gone? The mornings he'd spent shielding his beloved from the harsh light of the rising sun? The afternoons where it didn't matter what wasted the time away, all that mattered was the hand clasped tightly in his and the woman it belonged to? He wanted them back.

Daveed wanted her back.

He'd been so consumed in his own thoughts that, when he finally focused in on his surroundings again, he was only a block away from his apartment and the club was long behind him. He figured he could text Rafa once he got inside, he'd understand why Daveed walked out. He probably already knew. A shy voice calling out his name caught his immediate attention and Daveed paused mid step. The voice seemed familiar, comforting, adoring. His breath caught in his throat and he swore he was dreaming. It took a moment or two for him to turn around and face his pursuer.

Disappointment burst forth inside him but he had to conceal the drop in his smile, especially when he noticed the young girl who was smiling at him with a gleam of excitement in her eyes and a familiar logo printed on her black t-shirt. He hadn't been dreaming, just delusional.

The fan was kind enough. She'd shyly asked him for a picture before gushing over how excited she'd been at one of last week's shows at the theater. Her brief mentioning of clipping. had meant more to Daveed than anything else she'd said, which he knew was a little selfish of him but he couldn't help it. Clipping., unlike the current Broadway show he was a part of, was truly something that was his to own. Sure, there were two other guys involved along with him, but the words he spat and the emotions and meanings laced within them were all Daveed's. To have it gain praise was a direct boost to his ego.

With a happier feeling installed in him, Daveed found himself unlocking the door to his apartment. He didn't bother untying his laces, his shoes simply being kicked off and left near the front door as he made his way into the familiar apartment. He ignored the state the place was in and dropped down on to the comfort of the leathered loveseat, finding some form of tranquility in the disorganization of his own belongings. It somehow made the place feel closer to home. Despite the fact he'd been staying there since pre-production of Hamilton, Daveed still felt disconnected. Not just to the apartment but the whole city. Perhaps, he felt too loyal to the Bay area to allow himself to get too comfortable with living on the east coast. More likely, it had to do with the fact she wasn't there with him, like she was supposed to be, like they'd both agreed.

Engraved in his mind was the memory of Y/N 's face, lit up with glee as she strolled in and out of the different rooms of the place, her voice rising in volume as she ranted and raved about all the ways they could set up the apartment- their apartment, a first of many homes together; god, just thinking of it brought a smile to his face and a dizzy feeling to his head-, and her list of all the ways they could spend any free time they could get: the little cafes they could visit, the monuments they could see, the streets they could walk. He could so vividly remember pulling her into his arms, his lips confidently claiming her own against them. He held her there for their own little infinity, one hand fisted in her hair, the other splayed out against her lower back as her own softly grabbed at his jumper and held him down to her, as if he'd ever dream of leaving her. Her soft laughter had echoed off the walls as she pulled away. He couldn't stand having his mouth off of her and settled with peppering kisses down her exposed neck whilst she jokingly accused him of just wanting her to shut up. He didn't even know how to begin to explain how far from the truth that was. That, in reality, he'd just felt such a desperate need to have her against him because he wasn't entirely sure if she was real or if the life and relationship they'd built together had been nothing but a cruel dream of his. She was too good, her love was too good and he, a man who's career was built off of his eloquence and mastering of word play, was at a complete loss for words when it came to loving her. Heavy breathing and discarded clothing was the way he'd chosen to express his love that evening, breaking in their new apartment. The very same apartment where their relationship would come to an abrupt end no more than two weeks later.

There was a pain growing in Daveed's chest, which he could only imagine was a side effect of his shattered heart attempting to continue beating. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He already knew it was Rafa before he even looked at the screen and answered the call.

“Hey man!” Rafa's cheery voice burst through the speaker and Daveed pulled the phone back from his ear, not having expected the volume of his friend’s voice or the questionable Cotton Eyed Joe remix in the background. “Where'd you go? I got a couple girls here that were looking forward to meeting you!”

“Yeah, I... I'm meeting Oak early tomorrow, got some magazine the cast is doing a shoot for.” In his own defense, Daveed wasn't lying. There was a photo shoot and he was meeting Oak in the morning but that wasn't the reason he'd left.

If Rafa knew his friend was evading the truth, he thankfully kept it to himself. “Ah, so the princess needs her beauty sleep? Your loss, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop wasting your time on me and go enjoy yourself.”

“Have fun with your face masks and beauty creams! Oh, and Daveed?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't try shaving yourself tomorrow, leave it to the professionals. Don't want any nasty cuts on that precious face.”

Having hung up, Daveed carelessly flung his phone down on to the couch and watched it bounce once before laying flat on it's screen. The walls of the apartment were beginning to suffocate him, so much unfilled and unused space now suddenly feeling like it was caging him in, mocking him, taunting him with every echo of his own breathing that bounced off the walls. There was an itching in his lungs and his fingers had began to fiddle with themselves.

Daveed wasn't a particularly anxious person. Yet, anxiety was swelling in his throat and he ashamedly knew why. With his head hung low, Daveed blindly reached for the square packet and the cylinder lighter and headed straight for the balcony door. Opening it, he allowed the outside world to infiltrate his senses once more and it stole away some of his loneliness. The noise and lights and traffic were all a sign of life beyond his own, evidence that he wasn't truly alone in the world. Any loneliness he faced was product of his own creation, an isolation he'd comfortably settled with.

He hadn't put his whole life on pause. No, Daveed wasn't that careless. He woke up every morning and walked out the front door, prepared to face the day with as earnest of a smile as possible. He'd laugh with friends, speak with fans, give his all in his performances. But the feeling of longing would never truly leave him. Rafa could see it, most of the Hamilton cast too. They all knew there was an unspoken part of Daveed that was in denial of her absence. They could see it in the way his eyes never lingered much on beautiful women; in the way he kept her picture in his dressing room; in the way he still carried his part of their matching keyrings. But, what else could they do other than be there for him? She'd walked out with his lifeline and had left nothing but a Daveed shaped shell, hollow and devoid of life, just waiting for the day she walked back into his arms. He was pathetic. Foolish. Selfdestructive.

And so painfully in love with Y/N, even though it no longer seemed fair to feel that way.

The metal handrail was cold to the touch as he let his hands run over it, his eyes gazing down at the active nightlife below. His hands robotically opened the packet and out of it he pulled a cigarette. The nicotine stick found itself resting between his plush lips. The lighter was sparked up, the cigarette set a light and an inhalation of sweet smoke was taken. He'd always felt smoking alone was one of the most solemn of experiences. A couple more drags were taken before he became fixated with the lighter in his hand. He lit it up just to watch the flame dance, not a care in the world for the wasted lighter fluid. It didn't take much longer for his treacherous mind to drift towards the empty lighter inside his sock drawer and, most importantly, the memories attached to it.

A younger Daveed, freshly off stage and with sweat drying into his skin, had pushed past the drunken messes and the grinding pairs to escape for a breath of fresh air and a cigarette. Standing up in front of a crowd was a thrill, truly, but Daveed was still shy at his core and the hyperawareness of his own performance brought on a stress only nicotine could soothe.

The exit had taken him out into a back alley. The bass of whatever song was playing indoors could still be felt but the street was thankfully pretty calm, no one else there but another smoker and a couple making out further down from the door. A few steps out into the alley and he stopped, bending his right leg at the knee to perch his foot back against the brick wall as his hands occupied themselves fishing out a cigarette.

“Shit.” A curse escaped him as the realization hit that he'd forgotten to bring a lighter with him. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and huffed, a hand running through his curls. Maybe he wouldn't be getting that stress reliever that evening after all.

“Need a light?” Daveed nearly jumped at the unexpected voice, his foot slipping off of the wall and his back straightening. When his eyes landed on a girl, who was wrapped up in an oversized jacket and had her arm outstretched with a blue lighter dangling between her fingers, he was certain she hadn't been there when he'd stepped outside. Egotistically, he wondered if she'd perhaps followed him. Stupidly, he wished she had.

Daveed caught himself before he could stare at her for too long, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from her face down to the lighter she was still offering. With gratitude, he took it from her grasp and put it to good use. Seconds later, his lungs were filling with poison and his face with relief. Turning his attention back to her, he found the girl already staring at him. Unlike most, she didn't avert her gaze in shame of being caught. She only focused more intently on him, a ghost of a smile presenting itself on her features. “Thanks, uh, pretty lucky you came out here.”

“If you want to label me following you as luck, then sure.” The calmness of her voice, the way she shrugged so nonchalantly, the way her side was resting up against the wall and her eyes were shamelessly trailing over him were a hypnotic mixture strong enough for Daveed to nearly miss the words she'd spoke. Had he missheard or had she actually followed him? Freaked out would be the normal response. Flattery is what took it's place in Daveed, though. “That was quite a performance, very... lively.”

“Yeah,” A chuckle escaped him and his free hand shot up to rub the back of his neck. “that was one of our tamer crowds, believe it or not. Glad you enjoyed it.”

“I never said I enjoyed it.” The smile had slipped from her face, visually punctuating her words. Then, much to Daveed's relief, she broke out in a fit of giggles and the friendliness in her voice had returned. “I'm only messing! You were amazing but, honestly, the other two of your group are the unsung heroes. They really held it down.”

Daveed wasn't about to deny her statement, knowing fine well just how vital the two men were to him. If he were the ink, they were the paper he wrote on and the pen that encapsulated him. Her praise for them only made Daveed enjoy her company more.

From there, the two continued to partake in casual conversation: her asking about how long clipping. had been a thing, him asking her about her studies and the cold air of the night slowly urging the two to stand closer and closer and closer. There was laughter in the air and comfort in their bones, almost as if the two had been lifelong friends catching up and not two strangers meeting in a back alley. Daveed had long finished his cigarette and he knew his friends would be wondering where he'd disappeared to but he wasn't ready to walk away from the conversation, from her, and so out he pulled another, perching it between his lips. He hadn't had the chance to ask for her lighter, she'd beat him to it and sparked it up. He bent at the knee a little as he leaned down, both of them sharing eye contact whilst she held the flame to it. This time around, Daveed offered the cigarette packet out to her, hoping to repay her in some way.

“I don't smoke, but thanks.”

“You don't smoke, but you carry around a lighter?” His head tilted off to the side and a cheeky grin overtook his face. “You're kinda weird.”

“And you're a charmer, aren't you?” She rebutted, though no offence was really taken. “You're not the only smoker who forgets to bring a lighter. My boyfriend has a habit of doing it, so I carry one around for him.”

The window of hope inside of his mind was shattered by one simple word. Boyfriend. Of course she was taken. She was the kind of girl who you met in the morning and were in love with come the evening.

“Anyways,” Her voice interrupted his disappointment. “you distracted me from the reason I followed you out here!”

“Yeah? And what reason was that?”

“My friend thinks you're hot. Well, no, actually, I believe the exact words she used were "If he can rap that fast, I wonder what else he can do with his tongue. I don't usually climb trees but I could make an exception if the tree looks like him."” She'd used air quotes to signal just what her friend had said and, for the first time since the two had met, Daveed felt bashful. He hadn't expected her to say such a thing, even if it was just mimicking her friend.

“And you wouldn't happen to be this friend?” Daveed teased.

“I prefer my men on the shorter side, thank you very much." Her tongue darted out at him and he laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had someone stick their tongue out as an insult. Maybe in third grade? "My friend wants your number, though. And also wanted me to subtly convince you to invite us to come sit at your table but I'm really too tired to be subtle so, please just invite us.”

They'd returned inside not too long after, together, and off she'd gone to grab her friend to drag her over to Daveed's table. And while her friend was beautiful and flirting with Daveed the whole night, he found himself staring over at the girl from the alley every chance he got. He'd watched her do shots with Jonathan, watched as she and Rafa competed in a thumb war, watched as she'd knocked back a shot as her forfeit for losing. At some point in the night, Daveed had asked for her name and, at another point, she'd told him it was Y/N. And when he finally stumbled back into his own bed that night, his eyes staring up at his ceiling as he flipped the blue lighter in his hand, he thought of her.

Wetness dropped onto his hand and tore Daveed away from the memory playing on repeat in his mind. A single tear sat atop his hand and, in the other, a finished cigarette. Stubbing it out, he dropped the bud into a nearby ashtray and centered himself. Tears stung at his eyes and his breath was shaky but he was determined to push through and talk himself out of a full on breakdown.

Hours later, when sleep was finally coming for him and the warmth of his duvets embraced him instead of her arms, his wandering hands reached deep inside his drawer and pulled out the blue lighter as his eyes slipped shut and his mind drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

A blaring song and a loud buzzing noise woke Daveed up in a startle. He sat up, eyes still half shut and the duvet slipping down his naked chest. The noise persisted and he realized it was his own ringtone, playing from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He cursed under his breath when he stepped out of the bed, his foot landing on something uncomfortable before eventually meeting the soft carpet and giving him the leverage to reach the bottom of his trousers, dragging them over to find his phone screen lit up with Oak's name painted across the screen.

“What do you want?” Daveed was never a morning person and had no shame in this, especially when his sleep was interrupted.

“Good morning Oak! How are you? Oh I'm fine Daveed, how are you?” The overly chipper voice of Okieriete birthed a groan out of Daveed as he dropped back onto the bed behind him.

“It's too early for this, dude.”

“It's ten minutes away from being noon!”

“I rest my case.”

“C'mon man, we were supposed to be catching a ride together to head to the shoot. Now our car is ten minutes away and I arrive at your doorstep to find you're not even awake, never mind ready.” Oak's words were followed by a series of knocks, which Daveed could hear through the phone but also coming faintly from outside his bedroom.

“Shit.” Realizing that, amidst the flurry of pity and nicotine, he'd forgotten to set his alarm, Daveed begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed, tired legs with muscles stiff from sleep carrying him all the way over to the front door of his apartment, all the while Oak berated him over the phone and knocked away at the wood. Twisting the keys, Daveed pulled the door open at last and found Oak stood there, fist raised in mid knock.

“You look like shit.” Oak proceeded to brush past him and, after closing his front door again, Daveed followed the man to find him with his hand knuckle deep in a tub of peanut butter.

“Please, make yourself at home.” It was no more than a mutter under his breath but Oak had heard it and responded with a peanut butter coated middle finger.

The crappy coffee maker was switched on and Daveed went back into the messy bedroom. He'd just pulled some sweatpants over his legs when he heard Oak calling out to him from the kitchen. Slipping one of his t-shirts on, from his ever growing collection of Oakland attire, he made his way back over to the man and the freshly brewed coffee- which, without a doubt, was not going to be warm enough nor sweet enough- only to find his friend had abandoned the jar of peanut spread and instead was flicking through his mail. Despite this, a sip of underwhelming caffeine was more of a priority than questioning Oak.

“Who's Raquel and why is she inviting you to her wedding?” Now that, that was certainly more important than coffee.

Dropping his mug back onto the counter with almost enough force to shatter it, Daveed dove forward and ripped the envelope out of Oak's hands. Just like he'd said, inside of it was a wedding invitation from one Raquel Castro. The very same girl who'd once sent her friend to ask for his number. The very same girl who'd helped him plan out his first date with her best friend. The very same girl who'd been sneakily finding out what Y/N's ring size was only two months before his world came crashing down.

Given the memories he'd recalled the night before, part of Daveed couldn't help but think this invitation was more than a simple coincidence. A week after the break up, Raquel had called him. She'd been angry and accusatory with her words but it stemmed from her own confusion and inability to comprehend why things had ended so hastily between him and Y/N. Daveed couldn't understand it himself either. The call had ended up being the first thing to make him smile in his new found singleness. The two had maintained frequent contact from there on out, casual texts sent between them both just around once every month, Raquel had even taken a trip into New York with her fiancé and stopped by one of the Hamilton performances. But this invite, it had to be some sort of sign from the universe, a sign involving Y/N. Unfortunately, Daveed had not a single clue how to interpret this sign.

It took him a total of nine days to RSVP for the ceremony, playing out the pros and cons of his attendance. The fact Y/N would likely be there was the only pro that was also a con, and vice versa. Maybe he'd find some closure or, at the very least, answers to the questions he'd had on his mind since the day she'd slammed the door shut on their love. More likely, he'd spend the whole night alone at the singles table, nursing some old whiskey and watching her dance the night away in another man's arms.

January, 2016

This time, the DJ seemed to be enamored with some niche European techno music and Lin, a sweating mess on the relatively small dance floor, had become his number one fan. Next to the dancing maniac were the so called Schuyler Sisters, Jasmine and Reneé were busy taking turns dancing with the long haired man whilst Phillipa was losing herself in laughter between videoing the lot of them. Scattered along the club were the rest of the cast and crew. In fact, most of the people Daveed held closest to him were there, all banding together to celebrate something they had in common: him.

For them, it was the celebration of his 34th birthday. For him, it was a pity party for his 2nd birthday in a row without Y/N by his side.

He'd made a vow to not be bitter that night and focus on being grateful for what and who he did have in his life. Thus far, he'd done a good job. For the first night out in months, Daveed hadn't spent the night sat at the bar alone. He'd danced with friends and done shots with strangers and flirted with beautiful women. But it was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. All of his friends were there with their significant others whilst he was there with his bottle of champagne.

Tilting the bottle back, Daveed welcomed the bubbled drink in and gulped several times before dropping it back onto one of the many tables they'd all occupied. Just as he made the decision to stop thinking about her, destiny or the universe or whatever higher being was out there decided it was time for his birthday present.

He could hear the group of girls long before he could see them. A ruckus of screeching and slurred words was approaching and, from the neon bracelets and the sashes draped across scantily clad chests, it was clear as day to him that a bridal party had just entered the building, and they were far from subtle.

His curious eyes found themselves scanning over each girl of the bridal party as they filtered their way over to the other side of the VIP lounge. They were a sea of nameless faces, hooting and cheering like a bunch of frat guys on a night out and, as easy as it would be to find them irritating, Daveed couldn't help but chuckle and enjoy the fact that other people were having a great night. Until his eyes drifted to the back of the group.

At first, it just felt like a coincidence. A dress, laced with familiarity and the color red, which he was sure he'd seen before. But, then again, there were tons of red dresses in the world. Then, the girl looked up from her phone and Daveed felt the wind get knocked out from beneath his feet. Clinging to the table in front of him for support, he watched her smile at her friend.

It was the kind of smile he used to pull from her, whilst they were both spread out on each end of the sofa and a terribly romantic movie playing in the background of their happiness. He'd cheesily recite lines from the movie to her and revel in the way he could still make her blush, even if she hid it with a cringe. And when he'd agree to stop, he'd always tell her he loved her. No cheesy lines, no big words or unrealistic speeches that took place in airports. Just a flat out, honest, sincere “I love you”. Y/N would just smile and he'd already know she loved him back, no words needed.

“Wow buddy, you alright there?” The distinguishable voice of Anthony Ramos cut through Daveed's reminiscing yet his eyes never left her. He was frozen in time, hyper focused on each gesture she made. Most of all, he was desperately trying to spot the ring on her finger. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Daveed bit back a comment about the ghost being from his past, of a life he could have had. Grabbing a half filled shot glass, he threw it’s contents down his throat, not even grimacing as the liquor stung his nerves. “I'm great. Just tired. S'been a long day, y'know?” His words were a little more unsteady and slurred than he would have preferred but Daveed was sure he'd sounded convincing enough.

“Shots! Shots! Shots!” Anthony chanted enthusiastically over the music, gaining a few glares and side-eye glances from surrounding tables. He truly was the human equivalent of a beagle: energetic, kinda short, great with kids. “Let's go do some! Shots always work great if you're feeling tired.”

“How 'bout you go order us some then, Ant?” Daveed said, at last tearing his eyes away from Y/N and her red dress. “I'm just... Gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

Daveed would have felt bad for lying to Anthony, he really would have, but he just needed a breath of fresh air. And maybe a dose of poison in his lungs. Out of everyday in which he could have ended up in the same city, in the same club, in the same section as Y/N, of course it had to be the night he'd sworn off thinking about her. How cruel fate seemed to him, not allowing him a break from sorrow.

The January air had a chill to it when it embraced Daveed as he stepped out on to the small balcony, which was really just a metal enclosure that looked as if it was violating some kind of health and safety code. The club music was still audible but it was playing in sync with noise of the city. A siren was ringing in some distance. He placed his vice between his lips, ready to light it up when-

“What's the birthday boy doing out here all alone? Not throwing a pity party, I hope.”

Daveed jolted and watched as the cigarette, now having slipped out of his mouth, fell to the balcony floor and dropped through the metal caging. Biting back a curse, he finally noticed the black satin and a familiar head of blonde hair. She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her. Yet again, it hadn't been long since she'd come to see Hamilton. “Raquel!” His enthusiasm was honest, as was the care he put into the hug he pulled her into.

“If only everyone was this excited to see me, the world would be a better place.” Raquel exclaimed, drawing back from his embrace and cautiously leaning against the handrail, tilting her head down as she looked over the edge. “Didn't mean to startle you, sorry.” A sheepish smile appeared. “But, hey, at least Y/N can no longer claim that I enable your smoking!”

Daveed realized then and there that it was no coincidence that Raquel had come up to him. Sure, it was his birthday, and sure, they were friends. But Daveed had been blatantly staring at his ex, her best friend, and clearly he'd been caught. If if weren't for the calming nature of her voice or the way she looked at him with equal amounts of kindness and pity, Daveed would have walked away from the conversation before it could even begin. But, it was too late now.

“Remember that trip we all took to Cancún? Where she threw the cigarettes you bought me in the bin?” For the first time, Daveed was sharing memories of her with someone else. For months, his reminiscing had been silent, not unnoticed but not shared either. It was almost like he'd been in mourning for so long and, now, he was finally ready to start celebrating the life he'd lost.

“How could I forget? She still owes me ten dollars.” Raquel laughed and he followed, even if he didn't find any humor in their conversation. His was an empty laugh. “Oh! Right! I actually needed to talk to you about something!”

“I'm all ears.”

“It's about the catering at the wedding. I know you're Jewish but I can't remember if you're kosher. Just in case you want us to mark anything non-kosher at the reception.”

“Ah,” Daveed nodded, silently appreciating that she'd even taking the time to ask him. “Don't worry, I'm not that strict about it. Honestly. Thanks for asking though.” By then he'd drawn and lit a cigarette, this time managing to not drop it. He let his eyes scan over her and he found himself unable to stop the small smile which took over his face at the sight of her bridal party wear. “The wedding isn't until August, isn't it a bit early to start up the bachelorette party?”

“This isn't my party, Diggs.” She rebutted, bumping his shoulder with her own as she stole a sip from her champagne flute. “It's a friend of mine's. That's actually why we're in New York.”

They didn't need to define who we was referring to, Daveed knew it was Y/N. If it were even possible, his heart stuttered over a beat. The question was at the tip of his tongue, longing for him to just get it over with. Rip the band-aid off, open up his wound and let it bleed out. Is it her wedding? Somehow, the answer seemed scarier than the question. “Seems everyone's getting married off then, huh?” Like a coward, he never asked.

“What about you, mister Broadway? Any lucky lady in your life?” Surely she knew the answer, considering he hadn't added a plus one on to his wedding reservation.

“No, uh, been too busy. Shows 'n stuff, y'know?” He said, not even convincing himself of his own excuses. And, from the pitiful look she was giving him and the hand she'd placed on his forearm, Raquel wasn't believing him either.

“Have you talked to her, at all? Since things ended between you guys...” She paused, as if searching for the right way to word things. “I just think you guys at least deserve some closure. Your relationship didn't even properly come to an end. One day, you guys were together, the next, well, you were over. Two years of building a life together can't just stop all of a sudden.” Daveed remained silent and Raquel took this as a sign to keep talking. “Sorry if you think it's not my place to say all this. I've been trying to tell her for months now to talk to you but she just won't listen. Not even when we came to your show.”

That had spiked his attention and his eyes widened. His show. The theater. Hamilton. She'd been there, somewhere in the mass of the audience. In anger, he wished he'd spotted her. In pain, he wished she'd have let him know. Now here was their friend, her friend, asking him to talk to her and get closure for them both. Even if it hurt him to think that Y/N was suffering, it hurt him more to think of them truly being over. And that's exactly what closure meant. The end of things. Daveed wasn't ready for her to become a part of his past yet. Besides, last time he'd seen her, Y/N seemed to be doing just fine, with or without closure.

Both of his hands were full from the tray of beverages in to-go cups he'd been sent to purchase for the cast, meaning Daveed had to shoulder his way out of the corner cafe, all the while cursing the fact he'd ever agreed to take part in the childish game of rock, paper, scissors. He'd drawn rock and wound up losing to the rest of the cast's papers. Laughter had echoed as he walked out the theater with a list of everyone's order.

A frustrated sigh escaped Daveed as he lowered the trays onto an outdoor table. Sitting unevenly on the pavement, the table wobbled. Those short three seconds had Daveed near crippled in panic as he watched the drinks shake, some almost toppling over completely. Luckily, they all stayed up right and he wasn't about to find himself buying a whole new order.

“C'mon, c'mon, hurry up.” He muttered under his breath, fingers drumming against the side of his legs, eyes staring down the street with a desperation to spot the familiar face of a fellow Hamilton cast member. He'd texted the group-chat just about ten minutes ago, someone should have been on their way to help him carry the order back.

The blaring of a horn had Daveed looking up from his phone screen. An elderly man was cursing out some taxi driver as he crossed the road, stick waving in the air as unfiltered words fell from his lips. Maybe, if Daveed hadn't stared at the scene before him for so long, he would have never noticed the jewelers directly across the street from him.

Maybe he would have never noticed a man and woman inside the store. Him, with his arm around her shoulder, and her, with her eyes fixated on the display of rings in front of her, and both with smiles brighter than any collapsing star. He watched, throat dry and limbs heavy, as the attendant in the store helped the woman slide on the ring. The engagement ring. She nodded, just one nod, and that's all it took for Daveed's world to implode. Of course, the couple were completely unaware of the heartbreak they were causing as they waited for the ring to be wrapped and bagged. The man had eagerly pulled out his credit card, as if he couldn't wait a second longer to purchase it, and the woman welcomed the bag into her waiting hands, like she was desperate to return the ring to it's rightful home: her left ring finger.

It was selfish, Daveed knew that, but he'd been hoping Y/N was just as torn up by their break up as he still was.

Instead, she was engaged. To another man, another future.

“There you are! God, this place was further than I expected.” Daveed turned his head to see one of the ensemble members, Ariana, approaching him. She smiled and he done his best to return the gesture. “Alright, what ones am I carrying?”

“Oh. Uh,” He blindly grabbed two of the sets of drinks, offering them to her. “these ones. I got the rest.”

“Okay! Let's go, pretty sure poor Leslie is gonna pass out from exhaustion if he doesn't get his dose of coffee soon.” Daveed hesitated following her and, instead, stared back over at the other side of the street. He found the store was now empty of customers and Y/N was no longer there. “Hello? Earth to Daveed!”

“Huh?”

“You okay there? You were just staring off into space for like, 2 minutes.”

“Yeah. Yes.” He swallowed the ball of emotion pent up in his throat and walked over to her, ignoring the little voice in his head telling him to look back. It just wanted to torture him some more. “Just,” He sighed. “thought I saw someone.”

“If she doesn't want to talk, then there's no reason for me to do it. Maybe it's just better for us both if we keep to ourselves.” The reality was that Daveed didn't think he'd be able to get through talking to her even if she did want to speak about it. Not when he'd spend the whole time staring at her hands, at the rock resting on her finger, at the pledge of love and fidelity she'd given to someone else. “So, how's wedding planning been treating you? You excited to just get it over with?”

“A hundred percent!” Raquel laughed and he relaxed, thankful for the fact she'd let him change the topic of conversation. “Don't get me wrong, some of the planning has been fun. Cake tasting? I highly recommend it. And I've got her learning salsa for our first dance. But, yeah, venue planning and the cost of it all has been a bit of a bummer. I'll be glad to never have to do that again.”

“Salsa? Great choice, bring a little flavor into the whole traditional wedding dancing.”

“Yeah! Fuck swaying side to side awkwardly, I'm putting on a performance! It's been a messy journey, planning everything. Even just something as simple as seating arrangements, who the hell knew it was such a process to organize all that crap?” She threw her hands up, the remainder of her champagne sloshing inside of the glass. “But it'll be worth it when I walk down the aisle with her. We're gonna put all other brides to shame in our dresses. Shit, sorry, all I talk about recently is the wedding! You can tell me to stop if you want.”

“It's fine, no worries. You're happy, it's nice.” He felt a tug at his heartstrings all of a sudden, very aware of the fact of how much had changed since the two had first met. It really did fill him with joy to see her so happy. “You deserve it, Kelly.”

“You know I hate being called that, David.” The two old friends laughed in unison after she lightly kicked him with her heeled foot, not even hard enough to leave a scuff on his jeans. “It's crazy, you know, that just about four years ago I was trying to get in your pants. And now I'm a few months away from getting married! To the love of my life! I mean, she's honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me, D, you have no idea.”

He had an idea and it was somewhere else inside the busy club, wrapped in red and the familiar scent of coconut- it had always been her favorite - but he wasn't sure he was allowed to speak about her like Raquel spoke about her fiancé. That was reserved for someone else now. He also held back on pointing out the pitiful fact that it seemed people who pursued him would wind up engaged afterwards.

At some point, they both went their separate ways, back to their respective groups. Daveed eventually threw caution to the wind, a fresh wound on his soul after having seen Y/N urging him on. Every drink he was handed ended up down his throat and, somehow, Lin managed to rope him into dancing to the shitty music with him. They all danced, cramped together in the limited space like canned tuna. When the last song was played, when the last drink had been poured, when the last cab had been hailed, a very intoxicated Daveed found himself stumbling into the apartment of a stranger wrapped in red. The fact she smelt like sweat and lavender was the only downside.

If he hadn't drank so much or gotten so reckless and careless, perhaps his phone wouldn't have been left abandoned among glitter and emptied glasses in the deserted club, it's screen lit up with two notifications:

00:49 am (+81) 03-3***-****: happy birthday, d. i'm glad to see you're having a fun night!

02:18 am (+81) 03-3***-****: you're wearing my favorite shirt of yours.

August, 2016

The sun setting over the horizon burned at Daveed's tired eyes as he stepped off the plane, thankful to be home yet dreading the next day. The whole flight over he'd practically gone through the works of all possible emotions he could feel towards his impending future. Excited, saddened, nervous, happy, frustrated, nervous again. Every possible scenario had played through his mind, ones where the two did not speak, others were they done nothing but speak and one, shamefully, where they done something but it was not speaking.

The wedding was one sleep away and he was no more prepared to be in such close proximity of Y/N than he had been the night of the club or the day on the sidewalk.

His dad had picked him up from the airport, lending him a hand with his limited luggage and pulling his cherished son into a warm hug. The whole drive back to his father's home had been filled with playing catch up, Daveed sharing stories of his cast mates and his father telling him about his new hobby of coaching a local junior basketball team. Daveed was grateful for his dad not asking about Y/N. If it had been his mother, all intentions pure and caring, she would have began to question him on the matter the second he was strapped in to his seat and unable to escape.

His parents had always liked Y/N, that was for sure. And, while it had been a blessing during their relationship to see his mother dote over her like she were her own daughter or to witness her beat his dad at guitar hero, it had become a curse when things had ended. The way things ended did not make matters any better. His own mother had given Daveed the silent treatment for a whole two days after he explained to her how things had gone down.

He fell asleep that night, his bag opened yet not unpacked, in the guest bedroom of his father's home. A belly full of pizza and beer, mind full of worry and doubt.

Hours later, after a shower, a shave and a shit ton of stressing as he pulled on his suit, Daveed found himself parked outside the venue. Finding a parking space had been stressful enough but it was nothing compared to the on-going battle between him and his crooked tie. It had only hit him that morning just how long it had been since he'd had to tie his own tie, too accustomed to his new normal of having a stylist dress him for most formal occasions. Before that, he'd had Y/N.

A few months into their relationship, when he finally felt confident enough to meet her parents, she'd went out of her way to learn exactly how to tie a tie and she'd wordlessly done it for him that evening, his hands too shaky and his nerves too on edge. From there onward, he'd purposefully mess up only to have her stand so close, where he could comfortably lay his hand to rest on her lower back as she worked away at sorting the piece of cloth around his neck.

“That's as good as it's gonna get.” The quiet of his car was filled with his disappointed voice as the less crooked tie stared back at him through the rear view mirror. Despite his words, he gave it one last tug and stepped out of the car.

He hadn't expected to be recognized by so many familiar faces. He probably should have expected some though, these were people who'd been friends to him once upon a time ago. To add tension to an already tense situation, everyone that felt the need to come up to him was dancing around the fact things had ended between him and Y/N and that was why they'd stopped talking to him.

“It's been so long since I've seen you! I've just been swamped with work, you know? And, New York! You were on Broadway. How's Broadway? Must be exciting to be on Broadway!” They'd all have the same excuses to avoid the obvious: they were Y/N's friends first and they'd be hers till the end.

Daveed wished he believed it when he told himself he didn't mind that.

The venue of the ceremony was breathtakingly beautiful and, now sat among (luckily) unfamiliar faces, Daveed took the chance to fully appreciate the scenery.

It was being held within a greenhouse, and in almost every inch of the place there was a strike of greenery. The surrounding walls were made up solely of glass windows, serving as a source of natural light. At the end of the aisle, where the exchanging of vows, crying of happy tears and giving of rings would be taking place, was a beautiful water display, with water so fresh looking it appeared drinkable. And the air? It was smothered in the scent of life: blossoming buds and flourishing flowers and ripening fruits. Splashes of red and yellow, of blue and lilac, of pink and orange effortlessly added more class and detail into the green venue.

If the venue was breathtaking, the ceremony was heartbreakingly tender.

The two teary eyed brides had walked down the aisle with the person they'd chosen to give them away and, by the time they were both facing each other at the makeshift altar, Daveed could already see a stray tear falling down Raquel's cheek. At that, he smiled. And stayed smiling throughout the whole ceremony. Until it came to Raquel's vows. At some point in her big proclamation of love, she began speaking about how her and her bride had first met, about how she hadn't even realized she was being hit on by her and how, when she was asked for her number, Raquel thought she'd just wanted to be friends. She spoke of how two dear friends of her's told her she was being asked out on a date, not just to hang out as friends.

For the first time during the ceremony, Daveed finally looked directly at where Y/N stood in front of the other bridesmaids. He watched as a stray tear slid down her cheek, one she quickly tried to brush away, and her hands tightened around the bouquet they were wrapped around. His own eyes were welling up with tears in just a few seconds. While they weren't the only two in the room carrying tears in their eyes, they were the only two who's tears were made up of missed chances and broken promises and pure, untamed sadness. After all, they’d been there to witness the first meeting of the brides. They’d been together then and now, they were further apart than the stars above.

He'd told himself he'd just steal one last glance at her, remember her as she was next to the altar, all dressed up and looking beautiful albeit sad. His eyes lifted. And there was Y/N staring right back at him, a couple more tears already having fallen from her eyes. The eye contact never wavered between them both and, for the first time in a while, Daveed felt like he was actually being seen for who he really was. And when she smiled, he fell apart.

A tear finally escaped it's cage but Daveed made no attempt to wipe it away.

One luxurious meal later, and quite a few drinks from the open bar, Daveed sat in the very same situation he'd predicted. At the singles table- which was pretty depressing given who his company for the evening was -, with some girl he'd met about an hour ago talking his ears off about her job which he hadn't even asked about, a drink he’d been nursing for half an hour in his hand and his eyes hyper-focused on the dance floor. Taking another sip, he drowned out the stranger’s voice and watched how Y/N laughed at something her dance partner had whispered in her ear.

This was how Daveed had chosen to enjoy the reception: playing a game of “Guess Who’s Marrying The Love Of Your Life?” with every man who so much as approached her. He was thankful her duties as maid of honor kept her so busy, she’d yet to have the chance to notice his incessant watching.

Deciding he’d spotted the fiancé of his kryptonite- the man she’d been dancing with for just over twenty minutes, who she’d been sat next to during the meal, who seemed to make her laugh just as hard as Daveed once had - he pushed back his chair, straightened out the jacket of his suit and headed for his destination.

Heavy footsteps, fists clenched, breathing erratic, Daveed stepped out into the fresh air and made his way over to the concrete railing of the balcony, a balcony far more sturdy and well designed than the one he’d stumbled onto back in January.

The silence and lonesomeness wrapped themselves around Daveed like the softest, warmest blanket on a winter's eve. For the first time since he'd arrived at the wedding celebrations, he'd found a window of peace for himself to take a moment and breathe. Recalling the conversation he'd shared with Rafa before he left for the airport- in which Rafa had been hyping him up and reassuring him he'd enjoy more than regret attending -, Daveed had to admit to himself that he was proud of how he'd done so far. Maybe not in the past hour of self pity with a side of substance abuse, but other than that he'd held himself together pretty well. He'd congratulated Raquel and her official wife, even sharing a dance with both of the women; he'd rekindled friendships, once he and they managed to push past the original discomfort of not having spoken in so long; he'd met some interesting strangers with fascinating stories; he'd ate some of the most lucrative meals he'd ever tasted and bore witness to a demonstration of pure love.

He was enjoying himself.

The only thing that made the evening unpleasant was when he'd finally zeroed in on Y/N and her smile; and the way the lights were making her eyes sparkle; and the way her dress was draped over her skin effortlessly.

The alcohol was beginning to take an effect on him, his mind becoming a little resentful towards Y/N. He'd never once hated her, even if it had been she who'd called quits on them, but he couldn't help blame her now for his situation. How was it fair that she got to move on with her life while he still could barely sit in the same room as her and keep his eyes from watching her every move, her every gesture?

“Shit.” Daveed huffed out over the sound of crickets and the muffled sound of the celebratory music, just as his lighter gave up on him and decided it would not be lighting up the cigarette for him this evening.

“We need to stop meeting this way.” He hated the way the resentment left him with as little as seven words. “People are going to start calling us predictable.”

Sure enough, when Daveed spun on his heel to face the balcony doors, there she was in all her glory, arm stretched out and lighter in hand. He wondered if she carried it around for her new man. Out here, her eyes were a lot less sparkling, her dress a lot less light, her smile a lot less wide but Daveed didn't find her any less ethereal. He never did.

“Uh,” She'd cleared her throat and Daveed felt embarrassment creep in. Here she was, perfectly composed and unaffected by him, whilst he was just as nervous as the day they had their first date; the day he'd first told her he loved her; the day he asked her to move to New York. “thank you.” He plucked the lighter from her and hit the clipper.

“No problem.” She took a sip of the glass in her hand and approached him more, till they were stood in parallel, shoulders an inch away from brushing, staring off into the dark abyss of the night that lay past the grounds of the vibrant wedding. “I see you got stuck sitting next to cousin Delia. On a score of one to ten, how bad is your headache?” Why was it so easy for her to joke around with him?

“Probably a solid seven. She talks a lot but at least there's never time for awkward silence with her.” He pulled in a drag and held back a groan when not even the nicotine could untense his muscles. “The ceremony was beautiful, you must be so happy for Raquel.”

“Yeah.” She sighed dreamily, head turning back to look at the balcony door, as if she were remembering just how beautiful indoors was. “I'm so glad everything went smoothly, they were both so stressed during the planning but it turned out exactly how they wanted.”

“They're lucky to have each other.” Why couldn't he see her engagement ring? Was she hiding it from him, out of pity? Did she know he was hung up on her? Daveed had spent so many months missing her only to resent the time he was spending with her. Stood on that balcony, hardly any space between them, Y/N had never felt further away. “So, how've you been? Like, work and shit.”

“I've been... good. Yeah, good.” There was a pause and they stood in silence, her staring off into space, him staring at her face. “I took the job, in the end, so there's that. Moved to Japan, got to have some new experiences and make new friends. Tried Sashimi, realized I do not like Sashimi. Oh! I got to watch cherry blossoms bloom. Just, yeah, I've been good.” She didn't tell him what he'd wanted to hear about. “How about you?”

“I've been great. Honestly. Work has been on the up and up since the show opened on Broadway, I’ve got some acting jobs lined up. Done some photo-shoots, made more music. Every night, there was another celebrity in the crowd. I mean, the President invited us to perform in the white house. I've been great in other parts of my life too, made some incredibly interesting friends.” Is everything Daveed wishes he said.

Instead, he said this: “Awful. I've been doing shit, for a while now.”

“D.” He couldn't help but hate the fact she called him by that. “I don't think we should get into this at Raquel's weddi-”

“Then when, Y/N?” Oh, he had not meant to sound so confrontational. Unfortunately, the little voice in his head that made up his ego was enticing him to keep going. “Ten years from now? Fifty? Oh, or should we do it at your wedding? I can't put this off any longer, alright? I'm miserable and,” He tried to compose himself, eyes squeezed shut and hands shoved in pockets. “and it's your fault. So no, we're having this conversation. You don't get to just meet someone new and act like what happened between us meant nothing, whilst I'm left frozen in a time where a reality TV star isn't our President and you're mine. Ok? I need to move on but I can't if we don't get closure.”

“It's my fault? Meet someone new!?” She was using the same tone of voice she'd used that night, when the fight to end it all first broke out. “Daveed, you ended things between us, not me. Or did you forget?”

“Weird, I don't remember breaking up with a guy named Daveed and slamming the door shut on my way out.” He stepped back, dropping the wasted cigarette into an ashtray. “But I remember you doing something along those lines.”

“Well, do you remember the part where your girlfriend told you she'd just been offered her dream job and all you had to say was that you two needed to break up?”

“The job was in Tokyo!”

“Oh! So, it was okay when I made the sacrifice of moving to New York with you but you couldn't just deal with some long-distance dating?”

“What did you want me to say, Y/N?” Up until then, their voices had been rising in volume but this time Daveed was softly spoken. “I was happy for you. But I also realized how much things wouldn't work between us. Between Broadway and you being all the way in Japan and the time difference, when would there be time for us?”

“If you really want something, there's always a way.” Y/N said, resting her back against the balcony ledge. “Maybe you just didn't want us, enough.”

“You didn't have to leave though.” He followed suit, back against ledge and feet crossed. “Yeah, I messed up and said something I didn't mean out of fear of losing you, but you didn't have to take my advice and actually walk out the door.”

“How was I supposed to stay after that? It stung, D. I thought you had more faith in us. But you weren't wrong, I guess hearing you say we'd have to break up made me realize just how much the job change would really effect us both. I think we both played our part in ending things- Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” One second, Daveed had been quietly reflecting on her every word. The next, spilled champagne was seeping through his white shirt.

“It's, uh, fine. No worries. I'll just go try get this off me.”

“Let me help!”

As a man, Daveed was shocked to see just how perfectly clean and nice smelling the female restroom was. Everything seemed to sparkle in the light. He had traded leaning his back against the balcony banister for leaning it against the counter top of the sinks, his own hands wiping at his shirt with paper towels Y/N was handing him. She'd quickly and carefully dragged him into the toilets and stripped him of his suit jacket, all the while apologizing again and again for having soaked him.

Surprisingly, he didn't care.

“You can be honest with me, you know.” He glanced at her before refocusing on his shirt. They'd been talking lightly, of things that held no real value but were preferred over the discussion on the balcony. “You can tell me if you found someone new.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing, really. I just, I saw you. A few months ago. You were getting fitted for an engagement ring with some man at your side.”

“Do you mean my cousin? Who was planning a proposal for his girlfriend?” He could see the amusement on her lips as she handed him another paper towel. He felt his heart rate pick up. “My turn. Why didn't you answer my text? If you were doing so bad, wouldn't you want to talk it out as soon as possible?”

“Text? What text?”

“The one I sent you on your birthday? We were in the same club but, I don't think you saw me.”

“Oh, I saw you. I think you were all I saw that night.” He instantly regretted what he said. “I mean, I lost my phone that night. Haven't seen it since.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Silence kept them apart for the rest of the time. Eventually, Daveed decided his shirt was as dry as it was going to get. Then, he felt it. Y/N, without missing a beat, reached up and adjusted his tie. Both their breaths caught in their throats. The silence between them became tension. In a matter of seconds, everything was turned around, literally. She was hoisted up on the counter and he was stood between her spread legs, his hands on her hips and hers going back and forth between running through his hair and gripping on to his damp shirt. They were doing their best to keep quiet, swapping moaning out for heavy breathing.

Daveed was struggling to think straight, between the familiarity of her skin and the scent of coconut, it was as if they'd spent no time apart. Suddenly, anyone else he'd slept with between their break up and now hadn't really counted and this was the first time he was being touched in years.

When it was over, he was speechless and she was incapable of not speaking.

“Okay, so, um, I'll sneak out first and then you just, wait in here for five minutes. Then slip out. That way, no one has to see us both exit the bathroom together. Okay, great catching up, see you when I see you. Bye!”

By the time he came back to his senses, he was stood alone in the female bathroom, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie discarded on the floor. He shoved it into his back pocket and slipped on the jacket of his suit, not bothering to even discreetly leave the toilets. Luckily, no one noticed him.

Returning to the event hall, he instantly began his search for Y/N but he failed to spot any sign of her. Had she vanished into thin air? Had she even been there?

“If you're looking for Y/N, she just bolted out of here like the floor was on fire. Pretty sure she called a cab but you didn't hear that from me.” He turned to find Raquel staring at him, a smile on her face. “Stop wasting time on staring at me and go get her, lover boy.”

Daveed did not need to be told twice, his history with running track kicking in as he raced out of the hall. He sped down the corridor, dodging any oncoming guests before he burst out of the doors, stepping out into the fresh air. He could see her in the distance, standing with her arms around herself as she shifted from side to side.

“Y/N!” Daveed yelled out as he ran over to her. When she made no attempt to move away from him, he felt hope begin to rise in his soul. “Why'd you leave?”

“Daveed, we don't have to do this. In fact, we shouldn't do this.”

“Have coffee with me.”

“D, I don't-”

“One coffee, that's it. You can even get it in a to-go cup. Y/N, it's just coffee, I'm not asking for your hand in marriage.” He loved the way she was struggling to hold back a smile. “So, what do you say?”

August, 2020

The world from his garden felt calm, peaceful, as if everything wasn't falling to shit in the midst of all kinds of disasters.

It was the middle of the night and, no matter how hard he tried, Daveed couldn't sleep. Even after having more or less quit a few years back, he could tell there was only one thing that was going to calm his nerves. So, creeping out of bed cautiously, he'd reached into his bedside drawer and grabbed the little packet he kept hidden beneath his socks. Maybe it was just the recent times taking a toll on him, quarantine beginning to exhaust him, but Daveed had been feeling more stressed out than ever.

He sighed, one hand rubbing at the sleep in his eye and the other trying to light up his cigarette. Then, he noticed the blue plastic and a whispered “Fuck.” escaped from him. If he'd considered heading back indoors to find his functioning lighter instead of the empty one, it didn't matter because the cigarette and it's packet were plucked away from him by smaller hands.

“You shouldn't be smoking, D.”

“I know, I know, it's bad for my health. Just, a little stressed.” He welcomed the way she wrapped her arms around his waist, molding herself into his side as he wrapped his own arm around her shoulder. “Better now that you're here.”

“Hmm.” She hummed sleepily, squeezing her arms around him some more. “You're so warm. Like, a human hot-water bottle.”

“Just say I'm hot, I already know you're thinking it.” His lips rested on her forehead and the scent of coconut consumed him.

“Why did I agree to marry a man with an ego the size of the Statue Of Liberty?”

“Because that man's love for you is the size of Mount Everest.” He soothingly rubbed her back, feeling himself finally wanting to fall asleep. “Plus, he has really good hair.”

When he fell asleep that night, it was in the same way he'd fallen asleep for the past few years, and how he wanted to fall asleep every night that remained in his time alive: with her between his arms. He'd gone from being as useless, soulless as an empty lighter without her by his side to now, where he never had to worry about not being able to spark up again. He had Y/N and he wouldn't let anything change that. Not distance, time, health, anything.

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