#its been an absolute joy getting to know you this past year
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My Name (LN4)
Summary: Y/n and Lando have a painful past together. When they go their separate ways and are left to pick up the pieces, Lando realizes he can no longer hear the woman he loved’s name without feeling deeply ashamed.
Warnings: this is the most angsty thing i ever written. TOXIC!LANDO TO THE MAX, lots of language, insinuations to sex, this is absolutely horrific i am so sorry its very painful and sad NO HAPPY ENDING (word count is a little over 4k)
Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?
Some people had chapters they could never bring themselves to read out loud. Lando’s painfully silent chapter was Y/n. His nights were swallowed whole by the looks on her face when he let her down once more, the moment when she first thought he didn’t care about her in the way she did. Y/n was a recurring nightmare and a sobering remembrance for him.
FIVE YEARS PRIOR
“Lando, I have someone I want you to meet.” Max murmured to him as they glided through the crowd of rich sponsors. His best friend giggled under his breath as the groups separated like a sea, revealing the most beautiful woman.
From the moment he saw her, Lando knew he had to have her, “Please tell me it’s her.”
Max shook his head, his body lighting up as Y/n smiled at him and hugged him tightly. The two turned to the racer, still grinning, “This is Y/n. Friend from London.”
Lando thought she was perfect, down to the teeth peeking behind her upturned lips. His hand extended out for her hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”
”You as well.” Her voice was sultry, soft. Her hand fit right in the palm of his. Her body drawn to him, his to hers. Lando wanted her in his bed yesterday.
Sensing some sort of tension, knowing it was sexual, Max slid from the grasp of Y/n. He clipped his head down as a form of goodbye before leaving the two to turn from strangers to friends, maybe more in store.
The beginning of Lando’s favorite part of his life and the downfall of whoever he was before he met her.
TWO MONTHS LATER
Whether it was because of her overwhelming, albeit attractive, confidence or the fact that she was Max’s friend, Lando didn’t ask Y/n out right away. Instead, he tiptoed around her, so did she, but he only stopped when picturing her when he was touching himself got to be boring. She only stopped when he showed up at her door with flowers, ready for their date.
“I love pink roses.” She smiled, lightly taking the bouquet from his hands and disappearing into her apartment.
He closed the door when he stepped in to follow her. His feet took him to her kitchen, where she leaned over the counter and filled a vase. His eyes bounced around the walls, peeking out into the living room to see heaps and blankets and pillows.
His hands in his pockets, “I hoped you would.”
She thought it was supposed to be a romantic gesture. Lando’s hands were touching the curve of her waist before he finished his sentence, his mouth next to her ear, “I’m glad you do.”
She made the mistake of turning around, part of her would later wonder if that was giving him the wrong idea.
Still, his lips met hers in a heated kiss, his body pushing hers further into the hard granite. She had been attracted to him from the start, gotten to know him over the two months he hadn’t actively tried to pursue her. She really liked him. That was the reasoning which led herself to being wrapped up in sheets with him a half hour later.
They never made it to that first date.
PRESENT
Lando’s eyes burned with all the flashing lights. Even after a race win, the joy could never subside the anxiety he got from all the press.
The first reporter, her name tag reading Clara, beamed at him. It reminded him of Y/n’s perfect teeth.
“Congratulations, Lando, on an incredible race! How are you feeling right now?” She spoke quickly. She pushed her microphone into his face.
His hands gripped the railing in front of him, “Amazing! This feeling will never get old.”
Her face dropped slightly as she glanced behind her, to the cameraman he presumed, “We would love to talk more about your stellar race, but we do want to ask for your thoughts on the allegations surrounding Y/n Y/l/n over hostile workplace behavior.”
His heart squeezed. He wished people knew her. Not the girl he ruined, but the woman he knew she still was deep down, past all the things that happened between them. His cheeks flushed, “Y/n is an amazing person. She has a kind heart. I just hope people can see that.”
He prayed that Clara would drop the subject. Lando would kill to clear Y/n’s name for her, maybe that would makeup for all the pain he caused, but she would never give him the light of day, even for that. People associated him with her and it tore at his insides. There wasn’t a day that went by that the taste of her name in his mouth didn’t feel like a type of betrayal.
Clara’s eyebrows moved up, “So, you think the allegations are false?”
He huffed, “I’m not speaking about the allegations. I’m simply speaking about the woman I knew.”
Whoever she was now, he didn’t know enough to comment.
FOUR YEARS PRIOR
“Oh, fuck, Y/n, that was amazing.” Lando breathed, his chest rising and falling quickly from beside her.
She laughed, “Happy for you.”
His body turned to the side, his head propped up by his arm, “It was nice having you here.”
She was quiet for a moment, trying to decipher what that sentence implied. She thought she knew, she just didn’t want to face it.
Y/n’s hand traced his arm, “It was a good time.”
Lando pulled away from her, slipping from bed and pulling his pants back on. Loud and clear, she thought.
Still, she tried. Pathetically. Her shirt slid over her body as she grumbled, “Do you wanna go get some food?”
From her view of his back, she saw him tense, “Uh, I can’t, Y/n. Sorry. I’m super busy right now.”
She sighed softly, too quiet for him to hear. He turned around, fully dressed now. She stood, shirt and underwear on with no towel to clean herself. Completely rejected. A small piece of her heart chipped away.
She nodded, “Okay, yeah, no problem. I get it.”
He rushed out of the room, “Yeah, thanks! Feel free to let yourself out! I’ve got some errands to run!”
The door slammed shut immediately after. She took a moment in the silence to gather her messy mind. Maybe he was genuinely busy. Maybe he didn’t mean it that way. He said it was nice having her there.
He couldn’t have meant this in a mean way.
Like any girl in love with someone they thought they were too unworthy of having, the excuses began.
ONE MONTH LATER
Deja Vu flooded Y/n’s senses as Lando rolled off her body. The sinking feeling that her time with him was over mixed with the familiarity and it proved to be a horrific experience.
Her hand reached out to grab her pants that had been discarded on the floor when his voice rang out.
“Do you wanna go get food?” He asked, head turning to look at her as if it was the most regular thing.
Her hand stopped just above her jeans, “What?”
Lando sat up from bed, no longer in a rush to throw his clothes on, “Do you want to go get food with me?”
Some place within herself ridiculed her for nodding her head so eagerly. It was beginning to feel like she was trying to earn his love.
His hand around her waist moved to link in her palm and she finally felt like something to him. When he sat across from her at the quiet and secluded diner they found five minutes after leaving his apartment, his eyes bore into hers. He studied her like a thing he loved.
Maybe he finally did.
PRESENT
When Lando closed the door to Max’s apartment, he was met with hushed and frantic whispers. He walked slowly down the hall toward his best friend’s voice, clearly in distress.
“Y/n, I don’t understand that can’t be true. You’re not that person.” He gave, hand clutching his phone.
Lando heard murmurs on the other line before Max was cutting her off, “No, I don’t care how much you’ve changed over the years. I know you and I know you aren’t the person these people are saying you are. You wouldn’t scream at people because they got your coffee order wrong. You wouldn’t fire people over one small mistake. You wouldn’t humiliate others publicly to make some sort of statement. You just aren’t that person.”
More murmurs before Max’s interruption, “No! I know you know ‘this is how you run a business’ is such a bullshit excuse. If this is you, then please let me know where Y/n is because I know for fucks sake this isn’t it.”
The responses on the other line jumped in volume, Lando being able to make out some of the words. Y/n was yelling, truly yelling. Telling Max that he wasn’t a good friend, not supporting her through whatever was being alleged.
Lando’s ears rang. This wasn’t her, he knew that. Everybody knew that. She was a bright spirit, she wasn’t now. She was a hollowed out version of who she used to be and Lando knew he had taken every bit of it. He held what she once was in his hands and this was her trying to move on without it.
He wanted to give it back to her somehow, revive the life she once led, but he was so ashamed to show his face to her. He knew it would only be met with an anger he wouldn’t be able to forget.
He couldn’t hear anymore of her turmoil. Too many memories were being brought to the forefront of his mind. Maybe it was selfish, he had proven to be on many occasions, but he stepped into the room.
“Lando’s here. I have to go.” Max rushed.
The line clipped before he could even get his full sentence out.
Max stared at his phone for a moment, studying the contact picture he hadn’t changed for years. Standing off to the side, Lando could make out Y/n’s smile, her perfect teeth, and lightness in her eyes. It was a living testimony of someone that was no longer there. Someone who had lost themselves in it all. He knew it because he had gone through it. In the midst of Y/n, Lando had lost sight of himself. Part of him wanted to blame his behavior toward her on that, but there was no excuse. He had to live with the knowledge he was capable of causing such psychological damage on someone else. Someone he loved. A personal, endless hell.
Max sighed, “Hey, mate.”
It was quiet, exhausted and Lando knew Max didn’t want to talk about it, but something in him urged to hear, “That was her?”
Max nodded, “Uh, yeah. She’s just trying to fight the allegations right now.”
Lando set the takeout down on the desk, “I assume it’s not going well?”
Something switched in Max, his eyes turned cold, “No, Lando, it’s not going well. And, frankly, I don’t know why you’re even going here with me right now”
Lando put his hands on his hips with his eyebrows furrowed, “Going where with you?”
Max’s fists curled, “I forgave you for the way you treated her, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a sore spot. She’s lashing out at people, ruining her reputation, because you put her through a shit show. I’m not saying this is wholly your fault, but you had such a major fucking role in it and, to be honest, sometimes I can’t fucking look at you without seeing her and everything she has to go through on top of all the shit you did. You don't have the right, in my mind, to ask me about her.”
”I’m not trying to start anything. I still care about her.” Lando said, hands turning upwards as if he was lost.
Max scoffed, “Care about her? Fuck you! Care about her, my ass. You used her for sex, Lando! You took and then you gave, you took and then you gave. Such a twisted cycle that she never even asked for, looked for, deserved. You have no right to sit here and say you care about her. I care about her.”
The two friends had had such a hard time finding a peaceful ground in the moments after Y/n and Lando’s blow up. Max was protective over her. He entrusted Lando with her and Lando had thrown her back in his face like she wasn’t someone to be cherished. Part of him would never forgive Lando for that.
They wondered if that would be the final straw.
Lando breathed out, “I think you need some space. I’ll leave and if you want to talk things out later, call me. I don’t want to push something with you that you don’t want anymore.”
He turned around, prepared to walk out, but Max whispered, “Like you did with Y/n?”
The McLaren Driver spun around, “What?”
Max’s arms crossed in front of his chest, “You heard me.”
The fire in Max’s eyes masked pain, Lando knew that because he had lived it. Max didn’t want to fight him, he wanted this battle to be over. In a moment of growth, Lando set aside the anger in his own head and walked out the door. Hoping for a day where Max could look at him and see something other than the one moment in his life where he ruined something so perfectly his.
TWO YEARS PRIOR
Lando had DNF’d. Max and Y/n watched on as he took his gloves off, forcefully throwing them to the ground in frustration. A worker coaxed him into the car waiting to take him back to the garage, Lando shrugging him off and throwing himself into the backseat.
Andrea’s fist collided with the table he was sitting in front of and Jon ripped his headset off. Lando had been so close to securing a win, but one wrong swerve and he had gone spinning off the track with no opportunity of recovery.
Lando’s return was quick, his body storming through the room and darting up the stairs to privacy. Y/n and Max just glanced at each other, both knowing how he got with these things. Part of her wanted to go up there, hug him and tell him how amazing he was, but she also knew he needed time to be alone. Process things. She just wanted the best for him.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Lan <3
Come up to my room?
She smiled. Lando hadn’t opened up to her that much over the year and a half they had been fooling around, whatever you wanted to call it, but she had always wanted him to. She had tried to ask him about family life, stressors he was dealing with, and he would answer, but it was brief and then his lips were on hers again.
Maybe he had finally come around to letting her in like she had him.
Y/n Y/l/n
Coming xx
When she got to his room, her knuckle hit the door once before it was flying open and he was pulling her in. She laughed as he kissed her, thinking it was meaningless. But, when his hands tried to pull her shirt off, she pulled back.
She cocked her head, “What’re you doing?”
Lando stopped, “Fucking you?”
Her heart dipped down, “What?”
He looked at her like nothing was wrong. Did this mean nothing to him?
”Lando, don’t you wanna talk about what just happened?” She tried, but he just kept playing with the hem of her clothes.
He nodded and her confusion almost subsided. Almost, “Yeah, with some kisses and an orgasm.”
His lips met her neck and a slimy feeling washed over her body. The first time she felt self-hatred in the presence of him. What was she doing?
Y/n pushed him off, “No, I don’t want to have sex right now, Lan.”
His hip popped out and he stared at her, “Why?”
She shrugged, “Because I don’t. That should be enough.”
He looked at her as if he expected sex. Like her rejection was some sort of betrayal. He didn’t just appreciate being with her?
Lando groaned, “Ugh, whatever. Okay. I have to get changed so I can go to the debrief.”
For once, she didn’t try to argue to stay. Something didn’t feel right about his hands on her anymore.
Something wasn’t kind about their situation anymore and it wasn’t the love she knew she had for him.
THREE MONTHS LATER
Y/n Y/l/n
Can I come over? We need to talk.
Lan <3
Sure
She walked into his apartment with hesitation. What she had identified as a comfortable space no longer felt that way. Now, she stood in the foyer as if she didn’t know the layout like the back of her hand.
Lando looked at her expectantly. It mirrored the way he had eyed her that afternoon in his driver’s room. She hated it.
“We need to talk about what we are.”
Lando’s eyes bulged, “Why? There’s nothing to talk about. We both know what we are.”
Y/n shook her head, “Well, I don’t. I thought I did, but I’m starting to think I’ve been a little naive.”
Naive? That was not a word Lando would choose to describe Y/n. Gullible, maybe, but naive? No. She wasn’t that.
He led her to the living room, hand falling around her waist and lips pecking her neck out of habit when they fell onto the couch. She pulled away, “Stop, Lando.”
The softness in her voice, the way it sounded broken down, made him search her face for answers.
He got them when she began speaking, “Lando, for the past year and a half, I have done everything a girlfriend would do. I have cooked for you, run out to complete errands so you weren’t stressed, come to your house at night when you couldn’t sleep, stopped seeing other men because I felt tied to you exclusively, loved you. You have done none of that. I’ve gotten flowers, but that’s rare and I’ve gotten gifts, but it’s been for my birthday and weeks late. I give you everything I have. I give you my time, my energy, my body, my feelings, everything. You’ve given me on and off moments where you treat me with some level of respect, but I have never gotten the amount I deserve. I can’t keep doing this when all I feel like is a random fling.”
Lando stuttered. He knew this was coming. He knew the way he had been treating her, giving her things occasionally so they would hold more value and pulling back when he felt like it, would catch up to him. But, to think she was in love with him and expected the same from him, was not something he was prepared for. He was speechless as he looked at her. What was he supposed to say? She was a fling.
The moment that would haunt him everywhere he went: the small drop in her face when she realized he wasn’t fighting her. The knowledge that what she had felt all along was what she had been.
She deserved more.
She stood from the couch, “Oh my god.”
Lando stood with her, “Y/n, I am so sorry. I-”
She slapped him across the face, “Who do you think you are? Giving me flowers, taking me out to dinner, giving me a taste of what it’s like to be treated with dignity by you just so you could keep stringing me along. You manipulative piece of shit!”
The anger in her eyes mirrored Max’s whenever he got mad. He worried that would be burned into his brain every time he looked his best friend’s way.
Lando grabbed her wrist when she turned around, spinning her back, “Y/n, you have no idea. I didn’t mean for it to be this way. I’ve always wanted you. I want you.”
She pushed him away, “Want me how? Want me for my body? Want me for sex? Want me for some fucking orgasms? Is that what you’ve reduced me to?”
He tried to find the right words. There were none. “I thought we were having fun! I didn’t know you were falling for me.”
She rushed into the kitchen, grabbing her purse while yelling, “What’d you think I was doing sticking around all this time? For the sex? You’re good in bed, but not that fucking good. You’re a sick fuck.”
She reached the door and he stood in front of it, forcing himself to memorize the fury that was slowly fading away to deep sadness, “Y/n, I care about you. I don’t know how I feel about you, but I know it’s more than a fling.”
Lando waited for her reply, but she just smacked his shoulder and began to cry, “Don’t say that! That’s so fucking unfair! I’ve been in love with you for a year and you don’t even have your feelings figured out for me? You’ve been fucking me for almost two years and you have no clue if you hate me or you love me? Grow up!”
Her tears bled through the fabric of her shirt as she stared up at him. The deep color of her eyes was magnified by the glossiness. He loved her eyes. Did that mean he loved her? He was furiously trying to sort out the feelings he knew he had for her in the short amount of time he had. He didn’t want her to leave. Was that cruel?
In his silence, she found everything she needed. Pushing past him, Y/n ripped the door open. Her face turned back to him, a version he didn’t recognize, and she whispered, “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Her parting words struck his soul, so raw and real. He knew that was what she wanted him to remember if he chose to block the entire conversation from his mind.
No matter how hard he would try, Lando would come to find he would never be able to forget the blip in his life. Her fast pulse under his fingers when he grabbed her wrist to the way she condemned him, it was all there. Lingering and plotting to remind him of their presence when the syllables of her name were uttered.
Maybe he did love her, he was starting to realize that, but that would never matter now.
”You should be ashamed of yourself.”
PRESENT
Lando moved the oatmeal around in his bowl as he scrolled through his Instagram feed. His TV played some random news station in the background in the living room, one he was half listening to. But, the moment the anchor spoke her name, Lando was dropping his phone and bringing his full attention to the screen.
A picture of her popped up, a headline below and one Lando couldn’t bring himself to read. He was too enthralled with her picture, remembering the times she used to smile at him that way.
”Y/n Y/l/n has officially stepped down from her CEO position at her famous boutique. She and her team released a statement this morning, apologizing for the strain she put on employees and other board members these past two years. She explains in the statement that there is no excuse for her actions, but she is heavily remorseful for them. She promises to work further on herself out of respect for the people she affected, changing her ways. She also briefly mentioned in the statement that she will be paying thousands of dollars to each employee she fired under wrongful termination. Y/n explains that the business has always meant the world to her and it is painful to let it go, put it in the hands of someone else, but she knows this is for the best. She wishes the business and all employees a more positive life after having impacted their’s negatively for so long.”
Lando stood in his living room, hands by his sides, as he read the screenshot posted on the TV. His hands shook and his palms sweat, tears pricking his eyes.
She loved that job.
This was his fault, no matter how much he tried to say her actions were under her control. It hit him fully then and there. Y/n changed him for the better, taught him how to treat someone you love, and he ruined her. He took the perfect girl with the perfect teeth, perfect hair, beautiful smile, and twisted her insides into someone who lived with rage. She never knew rage until him. He introduced it to her.
Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?
A/N: sorry pookies sending all my love after this bc it broke ME idk how yall are doing
TAGS: @jehun
#mclaren#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagines#lando norris fic#lando smut#lando norris smut#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris#lando norris edit#lando norris blurb#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris x you#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n#Spotify
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hi!! it says in your desc that requests are open but in case thats outdated feel free to ignore!!!!
i know this may be a weird request but can you do something with joel with a reader that has scarring in their pubic area? i have a skin disorder that gives me really bad scars down there and i have Not had great experiences in the past sleeping with people because of it like it is TRAUMATIC atp to show people 😭 mostly hurt/comfort but if it makes sense to throw smut in there feel free i absolutely would not turn it down LMAOOOO
and shout out to people w scarring down there, whether from skin issues, fgm, assault, etc. etc. we up fr 😔✊
Warnings: insecurity, body image issues and smut | oral sex (f receiving)
a/n: its not a weird request at all, ive said this before, i feel incredibly honored whenever you ask me to write such personal stories, so thank you 💖
His hands were beneath your shirt, his calloused fingers caressing your skin with a gentleness that defied his rough exterior, that he only showed a few.
His mouth was on yours, his tongue twisting with your own, letting you taste him as he tasted you.
Your hands were on his face, holding it, stroaking his beard, trailing to his hair, while one of his legs parted your legs, settling between your thighs.
Your back was on the bed, the soft duvet shuffling beneath your movements, beneath your exited shivers and shudders.
It all was perfect, just perfect... until his fingers traveled lower, until they began seeping underneath your shorts.
"wait"
His eyes opened as he leaned away ever so little
"I'm sorry" he said, retracting his hand "I thought you wanted to..."
"I do" you murmured "I just-"
And there it was, the block.
The barrier, the wall you had built brick by brick over the years.
"what?" he asked, his brows knitting together in concern as he moved to your side, propping his elbow on the mattress "What is it?"
"Well I- I don't know if... you want to"
"what?" he huffed a soft laugh, "of course I want you"
"yeah now" you sighed, avoiding his eyes,
"y/n" he called your name, urging you to look at him with two of his fingers beneath your chin "What are you talking about?"
"I just-" you bit your lip, your eyes trembling, taking in the look of him before he knew the truth,
"Whatever it is baby, you can tell me"
And the saddest part was that you wanted to believe him, but a part of you knew, you knew how he was gonna react, you knew how it was really gonna go.
As kind and nice and perfect as he was, you got proven times and times again that there was only one way men would respond.
"I- Well I..."
god, why was it always so hard?
"I have a skin issue" you spat out, forcing yourself to not think about it too much
"ok..." he murmured, his eyes scanning your face in the hopes of finding out where you were going with this
"so I have...scars" you breathed "down there"
You swore you felt your heart drop as the words left your mouth, just to speed back up at full force the moment he spoke, after a brief silence.
"oh" he hummed, his eyes still fogged with confusion "and so I can't like... touch you or-"
"no no, you can-" you sighed, frustrated with yourself "but I understand if you don't... want to." you explained "I've been told before that it's not really... pretty so I totally get it if yo-"
"first of all" he shook his head, getting out of his confusional state at your words "Whoever told you that is a brainless asshole" he stated, looking you straight in the eyes "And second of all" he smiled now "darlin', you're the most beautiful, hottest woman I've ever met, I almost died when I met you" he exaggerated making you stifle a laugh
"no I'm serious." he promised, taking your hand in his "And if you think that that's gonna change because of a few scars, well then sweetheart I'm sorry but you're wrong"
And although your heart was swelling with hope, with a joy it hadn't known for a while now, your brain couldn't still be sure of what was happening
"you're saying that now" you whispered "but you haven't seen it yet"
"darlin', I promise on whatever you want, that I'm sure" A soft smile was still pulling at his lips, and his voice was warm, honest, like honey "That nothing in this world could ever change what I know, and what I know is that you're the most gorgeous woman on the planet,"
"but-"
"no, no but" he shook his head, interrupting you "You are, and the fact that you don't think so is unbelievable" his eyes were shining, glimmering with that sentiment you still hadn't confessed to each other, but that he'd been on the verge of expressing far too many times "I want you to say it. Say -I'm the most beautiful woman on the planet-"
"but I'm n-"
"ah-ah-ah" he shushed you "What did I say about the buts"
"But I'm just saying think about Jennifer Aniston or Sandra Bullock-"
"yeah exactly, they're nothing compared to you"
You couldn't help but snort at that "Oh please, you're just lying now"
"I'm most definitely not" he protested, "have you seen yourself in the mirror darlin'?"
"I have" you rolled your eyes jokingly, your lips still turned upwards into a smile
"you sure? 'cause it doesn't feel like it"
"stop" you begged
"No, I won't stop" he frowned "you're beautiful, I need you to know that." his forehead fell to yours "Whoever made you feel any differently was just an insecure stupid asshole who didn't deserve you, ok?"
And it was at this moment, that you realized just how how much you loved him.
It was as you took his words in, the truth in them, the care behind them, that you realized that he might just be the one.
"ok" you murmured, after some time, for the first time in a long time, actually believing it.
"yeah?"
"yes"
"that's my girl" he grinned, not being able to stop himself before he crashed his lips with yours, kissing you as if his life depended on it.
And with just a kiss, you were back at where you'd stopped, your belly tingling and your body desperately looking for his.
"Joel" you whispered, in between kisses "I-I want to"
His eyes opened, looking a bit taken aback "You sure? I didn't want to put any pressure on you sweetheart, I'm completely ok with just kissing if that's what you want-"
"no" you shook your head "No I want you"
The smile that spread on his face at that was enormous.
he kissed you again, just to start a slow trail of kisses down your neck, making you squirm and whimper underneath him.
He waited for your nod of approval before removing your shirt, and after having reserved time to your (as he put it) "perfect tits", he then moved on to your shorts, now waiting for a vocal permission before doing anything.
"You can take them off" you murmured, watching closely as he did, slowly slipping your shorts and then panties down your legs.
"Jesus Christ sweetheart" he breathed "you're fucking perfect"
And you could only blush and smile shily, not realizing what was happening, until his head was between your thighs, beginning a line of pecks from your navel down toward... well towards down there.
"no y-you don't have to do that"
He didn't seem to hear you, his mouth only traveling lower and lower until it was right there where you needed him the most.
"does it hurt if I touch them?"
"n-no" you stuttered
He licked his lips, his eyes not on yours, but on your pretty cunt
"and if I kiss them?"
"I-I don't know, I don't think s-"
And just like that, he had dived in, fist slowly kissing your skin, paying no mind if it included scars or not, just to start tasting your whole pussy, licking and sucking all he could find like a starved animal.
His grip on your waist was relentless, probably leaving bruises behind, but all you could do was lose yourself in the feeling as you moaned and arched your back from the bed.
he continued his work for a while, prolonging the experience as long as possible, before he decided to bring it home, and started focusing on your clit, sucking and licking your bud desperately.
And in a matter of seconds, you had fallen apart, moaning his name loud enough for his neighbors to hear.
"wow" you breathed, your chest rising and falling way too quickly as made his way back up again "That was... wow" you murmured, ghosting his lips
"I just wanted to prove to you how beautiful you are" he smiled, kissing you softly "All of you"
#im back#... or am I?#i honestly dont have a clue im feeling like shit lately so who knows#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fluff#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#joel miller imagine#scream#joel miller blurb#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo#joel miller pedro pascal#joel miller hbo
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The Inbetween (Tendou x Reader)
masterlist | ao3
Pairing: Tendou x Reader
Summary: You and Tendou have been best friends since before you can remember. You share everything with each other and over the years have fallen into a friendship with clear boundaries but intimate values. When you start to notice Tendou growing more distant, you begin to worry that he’s keeping more secrets than you thought.
"Tendou gets like this sometimes. He grows quiet for a few moments as if he is weighing something in his mind. You can see the inquisitive look in his eyes and every now and then, his bottom lip will bounce and it will tell you that he’s thinking about something. In these moments, you’re never quite sure what he’s thinking. You’ve never been able to tell and you’ve reserved yourself to thinking that it is not meant for you or for anyone else."
Content Warnings: fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns but there is a line that references you as his girlfriend), it does include manga spoilers since this takes place after they graduate high school, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, angst in the middle, miscommunication, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), orgasm denial (just once), teasing, minor minor cockwarming (he lets it sit there for a little lol), there's no real mention of protection
Word Count: 25.8k (lol)
A/N: I decided not to break this fic up because I wrote it intending for it to be one piece. It ended up way longer than i thought it would be. I'm posting it all here, but I would def recommend reading it on ao3 if you prefer!!! i'm a little nervous about this one. i really struggled while i was writing it. i love him so bad tho... he's always a joy to write <333 hopefully i didn't miss too many typos. anyway, its finally here lol so i hope u enjoy <3
You think that there are periods of your life where growing pains become impossible to ignore. The change tends to hurt. Like rebreaking a bone to help it heal correctly. When you’re 8 and in bed, unable to sleep because your legs ache somewhere deep in your bones. When you’re 16 and you can’t seem to ever feel like something really fits, like you’re not doing a good enough job at being good enough.
Sometimes, they’re agonizing. The steady roll of dull pain that you can’t quite pinpoint, sending you anxious and aching in a way you can’t quite verbalize.
Sa-to-ri: U wanna get drunk tonight?
You: Not particularly.
Sa-to-ri: k
Tendou shows up at your apartment forty-five minutes later with two bottles of wine. He lets himself in, holding the both of them in one hand, his long fingers curled around the necks of the bottles. It looks assured but precarious and you watch as he shoves his keys back into his pocket, takes a bottle in each hand, and kicks your front door shut with a flat foot.
“Thought I told you I didn’t wanna drink tonight?” You call from the couch, craning your neck to face him.
Tendou is looking at his shoes as he slips them off, watching as he goes heel to toe and slides them past the curve of his foot. Then, he tilts his head up and looks at you with a lazy grin. He’s at ease here, padding into your house.
He has a particular gait about him. When Tendou walks, he sways side to side as if the length of his limbs is too much to control and his head tends to follow. He leans one way and then the other, confident in his step but wobbling nonetheless. If you had to compare him to anything, it would be a more confident version of one of those floppy blue pillars that jerk back and forth at car sales on TV. You’re not sure what they’re called, but Tendou’s step reminds you of them.
“I know you well enough to know that you’re a liar, you borderline alcoholic, you.” He smiles, sitting down on the couch beside you with a grunt and passing you one of the bottles.
“No glasses?” You quirk a brow.
“Absolutely not.” He twists the lid of the wine bottle off and tilts the spout towards you. Tendou always buys cheap wine so that you never have to worry about uncorking it. “Cheers.”
You roll your eyes, twisting the lid off of your own bottle and clink the neck of it against his. It gives a high-pitched click when you do, the sound short and succinct with how full the bottles are.
“Cheers.”
“Can we watch Evangelion?” He asks almost immediately, leaning forward to reach for the remote in your hand.
“Jesus, what on earth makes you want to get drunk and watch Evangelion?” You hold it away from his grabbing hand. “Are you insane?”
Tendou chuckles, “I think it would be interesting.”
“I think it sounds stupid. You’re just asking for an identity crisis.” You roll your eyes, setting the remote down on the other side of you.
You bring the bottle of wine to your lips. It’s a Moscato, overly sweet and the slightest bit fizzy. Tendou likes these kinds of wines. The ones that don’t taste like alcohol at all. He watches as you sip it before bringing his own bottle to his lips, curling them around the spout of it and taking a long pull from the bottle.
You’ve known Tendou since you were 13 and he’s always been like this. He likes sweets, anything with enough sugar to make a normal person pull a face. He likes weird music, the kind that makes him the least eligible person to be in control of music on long car rides. He hates tomatoes but forces himself to eat them anyway because it “builds character” and he never fails to treat it like he’s suffering through some great trauma.
Tendou, for as long as you’ve known him, has always been like a breath of fresh air after a long day inside. Either that or loud music emanating from a comically small car.
“How’s your boyfriend?” He asks, taking another sip.
“Dead.”
“For real?”
“To me,” you finish, rolling your head to the side and looking at him.
Tendou huffs, leaning further back into the seat. “Need a shoulder to cry on?”
“No, he was a cunt.”
“I’ll drink to that,” he raises his bottle as if to salute someone far away and brings it to his mouth again. “How long did this one last?”
“A month,” you heave a sigh.
“New record,” Tendou chuckles to himself.
“What is wrong with me?” You swallow a large sip, exhaling as you do. “It’s like- It’s like I’m just dicking around!”
“Well, are you?”
“No!” You rub your palms into your eyes. “I mean, I find a guy, I go out with him, and then… I lose interest or he turns out to be a total tool.”
“Or married,” Tendou adds, taking another sip.
“Or married,” You confirm, following suit.
“I knew you wanted to drink.” Tendou gives you a wry grin. The corners of his lips pull up pleasantly and his voice takes on a lower and more knowing tone.
“Shush, it’s only ‘cause you’re doing it.”
“Peer pressure really works wonders.”
You smile, scoffing lightly as you pull the bottle from your lips. It pops when you do, pressure releasing from how you’d been sipping.
Tendou offers you a smile, the kind that you’re so familiar with that it aches. He rolls his head across his shoulders, letting it rest on the back of the couch cushions.
“Maybe you just haven’t found the right person for you.” He says, half to himself as he lifts the bottle.
“Maybe.” You agree, “or maybe I’m just eternally cursed. Maybe I’ve got a rotten bloodline.”
His eyes slink across his lower waterline to look at you.
“I doubt that.” He laughs and you can’t help but smile.
Tendou has a certain way about him. If you know him well enough, he is reassuring to the point of relaxation. He never fails to comfort you in moments of need, winding you down on days you feel particularly tight.
He seems like someone who knows everything. Tendou feels like he’s got it all figured out and when you talk to him he maintains a certain confident air that is pleasant to be around. Sometimes it feels like Tendou knows you better than you know yourself and you’re grateful that at least someone does. He maintains that particular aura about him and you think that it belongs to him like it does no other.
Tonight he seems particularly mellow, lounging comfortably on your couch. You eventually give in to Tendou, resigning yourself to watching Evangelion with him, and he seems content to just sit beside you and watch.
His arm is tossed over the back of the couch, the other nursing the half-empty bottle of wine. You follow the line of it with your eyes, lingering for a moment on the curve of his knuckles, flushed pink against the pale color of his skin.
You follow his fingers, admiring the ways his skin is pulled taut over them. They’re long like he is, spanning the entire top of the couch cushion short ways. His wrists are thinner, the bones of his fingers coming to connect nicely where his lower arm meets his hand. You admire the even quality of his skin, following the lines of lean muscle up to his shoulder. Muscle and sinew form a trail up his arm, tucking itself away under the sleeve of his sweatshirt where it hides until the fabric meets the delicate skin of his collarbones. You watch his neck, his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbing slightly when he swallows at particularly nerve-wracking scenes. Still, he keeps a slight smirk on his face. It’s like he’s glad to just be here, eyes low-lidded as he peers at the TV.
By the top hem of his sweatshirt, you can see the beginnings of his collarbones and you know that beneath it, he is hiding an evenly toned chest. You can imagine the familiar dip and curve of his abdomen, his pale, almost sallow, skin stretched evenly over it. Tendou is all lean muscle. He’s built tall and long and you’ve seen the somewhat toned physique he hides beneath the thick cloth of the red sweatshirt. Still, you know that to the touch he is soft. Tendou has some give to him from the sweets he eats so regularly but, like the rest of him, you think it is beautiful.
You follow the trail to his neck where he has a few freckles, three to be exact. One sits above his collarbone, the other on the tendon that connects his neck to his head, and the third just below his ear, covered right now by his dark red hair which collects around his neck. It’s as if the sun deliberately placed them there, dotting up the fine muscle as if it were Orion’s Belt glimmering across the winter and spring sky.
His hair is at his shoulders now, unruly and almost unmanageable on most mornings. At the moment, it sits delicately just above his shoulders, collecting in what looks like pools on either side of them. Normally, Tendou ties it up to keep it out of his face. Tonight, he’s keeping it down, letting the wavy tufts of dark hair hide the blushing nape of his neck from you, red from the wine.
Tendou’s face is long, you follow the trail his neck makes to his cheekbones. They’re high, complimenting his somewhat soft jaw nicely. His cheeks maintain a delicate pink tone, barely visible unless you look closer but aided tonight by the flush of wine. When he’s embarrassed, this quality shines red regardless. Tendou, in his more shy moments, lights up like a switchboard.
Just above his cheekbones, Tendou sports light under eye bags. They are partially from being tired, but you also know that they are owed simply to the quality of his face. Tendou has distinct upper eyelids. They crease heavily when his eyes are open and you’d almost describe them as somewhat hawk-like if it weren’t for their round nature.
Tendou stays up late at night. His job as a bartender keeps him working until the early hours of the morning and you know from texts he’s sent you that he takes a few hours after to unwind before going to bed. Sometimes he’ll play games, spurred on by Kenma’s gaming channel, but he always loses interest in them after a few weeks. Tendou keeps his interests and hobbies short and sweet, though you don’t think that diminishes their value to him. No, in fact, you think that it means that Satori has a lot of things that he loves. Still, this latest love of his has contributed to the dark under eyes he seems to sport around the clock.
Part of you knows that’s just how he looks, but the other part thinks that if he went to bed earlier, that quality would lessen. You’ll never tell him that though. You quite like that quality of his. It’s distinctive, as most of his features are.
Then, you shift your gaze down to his mouth. Tendou has a thin upper lip which—when combined with his all-knowing eyes—makes him look a little scary. His bottom lip, however, is full and pink. When he’s thinking, it moves slightly. It bounces as if Tendou is rehearsing what he wants to say, running through his thoughts at a mile a minute. You believe it to be endearing and Tendou, who has never been particularly vain, thinks that if you think so, it must be.
All of these things are things you’ve come to know about Tendou since you met him. You’re accustomed to his body language, comfortable (unlike so many others) with his gait and the way he moves. You think that there is only one other person in the world who is as comfortable with him as you are and that is Ushijima Wakatoshi, someone you both met in high school. He, like you, is someone that Tendou clicks with like a piece of a puzzle.
He talks to Wakatoshi every night on the phone. They talk about their lives, maybe about girls. Wakatoshi usually just listens though. What Tendou cannot say to you, he says to him and you’re not nosy enough to pry. You’re positive that whatever you need to know, Tendou will tell. When you finally stand and go to the other room to get ready for bed, you can hear him through the thin wall, talking quietly into the phone so as to not disturb your nighttime routine.
You pad between your bedroom and the bathroom, occasionally passing close enough for Tendou to catch you in the corner of his eye. He raises his hand or his eyebrows when that happens, swiveling his head to acknowledge you as he leans back against the couch cushions, one arm thrown over the back and the other holding his phone to his ear.
The fan hums to life when you flip the light switch in the bathroom. Sometimes you wish they’d be separate switches because when the apartment is quiet the noise is jarring and disorienting, but today the sound is just another addition to the symphony of noise in your home. It whirs softly as you put on a headband and run the sink, letting the water get warm before splashing it up onto your face.
You take your cleanser, pumping some of it into your hand, and slather it onto your skin in soft circles. The motion is familiar and you feel the way your shoulders relax a little as the cleanser turns white with foam against your skin. When you are ready to rinse, you dip your head down, cupping water in your hands and splashing it onto your face.
“You always do that so messily,” Tendou chimes from beside you.
You jump, flinching to the side as you wipe the cleanser from your eyes quickly, “Jesus, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” he chuckles, leaning against the doorway.
Tendou is lithe like a cat. He’s long and slender, his body nearly dwarfing the doorway he stands in. His shoulder presses against the white wood and he crosses his arms pleasantly over his chest, hovering just outside of your space.
He watches with a content smile, eyes half closed as sleep starts to take over him. The corners of his mouth pull up curiously and his eyes follow the movements of your face as you gently rinse it with warm water. Occasionally, he will act like you’ve flicked water on him, raising his shoulder lightly as if to shield himself from it, and you scowl in response.
“Move over,” he says as he steps around you and nudges your hip with his own.
Tendou slides in front of the sink beside you, grabbing one of your headbands and using it to push his hair back. It swishes when he does, revealing the rest of his forehead before he takes some water and wets his face. Then, he takes your cleanser and copies your previous movements, scrubbing his face lightly before dipping down and rinsing it. You watch, fighting the heat that bullies its way to your cheeks.
He’s a lot cleaner at this than you are, cupping the water in his big hands and lowering his face to rinse it. His eyes flutter closed, lashes batting slightly before he pushes his fingers against his skin and then wipes downwards. A few stray drops of water roll down his forearms, following the path his lean muscles make until they drop onto your bathroom counter. For how lanky he is, the movement is strangely graceful and you watch with a tilted head as he repeats the process. It keeps the counters relatively dry and when he’s done, the only evidence of his having washed it at all are the few drops of water on the counter and the clean quality of his skin.
Tendou peers at you through the corner of his eye, smiling lightly as he stands to his full height and grabs his toothbrush from the holder. He keeps one here now. Given the amount of time he spends here, it only makes sense.
Sometimes you think that the intimacy the two of you share is too much. Sometimes it is difficult to reconcile that you could be this close to a person but Tendou is someone who begs closeness. No, he demands it. Tendou is as affectionate as he is adoring. Intimacy, be it platonic or romantic, becomes him and though you sometimes worry if things can continue like this, you quickly forget it in favor of simply being close.
To an outsider, Tendou has the feel of someone very far away. You’ve heard from acquaintances that he seems aloof and somewhat cocky, though you think that only the latter half is true. Tendou is particularly involved, however distanced he may seem. It comes with intimacy. He remembers almost every little thing about the people he loves. Should you visit the same restaurant twice, Tendou remembers what you ordered and if you enjoyed it. Should you be deciding between one shirt or the other, Tendou will recall what you already own and suggest the best possible option. He’s attentive like that.
“This face wash is new,” he comments, running a knuckle along the side of his cheek as if to feel how effective it is.
“Yeah, my skin got used to the other,” you shrug your shoulders, popping your toothbrush into your mouth.
“What does that even mean?” He laughs. Tendou’s voice is warbled through his toothpaste. It sounds thick, the tenor ring of it dropping to a baritone hum through the thick white foam.
“Dunno,” you shrug, “pretty sure it’s just a wives tale or something but I still believe it.”
Tendou laughs again, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leans forward and spits into the sink. You follow suit, waiting for him to pick his head up and continue brushing. The toothbrush looks smaller than usual in his hand, his long fingers curled around it as he guides it over his teeth, spitting for a second time and then reaching for your mouthwash.
“You sleeping over?” You ask, taking the bottle when he hands it to you.
Tendou nods his response, swishing the liquid back and forth in his mouth. Then he leans forward and the smell of winter mint hits your nose. Honestly, you don’t much like the taste or smell of it, but you’ve found that it keeps your mouth feeling fresh for the longest. Besides, you don’t mind it as much when it’s on Tendou. For some reason, the smell suits him.
You’re relieved to find the reprieve of your bed. It hasn’t been a particularly busy day, but the wine is getting to your head. It makes you sleepy and your duvet cover feels far more comfortable than usual.
Tendou usually sleeps on the bed with you. It’s another facet of the intimacy you share with him. Your bed is large enough to fit the both of you comfortably with a pillow between you, though it almost never stays there the entire night. Both you and Tendou tend to toss around in your sleep and more than once have you woken up with either yours or his body splayed across the other.
Still, you’re only like this when neither of you is in a relationship. Your friendship has always maintained very clear boundaries. There are unspoken dos and don’ts that accompany the closeness of your friendship. If either of you is dating someone, you wordlessly agree that Tendou sleeps on the couch. It’s a respect thing for both of your sakes, as well as the sakes of your partners.
“Are you bummed about your breakup?” Tendou asks, facing the ceiling. He’s no doubt watching the fan spin in circles in the dark. You know because you’re doing the same.
“Not really,” you sigh, “I mean, this might be shitty to say but I really wasn’t all that attached.”
Tendou shakes his head against the pillow, lacing his fingers together over his chest as he lets out a deep exhale. “Nah, it’s not shitty. That’s natural.”
“I guess.”
“Let me know if you do get sad about it, kay?” He says, tilting his head sideways to look at you.
“You’ll be the first to know.”
You smile lightly at him and Tendou hums his satisfaction. He rolls over in bed with a soft goodnight before the room falls silent. You listen to the sound of his breathing and when it finally comes to an even pace, you smile. Sometimes Tendou struggles to sleep but tonight is not one of those nights.
You drift off after you are certain that he’s asleep, lamenting to yourself about the potential loss of his characteristic under eyes. Man, Tendou would really rip you a new one for thinking that.
—
“I like your hair like this,” you comment, reaching up to flip a piece that sits across his cheek.
Tendou turns to you, watching the way your fingers play with the soft end of it before giving a small laugh and a smile.
“Yeah? I feel like it’s too long,” he hums, looking at you and then to the coffee maker as it hums from its place on the counter. “Think m’gonna cut it soon.”
“Nah, don’t. It suits you. Kinda devil-may-care, ya know?”
Tendou’s hair is too long by normal standards. It comes down just below his shoulders, falling in thickly layered wisps that frame his face and make it look delicate. Somehow, having his hair around his face softens his features. It gives him a more gentle, off-beat look.
“Oh? If it makes me look so cool then maybe I won’t,” he glances at you through the corner of his eye, smiling a cat-like smile.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” you snort, bumping him out of the way as soon as he takes his coffee from the coffee maker.
Tendou feigns an offended look before leaning against the counter beside him. He looks sleepy, still somewhat tired as he raises his mug to his lips and loudly sips his coffee. It’s always too hot when he takes the first sip but he does every time nonetheless. Tendou says it tastes better that way.
“By the way,” he starts, pulling the mug to his chest and partially resting it in the dip in his stomach, “I gotta leave right after I finish this.”
“Work?”
Behind you, Tendou shifts a little and furrows his brows. “Nah, got some errands to take care of.”
“‘Kay,” you turn to him, leaning against the counter opposite him.
Despite Tendou’s affinity for skinship and attention, he is surprisingly independent.
That’s something you admire about him. Tendou’s actions are sure and calculated and he’s comfortable going off and doing his own thing more often than not. Sure, he’ll invite you with him, but should you opt not to go, Tendou doesn’t let it stop him. He’s fiercely independent and it balances out well in your friendship.
He doesn’t really say anything about where he’s going and you figure that he doesn’t have to. He’ll go off and do his own thing and you will go do yours.
You and Tendou are quite like-minded, as is Wakatoshi. Perhaps that’s why you all get along so well. When you interact with people, they tend to understand the three of you as independent beings who just so happen to choose to be around the other two. You’ve heard from others that looking at the three of you is like looking at a gaggle of oddities that somehow found themselves magnetic to only each other. Since Wakatoshi moved away though, it has just been you and Tendou and you’re content to be perceived as an odd pair.
The living room is littered with evidence of your evening with him and you peer out at it from the kitchen, the sunlight from your curtains filtering in and casting a warm glow over the light-colored wood. The more than half-empty bottles of wine sit on the coffee table, their lids placed randomly on the countertop from when you’d tossed them down after opening them. The bottles catch the light from the small glass patio door and the white Moscato inside glimmers in the morning glow.
When Tendou leaves, he grabs his keys from your kitchen table. They jingle in his grasp and he shakes them to get your attention.
“I’m leaving now!” He calls even though you’re only a few feet away.
“Have the day you deserve!” You laugh.
Tendou swings your apartment door open, his legs leading the way as he keeps his head around the corner so that he can look at you. You watch as he cracks a smile that spreads from one side of his face to the other, upper lip curling.
“Sour old bat.”
“I’m only 24!” You protest as he chuckles and shuts the door behind him.
You walk to the door, locking it behind him and shaking your head lightly. Briefly, you think about what he might be doing. It could be groceries, though he usually brings you with him, or maybe he needs to service his shitty old car. He never uses it which means that when he does it breaks down easily, but he keeps fixing it nonetheless. Tendou can’t bear to part with the characteristic hunk of junk.
Tendou works as a bartender. He stands behind the counter in a black dress shirt and black slacks, fixing customers' drinks before pressuring them into buying more. He’s good at selling things because Tendou is a notoriously difficult person to say no to, whether you know him or not. Sometimes you’ll go in and see him, sliding into a seat at the bar and waiting for him to notice you’re there. You usually don’t even make it to the counter before he spots you, giving you an easy smile and tilting his head to the side.
You suspect that he is only working to make ends meet while he decides what he really wants to do. You always figured it would be volleyball given his gift for it but he told you in the third year of high school that he’d be quitting. It had never been something he was particularly set on doing and though he enjoys the sport, he thought the constant rigor of its training to be tiresome. You understand to a degree. It is very like Tendou to do things only because he wants to. Even Wakatoshi accepted it after a little while, though—in a fashion that is much like Ushijima—he still pushed for Tendou to further his gift with the sport. It was to no avail though, that’s just the way Satori is.
Still, you’re not sure if there is something in particular that Tendou wants to do. He doesn’t talk much about the future and lately whenever you ask, he waves the question off like he can’t be bothered to think about it.
He has a plethora of interests and for now, his job suits him. He spends his time talking to people and though he works late into the night, you think that he enjoys the time he gets in the hours after his shift. Besides, during the day it means that Satori gets to bake. It’s an odd hobby for him but he does it regularly enough that it has started to make sense, though you’re not sure if it is a fleeting hobby or one that will stick. Tendou likes to play around with flavor. His eye for new combinations is admirable and it’s not a rare occurrence for you to go over to his place and immediately be fed a new recipe he’s been testing out.
He is, in general, a hard person to pin down but once you do, you’ve got him memorized for life. It’s not unusual for you to be able to guess what he’s doing, though sometimes he will surprise you and be doing something entirely different. Still, you’re confident enough in what you know about him to know that once he does choose, it will be good for him. Tendou is someone who begets a good and honest future.
You spend the day tidying around your apartment. You’ve got no particular plans today and with your recent breakup, you’ve no one to really make plans with. In high school, when Tendou was busy without you, you’d often sit with Wakatoshi and watch him practice. You’d listen to the sounds of the ball hitting his palm and then the slap of them on the smooth linoleum of the gym floor. That, or you’d spend your time with the other people you met with the both of them at Nationals, goofing off on the phone while you waited for Tendou to wrap up whatever it was he’s doing and walk home with you.
You’ve been to see them at nationals every year that the two of them have gone. In your third year, Tendou and Wakatoshi did not attend the tournament as players nor spectators, but the three of you sat in Wakatoshi’s room and watched the games together. You recall watching Karasuno fight their way through the ranks until they tasted a bitter loss once the promising first year, Hinata Shoyo, fell ill. Tendou had chided early on into the tournament that he was pushing himself past his limit and Wakatoshi agreed but you didn’t have the eye to see it until he had collapsed on his hands and knees on the court. Still, the three of you sat shoulder to shoulder in front of Wakatoshi’s computer screen, knuckles tight against your thighs.
Sa-to-ri: shall we grub tonight?
Your phone lights up sometime around 3 pm and you open it to see Tendou’s distinct contact name light up across the screen.
You: u miss me? lol
Sa-to-ri: nah
You: what’s on the menu?
Sa-to-ri: ramen
You: then yeah okay
Tendou has one particular ramen shop that he likes to frequent with you. It’s a bit of a tradition and when you both go there, it is either in work uniforms that make you look silly or house clothes so comfortable they could hardly be considered outfits at all.
Some nights, you both trudge into the shop, you in the remnants of your work uniform and Tendou fully dressed in his, ready to attend his shift once you finish eating. Tendou wears his black slacks but rolls them to the knees and his black dress shirt is untucked in the front. He looks silly, but you know from visiting him that he always fixes it before he clocks in. You usually wear something business casual to suit your desk job, dress pants and a white shirt of sorts. On other nights, you both will come in wearing whatever it is you were wearing around the house.
The shop is a few blocks from his place and if you weren’t looking for it, you would miss it. It is tucked behind two brightly lit shops in a back alley. Still, when you’re hungry for a particularly good bowl of ramen, you can smell it from down the block. The aroma of garlic and miso wafts through the streets from the alley it sits in and both you and Tendou find that you would know it by smell alone. It beckons to you both in a homely manner.
“You’re so late,” Tendou comments as he meets you at the bottom of his stairwell.
“Were you tracking me?” You furrow your eyebrows. You hadn’t agreed to meet him outside his place, so to see his lanky figure descending the outdoor steps is a bit of a shock. Still, you wouldn’t put it past him to check your location for where you are. In fact, you suspect he does it often and for fun. You don’t mind though. After all, you do the same to him.
“Yeah,” he shrugs, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweats. Tendou leans forward, shifting his weight onto his hips and letting his shoulders droop.
“Eugh, creepy,” you shiver slightly and smile at him.
Tendou tilts his head to the side and gives you an affectionate grin. It spreads across his face and his eyes narrow in a familiar way. For a moment, you think he is about to say something that makes you want to cross one of your well-defined boundaries but instead, he comes out with, “if you were on time, I wouldn’t have to.”
You shove him to the side plainly and turn to stride down the sidewalk before you can watch him wobble back and forth like a card house. Your heart hammers lightly in your chest. This happens sometimes. You find yourself getting tripped up on the familiarity of his expressions and the way his smile curls like dry paper. Then, you hear the sound of his sneakers against the floor as he jogs to catch up with you in the direction of the restaurant.
“Wooaaahhh, so hostile tonight, huh? What happened to my nice BFF from this morning?” He leans forward as he walks so that he’s in your eye line, trying to catch your avoidant gaze as you suppress a smile.
“They remembered that you’re an irritating little shit,” you huff, pretending to be mad.
“Harsh.”
The two of you walk the short distance to the restaurant in near silence. It’s nearing 9 pm and the streets have gone dark, illuminated only by the streetlights and sign shops that stay on through the evening. Their electric glow casts the sidewalk pavement in artificial blues and yellows, elongating your shadows until they dip into the street where cars and cyclists zip by on their way home. You watch people bustle through the street, their lively chatter creating a city soundscape that you’re familiar with. Groups of men in business suits walk into nearby restaurants and bars, finally off the clock for the night but not quite ready to return home. Girls wearing colorful spring clothes move in gaggles as they head into a new and trendy spot that recently popped up.
Some of these girls stare at Tendou as he passes. They watch the lazy nature of his eyes and the way he hunches over himself slightly. They marvel at his height and the cool exterior he wears as he looks somewhere past them at the buildings lining the somewhat busy street. These girls giggle into their mouths when he passes because, for every person who has ever called him creepy, there are an equal number of people who call him handsome. They glance behind them as they walk, asking each other if you are his girlfriend to which you chuckle internally. Tendou pretends not to notice, though you know from the way that he is careful not to look at them that he does.
Every now and then when this happens, Tendou’s gaze will slink over to look at you. You can feel the way he watches your expression, his gaze fixed on you through the corners of his eyes. Sometimes you will look back at him and raise your eyebrows and he’ll shake his head. Other times, you will keep staring straight ahead just to see how long he will look at you for. You’ve learned that it will be until he needs to look ahead for fear of running into someone.
When you reach the door of the small ramen shop, which consists of a blue curtain with kanji lettering, Tendou holds it to the side for you with his forearm. He reaches ahead of himself and puts it against the doorframe, pinning it against the wood frame to keep the cloth out of your way before ducking his head to follow you in. When you look behind you, Tendou is straightening himself up again to his full height.
The chef inside calls a welcome to you before he asks how you’re doing. He knows you both well by now and whenever you enter, it seems that he’s pleased to see you. He’s an older man with heavy wrinkles beside his eyes and between his eyebrows. He’s expressive and the lines of age on his face demonstrate that very clearly. The chef has sharp features that soften considerably when he smiles and a low, gruff voice that seems to somehow match the interior decoration of his hole-in-the-wall shop.
“You together yet?” He leans onto the counter after asking which particular bowl of ramen you’d like.
The chef is an old man and far too cheeky for his own good. Every time you come in, he never fails to ask if you’re dating each other yet. Through a tenacious grin, he poses the question you both have been asked countless times over. Tendou’s response is different every time.
“Oh yeah, we’re so in love now.” You take the liberty of responding and Tendou leans his cheek onto his hand and raises his eyebrows at you.
“Yeah?” He questions, the fat of his cheek smushing his lips into a slight pout.
“No.” You turn to the chef and shake your head. “It’s not gonna happen.”
The chef clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a small laugh and Tendou sits up and drums his fingers on the table as he leans back in a stretch.
“Aw, never?” He teases.
You nod at him, exaggerating the movement.
Tendou closes his eyes and laughs, his fingers still drumming against the surface of the table before he reaches a resting position. You hear him mumble bummer as you look away and when you look back at him, you find that he is staring blankly at the drink menu in front of him. His expression is unreadable.
Tendou gets like this sometimes. He grows quiet for a few moments as if he is weighing something in his mind. You can see the inquisitive look in his eyes and every now and then, his bottom lip will bounce and it will tell you that he’s thinking about something. In these moments, you’re never quite sure what he’s thinking. You’ve never been able to tell and you’ve reserved yourself to thinking that it is not meant for you or for anyone else.
Then, just as quickly as he falls into the slight moment of silence, he pulls himself out in his same usual manner. Tonight, he remarks on how hungry he is and how he doesn’t want to work tomorrow night. Then, he’ll let you talk until you’ve nothing left to say. Whereas Tendou does most of the talking with Wakatoshi, you do most of the talking with Tendou. You can appreciate the way he just wants to listen, his eyes trained sleepily on your face as he listens to you chatter on about something mundane. He knows you would and have done the same for him and you imagine that he feels the same about listening to you talk that you do listening to him.
You both slurp at your noodles through idle conversation. He talks about work and you converse about what it is that you want to do next. Sometimes, in moments like these where you are both discussing your precarious futures, it feels like you’re in your third year again getting food after evening practice. The only difference now is that Wakatoshi is not with you and you are no longer 17. Instead, both you and Tendou are 24 and in the inbetween of life, floating between present and future in a perpetual cycle of uncertainty. Somehow, the only thing that seems to quell it is the familiar presence of one another. The small ramen shop, with its sounds of boiling water and conversation, grows smaller still.
—
Tendou is weird. He’s always been weird. He somehow manages to seem like he knows everything. He has wide, unsettling eyes that look like they have x-ray vision. He can guess what just about any of his friends are doing at any given moment and he’s open about it. All of it is weird. It’s not as if he’s been particularly normal up until now because there is truly nothing normal about Tendou and you like him that way but recently… he’s been weirder.
You can’t exactly pin what could be off because he hasn’t done anything in particular. He still texts you to hang out, he still wears that familiar smile that you adore, he is still as attentive as usual, but he’s weird. Something is weird.
You imagine that what you’re sensing is a radar you have only for Tendou. The feeling comes to you as more of a sixth sense rather than anything based on evidence. You know him like the back of your hand. You’re likely to notice even the smallest new detail. That’s how it is with Tendou. Hand in hand with the particular closeness you share, is the ability to tell when he’s off.
Tendou lately has been spending more time on his phone. He stares and clicks it on and off like he’s waiting for something. The screen will occasionally light up his features before he clicks it off again upon seeing nothing. Occasionally he will swipe his phone open and check whatever it is he’s waiting on directly, though you can’t tell if it’s news or a conversation. You watch the way he holds the sleek rectangle in his long fingers, drumming them against the smooth side of it and waiting for it to vibrate in his grasp. More often than usual, while he drums his fingers across the back of his phone, he will wear that blank look and stare into space, thinking about something you’re not privy to.
The thought pops into your mind that it could be a girl, though you’re not sure that’s the case. If it were a girl, you think Tendou would tell you and if he didn’t… well, that thought makes you more uncomfortable than you’d like to admit for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. Tendou is his own person, as are you, but if there is one thing you pride yourselves on it is the way you share openly with each other. You inhale, letting your gaze slink from where he fiddles with his phone to the television screen. You won’t dwell on it. You’re not nosy enough to dwell.
The feeling isn’t particularly uneasy and any anxiety that may have manifested while you were considering Tendou’s predicament quickly melts away once Tendou begins talking to you. You find yourself at ease while he chats, telling you that his job wants him to pick up more hours but he’s not sure if he wants to. It’s so boring, but it’s not. This topic is such a mundane one but you feel that familiar fondness bloom through you as he speaks. Nothing seems boring when you’re with him.
Then, the phone in his hand begins to vibrate. It hums to life in his somewhat limp grip and Tendou, in one smooth and slow motion, checks who exactly it is. There’s no rush to it. In fact, Tendou finishes his sentence before shifting his eyes down to look as he flips the screen up to face him but you can tell that he’s eager. He tilts his head, reading the words across the screen as the jingle of his ringtone plays softly from the muffled speakers. Tendou dropped his phone in water once and as a result, his ringtone sounds like it is playing through glass. His expression shifts from one of barely readable anxiety, to disappointment, to happiness.
His gaze slinks over to you and he gives you a lopsided and lazy grin.
“It’s Wakatoshi.”
“Yeah?” You peer over his thumb, looking at the familiar name across the screen, “can I say hi?”
“Duh,” he sticks his tongue out like you’ve said something stupid before answering the call, “Wa-ka-to-shi! I’ve got _____ here,” he holds the phone out to your mouth, “say hello!”
“Hi Wakatoshi.” You speak and you can hear the gruff sound of his acknowledgement before Ushijima’s rich baritone spills through the speaker.
“Hello,” he says your name, even across his tongue, “it’s been a while since we last spoke.”
“Yeah, well, you never call!” You fake a pout and you’re certain Ushijima can hear it through the phone.
Ushijima gives a soft exhale, “I could say the same about you.”
You roll your eyes even though he can’t see it and Tendou fakes being hurt on your friend’s behalf.
“But don’t worry,” he starts, “I’ll be back in Japan in a few weeks.”
“No way! Really?” You feel the excitement bubble in your chest before it shows on your face and Tendou tilts his head at your expression. You watch the way his eyes slink across your features, soaking in your joy through his skin like the sun until he is kissed with it.
“Yeah, visiting family,” the response is short, much like the way Ushijima usually talks.
“Man, the off season works wonders,” Tendou hums from beside you, wiggling a little in his seat.
“You know there’s no off season, Tendou. We train year round,” Wakatoshi states.
“Minor details,” he says, waving his wrist back and forth as if he were erasing the sound of the words from the air around him.
Tendou gives you a wry grin before pulling the phone back and switching off speaker mode. Vaguely you can hear the sound of Ushijima giving a brief apology about not calling you, but you’re not actually mad enough to warrant it. In fact, you’re elated that he’s coming to visit. You and Wakatoshi are very good at clicking right back into place, so worrying over why he doesn’t call isn’t exactly in the front of your mind. Besides, you figure he still thinks about you because every morning you receive an influx of tiktoks and new articles that he’s sent you through the night. So thoughtful, that one.
“So what’s up?” Tendou speaks, placing the phone against his ear and pinching it there with his shoulder.
He reaches in front of him, unscrewing the top of his water bottle and taking a sip as he listens somewhat intently to what Ushijima has to say. Tendou leans back, extending his arm over the back of his couch and leaning deeply into the cushions with a sigh and mumble of confirmation.
He looks like he’s at his leisure here. The lean muscle of his neck is relaxed and the tilt of his head makes him look like he’s scheming something. A small smile plays at the corners of his lips as he gazes thoughtlessly at the table in front of him. It tugs the ends of his mouth upwards and you recognize it as one that is entirely subconscious. Satori doesn’t even realize he’s doing it and the thought sends a fond flood of warmth through your chest, honeyed and heavy.
You stand, exhaling deeply when you do. It’s best to leave them to their chats. Satori and Wakatoshi’s time together is limited, so when the other calls each night, it fulfills a certain (and private) routine which you know they both value.
Tendou’s eyes slink over to you as you move. His eyebrow quirks up as he pinches the phone between his ear and shoulder, pulling the bottom of his phone from his mouth as if he’s ready to respond to whatever you say. You opt to mouth at him, as you can still hear the baritone hum of Ushijima’s voice on the other end of the line.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” You point behind you to his bathroom.
Tendou makes the OK symbol with his hand before he smiles at you. Then, he turns his attention back to his phone and you can hear him start the sentence ‘it’s going okay’. You watch as the smile falls and his face returns to a somewhat pointed resting position. He glances sideways at you one more time, his eyes tracking over your figure as you eavesdrop in a somewhat obvious way. All he offers is the slight upturn of his lips, but you can’t shake the eerie feeling the smile gives you. It looks like it’s made out of glass and as you step away, you hear the way his voice drops to a hushed whisper before it fades entirely through the thick wood of his bathroom door.
You start the shower, turning the knob in Satori’s bathroom. It’s familiar here and you don’t need to pause to think about which way is hot and which way is cold. Coming to his home is like walking into your own and part of your relishes in getting to use his shampoo and conditioner.
It smells like him, somewhat rich and musky, with a sharp and clean aspect to it. You think that his shampoo smells a bit like men’s deodorant, but far more gentle. It’s less masculine than that, somewhat sweet, but it still retains this aspect to it that maintains whatever it is Tendou has going on. You like wearing that smell. It’s like a homecoming and sends your stomach flipping.
His bathroom is decidedly western. Blue tile decorates the shower wall, it’s white grout somewhat tinged with age. The tiles are clean though. You know because Satori reminds you constantly to go over it with the squeegee when you’ve finished. It gives his bathroom this particularly polished quality.
You lather his shampoo into your hair, inhaling deeply as you do. It smells like him. It smells like Tendou after an evening practice, coming out of his mother’s bathroom as he rubs at his then-shorter hair. It smells like the way he does when he’s at home and you feel it in your lungs when you take a breath.
You think of his strangeness. You think of the odd way he carries himself, the way he walks, the way his eyes slink back and forth in a decidedly lazy way. You imagine the cadence of his voice, the soft tenor hum of it when he speaks and the pointed way he says what he means while simultaneously saying the opposite.
Then, you think about his recent behavior. You think about how tense he is, the way he clicks his phone on and off like he’s waiting for something.
You’re not particularly sure why the concept of it rubs you the wrong way. It’s a particular feeling of uneasiness and one you haven’t felt with him before. It’s new—somewhat exciting—and dreadful. As you shower, rinsing his body wash from the planes of your own, you ponder on the feeling of it. Weighted in your gut, it sits like poison. You feel like you’re watching an anvil hang from a fraying rope, the weight too much to bear, though why you feel it, you don’t know.
When you leave the bathroom, Tendou is still seated on his couch. He doesn’t seem to hear you leave, and if he did, his body language doesn’t betray it. He sits, his legs extended out onto the coffee table in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. The phone is still pressed to his head with one hand, his long finger holding the back of it to the shell of his ear.
“I haven’t,” he says quietly.
There’s a pause and you can only presume that Ushijima is talking.
“Yeah, it’s just-” he rubs a hand up under his hair, scratching at the back of his head, “it’s a hard thing to bring up.”
Another pause, except in this one, he stares distantly into the space in front of him. You recognize that look, the one that tells you he’s somewhere far away. The corners of his lips pull flat and you watch as his eyes cloud over with a consuming thought. It’s the same as the night in the ramen shop, placid and somewhat melancholy. Tendou wears this look often lately, though it’s meaning is one that you can’t figure out.
It casts over his face like a mask and even now, as he nods into the phone as if Wakatoshi can see it, you wonder what runs through his mind. You have Satori figured out but this expression is an anomaly, one that you can’t place your finger on.
“What is?” You pipe up, walking around the side of the couch and plopping down.
Tendou jumps with a start, his hand coming up over his chest before he gives a short laugh.
“Jesus, someone needs to put a bell on you,” he breathes.
“I wasn’t even that quiet,” you laugh a little, “what’s so hard to bring up?”
Tendou gives you a wry smile, dispelling the expression he wore a moment ago and donning another. You see it tug at the corner of his mouth before answers, “it’s a secret.”
You roll your eyes, huffing a little. “C’mon, thought we didn’t have any?”
“None that I want to share,” he says, giving you a lopsided grin.
“I really hate you.”
Tendou puts his head on your shoulder, peering up at you. “You promise?”
You bark a small laugh and Tendou turns back toward his phone, his head still resting on your shoulder. You can feel his tufts of dark red hair at your neck, tickling your skin through the fabric of your pajama shirt and you lean into the touch absentmindedly. His free hand fiddles absentmindedly with a stray thread on the hem of your shirt and he mumbles to Wakatoshi that you just got out of the shower. Their conversation, now that you’re present, feels much slower than it previously was, like they’re deliberately trying to change the subject.
Despite the touch, despite Satori’s blatant affection, the prospect of a secret tastes bad on your tongue. You’ve never been the type to pry. You’ve always believed that whatever you need to know, Tendou will tell. So why is it that you’re so uneasy right now? Distrust sews itself into your skin like a badge and you furrow your eyebrows a little as you watch the planes of Tendou’s face twist with lively expressions through his conversation, the lamp on the side table casting him in a faint orange glow that feels homely and somewhat eerie.
You and Tendou head to bed together a short while later, dragging your feet across the carpeted floors before collapsing into bed. Tendou rolls over quickly, mumbling an absent-minded goodnight and while you stare at the ceiling and wait for his breathing to slow and steady itself, you ponder the inbetween. You’re not so sure which inbetween you’re thinking about though— whether you’re thinking about the inbetween of youth and stability—or something else entirely.
—
“Did you get the text?” Tendou calls from your living room. He’s posted himself up in there today, his laptop open as he clicks away at something he won’t show you.
The text he’s talking about is one from none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi himself, telling you and Tendou that the three of you should meet up for dinner tonight. He suggested a restaurant downtown, near the station and you were thrilled to receive the text.
“Yeah, I did,” you call, leaning back on your heels to peer around the corner at him. “Wanna meet up here first?”
Tendou is quiet for a moment in the other room before he agrees, telling you that he’s going to send a message to Wakatoshi and let him know. You thank him briefly, returning to whatever it was that you were doing on your phone.
You must admit, you have ulterior motives for wanting to go to dinner. It’s not that you aren’t thrilled to have the three of you back together. You are, deeply so. But secretly, you are hoping that it will bring back a sense of normalcy you’ve lost in the recent month. To you, it feels like the last normal night was a month ago in your apartment when Satori brought over wine after your break up. That was the last time he felt the way he always has.
Recently, he’s been stranger than usual. You can’t help the rot that rises in your throat when you think about it. It’s an uneasy little bug, sending you queasy and anxious over the smallest changes, though you aren’t quite sure when it started happening. It’s hard to place, especially because it is about Tendou of all people. Until now, you’ve always felt comfortable telling him everything but for some reason, you worry that bringing this up will make him vanish altogether. Still, you hope that attending something nostalgic like this with him the way you always have will fix it somehow. You hope that maybe you’ve just been too sensitive and that after seeing Wakatoshi and eating a meal together, things will just click back into place.
Maybe that’s just wishful thinking though.
—
Sa-to-ri: u ready? I’m downstairs
You check your phone, seeing it light up on the top of your bed through your mirror. You’d been checking something irrelevant about what you are wearing, fiddling with the waistband of your bottoms or the way your hair falls on your forehead. Nerves rise in your throat as you put on your shoes and lock your apartment door behind you, hopping down the stairs.
“Well, don’t you look pretty,” Tendou hums, smiling up at you.
He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and joggers. They cut off just above his ankles, revealing a worn pair of black high top sneakers. The sleeves of his shirt rest against his upper arms nicely and his hands are tucked into his pockets as he shifts his weight forward. It bunches up around his forearms, creating big, sloping pockets across the front of his abdomen where the hem of his shirt covers his waistband. You roll your eyes, catching the unusual heat rising to your cheeks and swallowing it down.
“Thanks,” you exhale, “you trying to butter me up or something?”
Tendou gives you a wry grin. “How’d you know?”
You sneer lightly at him, “because you’re awful at hiding shit.”
Tendou presses his lips into a small line. His eyes glass over a little as he starts to walk, keeping his hands in his pockets.
“Anyway, what is it?”
“What’s what?” Tendou raises an eyebrow.
“The thing you want to butter me up for?” You furrow your eyebrows, laughing a little.
“Huh? Oh, nothing. I just want to be on your good side.”
“Scared or something?”
“A little,” he hums, looking at his shoes before glancing sideways at you as he raises his chin to peer at the tops of the buildings lining your walk to the station.
The restaurant is a few stops away in a newly painted building. It’s a few blocks from the station, lit up by electric blue lights characteristic of Kokubunchô. The crowds, which you should be used to, overwhelm you a little and you’re grateful for Tendou, whose height makes him impossible to lose. You’re surprised that Wakatoshi would suggest a place downtown, just off from the izakaya and clubs that make Kokubunchô such a popular destination for people our age. After all, he’s never been much of a partier, often choosing to abstain and stay in shape.
It’s been a long while since you’ve seen him. Wakatoshi spends most of his time traveling around Japan and Asia, playing volleyball in countries you’ve never even thought to visit. He competes in global competitions and will most likely be recruited for the Japan National team for the Olympics.
When you arrive at your designated meeting spot, Wakatoshi is standing outside. You know that before you even see him because people round the corner he stands behind while glazing backwards over their shoulders. They mutter about how big that man was, if they’ve seen him somewhere before, if he’s a celebrity. Tendou snickers under his breath, his head tilting a little like it’s on a spring, and you smile in response.
You run ahead of Tendou and round the corner, greeted by Ushijima’s tall figure standing outside of the entrance to the building, lit up by the neon sign above him.
“Finally!” You shout, bounding over to him and embracing him into a hug.
“You should really announce who you are before you hug someone,” he says, his voice low and baritone as he wraps his thick arms around you.
“I did,” you laugh a little, your excitement at finally being able to see him again climbing in your throat.
“I wouldn’t consider that enough warning.”
You pull away, pouting a little at him before cracking a wide smile.
“How are you?” he continues.
“I’m good,” you exhale, “Jesus, look at you. I think you got taller.”
“I didn’t,” he says matter of factly, “they measure me a lot for the team. I would know.”
“Still straightforward as ever,” you huff a little and Wakatoshi gives you a gentle smile. It’s barely there, but you’ve known him long enough to be able to notice it now.
“No greeting for Satori?” Tendou feigns injury behind you, shrugging his shoulders and scuffing his heel against the floor.
Wakatoshi scoffs lightly before stepping close. Then, the two boys hug each other, clutching tightly around the other’s shoulders as they mumble about how long it’s been since they’ve spoken in person. Satori makes an off-handed comment about Wakatoshi getting more handsome and Wakatoshi jostles his shoulder in response, saying something about Tendou being smoother around the edges too.
You watch, stomach swimming with a familiar feeling you get only when the three of you are together. It’s like you are all 17 again and nothing has changed. The way you speak, the way you feel, the uniquely comfortable atmosphere the three of you set with each other, blankets you like snow.
Tendou walks into the restaurant first, followed by you, and then Wakatoshi behind you. People inside of the restaurant turn and stare when they duck under the doorway, standing to their full height in the restaurant. Even among people with similar heights, the two of them stand out. Tendou with his knowing eyes and Wakatoshi with his undeniably good looks. You are in the middle, caught between two magnetic forces that you’ve spent the majority of your life around.
You settle at a small table in the back. It’s clean and hardly has enough room to fit the three of you around it comfortably. It’s a trendy restaurant, mostly famous for its matcha desserts which mix western cooking with Japanese flavors. The majority of the menu are smaller appetizers, but there are sandwiches as well as seafood options which you hungrily stare down. When the time comes, you settle on a salmon dish with miso seasoning, Satori decides on a spicy curry, and Wakatoshi orders the same thing you do but with a small side of tempura. Looking at the place now, you figure that it’s probably closer to an izakaya than any other type of restaurant. You look forward to dessert.
“Are either of you getting drinks?” Tendou leans forward on the table on his elbows, giving a wry grin.
You peer at him from the side, smiling slightly. “And you say I’m the alcoholic.”
“You are,” he states, leaning forward and smiling at you.
“I’m not,” Wakatoshi adds.
“Well spotted, Ushiwaka,” Tendou snickers.
“Yeah, you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes,” you laugh.
“I meant that I’m not getting a drink,” he says flatly, pressing the ghost of a smile between his lips.
You and Tendou glance at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles. Then, Wakatoshi follows with a laugh that’s deep seated in his chest.
“I don’t know. Are you?” You ask Tendou, exhaling deeply.
“I want one,” he shrugs.
“Of course you do,” you chuckle a little. “Then, I’ll have a beer too.”
Tendou tilts his chin upwards, his eyes narrowing as he gives you a little smile. It’s like he expected you to do the same, an affectionate and knowing little curl of his lips that sends heat rippling through your stomach. It takes a lot of strength to tear your eyes from him and when you do, you find yourself trying to shake the new feeling from your stomach as you inhale.
“So Wakatoshi, how’s the team?” You ask as Tendou flags down the server and orders two beers and a glass of water.
“They’re fine,” he says, smiling a little. “Team practices still happen even in the off season, but what’s important is weight training to make sure we stay strong.”
“Is that why you were able to come back to Sendai for a bit?”
“Mhm, though I still train every day,” he offers, leaning back so that the server can set down the drinks on the table.
“So driven…” Tendou smiles.
“You should be playing, you know,” Wakatoshi says to Tendou.
He waves his hand in response, dispelling the thought. “Me? Go pro? Nah, I think I’d be miserable. Volleyball was just a high school thing for me.”
Wakatoshi shrugs his shoulders.
“You gonna be on the Olympic team, ‘Toshi?” You pry a little, leaning forward.
“I don’t know yet. We’ll find out next year.” His expression doesn’t betray anything, but you can hear the excitement in his voice. It makes the sound feel tight, like he’s trying to keep from shouting about it. You smile to yourself.
“Look at you, you’ve got a whole career. Meanwhile, Satori and I have no clue what we’re gonna do in the future,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your drink. The condensation sticks to your hand.
Then, Wakatoshi furrows his eyebrows and looks to Tendou. He looks back at him and for a moment, they sit there like that, communicating telepathically (most likely). It makes you uneasy, like there is something about Tendou that you’re not allowed to know. The uneasy feeling that’s made itself scarce the entire evening bullies its way to the base of your throat. You try to swallow it down, but to no avail.
Tendou inhales and the moment is broken. The two boys settle back into their seats and glide past the strange occurrence.
“I’m sure you’ll both figure it out,” Wakatoshi offers, smiling gently at you. “You’re very capable.”
“I applied to a temp agency a week ago, so hopefully something comes of that,” you take another big sip of your drink.
“Temp agency? Why didn’t you tell me?” Tendou pouts a little.
“I mean, it’s not a sure thing. Just an application. Didn’t want to get ahead of myself.” You laugh.
“Awww but I wanna hear about your life,” Tendou whines lightly.
“Bro, you are literally in my house five days a week. You know just about everything.”
Tendou shrugs his shoulders and leans back in his chair, mood shifting from the false sadness into something of realization. Has he only just now realized how much time the two of you spend together.
“_____, Satori told me you and your boyfriend broke up.” Wakatoshi says.
“Damn, seriously dude?” You shrink into your chair, letting the server place your food in front of you. It looks good and your cut of fish steams on the bed of rice it sits on. Your mouth waters.
“Sorry, he asked about it,” Tendou shrugs his shoulders, picking up his chopsticks to start eating.
You wave off the apology. It’s not like you weren’t going to tell Wakatoshi anyway.
“Yeah, we did,” you say, swallowing the first bite of fish.
“What happened?” he pushes.
You shrug your shoulders, sitting back in your chair a little and pushing the fish around your plate. “We just weren’t compatible. I didn’t like him the way I thought I should and he clearly didn’t like me very much. He was kinda mean.”
Tendou swallows his bite of food beside you and Wakatoshi glances up toward him. They exchange another look and Satori shakes his head, returning his gaze to the food.
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry,” Wakatoshi offers.
“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not all too beat up about it,” you laugh a little. “It might sound twisted, but when we broke up I didn’t really care all that much.”
“I can vouch for that. They called him a cunt.” Tendou adds, smiling over his drink.
“I did do that,” you confirm.
“Sounds like them,” Wakatoshi gives a small laugh.
The rest of your meal is spent in idle chatter. You and Satori have a few more drinks, trying to get Wakatoshi to order one in the later half of the evening, to which he dutifully shakes his head. You blather on about how much you miss him and when the next time he’ll be in Japan is while he smiles fondly and tosses sideways glances to Tendou who just shrugs because he knows you get like this.
You realize, at some point, that unlike you and Tendou, Ushijima is not in the inbetween. He’s got a well-established career with a clear future path. He is not stumbling around blindly, but rather taking deliberate steps towards his future. You and Tendou, it seems, are caught in that particular place, walking yourselves in circles until you finally find the courage to walk in a line. You’re relieved to know that someone is in the circle with you.
Briefly, you think about the looks Satori and Wakatoshi exchanged. Pointed, deliberate looks that exchanged information between the two of them. You’re not sure why it bothers you the way it does. It’s not as if they’ve never had secrets between the two of them before. This one, however, feels somehow heavier. It feels like it’s an elephant in the room between the two of them. You hate the inflated feeling it gives off. It swells and presses you against the wall, stealing the air from your lungs and sending panic to rise up through your throat.
You’re sad to part with Wakatoshi, offering him a long hug and doing your best to squeeze the air out of him. He pats your back, laughing lightly about how he’ll be back eventually. You whine, telling him that he needs to call more. He promises that he will, though you know it will probably remain the same. The two of you have engaged in this perpetual cycle for years now.
Satori hugs his friend goodbye as well, mumbling something to Wakatoshi that you don’t catch, to which he says that they can talk about it later.
You scuff your feet against the floor the whole way home, trying to pretend that your plan to make things feel normal worked.
—
You and Satori have clear boundaries. You always have. There are things you can and can’t do with each other that you both follow religiously. It’s not as if you’ve ever actually discussed it with him. The two of you have never sat down and actually talked about these rules you have in place. They are unspoken but mutually understood.
You suppose that drawing those types of lines started in high school. Before then, it had never even crossed your mind that skinship or your particular ways of showing affection to each other could be taken as anything but platonic. Satori was the first of the two of you to get a partner. In your second year of high school, he’d started going out with a girl in his class. You’d never met her before then in earnest, though you’d certainly seen her around, mostly out of the corner of your eye.
Tendou wasn’t all that popular in high school. Not just because of the way he looked (which you’ve always thought to be above average), but because of the somewhat aloof attitude he maintained. Between snide comments and a generally over-confident demeanor, most people found him off-putting. It didn’t take long though for a few girls to notice his better qualities. They noticed his fingers, long and lithe and wrapped in bandages. They noticed his smile, the coy kind that affects one side of his mouth before it affects the other. They noticed his height and stature, the lazy way he carries himself so that he always seems a little off kilter.
To you, these things have always been obvious. His good looks have always been something that you’re keenly aware of. Whatever unique qualities he has only seem to add to them.
Still, when he started seeing her, you and Satori seemed to fall in sync about these unspoken boundaries. One day, the line in the sand between you both was drawn into being, separating your friendship from anything beyond that.
You’ve always been grateful for that little line, you think. It keeps things from getting confusing. It protects yours and Satori’s platonic relationship as much as it protects your romantic ones. You don’t read too much into things. Your heart doesn’t flutter when he touches you (or does it). You keep your pesky emotions at bay. It’s all thanks to that lovely little line.
Sometimes though, like now, that line stares at you. For some reason, it feels like whatever is going on with Tendou is on the other side of it. You feel like he’s moved the line farther away from him, drawing a bubble and preventing you from stepping close. His situation, whatever it may be, is now beyond your grasp and you feel as if asking would be stepping over it.
It’s the first time in your friendship, you think, that Satori has drawn a line all on his own.
He’s back in your house today, lounging on your bed with his head hanging off the end. You can see the way his neck protrudes and bobs each time he swallows. It’s got a lovely angle to it and you can see the lines of lean muscle running up the sides of his neck.
When he’d walked in, you’d found yourself shocked to see that he’d not only decided to get a haircut, but to buzz off all of his hair entirely. You’d gaped at him, reaching up to touch his head and lamenting the loss of his shoulder length hair.
“What? You don’t like it?” he’d asked through a coy smile.
“It’s not that it’s just… why?” you’d questioned, unable to shake the feeling that it has something to do with his secretiveness.
Tendou adopted that familiar far off look and shrugged. “Needed the change. Kinda felt like I was going in a circle.”
Then, he’d brushed past you and into your house, asking about something to drink.
Satori’s looking at his phone now, scrolling through social media like he’s a robot stuck on repeat. Every now and then, his lips will quirk up a bit when he sees something funny, but otherwise, the only thing that moves are his thumbs and the gentle bob of his neck.
You stand facing the mirror in your room, watching him through it as you busy yourself with something on the shelf adjacent. You’d been looking for a book to read but had been quickly distracted by your train of thoughts after seeing a photo of you and Satori from high school.
You keep it framed on your nightstand in a cheap wooden frame you bought from a thrift store before going to college. It was taken a few weeks before your graduation, standing in front of the school gym. Satori is in his volleyball uniform after playing a final skirmish with his team before he passed down his jersey. His hair is spiked up and his forehead is slick with sweat. He’s pulling you close to his body in the photo, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and his fingers secured on the other end of you. You can almost recall the feeling of his jersey, damp with sweat, and your smile in the photo betrays a slight grimace at the feeling of it.
Satori, however, is beaming. His smile is radiant and his eyes are half closed in what looks like the beginning of a genuine laugh. He’d found it amusing to pull you close to him that day, relishing in the way you whined a little about how gross he was. Not that you really minded. You don’t mind much of anything if it’s Satori doing it. He’s special that way.
A notification on Satori’s phone draws you from your thoughts and your eyes wander habitually to the reflection of his screen in the mirror. It looks like an email and Satori shifts when he gets the notification, sucking in a quiet breath as he quickly reads over it. Then, he closes the application.
“Why are you staring?” He speaks abruptly, satisfied at the way you jump at being caught.
“I was just wondering what you’ve been waiting for on your phone lately,” you admit, toeing the line he’s drawn.
“Mmmmmmm,” he hums, not turning to look at you as a smile creeps up his features, “you curious?”
“Mhm,” you answer, turning to face him properly. “Is it a girl?”
At this, Tendou’s eyes slink backward to look at you over the crest of his eyebrows. His lips quirk up in a wry grin. It smooths across his features like liquid metal.
“Why? You wanna date me?”
You’re not sure why the teasing question flusters you so much, but it does. Heat bubbles in your stomach and rises to your face just as quickly and you chide yourself for the way you turn away from him.
“I was just curious,” you huff, rolling your eyes to try and dispel the new sensation rising in you.
Tendou gives you a cat’s smile through the mirror before he stretches his arms above his head and lets them hang over the side of the bed.
“It’s not a girl,” he answers, laughing a little. Then, he pauses like he’s debating something before growing quiet and adopting the strange look he’s been wearing. “Nothing important really.”
You furrow your eyebrows and eye the line in the sand.
It’s killing you, not knowing. This melancholy and secretive facade Tendou has adopted is making him feel like a stranger and it’s eating you up inside. But you trust him. You trust Satori with your life and more, so you swallow down the uncertainty. It’s coming from somewhere unfamiliar. Somewhere possessive and needy. You ignore the fact that the feeling is coming from a place you previously thought your feelings for Satori didn’t come from.
“You sure?” you press, clenching your jaw after the words leave your lips.
“Yeah.” Tendou doesn’t look at you in the mirror, stretching his arms above his head. You think about growing pains.
Lukewarm. The inbetween. You know what this off feeling is. That subtle space in which your lives have been in for the better part of the last five years. A delicate balance between present and future. A delicate balance between friends and something more. This feeling is different. You worry that it is the inbetween of affection and indifference. It’s going to eat you alive.
—
Tendou’s apartment is pleasantly disorganized. It is one of those spaces in which everything looks out of place, but never really is. Tendou knows where each thing is, even if you’ve always had trouble learning. While this is true for all of the places that Satori inhabits, you think it is especially true for his bedroom and the office.
His room is littered with small boxes for little items he’s collected over the years. His shelves are stocked with manga he’s liked enough to collect. They aren’t organized in any particular way except by series, but the pattern seems to make sense only to Tendou. His nightstand always has a half drank glass of water on it and on nights when you stay over, there is one beside it for you.
In the corner, there’s a tall dark oak dresser full of his clothes, all of them folded neatly in drawers and tucked away until he needs them. On top of it, there are framed photos of his childhood, as well as one singular nationals trophy that he didn’t have the heart to throw out. You think all of it is endearing. There’s something lovely about entering this space and feeling him all around you. Any stress seems to melt directly off of your shoulders.
“Wanna order in?” You pad into the living room where Satori is posted in front of the television playing some rendition of the Legend of Zelda games.
“Huh?” He says before quickly interrupting himself. “Oh, yeah sure. What did you want?”
Tendou glances at you over the couch, his eyes catching yours for a moment. He grins, his lips curling up in a delightful way, before he turns his focus back to the TV.
“I dunno, chicken?”
He chuckles, pausing his game and putting his arm over the couch cushion. Tendou tilts his head to the side and smiles. “You always want chicken. Same place, I assume?”
You shrug. “Yeah well, I like their spice blend.” You lean your weight against the wall beside you. “So can we order chicken or not?”
Tendou tilts his head up, pressing his lips together in a smirk and narrowing his all-seeing eyes.
“Spice blend,” he chuckles, humming pleasantly like he’s mulling something over. Then, he clicks his teeth and you wonder briefly about the motion of his tongue when he does. “Yeah, let’s do it.” Then, he turns back to the TV and presses play.
“Kay, I’m gonna order from my phone then,” you hum, rolling your eyes and unlocking the screen.
“Sure,” he says and you pad over to his bedroom to sit down as you pick out what you want. “Oh! ____!”
“Huh?”
“If you’re ordering from the place down the street, I’m pretty sure I have a voucher for a free plate.” He calls.
“Oh, where?”
“Office, I think. Somewhere on the desk.”
You chuckle to yourself, walking down the hall and into the small makeshift office Tendou has set up. It’s in what should be a closet, with only enough space for a light and a small desk set up. When he’d moved into this place, he’d proudly told you about his plans, to which you told him that if it makes him happy, he should do it.
“Who even keeps physical coupons anymore?”
“Me, bro,” he laughs. “Just use it though, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna expire.”
“Kay!”
His desk is littered with paper. Most of them are things he’ll never use again; flyers he was handed on the street, takeout menus he usually looks at online, printed receipts for things he bought years ago. Only a few things are actually useful; printed recipes from the internet, a small booklet full of drinks from his job, and a thick recipe book with papers and post-its sticking out of it.
You shuffle through the papers, looking for the coupon. You’re expecting something bright red and gaudy. Something that feels like it’s trying too hard to get your attention. When you find it tucked beneath the thick book of recipes, you almost just grab it and go. If it hadn’t been for the way your eyes lingered on the spot where it was for a moment, you never would have seen it.
Underneath the coupon, is a clipped together stack of papers. A wax-covered yellow paper clip holds them together and at the top, it reads Le Cordon Bleu and then Diplôme de Pâtisserie. It’s been hastily translated into Japanese and you can’t beat the curiosity or the way dread begins to swirl in your stomach.
It’s an enrollment confirmation and clipped underneath it, there is a confirmation for the rent of a studio apartment in Paris. The date for the enrollment is two months from now and you grimace at the paper, making out what you can of the sloppy translation and French writing.
In your hand, clipped with the yellow-paperclip, is all of the evidence of Tendou’s intention to leave. Worse yet, his intention to leave without telling you in advance. An inky black substance rises in your through, swelling there like lead before realization rounds the corner. In your head, the ball that’s been looming over your head for months now finally drops and you manage to make sense of his behavior the last few months. It wasn’t a girl, it’s never been a girl. It was this.
It’s hard to tell exactly what thoughts run through your mind as you register what you’re looking at. The first is that he’s been keeping this secret for longer than three months judging from the paperwork, the second is that he deliberately chose not to tell you, and the third is the phrase you’ve repeated to yourself since high school. Everything you need to know, Tendou will tell.
You try not to spiral. You try to keep your feet rooted on the ground at the idea of this person you’ve known since adolescence simply going away so suddenly. None of it works. The secrecy of it cuts you like a slow-dragging knife, pressing into your skin and cutting a fine line from your stomach to your forehead.
“_____!” Tendou calls. His voice startles you from your thoughts. “If you haven’t ordered yet, can you get me extra hot sauce please?”
You don’t answer, instead starting to make the short walk from the office to the living room.
Tendou says your name. When you don’t answer, you hear him pause his game and stand up, calling your name again.
By the time he’s turned to start walking in your direction, eyebrows furrowed, you have reached the entrance to the living space. The papers are clutched in your hand and you can feel the edge of them pressing into your palm.
“What are these?” You ask, attempting to keep your voice steady.
“What’s what?” He tilts his head, smiling before he glances down to your hand.
You hold it up so that he can see.
When his gaze settles and he registers what you’re holding, his smile falls. You see the blood rush to his face and a look of shock cover his usually calm features. The expression is foreign on him and it sends a pang of dread through your chest. You had hoped that you were wrong. You had hoped that maybe he was going to tell you, that you’d show him and he’d laugh casually about how he just found out and wanted to tell you once it was settled.
“What is it?” You say softly and Tendou struggles to find the words.
He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. You watch as he scrambles, your lips pulling deeper and deeper into the frown that you can feel taking over your face.
“Are you going away?”
He nods.
“When?”
“September.”
The air is knocked from your lungs and your voice comes out as barely a whisper. “That’s in two months, Satori.”
“I know.”
“How long have you known?”
He doesn’t answer and when you look up at him, you can see the way that his eyes are growing red.
“How long?” You say, a little more forcefully.
“Since March.”
“Jesus,” you scoff, “March? That’s nearly five months.”
He nods, slightly defeated.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tendou scrambles for the words again, and suddenly you feel like you’ve been poisoned. Your stomach turns and your vision goes a little dizzy and you consider the type of sickness that this will bring to your friendship. How sick will it make the both of you? How long will it be until you are well again? Tendou, whose face has fallen into something of dread and uncertainty, clearly feels it too. You blink, staring at him with wide eyes to give him the opportunity to salvage what small bits of your trust remain.
Somehow, the expression he wears looks like he’s been about to form it for months. Like that blank expression he adopted was somehow an early version of this and it’s with a heavy heart that you realize that what you’d been seeing on him was the expression of keeping an awkward secret.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Satori?”
“I wasn’t-” he swallows. “I didn’t-”
“You didn’t know how?” You frown, finishing his sentence. You feel the way your brows press in the middle. “You’re my best friend, Satori. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
It hurts to know that he didn’t trust you with this. Unlike the secrets he keeps with Ushijima, this feels like a secret he’s deliberately kept from you. It wounds you to know that there is something Satori didn’t want to tell you, especially something this huge. You feel yourself bleed out onto his floor, though you’re not sure what the other emotions that come with this are. Something adjacent to hurt, like heartbreak.
“You didn’t know how to tell me, so your solution was to just fuck off to France one day without warning?” You raise your voice a little and Tendou, who is usually so fearless, flinches back from it. You press your lips into a line.
It feels selfish and you can’t figure out why. None of this makes any sense at all to you.
“You’ve kept secrets before too,” he says like he’s just thought of the justification. Satori scrambles like a young boy caught in the act, clamoring for a way out of the hole he’s dug himself. The more he reaches for his footing, the worse it hurts you.
You furrow your eyebrows. “Sure! I’ve kept secrets about who I fucked in high school. You kept secrets about your entire fucking future!” The words sting the front of your tongue. “Does Wakatoshi know?”
Tendou doesn’t answer.
“Does Wakatoshi know?” You say again, forcefully this time. Hurt makes its way into your lungs like a fever.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, shoulders slumping forward. “He does.”
You let out a laugh, reaching up to your face and wiping away the tears that have started to well up. When Tendou sees this, his eyes go wide and he takes a step towards you. Instead of letting him take you into his arms the way he always has, you step back. Then, you walk to the entrance of his apartment, grab your bag, slip your shoes on, and open the front door.
“Congratulations. On the school,” you muster, though it feels spoiled.
You want to mean it, but you don’t and the realization sends you out of the door and down the street. When you get on the train home, you finally allow yourself to cry, trying to put together why all of this hurts so much. Why are you spiraling the way you are? You wipe hot tears from your face with the backs of your hands, sniffling quietly while people struggle not to stare. The summer heat in the train car is stifling, clinging to your skin and making your face sticky with tears and sweat.
—
You’ve never fought with Tendou like this before. Sure, you’ve had small spats that lead to a few days of not talking, but this feels bigger than that. This feels like the earth has somehow cracked between you both and opened a deep rift. You’re not sure how long it’s been forming, but you know it isn’t sudden. Pressure builds behind you both like a damn fit to burst.
It’s not as if it’s only the move that’s doing this. You think it’s more. You think it has something to do with that line in the sand or whatever these new feelings for Tendou are. All of it has been somehow funneled into this one secret, spilling out in a messy and jumbled way that confuses you about feelings (or lack thereof) that you’d been certain about for over 10 years.
The floor of your apartment is cool like glass. It’s always colder on the floor than it is standing. You lay down to escape the heat, clinging to the wood like a seastar to a rock. Humidity clings to your skin and makes you sticky. You grimace, rolling over slightly.
It may seem dramatic to lay on the floor and think about Satori, but you often find yourself on the ground when you need to think about something important. The energy flows better down here. There have been several times in which Tendou has laid down on the floor with you to think. He did it when you needed to decide where to go to high school, he did it when you needed to think about saying yes or no to a confession, he did it when you were deciding where to take the entrance exams for at 17. Come to think of it, all of the major decisions in your life were made on the floor. Satori had been there for all of them.
You breathe out an exhale and more heat sticks to your skin. Even the breeze coming in through the window is unbearably hot, though you suppose that’s just the nature of July.
It’s been almost a week since you last saw Tendou, which isn’t too long in the grand scheme of things, but feels like a lifetime because it’s him. You can’t remember the last time you went so long without seeing or speaking to him. You can’t bring yourself to respond to his texts. He’s left four of them, each asking to talk to you about it. Every time you try to respond, you lose the courage to do it, sputtering to a stop just before you start to type.
He’s been with you for all of the major decisions in your life, but you weren’t privy to even know about this one. Sure, Satori is allowed to do what he wants. You know that he’s not obligated to tell you everything, that he doesn’t have to inform you of every small change in his life, but you wouldn’t consider this a small change. Shit, this is bigger than any decision he’s ever made and he didn’t tell you about it.
You’re not sure what’s worse, the idea that he kept it from you all this time or the idea that had you not stumbled upon those papers, he might have just vanished one day. It’s difficult for you to wrap your head around, the idea of Tendou just going away. For you, he’s been a constant presence in your life. Even when you went to college in Kyoto, he’d come to visit. The train ride was never more than a few hours and he would stay through the weekends or you’d make your way back up to Sendai where he attended the local university.
Paris is thousands of kilometers away. Forget visiting on weekends, you might not even be able to visit him on holidays. Then comes the question of if he would even want you to visit. If he didn’t tell you he was leaving, maybe he wouldn’t want to have you there. It could be that Tendou’s closeness with you was too much and it had reached a boiling point you’d never noticed.
It’s hard to believe that the boy you’ve known since 13 could think to go so far away from you. It’s difficult for you to wrap your head around, almost like the thought is presented to you in another language. It’s vaguely familiar, but deeply confusing, so much so that it sends you reeling. You’ve been reeling for the past few days, spun like a top and left to settle on your own.
This summer is hotter than most and the air doesn’t aid your thinking. It leaves you feeling stagnant, distracted by the sound of cicadas outside your balcony. Heat and anger cling to your skin like sticky black tar and the more you think about you and Tendou, the more you feel the poison in your bloodstream. You wonder briefly if Tendou is feeling it too, though of course he’s brought it on himself. Even through your anger, it hurts you to know that he might also be hurting.
When you met Satori, he was only an inch or so taller than you. He sprouted up around your second year of middle school, turning into the beanpole that he is today. He didn’t have a lot of friends when he was younger, not until halfway through your first year of middle school when he became a regular on the volleyball team.
You suppose that he didn’t have many friends because of his name, or maybe it was because of the way he looked. Before Satori grew up, his big eyes and thin upper lip were even more pronounced than they are now and when he was 13, he hadn’t yet grown out of that awkward, middling phase all children go through. You never minded but the other kids certainly did.
In fact, you always liked that Tendou matched his given name so well. Satori, referring to a yokai that can read minds. His all seeing eyes. The way he seems to know everything about you before you know it yourself. It all suits him so nicely. You’ve always liked that about him, those qualities which he’s owned from a young age and maintained throughout the majority of his life.
They’re as dear to you as he is, and you know that they’ve become dear to him as well.
When you were young, you never cared much for the gossip of other children, so when Satori joined your middle school class and was greeted with the whispers of your classmates, you paid them no mind. It seemed that Satori didn’t either, instead focusing on volleyball, which allowed him to realize a certain twisted kind of satisfaction he craved. Your friendship unfolded quickly, moving through the awkward acquaintance stage and into the friend stage quickly.
The first summer you both spent together was one of the most memorable. Come to think of it, you and Satori had somehow managed to skip over the awkward part of making friends at 13, barrelling into the summer season together as comfortable friends. He’d sat out on your back porch with you often, eating cut watermelon your mother had prepared for you both. She was just glad to see you’d made a friend. As a young child, people found you unapproachable, as you’d always had an agency over yourself which other kids didn’t have.
Satori was the same, though he was always more immature in his teasing. Tendou has always gotten a kick out of toying with others and in high school it half-way earned him his nickname of Guess Monster, which plays on the word “gesu” meaning “low-life”. You always thought it was mean, but it would be a lie to say that Tendou didn’t earn that name with his opponents. He always somehow managed to come across as somewhat sleezy to them, even if you know he’s anything but.
It happens to be another part of him that you adore deeply. The way he makes you squirm has always been an enjoyable aspect of your neatly kept friendship.
Still, that first summer and all the summers after, went the same way. On the porch or balcony with a plate of fresh watermelon, laying across the slightly-cooler floor and debating through bored slurs what to do next. You can recall every version of him. 13 and immature, grinning over the tops of sunburnt cheeks. 17 and laidback, with a cheshire-like grin and a penchant for teasing. 20 and in college, with long hair and an easy, attractive grin. 24, with freshly buzzed hair, sitting between the past and the future, getting ready to leave you behind.
You know it’s unfair to think that way. He’s not leaving you behind. Not really. Satori is just moving forward. He’s taking another step towards his future and that’s supposed to be a good thing. It’s supposed to be good that he knows what he wants next. But you can’t find it in you to be happy for him.
You think it’s selfish. It’s selfish of him to not tell you. It’s selfish to want to go so far away. It’s selfish to want to be somewhere that you aren’t. Most of all though, it hurts that you didn’t know. It aches somewhere deep and ancient in your chest, a kind of pain you’re unfamiliar with. Foreign and dull, pressing right up against your sternum from the inside. It feels like heartbreak, as alarming as that is.
Satori has a side to him that you didn’t know. A secretive one. One that allows him to just slowly withdraw if he wants to. It makes you wonder what else he keeps from you. Everything you need to know, Tendou will tell. How far does that extend? What other things don’t you know?
While the ache is there, you can also feel confusion. It’s a deep, skin-tingling sensation, like something not quite realized. You have no idea why you’re reacting as adversely to this as you are. It’s not as if him not telling you this yet means anything that you’ve spiraled into believing. It’s not like it means he doesn’t care about you, it just means that he was as tongue tied as you feel right now.
Your friendship has always had clear rules and boundaries and you think that feeling the way you are and Tendou keeping this secret has somehow broken them. It’s like, in breaking your unspoken rule somewhere else, Tendou set off a chain reaction that caused you to break another. Now, all you can think about are the inbetween moments. The liminal space between friends and something more that you and Satori have occasionally crossed into.
It’s not because you are fantasizing about it, nor is it because you necessarily want it to mean something, but it is because they mean the most to you. Those little moments are when you’ve felt the closest to him, as if your relationship were strengthened by your physical proximity and the feel of his hands on your arms or face.
You think about those easy summers. About the way girls pass him on the street and giggle into their mouths when he glances at them. About the way he looks at you when he walks. All of it piles up like sand, heavy and easy to sink into. You could get lost in these feelings and it terrifies you.
You’re so deeply uncomfortable with the change, both in Tendou’s life and in your steadily rounding realization. Why is that? You’ve separated from plenty of friends before just like this and never felt so hopeless. Leaving for college was no different. Even when Wakatoshi moved away permanently, you weren’t half so torn up. You didn’t mourn the loss of some unplacable thing that had yet to exist. But here you are now, laying down on the floor of your apartment and thinking about what it means that he’s going away and what it means that he didn’t tell you. What makes Satori so different?
You’ve never had to do this before. Thinking about how to respond to Satori feels so strange that it’s making you sick. You used to always know what to say. What’s making this any different? Why does it feel like there’s a lump in your chest that’s going to make you sick?
Maybe it’s because you can’t figure out his motivations. There are very few instances in which you can’t tell what Satori is thinking. After all, he’s the person you spend the most time with, of course you’re able to tell what he’s probably thinking about. You wonder what you could have done to hurt him, rolling onto your back and clenching your fists to quell the crack you feel forming across your chest.
There’s so much anxiety, so much uncertainty. All you can smell is that first summer. All you can hear is that hot and humid day when you were 13. You wonder why it comes to you so clearly now. Is it because this is the last? Is it because you both have already been poisoned beyond healing? Or maybe it’s simply because that is when these feelings started to take root.
Maybe they started to take shape a long time ago, this uncertain, swelling ache in your chest that feels so adjacent to love you could have mistaken it for exactly that. The only reason you haven’t is because you know better. You know better than to break the rules, than to love him like that when your friendship has never been anything more.
You’ve been staving it off for so long, you think. This unplaceable desire has been curbed time and time again. You think back to all of the times it’s felt like Satori was about to cross a boundary and you wonder if he ever actually was or if you’d just imagined it because you wanted it so badly. Even now you’re not sure. You think about your past boyfriends, why it never worked. Had you ever actually cared about them or were you just seeking out traits you thought you saw in Tendou?
Even if it is more than friendship, even if he does mean more to you than you thought, all you know is how angry you are. It swells in your chest, ballooning until it presses against the inside of your ribcage and makes you ache. You know this can’t be fixed alone. You could run yourself in circles and none of it would make any difference. None of this introspection will matter until you can talk to him, until you can be in his presence again.
The threat of loss looms heavy over you, like an anvil tied to a string, it swings precariously above your head. Satori, even after keeping the monumental secret, is still your best friend and losing him, distance be damned, is unfathomable. He’s everything to you and the situation, its precariousness, makes you afraid. How long have you been in the space between loving him and losing him?
—
Sa-to-ri: hey i won’t text you anymore after this, but please come by when you’re feeling up to it. i can explain.
You read the text over and over in front of his apartment. There’s a thrumming in your chest, like nerves come alive, and you can’t seem to just open the door.
Satori opens it first, swinging it open with one sharp pull and staring at you.
“Were you tracking me?” you ask softly.
“Yeah,” he admits.
He steps to the side to let you in and you quickly remove your shoes, stepping into his apartment.
Satori looks like the Satori he always has. Tall and lanky, with big, heavily creased eyes and his thin upper lip. His bottom lip, full and round, bounces slightly as you turn to face him. You rake your eyes over his buzzed hair, still not quite used to the way it looks on him. You remember running your hand over it a few weeks ago and feeling the soft, spiky texture of it. Part of you misses the long hair, though you think this suits him more somehow.
His eyes, which are usually low-lidded and laidback, look swollen, and the bags under his eyes which you admire so secretly, are more pronounced. Satori looks tired and as soon as you register that it’s probably your fault, you let your shoulders fall.
“How are you?” he questions softly, the familiar tenor ring of his voice tentative and needy as he follows it with your name.
You shrug. “I’m okay. How are you?”
“Been better,” he says, giving you a lopsided grin that you struggle to return.
You nod at him, swallowing thick, and Satori lets out a shaky exhale and runs a hand over his buzzed red hair.
“I can explain what’s happening, if you want,” he offers.
“It seems pretty straight forward,” you say. “You applied to a school in France, got in, and it spiraled out before you got the chance to tell me. Right?”
Satori tilts his head, surprised. You’ve hit the nail on the head.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean- I didn’t think that-”
You nod, biting back the familiar sting of bile rising up your chest. “I know. I’m trying not to be mad.”
“Are you?” he asks. “Mad, I mean.”
You nod.
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?” you say, giving an incredulous snort. “You’re going away and you were going to do it without telling me.”
Satori tosses his arms up a little, beginning to grow frustrated. “I thought you just said you understood what happened?”
“I do!” you shout back. “Do you expect me to leap for joy because you’re going 9,000 kilometers away?”
Tendou tries to step towards you, reaching out with his lithe fingers to attempt to soothe the anger he can feel rising in you.
“I have no real idea why you didn’t tell me,” you admit, crumbling a bit. “I think I could go over it a million times in my head and never really understand. But I think the worst part is that I don’t even know what I’m mad at. I’m just mad.”
He falters, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to find something to say. You feel your eyes grow wet with tears.
“Why is it so easy for you to just leave me behind?” You question quietly, your voice cracking as tears start to spill. You feel silly and selfish for asking him this, but it’s what comes up. That unfamiliar swell of emotions you’ve been experiencing for the past week all bring you here. “How can you just up and leave just like that without even asking me about it? Didn’t you ever consider that I’d want to know and celebrate with you?”
“____,” he says quietly.
“And I feel so dumb because I know I should be happy,” you cry, wiping your eyes. “I know I should be happy that you’re taking the first steps toward your future, but I can’t be. I’m so hurt, Satori and I’m so sorry that I am.”
You shake your head a little when Tendou steps close to you, unable to lift your head to look at him.
“I know you have your own life and your own future,” you say, nodding your head. “I know. But I don’t know how you could ever want to go so far away from me. I don’t think I could ever do that.”
It’s not accusatory, but uncertain, like you’re weighing the words on your tongue. It almost sounds as if you’re questioning your own feelings. It even surprises you and you stare at the floor between your feet to try and ground yourself. You can hear Satori breathing. It’s a steady sound, occasionally hitching and giving away his emotions.
“Do you love me?” he speaks up quietly. You raise your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you love me like that?”
You don’t know what to say or how to answer. The question has forced your gaze back up to him. His small eyebrows are pulled together in the center and his lips, usually tinged with a small grin, are pulled downwards. You ache at seeing him like this.
“Because I do,” he adds, staring at you.
“You what?” It shocks you, and you shake your head a little as if that would clear up the misunderstanding. You watch as he breaks every boundary you both have ever created.
“I have for a long time. I love you and I’m not leaving because I don’t,” Satori looks almost unrecognizable, so deeply passionate and emotional, but there’s something familiar in it. There’s an emotion that you’ve seen somewhere before. “I didn’t keep it from you because I don’t.”
“What are you saying?” You can hardly hear your own voice over the sound of your heartbeat.
“Do you love me?” He steps towards you, adamant in receiving an answer. “Because I really need to know, man. I can’t do this without knowing.”
You try to gather your thoughts. All of the teasing, all of the little lost glances Satori would adopt, all of the secrecy. It was because he loved you? It was because he loves you? Even the thought feels heavy, like it’s coated in lead. The idea drops into the pit of your stomach, weighing you down and for a moment you think you may be sick.
Do you love him? Do you love him the way he wants you to? You look at him, fingers trembling.
“I don’t know,” you swallow.
“Come with me,” he pleads, “just come with me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” he says, running a hand forward on his head. “Because I love you. Because you drive me insane. Because I didn’t even realize I was hiding it until it was too late to not be hiding it. I never meant to let it get this far I never- I never meant to make you cry,” he says, stepping forward and taking your hands in his. “You’re my best friend. I never wanted- I never wanted to lose you and I was so scared and I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do.”
You take in his explanation, nodding slowly. “So your solution was to say nothing?” You frown at him.
Satori stares at you. “I’m sorry,” he squeezes your knuckles, “come with me anyway. Even though I didn’t tell you. Come with me.”
You stare at him for a second, attempting to process the speed at which your brain is moving.
“I can’t do this without you,” he admits, letting his shoulders fall forward and casting his eyes toward the floor of his apartment.
This sends you reeling more than anything he’s said yet. Satori, by nature, is fiercely independent. He’s fiercely driven and internally motivated. Most people, when they meet him, can recognize this instantly. It makes the admittance heavy, like it’s waterlogged. You gape at him.
Your eyes follow the familiar planes of his body. His round, double-lidded eyes which are so familiar to you that you would know he’s watching you without even looking. The sharpness of his cheekbones. The undereye bags that you love so deeply. You follow the trail his cheeks make to his mouth, slightly parted and glossy with spit. His neck, leading down to his collarbone. The exposed parts of the muscles, now visible to you from any angle since he cut his hair.
He’s looking at you with a desperate, wild look. It would be frightening if it were anyone else, but it’s Satori. It’s your most loved person. The one person you could do anything with and be okay.
The boundaries which you’d relied on so often in times like this, don’t exist anymore. There’s no inbetween to fall back on, no safety net to keep you from falling completely. If you want you, you could give into this entirely. You don’t have to catch yourself. You don’t have to sleep on the couch. There’d be no more side-stepping and avoiding and wondering if you wish it or if you dread it.
“Okay,” you say quietly, inhaling. “Okay.”
Tendou looks at you for a minute, blinking. His face is so familiar and being able to look at it like this is like a homecoming.
“Are you still mad?” he asks quietly, his hands still gripping yours.
“Yeah,” you admit.
“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out.
“Yeah.”
Satori leans forward, bringing his hand to the side of your cheek gently. He’s so close. The boy you’ve known since 13. You can feel his breath on your face, trembling slightly as he draws closer. You screw your eyes shut as his lips meet yours. Familiar is the word that comes to mind. You’ve never done this with him before, but you can map out the way they look from the feeling of them alone.
You inhale sharply and Satori leans in closer, bringing his other hand to your face and deepening the kiss. He cups your face firmly with both hands, pulling you close to him as his shoulders drop and he lifts your face to get a nice angle. Everything about his touch is different, but somehow deeply familiar. It’s like you’re meant to be here like this with him. Like you’re meant to be in his arms, which your face cupped between his long, lithe hands.
He pulls away from you, leaving you dazed and breathless. Looking at him from this close feels like a privilege. It’s like you can see every single detail about him that you’ve ever loved. You reach up to touch his face, running your thumb across his under-eye bag.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, his lips swollen.
You shake your head. “I should have been happier for you.”
“Mmm, you always worry about other people like that,” he says softly. “I’m the one who acted like an asshole.”
“I still don’t want you to go away.”
“I know,” he leans forward, pecking your lips. “But it’s not for a little while. We’ve got time.”
You kiss him first this time, pressing forward until your lips find his. Tendou immediately licks into your mouth, deepening it with a groan and pulling your body flush against his.
There’s so much relief in touching him like this, in feeling the slip and slide of your skin against his. It feels right, so right that all of your previous experiences begin to pale in comparison.
He is so dear to you that it is overwhelming. All of it comes at once as he lays you on the bed, hovering over you with his eyebrows pulled together. Everything that he is is so dear. His hair, his smile, his low-lidded and heavy creased eyes. Oh, how you love him. Any anger slips away in the realization.
You’ve never seen him look quite so shy, nor so hesitant. His hands, which are usually so sure, run up your sides at an awkward pace, like he can’t quite get a hold of what’s happening. You feel that your expression mirrors his, that the pace of your breath betrays the nerves you’re feeling.
Satori hovers over you, his shirt pulled off to reveal the pale expanse of chest you’ve seen a million times. His chest heaves, like he’s out of breath, his round shoulders supporting the weight of him as he looks at you. His eyes betray a sense of adoration. It’s an emotion you’ve seen in him a few times, similar to the expression he wears when he plays volleyball. It looks like he’s being consumed. Then, he tilts his head at you and smiles. You smile back at him, reaching to hesitantly touch the back of his head and pull him close to you.
His buzz cut feels soft to the touch and Tendou gives in when he feels the warm pads of your fingers at the back of his neck. He lowers himself closer to you, shifting onto his forearms and then dipping his neck down to kiss you, beckoned by your gentle touch. You feel his knee press into the mattress between your legs and gasp when he moves it up to brush against your center.
There’s a strangeness to being touched there by him. Along with the relief of friction, comes the oddness of who. That’s not to say that it doesn’t feel right. It does, though to ignore the years of history between you two would be a disservice. That strangeness, however, only fans the flames of your desire. This is a part of him you’ve never seen before.
Satori’s fingers snake down your abdomen where your shirt has ridden up. They’re cold and you can almost imagine the round and somewhat pointed look of them. You glance between you both, admiring the knobby curve of his knuckles and the way he toys lightly with the elastic of your waistband.
“Can I?” he breathes out, barely above a whisper and so laced with desire that you almost think he might whine.
“Go ahead,” you exhale and he gives you a little smile before dipping two fingers between the folds of your cunt and pressing lightly on your clit.
You gasp, arching your back up at the cool sensation of it, slowly relaxing as he starts to move his fingers in a steady circle. When you open your eyes, you see that he’s watching you, his neck craned down to peer at the expression you’re wearing.
“Stop that…” you laugh lightly.
“Stop what?” he croons, pressing lightly at your entrance with the pad of his finger.
“Staring…”
Satori leans down and kisses you while sliding one finger in. You feel him smile against your mouth when you gasp, the corners of his mouth curling up delicately as his mouth leaves yours.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to touch you like this,” he says quietly, still against your mouth. Then, with that lovely upward lilt to his voice, “let me stare a little longer.”
You huff a little, fighting the heat rising to your cheeks and he laughs a little bit, kissing down the exposed parts of your neck.
“I could do this instead,” he hums, teasing a little as he pushes your shirt up and places a kiss between your breasts.
His lithe fingers cup up to cup your chest, pinching your nipple over your bra with two fingers as he smears his lips down your stomach. You don’t know how to respond, instead watching the rise and fall of his head with your breathing as he leaves a trail of kisses down your abdomen.
When Satori reaches your waistband, he pulls his hand from you and hooks two fingers around it, shimmying it down your legs.
It’s not as if you haven’t undressed in front of him before. Satori has seen you at your best, your worst, and all of your inbetweens. You’ve changed in front of him more times than you can count, even going so far as to skinny dip together the summer before college. Still, this time is different. This time, when Satori undresses, he’s looking at you with his eyes that see everything. He’s watching the expanse of your body, gaze crawling up each inch of exposed skin until his gaze rests on your now exposed cunt.
You let out a subconscious whine when his breath hits you and his lips curl up a little when you do. He rests his head on the inside of your thigh, looking up at you from between your legs.
“Feeling shy?”
“Obviously,” you force out, covering your face with your forearms.
“Aw, what?” he pouts. “Don’t hide from me.”
His voice is so sincere and so fond that it draws you out from behind your arms. He’s still looking at you, smiling from where he lays between your legs.
“There ya are,” he says, a lopsided grin spreading across his features. “I’m gonna touch you now.”
Then, he spreads you open with two fingers and licks one long stripe between your legs. You shiver, your hand instinctively flying up to his head where you grow frustrated that his long hair isn’t there to hold onto anymore. He gives you a small smile from between your legs, holding your pussy open, before dipping back down and securing his mouth around your sensitive clit.
Something about this is so deeply embarrassing. Maybe it's the fact that it’s Tendou, or maybe it’s because you haven’t had someone go down on you this well in a long time. Either way, you feel the humiliation in your teeth like sugar, your knees knocking inward every now and then when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.
Satori hums into your cunt every now and then, tongue lathing over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Everytime you twitch or gasp, he gives a pleasant little hum that you feel buzz through you, then he looks up to check on your reactions. His hands, which are so familiar you think you’d know them only by touch, wander over your thighs and up your stomach to your breasts. They don’t stay in one place for long, instead running all over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
You’ve always liked Satori’s hands. Ever since you met him, you’ve thought they were nice. They’ve got a gentle look to them. They’re big and his fingers are long, but they’re thin, with smooth and somewhat knobby knuckles from injuring them so often in volleyball. They’ve always been hands that you wanted to be touched by and now that they’re running softly over your skin, you find yourself shivering at the overload of sensitive touches.
Every one of Satori’s touches are gentle. Even his tongue between your legs, which winds the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter, is gentle in his appreciation for you. It’s like he’s experimenting ever so slightly, like he’s cherishing you while simultaneously figuring out what makes you tick. He already knows everything about you in a platonic sense, now he gets to learn in a sexual sense.
Still, despite the gentleness of his touches, it is all too much. His hands, his mouth, the feel of his tongue as he sucks on your clit. Even just the way he looks, eyes closed and brows pulling upwards, is overwhelming. He moves his face side to side slowly, smearing you across his face, before he looks at you with low lidded eyes.
The knot in your stomach tightens and you begin to swelter. Your face grows hot, lightheadedness flooding the space between your ears as you’re worked closer and closer to your high. You gasp, reaching to run a hand over his buzzed hair.
He reaches up behind his head and knots his fingers with yours at either of your sides. You squirm against him, desperate as you build higher and higher. Satori groans lightly as you choke out a light warning, trying your best to not sound as broken as you feel. He nods, lapping at your cunt with a flat tongue until you feel you are fit to burst. Your chest heaves, your head spins, you begin to peak and then, Satori stops.
Your voice catches in your throat. It’s a feeble, pitiful sound that catches and tapers into a low whine. You buck your hips forward, legs feeling like white-hot sandbags as your climax slips steadily away from you.
Satori tilts his head at you, giving a wry grin. His signature smile is coated in you and his mouth and chin glistens in a way that feels incredibly vulgar. You tremble lightly as he wipes his face with the back of his arm and sits back on his heels. You watch the heave of his chest, lean muscle shifting underneath pleasantly warm skin. Starry freckles dot pleasantly across his chest and you briefly wonder where on earth he got them.
As the frustration wanes, you find yourself wanting to be closer to him, desperate to build your high back up.
“I kind of liked that reaction,” he drones lightly, leaning over you as you beckon him.
“You’re such an asshole,” you breathe out, catching his mouth with yours.
He hums into it, lips curling as he kisses you softly.
“Uh oh,” he says against your mouth, “am I on your bad side now?”
“Yeah,” you respond, reaching down between you both to run your hand lightly over the bulge in his boxers, “the worst of it.”
Your response is absent-minded and quiet, not retaining your usually snarky attitude. Right now, the only thing you’re thinking about are the points of contact between you and Satori. There’s only touch.
Satori doesn’t respond, instead letting his head hang between you both as you reach under his waistband and wrap your hands around him for the first time. He’s long and not particularly thick and you drag your hand up the length of him just to test his size. Satori’s so hard that you think it must hurt him, his tip wet with precum.
He shudders over you, his shoulders tightening as you run your thumb over the tip of him. He’s more sensitive than you would have expected and you tilt your head slightly to watch the way he screws his eyes shut.
He looks so new to you like this. Everything is new. It’s so new, in fact, that you can push aside your own desperation in favor of witnessing it. Though the person is familiar, the situation is not. It makes you feel like a virgin. Well, it makes you feel like a virgin and not a virgin at the same time. You’re having fun just playing with him, running your fingers along the length of him. It’s like getting to show him what you know, all with the butterflies of a virgin.
You suppose he feels the same. Maybe that’s why he’s got his head tilted down, only looking up to give you a strained smile whenever the head of his cock brushes your slick cunt.
There’s so much feeling. That’s the only way you can describe it. There is so much feeling between you both, humming and shifting and pressing against your sternums from the outside, begging to be let in. It’s tangible between the two of you, so present that you think you could grab it with your hand, but neither of you move to take it. Instead, you press closer, letting it sit heavy in the air between your faces.
Satori doesn’t move to push himself inside of you and you don’t move to guide him there. Instead, you let the tip of him press lightly against you, running your fingers up and down it. The tension, made up of your frustration and feelings, balloons until you are certain it will burst. Your lower stomach winds and coils despite how gentle the touches are and desire makes its way into your throat where it sits leaded and heavy.
He groans lightly over you, his hips shaking lightly with how long he’s been holding himself there. You run one hand over the curve of his shoulders, feeling the way the lean muscle shifts as he tenses and untenses.
Finally, he pushes past the tight ring of your cunt with a low whine and you move to wrap your hands around him. The pads of your fingers press into his back, leaving marks in skin that you’ve seen a hundred times over. He trembles over you and your focus is pulled between your legs where you feel the pressure of Satori there. He presses forward until his hips are flush with yours and you’re made breathless by the sticky pressure of his pelvis against yours.
He stays still for a while, tilting his head to the side to catch your mouth. You feel his breath come in quick bursts, but he never moves to fully kiss you, instead brushing his lips against yours as if to draw the desperation from it. You grow antsier by the moment, pushed to frustration quickly by the stillness of his hips and the distance of his mouth from you. When a low whine escapes your mouth, Satori smiles silently and flicks his hips forward once.
You tip your head back and Satori chases your mouth, finally kissing you lightly as he starts to rock back and forth.
He finds a slow rhythm. It’s deep and overwhelming, each thrust pushing deep into you until you feel the press of pressure in your stomach. He doesn’t so much thrust his hips as he does roll them at steady intervals, pressing the tip of himself up and into that gummy spot inside of you.
You’re sticky between the legs. You can feel it each time he pushes into you, dripping from your pussy down to the mattress. Satori smears it with his hips on purpose. You can tell from his expression that he’s enjoying the mess, his familiar face watching for your reactions as he experiments with you.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says through gritted teeth. His hand comes up to brush the side of your cheek.
You don’t know how to answer, cut open by the affection in his voice and the way pleasure sews itself through.
“You’ve always been so pretty,” he says again, bending down to kiss your neck. “But you’re even prettier like this. I don’t want to share it.”
You shiver, “Then don’t.”
Satori hums lightly, dragging his mouth down your chest to take a nipple in his mouth. He speaks around it. “I like the way you sound when you try and talk while I’m fucking you. Talk s’more.”
The sentence is so dirty that it feels like your face is lit on fire, “No.”
“Come on,” he teases, popping your nipple from his mouth and sitting up completely. He hits you deeper like this and you feel him twitch inside of you. “Just a little?”
“Satori,” you whine a little, breathless. “I’m embarrassed.”
“Of what?” He questions, reaching to take your hand and press it to your stomach.
“I don’t know,” you grunt, gasping when he adds pressure to your stomach.
“Of that?” he grins, fucking his hips into you sharply. You can hear the sound of your wetness.
“Yeah,” you gasp, “that.”
“Don’t be,” he mumbles, leaning over you again to speak against your mouth. “It’s really hot.”
Your stomach flips, turning over as the pressure and his words come to a head in the space between your ears. Your cheeks heat and your stomach seems to roll beneath your skin. You’ve heard Tendou say all sorts of things about all sorts of people, but for some reason, the idea that he finds you hot sends you syrupy.
“Satori,” you breathe out, tipping your head back to let him nip again at the sink on your neck.
“Hm?”
“Nothing,” you sigh. “Just wanted to say it.”
“Again,” he says, punctuating his sentence with his hips.
“Satori.”
He groans, laughing a little. “Sounds different when you say it now.”
He’s right. You’ve said his name a million times, but it sounds different now. There’s more intimacy to it, like you’re not just calling to him, but for him. The distinction to you is important and the sharp sound of the syllables leaving your mouth only serve to heighten your desire.
Pressure mounts in your gut like water against a dam. You feel it build there while Satori presses his hips deeper. You repeat his name, embarrassed but calling out for him nonetheless. He obliges every time, meeting your pleas with heavy sighs that give away the closeness of his peak.
“I’m gonna-” you choke, grabbing at his shoulders.
“Yeah, baby,” he breathes, “me too. Whenever you’re ready, okay?”
You nod, meeting your high with a dizzy head. Satori holds you still while your hips buck and your knees buckle beneath him. He follows not long after, spurred on by the press of your thighs around his hips.
It takes a long while to come down. The haziness fades away but even after several long minutes, the glow does not. It sticks you to both like summer heat, inescapable and rich. Satori plays with the small baby hairs by your forehead and you let him, resting your cheek on his sticky chest. You’re not sure of what to say. It’s difficult to orient yourself.
“Shit,” he mutters softly.
“What?” Your stomach drops.
“Nothing,” he says, running a hand down his face. “I think I’ve just got it way worse for you than I thought.”
“Oh,” you say, nodding, letting silence settle over both of you before you break it once again. “I think I love you.”
“Yeah?” he says quietly, lifting his head from the pillow a little.
“Mhm,” you say softly.
Satori presses his smile into the side of your head.
“I’m a little nervous,” you say, laughing quietly.
“Of what?” He grins. “That you’re gonna like me too much?”
You slap his chest lightly, “Definitely not.”
“Harsh,” he laughs a little.
“I’m nervous because what if things don’t work?” you admit quietly. “We’ve known each other for so long, Satori, but what if one day we can’t stand each other? What if in the future we don’t even talk anymore?”
“You trying to jinx it?” he laughs a little.
“No,” you pout.
“Well, look,” he says, lips curling in the corners, “there’s no way in hell I could ever get tired of you and I’d never let you get rid of me. I’ve been haunting you since we were 13 and I don’t really plan to stop.”
“Haunting?” You scoff. “You know, Satori, you’re really fucking weird.”
“That right, baby?”
“Eugh,” you laugh a little. “Gross.”
Satori shrugs.
“I’m still upset you didn’t tell me about France either.”
“I know,” he says a little softer. “I really-”
“You don’t have to defend yourself,” you say. “I think I’m just going to be mad about it for a while. You’ll just have to put up with me.”
“Okay,” his voice sounds small and you turn over onto your stomach and press your forehead to his chest.
“Everything feels so complicated now,” you say softly.
“Hey,” he tilts your chin up. “Do you love me?”
“Yeah,” you answer, fighting the heat rising to your cheeks.
“Good,” he says, giving you a boyish grin. “I love you too. That’s not so complicated, right?”
The words of affection feel strange in the same way new shoes do. They fit, but they’re foreign. You have to orient yourself to the way they make you feel, but the joy of wearing them hums to life in your chest like a stringed instrument. Satori’s lips curl into a cheeky grin and the expression is so familiar that it makes you ache. It’s mischievous, like he’s not quite being serious and if you didn’t know him better, it would make you nervous. But you do know him better. You nod lightly and let his smile infect you the same way it has since you were 13.
The glow remains.
—
Sa-to-ri <3: you ready?
You: ya coming now.
Sa-to-ri <3: kk i’m outside.
Your heart leaps into your chest. It swells there, heavy and affection filled. When you step outside, Satori looks up at you, pressing his palm to the wall behind him and pushing forward in one fluid motion. You watch recognition flash across his face the same way you feel it flash across yours and then, his eyes soften. His lips melt into an affectionate and easy going grin as you approach him.
You fly down the steps, unable to choke back the small laugh bubbling at the back of your throat.
“Satori,” you breathe as he takes you into his arms. You bury your face in the extra fabric of his sweatshirt, inhaling his familiar smell.
“Hi,” he chimes softly. You feel him rest his head on yours then, he sways a little bit.
“I really missed you,” you sigh, unwilling to let go.
“I missed you too,” he laughs a little and you feel his fingers come up to cradle the back of your head.
How long has it been since you’ve seen him? Four months? Maybe five? Since moving to France, he’s come back to visit once for only a few days and though you talk to him on the phone almost every day, it’s not enough. It’s never enough unless he’s here.
When you pull away, he takes your face in both of his hands and looks at you like he’s cataloging everything that’s changed about you since you were separated. His eyes trace the lines of your face and yours do the same to his.
“You got prettier,” he smiles lightly.
“Liar,” you laugh a little.
“Nope.”
Satori leans forward and places his mouth on yours gently. You suck in a sharp inhale, heart racing against your ribcage. Even a year later, he still makes your heart leap out of your chest. You missed the way he tastes, relieved to finally be able to taste him again.
“You buzzed your hair short again, baldy,” you laugh, reaching up to run your hand over the spiked surface of it.
Satori rolls his eyes, They glide upwards as his head follows the motion of them and then, he scuffs the tip of his shoe against the floor. He’s wearing a pair of worn black high top converse. You’ve seen them many times before in the entryway of his old apartment, but in his time away they’ve become so well worn that they’re gray in certain areas.
Tendou gives you a wry smile. It’s a ghost across his face as he narrows his eyes a bit in a familiar way. “Easier to manage this way at school.”
“Mm, I bet. You sure you’re not just losing hair?” You tease.
“Even if I were, I think you’d date me anyway.”
“You got me,” you laugh, turning to walk down the street with him.
Satori’s fingers automatically tangle with yours. You feel his knuckles slide past your own, the tips of his fingers cool but his palm warm and wide. Your mind runs at a mile a minute and you realize that you have no idea what to say to him. Right now, his familiarity and your longing for it are overwhelming. All of your thoughts are abstract and the warm, fuzzy feelings are unplaceable. They live in your throat.
Instead of talking, you look over at him. The hair he’s just recently buzzed again highlights the delightful round shape of his head and you think it suits him. He looks clean and trimmed, something unusual for Satori, but you don’t find yourself missing his shoulder length hair. Instead, you like this metamorphosed version of him, somehow grown from the man he was when he left. You resist the urge to reach up and run your hand over the top of it again.
It’s nearly 9pm and, as usual, the sidewalk is littered with people on their way home or out with friends. Girls pass Tendou in the street with little glances. They peek to the side as he walks past them, admiring the sway in his step and the alluring way he slouches forward the way they always have. These same girls giggle into their mouths the same way they always do. It’s easier to see now that you know how to feel about him, that Tendou is attractive. He’s always been that way, but now, as these girls whisper about you being his girlfriend, you find yourself giddy to be able to say that you are.
You take stock of him beside you. He’s long and lean, staring ahead at the building just beyond the sidewalk in its seemingly endless stretch into the sky. His eyes slink back and forth between the screens illuminating the street with ads and every now and then, his gaze will stop on one he finds interesting and he will squeeze your hand. You watch him through the corner of your eye until you have to look away.
The walk to the ramen shop is longer from your apartment than Tendou’s old one, but it’s familiar. You’ve not been back there since Tendou first moved to France last September. Still, each step that you take feels so natural that you could do it blind.
When you reach the familiar ramen shop by Tendou’s old apartment, you notice that the blue curtains in front of the door have been replaced. The kanji is cleaner now and the bottom isn’t fraying quite the same way it used to. Tendou still holds them to the side for you, unlacing your fingers and ducking through the doorway after you. When you walk in, you find that now there are two ramen chefs behind the counter. The old chef, the one you grew up with, is toward the back of the bar and in front is a young man with features like his.
You settle evenly into the bar, smiling softly at Tendou when he looks at you. When the old ramen chef sees you, the corners of his eyes crinkle in a welcoming smile.
“It’s been a long time since you two have been here! What’s been keeping you away?” he exclaims, placing his hands on the bar. “The same usual orders?”
“Oh, this and that,” Satori hums. “I moved to France and they hate coming here alone.”
“That so?” The chef smiles.
You both nod and Tendou slips into an easygoing rapport with the man, leaning his chin onto his hand as he talks. You watch the way the muscles in his arm flex and the way the corners of his mouth curl into a smile, sinking quickly into the comfort of the space.
“You two together yet?” The chef glances between the both of you.
Satori leans back lightly, looking sideways at you before he shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t offer a verbal answer and you find yourself following suit in his shrug.
“Yup, we’re in love,” you say, leaning forward and fighting the heat that rises to your cheeks.
The chef waits for your subsequent denial but when it never comes, he smiles knowingly and pats the counter softly. He doesn’t offer his usual chiding remark. There’s no reason to anymore and instead he turns to fix your bowls. The soup will take 8 minutes to prepare. You have 8 minutes to sit here with Tendou and ask him everything you want to ask before you both become inevitably engrossed in your meals the way you always have. Tendou no longer adopts that signature spacey look he would have at times like these.
“How’s Paris?” you ask.
Tendou’s eyes slink along his lower water line and he turns his head—still resting on his cheek—to look at you. “It’s good. Kinda cold. Make sure you bring lots of jackets.”
You nod and think back to your apartment, filled with boxes that will be moved out and shipped ahead to Tendou’s Parisian apartment. All of your things, your life, are packed into those boxes. Scores of memories and matter, evidence of the years spent with him, neatly organized to be transplanted somewhere else. The apartment itself doesn’t matter much though, your home, you’ve found, is wherever he is.
“Yeah? How’s school?” You lean forward to be closer to him.
“Really good,” he sighs a little. “I’m really happy. Gonna be happier when you’re out there to see me graduate though.”
“I’ll be there to see the other stuff too, like when you open your own shop.”
“Mhm,” he laughs a little. “Did I send you the picture of the new place I was thinking of?”
You shake your head a little. “Not yet, show me now.”
Satori gives you an excited grin before he pulls out his phone to show you. The tab is already open on his phone, like he’d been staring at it only moments earlier and daydreaming about his future there. It’s on a street corner with big glass windows. The space looks empty from the photos, already cleared out and ready for him to move in.
You can just barely see past the clear glass door into the cozy space inside. In fact, it looks to be only a little larger than the ramen shop you’re in now.
“It’s got an apartment upstairs,” he says, a little quieter now. “I was thinking we could tour it once you get out there. I’ve already put in an application.”
You bite back a giddy smile, the prospect of living with him becoming more real as he talks to you about it. There are several things you’re grateful for since you started seeing him, though perhaps one of your favorites is his continued openness with his wants and feelings. Even this small conversation makes you feel loved in a way that you have trouble describing. It’s so full that you have trouble swallowing it.
“‘Course, you’ll stay with me in my old apartment till it’s all squared away,” he smiles a little. “I’ve got enough room, though it might be a little tight.”
“I hope so,” you laugh a little, rolling your eyes. “I’m really relieved.”
“Relieved? Why?” He gives you a small laugh. “You like being that close to me?”
You shrug a little, rolling your eyes at his gentle tease. “I was worried you’d get out there and realize everything was wrong… or something.”
“Weird of you, but okay,” he laughs a little, playing with your hand on the table.
“Though you’d really be fine anywhere,” you laugh a little. “I think you’re just that kind of person, Satori.”
“Only if you’re in my corner,” he says, giving you a sly grin. You shove his arm at the cheesy remark. Despite dating for a little over a year now, things like that catch you off guard. After all, in hindsight, being with him like this was the next natural step, you’d just been too stubborn to see it.
It’s been a long while since the two of you have spoken in person and you soak him up like sunshine. He seeps into your skin through proximity alone. The distance made you nervous at first. Though you’ve gotten over the initial lie that separated and then brought you together, for some reason there was still some part of you that felt that when Satori left for Paris, he was leaving forever. You know now that that feeling was just your affection for him, but it doesn’t make the relief any less sweet.
You can recall the teary-eyed confession he made like it was yesterday. The image of him with his hands at his side, asking if you loved him is burned into your brain. If you could go back, you don’t think you would change a thing. Your only regret was not being able to formulate those vague feelings which became so overpowering earlier. If you’d known earlier, you’d have been able to have loved him longer. You’d have been able to consciously love him the way you do now, the way you think you always have. Loving Satori comes easily, like breathing, up until that summer you’d just been too young and dumb to see it, your head underwater. It’s only been a little over a year, but hindsight is 20/20.
When silence falls over the two of you, you lean close and let him scroll through the pictures from his time in France. You’re so deeply content. You’re so prepared to move to be near him, so ready to take that next leap and follow where he goes. It’s a secure feeling, one that grounds you in the moment.
The chef places two bowls in front of you and Satori perks up, sliding his phone away and moving to crack garlic into his soup. He hands you the chili oil, remembering how you like yours and you smile warmly when his eyes meet yours. If you could, you’d kiss him right now just for remembering. The smell of ramen wafts up in thick clouds of steam, hitting your face with warm and heavy moisture as you lean over it and inhale.
“It’s none of my business but,” the chef says, clearing his throat a little, “you both have been coming here for a long time and I think you’ve grown into fine young people. Take care of each other.”
You’re too emotional to find the words, but the chef looks at you with something of a fond stare. He’s known you both long enough to understand to some degree how long it’s taken to get where you are. You stare with a childlike wonder, unable to say anything to this man who created the space you found so inviting through your adolescence, but Satori finds the words easily.
“It’ll be my privilege,” he smiles, the corners of his mouth turning.
It’s such a simple statement, but it’s definitive and somewhat serious for Tendou. It implies longevity, the kind that lasts a lifetime. He sounds so certain of himself that you find yourself nodding firmly beside him, heat rushing to your cheeks.
“Eat up, kids,” the chef smiles, glancing between you both and patting the counter with a smile.
Tendou thanks him and you stare at the noodles in your bowl, feeling oddly introspective. What you’re feeling now is not quite elation, nor is it indifference. The best you could describe it is as a hopeful nostalgia. Beside you, Tendou begins to slurp at his noodles and when you glance sideways at him, he meets you in the middle. You can’t help but mirror him when he smiles around his chopsticks.
You eat your ramen through idle conversation. Tendou talks about his future shop and you talk about the job you’ve managed to secure overseas with your previous experience from the company you’ve worked at the past year. You both have stable jobs now and it’s strange to talk about your future together as if it has already arrived.
Suddenly, you are in your third year again, discussing futures that have long passed after an evening practice. Satori is in his volleyball sweater, concealing a sweat-drenched uniform, and you are wearing your skirt with sweatpants underneath it. That’s what this feels like. You’re no longer in the in-between. There is no precarious balance between past and present. There is only future. There’s only the future that you’re living in and the one you’ve both begun to make with each other. The in-between, that space between adulthood and adolescence where present and future find their middle ground, is finally beyond you. Though you can sit here and glance behind to recall all of those little choices, you’re here now, already arrived at the place where all of it has always led you.
Two people, two collections of memories, each winding and twisting in their own individual ways. They’re what makes you both, the decisions that have brought you to this inevitable finish and this endless beginning. You remember the choice to say yes and it is with a nostalgic fondness that you realize, in all of your future glory, that there are more choices to come.
In this little ramen shop where your past meets your future, you and Tendou Satori, the boy you’ve known since 13, in the after.
#tendou x reader#tendou satori x reader#tendou x reader smut#tendou satori smut#tendou smut#satori x reader#[ 📕 – writing ]#WAAAGHHH OKAY TEE HEE IM FINALLY POSTING SOMETHING NEW LOLL
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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}
Part 10.
Summary: The last few days of the year at Oxford! Celebrations to be had, but also you contemplate what may come next for Oliver once the semester ends. Meanwhile, in a brief moment of downtime, you try and discuss Felix's weirdness from before exam season, but he can and will try and seduce you instead of having a real adult conversation. But unfortunately he may have had a point, because that real, adult conversation fucking sucks.
{ masterpost }
Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.
Warnings: discussions of oliver's father dying, discussions of jealousy
A/N: 5623 words. wrote this directly after finishing ch 9. and then was like, what if i edited this. which means the ending of this chapter is COMPLETELY different to what it was originally, and is a bit of a downer. but we need conflict, you know? and sometimes its genuinely hard to have these adult conversations at like 21 years old. emotions and such. also there's a wizard hat. half edited then i completely rewrote the ending and that's absolutely unedited. how are we feeling about leaving oxford finally????
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
----
It's always a big deal when the first years finish all of their exams and get their final results. Or, well, the rest of the students make a big deal about it. You're not sure who started the tradition, or how long ago, but it's a tradition you hold dear to your heart nevertheless. The first year of university is nothing if not overwhelming, survival of it was to be celebrated.
Last year the cheering crowd of your more senior students had made you feel like you had conquered the world. This year, you were bursting at the seams with excitement to be able to share in the tradition from the other side, especially since there were several first years in particular you wanted to celebrate with.
Everything about the tradition seemed tailor made for your brand of joy. It's bright bits of costuming and ticker tape canons, balloons and medals for the undoubtably exhausted first years. Clustered together by the main doors of the examination school, you and your friends press yourselves against the barriers that had been put up to give all the first years enough space. Still, front and centre, many of you, yourself and Felix included, had been handed medallions to give to first years, while the rest were all still clutching each other and giggling with excitement, reminiscing about how loved you'd all felt at this time last year, seeing everyone cheering for all you'd accomplished.
For the past few days since your exams had finished, those in your group particularly committed to the bit, you and Felix among them, naturally, had been frequenting as many of the local charity and party shops in town. Each of you were desperately searching for delightfully garish garments and props to wear and share.
The moment Felix had spotted the sparkly, pink cowboy hat on a mannequin, paired with a violently lavender feather boa, he'd clung to them like his life depended on him owning them, hearts in his eyes, absolutely refusing to let them go. On the other hand, the sailor hat for Ollie was your idea; something more understated for a man more understated than either Felix or yourself. While Felix wanted to protest, wanted to give him something a little more flashy, you thankfully got him to compromise by allowing him to pick your accessories. Which is how you ended up with a hot pink, bedazzled 'Mother Of The Bride' sash.
And a blue, pointy wizard hat.
Anticipation grew in the gathered crowd, all chatter and smiles and giggling as you waited for the doors to open. In amongst the growing noise, you turn the medal over in your fingers, gazing at it with pride, excited to be able to be the one to give it to one of your closest friends. You still have your own from last year, usually pinned above your desk, but right now in a box ready to be taken back to Saltburn for the Summer.
The moment you all heard the tell-tale creak of those large, wooden doors, the cheering began, and you're glad to be pulled from your thoughts and back into the moment. It grew into a cacophony, a roar of joy and delight as the ticker tape canons went off and the first years streamed out in a river of excitement.
Farleigh's always cut a defined figure in any crowd he's in, considering his height, but you'd also given him the heads up to look out for the blue wizard hat to find you. At first you saw him scanning the crowd, but it takes him barely a second to find you. He lights up, eyes fixed on your stupid hat, and he breaks away from the pack at a full sprint. He doesn't even let you give him his medal at first, he's laughing at the top of his lungs, reaching all the way over the barrier to pull you into a hug, almost dragging you over the railing. There's nothing to be said, only a joy that has gone beyond words.
"You're a wizard!" He finally manages amid laughter as he lets you go, leaning back to hold you at arm's length, taking in your whole outfit, "and," his head tips in further confusion, "mother of the bride?"
"And you're a first year graduate," you grinned, "do you want your medal, or do you have more important follow up comments about my outfit?"
"I several have follow up comments but- oh my god," his eyes go wide and he suddenly seems a little breathless, like it's only just properly hit him "I finished a whole year," there's a genuine quality to his voice that's not often heard from Farleigh; still half laughing, but it's almost disbelieving, full of hope without any hint of irony, "not, like, just a week, or a semester; a whole year. A whole year at Oxford University." Lowering his head, he finally lets you put the medal on him.
For a long few moments he holds it out in front of him with pride and joy in his eyes; a precious, rare sight for you to behold. Then, very suddenly, he grabbed your face, bringing you close with this intense, shocked look in his eyes.
"I topped three of my Lit exams," he hissed with actual disbelief, almost making it sound like a scandal, "I took a hit before my Modernism final and spent nine pages arguing that Trainspotting was Allen Ginsberg's Howl for the postmodern audience. I don't even know if I believe that. How was that the best essay they saw?"
"Farleigh," you chuckled, "you might actually just be very good at this." You gave his cheek a fond pet, but after a moment, a hand reached over to tug at Farleigh's shoulder, breaking your stalemate.
"Congratulations, mate!" It's Felix, all smiles, unsurprisingly, "why've you got that look in your eyes?"
"He took one of his exams stoned and still topped the class," you grinned slyly, before your gaze fell on Oliver. As if sensing this, Farleigh slid over to give Felix a proper hug and congratulations, leaving space in front of you for Oliver to step in with a shy grin. You tug on his sailor hat with a fond smile and he turns even redder.
"Congratulations, Oliver Quick."
"Thank you," his gaze flicks up for a moment, stifling a giggle, "wizard."
Puffing out your chest as you mock-straightened your pink sash you hold your nose in the air.
"And what of it?" You put on a faux serious voice. Oliver has to duck his head to hide how much he's laughing at the bit. Once you let it go and deflate, you do then gesture for him to come close, wrapping your arms around him.
"Proud of you, Ollie," you murmur, giving him a tight squeeze.
"Don't know if I could have done it without you and Felix," he admits softly.
"Of course you could have," you assure him with warmth as the two of you begin to pull away. Oliver's eyes meet yours, blue and intense and that same familiar searching that you're so used to by now that it's something of a comfort. For just a moment, you want to reach out, to touch him, to hold onto his gentle expression and this moment in your own two hands. You wonder if he can see it in your eyes too, can see you repressing that urge.
"Wouldn't have been half as good," with the smallest of smiles, just edging on knowing, neither his expression nor his tone gives away enough for you to know exactly what he could be meaning or referring to, if anything beyond general companionship. So you play it off, you let anything you might be holding onto, anything that might be too much for such a public forum, pass.
"Of course," you say loudly, blithely, tucking your arm in Felix's beside you to get his attention, "we're wonderful company!"
"What's this?" Felix turns, eyebrows raised as he looks between yourself and an amused Oliver.
"Just saying that Oliver's year is better for having met us," you say simply, airily.
"Without a doubt!" Felix agrees without any kind of hesitation. Farleigh rolls his eyes, but is laughing as he calls both you and Felix incredibly vain.
As the excitement begins to die down and everyone begins to filter out, your group begins to meander towards the road that leads off campus, with yourself, Felix, and Oliver trailing behind.
"What's next? I mean, what's the plan now? I know there's a thing tomorrow, but -" Oliver's tentative again, quiet and meek again, acting like he's on the back foot again.
"Step one," Felix begins matter-of-factly, "pub; celebrate; get shitfaced." You see Oliver glance dubiously at your foot-high, velvet wizard hat once more. He's been doing it a lot. You can't lie, you've gotten very attached to your stupid look for the day and do plan to keep it all night.
"Even with that?"
"I'm gonna die in this hat I've decided," you say easily, to which both boys snicker at your assertiveness on the subject. But soon enough, Oliver raises another question.
"And- and tomorrow, that's the- I heard there was an end of year gala," he hesitates as you and Felix both automatically confirm. It did not seem to soothe any of Oliver's nerves and he finally brought up, "It's black tie; I have a black tie - bow tie, actually - but I don't really have anything else that'll match the theme -" he babbles awkwardly, looking all kinds of mousey and small with his head bent like that, hands fingers twisting together in anxious shapes. Both you and Felix are quiet, stuck in thought, and it takes you closing your eyes for a few seconds, trusting your arm in Felix's to keep you on the right path, before it hits you.
"Walters of Oxford," you open your eyes, "on Turl street, I think," you pause for a beat, reconsidering, "maybe double check that." Squinting for a moment, you try and recall, "ten minute walk, I think? Depending on your route, I guess. Not far is the point." But when you look over at your companions, both are frowning at you, something incredulous in their eyes. "To... hire a suit," you explain almost sheepishly under their respective gazes.
"How did you do that?" Oliver asks softly.
"Why did you know that?" Felix adds, bewildered.
"Isn't it handy to know the best place to get good suits and expert repairs done?" You shrugged a little helplessly. However, as you let your gaze drift, you find yourself recalling something India had said about you always needing to be a step ahead, to always have contingencies in place so Felix need not ever be inconvenienced for too long. Whatever; you push the thought and India's past negative tone from your mind, telling yourself it's good information to have anyhow.
"Anyways, I was also looking into good places for suit hires, in case the worst happened, and wouldn't you know it, Walters does that too."
"I'll- I guess I'll head there tomorrow morning," Oliver says awkwardly.
Felix drops your arm for a moment, wrapping his arm around Oliver's shoulders, bringing him in close.
"I look forward to see you in a suit, Ollie," there was no mistaking the flirty tone he was using, and from the glimpse of Ollie's face that you could see around him, he was turning red under Felix's praise, "handsome man like you all done up," he trailed off, ruffling Oliver's hair before he let go, cheeky smile on his face and bounce in his step. He has to be aware of Oliver's nervous, starry-eyed gaze locked upon him, but Felix just strikes up a conversation with you, enquiring if you would be going in a suit or a dress.
"I'm going in a wizard's hat." You declared.
"I love this bit; you aren't even drunk yet!" Everything you do is worth it if it means Felix will look at you like this, with delight shining in his eyes and in his words.
The night - what you can remember of it - is phenomenal. Benji calls you Archmage of the Bride and it's the only thing anyone refers to you as for the rest of the night, everyone else loudly correcting anyone who gets it wrong. Aside from that, everyone is babbling and bright and so enthusiastic about the gala the following night and what they'll be wearing.
Oliver is quiet, tucked in between you and Felix, nursing his pints longer than anyone else. Felix's arm is around him, as it always seemed to be, and as the night goes on, more and more you get the urge to tip your head and rest it against Oliver's for several long moments at a time.
But there's something different about tonight. Oliver doesn't reach out to you, even subtly. His thigh against yours is forced proximity, but his hands are always on his drink and his ankles are crossed beneath the table. Whenever he looks away, you start to notice that it's not at you; Felix seems to hold his attention more than anyone else, but on any other night, that wouldn't really surprise you. You want to ask what's wrong, but by the time you realise something is, you're not sure you're even capable of stringing two coherent words together.
You think back on what he'd said on the way to the pub, his voice small and nervous.
What's next?
You ponder as you leave the pub with several others in the group, thinking hard. Had he meant more than just the immediate? Your next was Saltburn, Oliver's next was... ah. Junkie mum and no dad.
Someone sticks a finger in your ear. Immediately you jump and clutch protectively at your hat -
"Fuck off 'm wizard!"
"I'm seeing if I can feel your thoughts, they look serious," Farleigh, somehow more sober than you, is still cackling. Your drunk mind doesn't like that he's laughing at you, even if it's an objectively funny situation, and you spend the rest of the short walk stomping and pouting, with Farleigh laughing and calling you ridiculous the entire time.
You awaken on the second last day of living on the Oxford University campus for your second year, with an absolutely killer headache. You don't remember getting back into your dorm, but apparently your drunken self was kind enough to steal an entire pitcher from the common area and fill it literally to the brim with water. Far less had spilled on your bed side table than you'd anticipated.
What you do remember, however, is the numerous thoughts you'd had about Oliver. Both last night, and over the past few weeks. As you take some painkillers and drink water out of the pitcher, you gaze across your room to few newspapers you've had sitting under a pile of textbooks since the second week of exams.
It's almost midday. Taking the papers, you pack yourself a bag of whatever you'd need to get ready for the gala on top of your little project, and pull your garment bag from your wardrobe. Swinging past the on-campus café, you pick up arguably too much food for you and Felix to share before the event, then heading to his dorm.
"Get fucked," Felix shouts through the door, muffled probably by his pillow, when you knock.
"Felix, open up!"
"No! What time is it?"
"Midday!"
"Fucking midday?!"
From behind you, one of the doors flies open and one of Felix's scowling dormmates spits for you to shut up or fuck off.
"Grow up or eat shit; it's the afternoon," you flip him off with a scowl. The door slams shut. Immediately you turn and kick Felix's door. When he opens it, he does not look happy. In return, you smile sweetly at him, thanking him with the most saccharine tone you can manage.
"Brought us food," you offer, as if trying to placate him, but instead Felix pointedly falls face first upon his bed, pulling his pillow over his head in defiance. Just glad to be finally let in, you potter around his room quietly, carefully avoiding his boxes of already packed belongings.
Putting all the food on the table, you start on some of it yourself as you keep working almost silently. You hang your garment bag up next to his, put your nice shoes by his door, put all your accessories and other things you needed to get read in their own, distinct pile on his dresser before you settle yourself in his desk chair, pulling out one of the newspapers and carefully going through it.
The Liverpool Echo.
Your eyes flick briefly over the articles, not really paying any of them much real attention, at least not until you got to the obituaries. These you scoured. Names and faces and dates and sweet words about caring, loving people who you neither knew nor cared for. No Quicks. Next paper.
It takes you quite some time; you're thorough and you'd gotten quite a few day's worth from around the time Oliver had found out the news about his father in case it had been reported earlier or perhaps a few days later. Prescot didn't have it's own newspaper, but the lady at the news agency you'd phoned to order them assured you that the Liverpool Echo was received by the people of Prescot too.
"Are you reading the paper?" Felix's voice actually makes you jump, having so engrossed yourself in your reading, forgetting he was still there. Looking at the clock, then at him, you see him still looking groggy, but more bemused than anything. Then, after a beat, he looks to the pile of ones you'd already gone through on the floor by your feet.
"Food's cold," you told him, going back to your reading.
"Why are you reading the paper?" Propping himself up, he begins to stretch and finally, properly wake up for the day.
"Been thinking about Ollie," you tell him with a distracted air, folding up the paper in your hands after a minute more of poring over it, adding it your growing pile despondently. Thankfully, instead of making a snide comment, Felix yawns, asking you what exactly you'd been thinking.
"I know he said he's fine, but his dad still passed," you said softly, gazing at the small stack you're still yet to read, but feeling no urge to pick any more up, "and he hasn't been home, and when he gets home, I don't know..." you sighed, sitting back and looking at the ceiling, a kind of ache in your heart that you hadn't expected, "I wanted to try and find his obituary, to see if anyone said any nice things about him, but I'm not having any luck."
"I don't think he was the kind of man who had obituaries written about him," Felix tells you with a kind of resignation, "but I get that it's one of our last days," he extrapolates, voicing your intentions as easily as if he could read your mind, "and you want to try and give him a nice moment, to show that people care about him, before we, you know, fuck off for a month and a half and leave him."
"Grim, when you put it like that," you hummed, "but yeah, essentially." Felix made a noise of sombre agreement.
Finally, however, he rose from his bed, slowly meandering over to the desk and picking through the food you'd brought. For a long few moments he idly flicks through the few papers you had left on his desk, carelessly shoving each over as he doesn't even open them.
"What about that rock thing my family does?" Mouth half full of a sandwich and leaving the papers alone, his curiosity over them apparently sated, Felix sits himself on the floor by his bed, knees drawn up to his chest as he contemplates, "doesn't have to be all that serious, can be just about saying goodbye and letting go. Closure and shit, you know?" He swallows, looking at you with bright eyes, as if waiting for you to validate his idea, "like we did with my dog when I was a kid."
"That's actually a very sweet idea; I think he'd love that coming from you," you slowly begin to smile as you turn the idea over in your mind. Felix, however, wears a look like he's almost confused, but you can't begin to imagine what until he opens his mouth -
"What do you mean 'coming from me'?" Despite his apparent vague distaste for your wording, you can't help but laugh, rolling your eyes.
"Ollie would love the idea of lighting a bag of shite on fire on his mother's doorstep if the suggestion came from you; I'm saying it's a lovely idea, and he's very fond of you, it'll mean a lot to him."
Quiet filters in with the sunlight. You watch Felix, Felix watches himself pick at his nails.
"Very fond of you too," it's completely and totally neutral. It's also a fucking loaded statement if you've ever heard one come out of Felix's mouth.
"Felix." When he hears the warning notes in your voice, you know he pretends not to.
Reaching over to his bedside table, the unnecessary arc of his arm has him catching the light, muscles lean and taught with his effort to not otherwise move. Heat of the day had already begun to infiltrate the room, but this angle and the light makes the beading sweat along his skin glow; he's always been able to take advantage of a hot day in a way you've never seen of anyone else. Felix, of course, knows exactly what he's doing. Felix learned long ago how to perform at the drop of a hat; no-one was better at objectifying him than he was if he wanted to, "don't do that," you mutter, knowing that even you weren't immune to the way he could manipulate people's eyes upon him.
"What?" It's too innocent to be anywhere near truthful. You see the edge of a smirk before it disappears behind a cigarette and his sudden, aloof façade.
"We haven't talked about what happened," you tried, you really did, "we swept it under the rug for Ollie's sake, and then we had exams, and we -"
Felix lights his lighter, head angled so he can look up at you through his lashes, so his hair falls and curls and turns gold in the flickers of the lighter's faint fire. For another second he holds your gaze, confusing and teasing all in one; like he adores you, but like it's a challenge. Then he moves again, poses again. One leg up, one leg stretched out in front of him, cigarette resting so lazily between the fingers of the hand that he rests on his thigh, plays a staccato beat with his fingers against his bare skin. Nudity was never taboo between you, so why were you losing your train of thought over Felix in his boxers, a sight you'd seen arguably a hundred times before.
Looking anywhere else on him doesn't do you any favours, the beautiful body you've marked and called yours - jealousy, right, that's -
But his head tips back, falling back against his bed as smoke rings rise from his lips and the column of his throat is caught by the light. When his tongue darts out to wet his lips, you catch only the briefest flash but he knows you can fill in the rest, knows you see the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows.
"You know we need to talk, otherwise you wouldn't be doing this."
"Doing what?" He shifts, legs spreading a little wider, and when he looks at you, he's wearing that smile you've seem him turn on countless girls before, teasing, flirting, look in his eyes like he's getting high of of the very idea of you. Lips quirking into a cocky smile, he raises his cigarette to his lips, watching you with an almost lazy kind of arousal. Like every girl he's looked at like this knows they could get him in bed without even trying, without even knowing they were being seduced, "something wrong, love?"
And it's fucking working.
"Fuck, Fi," you have to close your eyes, putting your head in your hands. He laughs and it sounds like fucking syrup, all teasing and warmth, but you can't fucking do this right now; "are you trying to get me in bed just because you don't want to talk about the fact that you were obviously jealous of Oliver?"
This silence is far more bitter, as is Felix's tone when he finally speaks.
"What would I have to be jealous of?" Sounding like a man in denial.
"That Oliver is good to me without needing you as an audience," you push the heels of your palms against your eyes, words and thoughts escaping you that you didn't even realise you had. The next breath you takes shakes. Audibly. Felix clears his throat, but he doesn't seem to know what to say. Now that you've said it out loud, you can feel your face beginning to heat up, tears stinging your tightly closed eyes, the way you begin to tremble.
"I know," you start slowly, carefully thinking about your words this time as you say them, "that you love me, Fi," it's gentle, reassuring, but frustrated nonetheless, face still in your hands. But your breath still shakes as you try and keep it level, "so I think part of you is- is scared that if I find someone who could love me," even the thought of your next words sit bitter and heavy on your tongue, so you have to take a deep breath, try and centre yourself, "without you," you pause, swallowing hard, feeling traitorous tears escaping you, "that I might realise I prefer- prefer that, or something," here is where you start to break, where your voice cracks and you can't keep your hands against your eyes so all you can do is hang your head and hope he doesn't see your tears, "but you've spent all your time assuming, and pouting, and thinking badly of a good friend, and you haven't even asked me!"
Finally, Felix speaks, his voice weak; he sounds moments away from tears.
"I made you cry."
You hadn't even realised how far beyond Oliver this went, how tightly you'd been holding onto this, these thoughts and feelings, keeping them coiled in your chest, until just now. Hearing his words, your crying finally becomes audible, even to you, even if you hadn't meant it to. Today was meant to celebrate, not... this.
"I don't-" he voice catches in his throat, and you hear him sniffle softly, "I don't know if I can ask you that." He admits. Finally, when you look up, you see his expression carefully neutral, looking over his shoulder with both his knees drawn up to his chest. God he can't even look at you.
You know Felix Catton too well; he is terrified.
In the moments that follow, you slowly pull yourself together. You dry your eyes, and nod, while trying to school your expression into something lighter.
"Okay, Fi," you tell him, and try to make sure he knows you're being sincere, "it's, um," you sniffle as you try and smile, "it's a loaded question, I know."
When he bites his bottom lip as subtly as he can manage, you know its to try and keep it from wobbling. There's guilt written all over his face as he watches you move around his room. He doesn't get up, doesn't move, just watches and listens.
"I'm -" you take a deep breath, looking around the room and forcing a smile, "I think I'm going to get ready for tonight with Farleigh, is that alright?"
"Yeah, 'course," he says, as if on autopilot. After a beat, as you collect up your things, Felix finally looks around his room, at the boxes and the things you'd brought with you. Suits, matching and side by side in his closet, bought alongside a third in the set for Farleigh that you know he'd be wearing tonight too. You take it out, lay it over a taped-up box full of his books, ready to go, and finish collecting up your accessories.
"You should talk to Ollie," you tell him, double checking your bag, unsure of how you were managing to act like everything was suddenly okay. Felix nods, watching you once more, gaze a little glassy, far away and looking almost lost, almost guilty again. Part of you is desperate to stay, to comfort him. But as much as he may want it, it's not what he needs in this moment.
"Fi, are you listening to me?" You asked, firmer this time, and he seems to surface from whatever thought's he'd been stuck in, giving you a faraway smile as he nods; it's almost believable, "I know you care about Ollie," you say warmly but firmly, "please talk to him," wetting your lips, you deliberate on your way to the door, picking up your garment bag, "be good to him; Ollie's the only audience that matters there."
"Does this change..." Felix is looking at the floor when you finally make it to his door, "us?"
"Are you still jealous of Ollie?" You try to make it sound joking, since you were pretty sure of the answer, though Felix shakes his head with a frown.
"No, 'course not," he mutters, almost as if to himself, but he doesn't seem to have finished his thoughts on the matter, so you give him a moment; "I've been an asshole, haven't I?" He finally mutters looking out across his room, "a right asshole to someone who's only ever tried to be a bloody good friend to me."
"You kind of have," you agreed easily, and Felix finally looks at you again, the slightest furrow in his brow. There's nothing particularly, prominently beautiful or posed about Felix in this moment; he'd dropped the pretense long ago.
Looking at him now, looking up at you with those helpless eyes, all folded up and far smaller than he usually appeared, all you can remember is the kid afraid of scary movies and his sister's Goosebumps books, who'd stayed up late with you when you'd cried your eyes out in your first year of Secondary school when your parents missed your birthday again, who never let you forget how much he loved you, even for a moment, since you'd met. Your best friend. Always.
"I wish you'd just trust how much I love you too, Fi," voice and expression softening. Slowly, Felix stands, makes his way over to you, wrapping you up in a hug.
"I do, and I will better next time," he mumbles faintly, apologetically, "'m sorry."
There's something melancholy about still parting ways, even after his apology, but both of you seem to know that it's for the best.
Farleigh is glad for your company, and you do a good enough job of appearing alright that he doesn't seem to pick up on the strange mood you can't otherwise shake. Still, you're quiet, Farleigh talking enough for the both of you in between a range of CD mixtapes he'd put together for his own enjoyment.
On your way into the gala itself, you're ahead of Farleigh by a few paces, eager to get in and get yourself a drink, but you brush past Oliver, waiting, looking, as always, out of place. When you tell him he looks lovely, you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, and barely stay, while you hear Farleigh, behind you, taking his time with antagonising your poor friend.
Felix is leaving the event as you're arriving. He almost crashes into you, bottle of champagne clearly stolen from one of the tables, in one hand as he's running from the venue.
"Hey, hi," despite both your best efforts, there is still clearly some discomfort in the air between you. Felix's eyes roam over you, almost out of habit, but there's an appreciative look in his eyes as he meets your gaze once more, "I think, I, uh, I'm going to skip this one and hang out with Ollie," almost like he's trying to invite you. But after everything, this can't be something you do; this isn't your tradition, this isn't your moment to share with Oliver. He'll never get it.
He's Felix Catton; he's the sun.
"He's going to enjoy that so much more than hanging around here," you smile brightly. Felix looks a little surprised, a little put out that you had apparently not picked up on his offer, or that you had and had decided to decline.
"Yeah, I- I thought so," he almost seems a little stunned by how cold this interaction was between you, compared to the usual, boisterous comradery you shared.
"Have a good night, Fi," finally, you kiss his cheek and slip into the entrance hall of the gala building, weaving through beautifully dressed students to find your gaggle of friends for the night. Throughout the night, you get asked where Felix is, and you shrug with a blithe smile every time.
My Felix <3: i invited ollie to spend summer with us
Tomorrow you would be okay.
Tonight, however, you planned to dance with your friends, drink enough that you either stop feeling so weird in your damn brain, or feel perhaps even worse, and probably end up crying.
Tomorrow everything would be okay again.
#felix catton x reader x oliver quick#saltburn x reader#saltburn imagine#felix catton x reader#felix catton imagine#oliver quick x reader#felix catton x y/n#felix catton x you#oliver quick imagine#oliver quick x you#oliver quick x y/n#head heart hand fic#manic writer
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Bi-Han x Fem!Reader - Arranged Marriage HCS (Part I)
A/N: Oh boy... hello ... it's been a while ...... 3 months to be exact. Ive been super busy these past few months with college and work so im sorry i've been mia... heres my apology! its a bit long so this will have two parts, anyways enjoy!!!
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(In this AU Bi han never betrayed his brothers and their father lived longer and died of natural causes, Tomas and Kuai are still in the Lin Kuei)
Background: You're part of another clan who's been rivals with the Lin Kuei for years, the current grandmaster (bi hans dad) has grown tired of the decades long feud and has proposed the two clans come to an understanding, as the grandmaster believes an alliance could be beneficial to both clans. The grandmaster of the rival clan (your father) has surprisingly agreed, on the condition that the alliance be formed via a marital ceremony. His eldest (you) and the lin kueis eldest (bi han) are to be married in order to make the alliance official and, in theory, make the bond of the two clans stronger. Bi han doesn't agree and believes this feud would've been solved by simply beating the rival clan into submission, but he follows his father's decisions if he is to be the next grandmaster.
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The events following the proposal:
- The first few days after the alliance was proposed, Bi-han was angry. How could his father even consider the possibility of allying with the enemy? It enraged him to no end.
- He spent days training harder, letting his emotions get the better of him. His brothers advised him that it was for the clan's benefit to have the 'enemy-turned-ally' in their good graces, but he was having none of it.
- After a week, his father called him and his brothers to his office. When Bi-han saw the rival clan's grandmaster sitting in the room, idly discussing plans with his father, he almost throttled him. He was stopped by Kuai Liang, who advised him that would NOT be a good idea considering the current circumstances.
- He begrudgingly sat in the meeting, and talked with his father and the others about the alliance, mostly discussing the potential military power, the disclosure of information, strategic planning, etc. But one thing that Bi-han was not interested in whatsoever was the arranged marriage.
- When the topic was brought up, Bi-han instinctively tuned it out, having absolutely no interest in the discussion. Bi-han settled with tolerating the alliance for now, so he saw no purpose in divulging the means to it.
- Of course however, it was the grandmaster's daughter after all, his "pride and joy" as he would call you, so he proposed that the two meet prior to the wedding. He said it would be good for them to "get to know each other". But Bi-han couldn't care less about you, to him you were just a means to an end, nothing more.
- After the meeting was over and everyone left, Bi-han stayed behind with his father. He argued there was no point in meeting you, and that if he was to care about this alliance at all, his father would grant him at least that; blissful ignorance of your existence. But his father didn't budge, he just regurgitated the words of his newfound "friend", that it would be good for him.
The day of the meeting:
- Bi-han would rather be doing anything else right now. Hell, he would rather be helping Tomàs train than be here right now; that's how horrible this felt to him.
- Kuai Liang had managed to convince him to meet you by reminding him of how proud their mother would be. A little manipulative? Sure, but it worked; so here Bi-han was, waiting for you to arrive in the front garden of the Lin Kuei estate.
- He sat on a bench and donned a beautiful blue and white traditional hanfu, hand-sewn by his mother. He played with the hem of his sleeves, slightly annoyed by your tardiness and (even though he will never admit it) he was a bit nervous.
- He heard the gates open and stood up, making his way to the entrance. That's when he saw you.
- Truthfully, Bi-han was never a "ladies man" as Kuai Liang would crudely say. He was just never interested in the pursuit of a relationship, he was more focused on his training. That meant he was never 'exposed' to a lot of women, and the act of interacting with them. As pathetic as it sounds, the only woman he constantly interacted with was his mother.
- After her passing, he completely closed himself off, having absolutely no interest in a relationship, even now. The only reason he's even here right now is because of the alliance. If it were up to Bi-han . . . well let's just be thankful it isn't.
- When he laid his eyes on you, it felt like being hit a bus. As prideful and arrogant as he was, he could not deny your beauty. For a moment he even questioned if you were really that grandmaster's daughter.
- It was weird, it was technically Bi-han's first time feeling like this, so naturally he hated it.
- He would've preferred that you were ugly, so that it wouldn't be so distracting to have you around, but no, you had to be the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. He hates this and he hates you.
- When you approached him, you looked up to look him straight in the eyes as you mouthed something to him. Bi-han didn't hear you and he didn't know if it was because he didn't care or if he was still taking you in.
- The whole conversation was awkward, if you could even call it a conversation. Bi-han offered to show you around the estate, but he wouldn't even look at you, much less talk to you.
- If you asked him something, he would always try to answer with a simple yes or no and he would never properly look you in the eyes; you picked up on this quite early on, which made you go quiet the rest of the tour.
- Safe to say the first meeting was an absolute disaster.
(1/2)
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A/N: okayy! part 1 is done, im tired its been so long since ive even THOUGHT about mk1 so sorry if im a little rusty... anyways tomorrow i post part 2 and hopefully ill get back to a nice rhythm.
#mortal kombat#mk1#fanfic#bi han sub zero#mk1 2023#bi han x reader#foryou#afab reader#sub zero#bi han x you#smoke mk#scorpion mortal kombat#subzero mk1#headcanon#arranged marriage#bi han is whipped#writers block#female reader#lin kuei
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Block Out the Noise
pairing: harry styles x female reader
summary: sometimes you just need to listen to your song and love on your boyfriend to make the negative thoughts go away
warnings: mention of past abuse, talks of depression and suicidal thoughts, potentially triggering(?!) very soft and caring harry<3
a/n: i wanted to write something about matilda because it’s a song that I hold so close to my heart. from growing up in an abusive home and needing to take care of my brother from age 6 and up, when i heard matilda i knew it would be a song i’d cherish forever. this is a fic i hold close to my heart because i was that scared and small little girl who didn’t understand why i got anger taken out on me and why i had bruises when other kids didn’t. you’re not alone, you’ve got me in your corner and your stronger than you know, i hope my inner child knows that too<3
No one asks to be born into a world of chaos and fear, especially not when you’re a child. Wondering why your parents fought, the screaming matches, the subtle bruises you somehow ended up with because you ‘stood in the way.’ As a child you never knew what went wrong or what you did to be treated this way but you still tried your hardest regardless of the war zone you once called home.
you were riding your bike to the sound of its no big deal, and you’re trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels..
You taught yourself to read, to cook, to take care of yourself and your siblings. Going as far as to teach yourself to ride a bike and even drive, you raised yourself in a world where you wished you hadn’t needed to do that. When you got to high school the insults from your father got worse, the insecurity creeped in and you struggled with self worth and self harm.
nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming til now..
Then came college where you worked three jobs to pay your tuition and fought tooth and nail to get the best grades and work your absolute hardest to get your degree which you did all on your own. Mental illness and recovery was never linear and you battled some of your darkest days throughout college and even towards graduation when you met Harry.
so you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal
Harry was your world, he was the calm through the storm, the light that helped guide you through the tough times, he truly was your best friend. You’d been together now going on 5 years with no plans of ever separating from one another. He always told you that you provided just as much safety and comfort to him as he could to you.
you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up
-
Now you were 26 and worked at your dream job, your life was filled with so much love and so much joy sometimes you found yourself needing to take a step back and just breathe, reminding yourself your life was real. Of course you had your rough days, and after the meeting and scolding you’d gotten today, all you wanted was to get home and see Harry.
matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright, but I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside
When Harry had started working on the album, he’d told you he was writing one very special song he couldn’t wait to share with you. So on the day that he sat you down and let you listen to Matilda, by the second line you were looking over at him with tears in your eyes, bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly and he was quick to pull you into his chest.
You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days
When you arrived home you dropped your work things by the front closet, kicking your heels off and dropping your shoulders in exhaustion. Harry wasn’t home yet so you allowed yourself a few minutes to get some water, your headphones and settle on the couch with a fluffy blanket.
it’s none of my business but it’s just been on my mind
On natural instinct almost, you allowed the soft melody of matilda to play through your headphones, eyes closing as you sunk into the cushions. It wasn’t as if you were trying to cower from the overwhelming feelings you had in this moment, but more or less trying to let them flow and escape from your mind
you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up
You hadn’t even noticed the tears steadily falling down your cheeks, your breathing picking up slightly as you pulled the blanket up further, attempting to wrap yourself in more warmth. It wasn’t until you felt gentle fingertips dancing across your face that you opened your eyes, Harry looking at you in concern. Pausing the song you pulled your headphones off and sent him a soft smile
“Hey m’love…”
“Hi”
Lifting the blanket up you let him cuddle in next to you, the instant comfort you felt just from being wrapped up in his arms was enough to blow the stress and pain from the day away
“You okay y/n?”
Nodding you leaned further into him
“Just had a really bad day…got yelled at and it just made me think of old stuff and I don’t know…f-felt a bit sad”
Harry placed a soft kiss against your temple
“I’m sorry today was so tough, I know it was probably hard to remember what it was like growing up too..can’t blame you for feeling upset”
His hands ran up and down your arm softly, the constant touch helping to keep you grounded and in the present moment.
“You know what I think?”
Looking up at him you furrowed your brows
“What?”
Placing a kiss on your lips he smiled
“I think you are the most beautiful soul, inside and out. Despite everything you’re still here, fighting and working hard day in and day out. You don’t ever have to feel sorry or feel bad about doing everything you’ve done on your own, and allowing yourself to love and experience love despite it all”
“H…”
He was quick to swipe a tear from your cheek before continuing
“I love you so much, you’re my now and my future. Seeing you grow and flourish into the woman you are today has been a privilege to witness and support you through. I admire you so much m’baby, you’ve never let anyone dim your light and m’so lucky to get to love you”
Anything you would have said to him in this moment was caught in your throat, so wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight was enough for him in the moment. Harry was the moon and the stars to you, he was your whole universe and he’d been helping you heal since you’d been together. You’d done the hardest work on this journey, he had just been there to support and love you through it so he says.
“I love you so much H, thank you for letting me start a new family”
“I’ll always be your family, you’re safe with me my darling, always”
Matilda was a song that would forever have its hold on you, and it was even more special knowing Harry had wrote it thinking of you, including you in his album and one of his projects he really loved. The love he’d shown you and continues to show you had only helped you come out of your shell and finally feel as if you’d found your place and purpose in this world.
Harry was your home, just as you were his.
a/n if you or someone you know is struggling with abuse please reach out to someone you know, whether it be a friend, family member or adult you trust. I’d only wished i’d done so earlier, i’m here to help and support you guys in anyway I can. You are loved, you are cherished and you are worth it.
#harry styles#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x female reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles angst#harry styles x reader#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles x girlfriend reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfic rec#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fanfiction#rueswrites#ruesanswers#ruesanons<3#ruesasks#ruesfriends💙
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Buck doesn't even question it when he pulls up to Eddie's house instead of his own apartment block. He has the go-ahead to return to work, but for some reason, the relieved joy he'd expected has been buried under a confusing mudslide of emotions that make his head hurt if he looks at them too closely.
He tells himself he's at Eddie's because he's returning the favour, paying him back for last year when Eddie had showed up on his doorstep with a six pack, a grin and his transfer back to the 118 paperwork.
Buck doesn't have a six pack, or a grin, or a vague date for his return because he hadn't even told Bobby about his cardiologist appointment today for fear of the news awaiting him.
But he knocks on Eddie's door anyway because he may be just Buck, but that's enough. Its always been enough at the Diaz house, and maybe that's what he should be appreciating after everything.
The smile Eddie gives him when the door cracks open is enough to ease most of the tightness in his chest. He remembers a similar smile two nights ago, the way it had blossomed so softly on Eddie's face, how it had lit up his eyes and rosied the apples of his cheeks.
Yeah, he's enough here.
"Dr Salazar told me to ask you how her diagnosis of repression was holding up," Buck says, pushing past Eddie, eager for the warmth of the living room. "She told me you'd know what that meant."
"You really need to learn to say hello," Eddie grumbles good-naturedly as Buck drops onto the couch with a blissful sigh. Buck cranes his head in time to watch Eddie's face do something complicated. "Wait, what'd she say?"
"She asked how her repression diagnosis was going," Buck sounds out slowly.
"Motherfucker," Eddie hisses to himself. Buck watches rapt as his cheeks fill with colour.
"Yeah, do I get to know what that means?"
Eddie meets his eyes, and Buck wonders if she was a bit too hasty in her dismissal of him because his heart does something worrying in his chest at the dizzying intensity of emotion on Eddie's face.
"Not yet," he murmurs. It sounds like a promise.
Buck swallows past the lump in his throat.
"Wait, you had an appointment today?" Eddie drops onto the coffee table in front of him, a beautiful concern simmering in his eyes. Buck flushes at the attention. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Buck nods, "I am more than okay. In fact, I'm so okay that I am free to return to work whenever I please."
"Okay..." Eddie squints at him. "Why do I feel like you're about to make our quitting the 118 score two-one?"
"I'm not quitting the 118," Buck sighs. "Not again."
"But?" Eddie prods gently.
"But," Buck drags a hand down his face, "I don't know if I'm quite ready to come back yet." He thinks he must be imagining the slight sag of Eddie's shoulders, can't help but wonder if its disappointment or relief if he wasn't imagining it.
"Its a big step after something like this," Eddie concedes.
"After your shoulder, you got cleared with Frank one day, and had a return to work date the next."
"Yeah, and we all remember how that turned out," Eddie snorts.
"Fair enough."
"Its natural to take a bit of time when you aren't ignoring absolutely every warning sign your body is sending you," Eddie tells him. "Bobby will hold your place for you, you know that. Hell, he'd hold it for a decade if he had to. And I might be a bit bummed without my partner around, but I'll live if its so he can take care of himself." Eddie's voice is unbearably soft in a way that makes Buck's skin crawl, its been doing that a lot around Eddie since he woke up. "Besides, I'm sure he'll be drinking my beer and crashing on my couch most nights anyway." Rolling his eyes, Buck huffs a laugh.
"It just feels weird, you know?" He shrugs a shoulder. "After my leg, I fought so hard to get back."
"Yeah, I remember," Eddie says dryly.
"Shut up." Buck shakes his head. "I fought so hard to come back and now I'm being told I can and I just..."
"It feels too easy?"
"Yeah."
"Buck, you're so used to fighting." Eddie shuffles a little closer, and Buck does his best not to flinch at the spark that jolts through him when their knees knock together. "For everything. Ever since you were a kid, you were fighting for everything everyone else just had handed to them. Its hard to shake off a lifelong habit." Eddie tilts his head to catch Buck's eye, he was unaware they'd wandered away from Eddie's determined face. "But last time was different. You know that. You were different."
And Buck knows what he means. That Buck seems so drastically different to the Buck he is now, whatever software update he's at. The Buck who tied his worth to firefighting, who had no identity outside of it, who felt like he was always one step away from being left behind.
But he's also not convinced he's all that different. Firefighting is still his life. He has maybe one or two friends outside of the 118 family. And, yes, he knows that they're a family now, knows that not one of them would leave him behind. The past week has been proof of that. But who is he outside of the firehouse?
"I don't think I really know who I am when I'm not fighting fires," Buck whispers to the carpet.
It feels a lot like a shock of lightning when Eddie uses his pointer finger to nudge Buck's chin up.
"You're Buck," Eddie nods, conviction dripping from him.
And that's enough?
"You're an amazing firefighter, yes," Eddie's hand is still on his chin. "But you're an even better brother to Maddie and Hen and Chim. You're an incredible uncle to an incredible niece. You're the best of friends. You're Christopher's..." Here, Eddie pauses. Buck's heart thumps. "You're Christopher's," Eddie says decisively. "But more than all of that, you're Buck. And maybe that's all you need to be."
Buck grits his teeth when the familiar sting of tears has him squeezing his eyes shut. He takes a few steadying breaths, the ones the lung specialist had taught him when he could finally keep his eyes open for more than ten minutes. With every expansion of his lungs, it feels like his heart grows a little bigger too.
The bravery hits him out of nowhere.
"To Maddie, Hen and Chim, huh?" he asks, meeting Eddie's eyes. "What am I to you, Eddie?"
"Not yet," Eddie says softly. "Not just yet."
And Buck thinks he doesn't mind waiting for this answer.
#sami rambles#i just wanted to write about dr salazar because she's the loml#but then it spiralled as my writing always does#911 spoilers#911 show#911 fox#911 fic#911 fanfic#evan buckley#eddie diaz#buddie#buck x eddie#buddie fic#buddie fanfic#buck x eddie fic#buck x eddie fanfic
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Burgess didn't summon Dream of the Endless in human form, he called to the Eldritch manifestation -- the "monster" with no human form and tentacles, that drives men crazy to look upon it.
Everything, human & animal, in the Burgess manse died the night of the summoning. Everyone in town or some miles from the actual house that didn’t die when Dream initally manifest went crazy. And unfortunately, Dream was trapped and couldn't free himself from Fawlty Rigg. The land and the house became a haunted and derelict, crumbling, with the Eldritch Dream trapped.
The crazy spread through the surrounding area slowly, but inexorably. With Dream forgotten, with his humanoid shape unknown,,,,,with the "story" of haunted land growing.
Hob, working on his first degree, on old architecture with haunted pasts goes to investigate for his thesis. Hob is old 😏 and has found that while most places, structures, have interesting histories, they are very rarely haunted.
Hob heard about the area around Fawlty Rigg being cursed, and certainly it was fodder for tales (Lovecraft's The Color Out of Space seemingly based on the area was published 30-ish years ago). But Hob has yet to find a place that drove him mad.
When he gets there a flock of ravens seem to be watching him - so at least animals are back?!? And creepy. Hob is only there for a few days when he thinks he hears his name being whispered on the air from the basement?? (a basement he hasn't been able to get into yet.) And every time he goes out to his car, there was a raven sitting on it,,,,,and today it spoke his name. So maybe this place is driving him crazy.
Jessamy: Hob Gadling! Thank dreaming. You can save Lord Morpheus!
Hob: I can save who now?
The raven tells him that his centennial stranger is trapped,,,,in the basement of this crumbling building. And that his presence has weaponized dreams and nightmares for the people in the surrounding area, driving every one mad! Hob as one of the only people who remembers, knows, Lord Morpheus's humanoid form, might be the only one who can help Jessamy's king back to himself.
Oooh this is a really interesting concept. Imagine what it's like for Hob as he goes through the crumbling house, into the basement, surrounded by the crushing feeling that something is just wrong in the air. Hob has felt a lot of weird stuff in his life but this is something else.
The thing contained in glass sphere is a squirming, pulsing, writhing. It's absolutely terrifying, and Hob nearly turns tail and runs. But at this point in his life he's not the type of man to just leave any kind creature locked up in a cage. He does as Jessamy told him, wipes away the paint around the sphere... and covers his eyes.
The sphere explodes, and Hob’s brain nearly explodes too. His consciousness is overwhelmed by an extreme burst of power. His nose is bleeding and he's still seeing terrible images in his brain when the explosion dies down and he manages to pry open his eyes.
There's his centennial stranger, sitting in the middle of the broken glass with sand seeming to pour around him. His eyes are glowing faintly and he's just looking at Hob.
And Hob isn't sure if he's gone mad like the rest of the people in the area, but he stumbles across the basement and scoops his stranger up in his arms, away from the glass. He's muttering that it's gonna be ok, and his stranger is clinging onto his and still leaking sand... its horrible. But Hob has never felt such pure joy in his heart.
He'd love to know what the hell he's holding in his arms! He's fascinated and, lets be real, kind of turned on by the idea of his stranger's power. He could swear that Jessamy winks at him on the way to the car.
Hob’s life just got hella fuckin weird... but hes going to do whatever it takes to nurse his stranger back to his natural self. However much sand he gets in the car.
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heyy, would you be able to write a fluffy rhea x reader one shot please?
one where reader and rhea have been dating for a little bit and reader has a kid (like 1 year old or something), but rhea doesn’t know yet. reader has a conversation with rhea and confesses and rhea is shocked, but asks to meet them. as soon as she meets the baby, rhea falls in love with him/her and adores the baby so much and grows to love him/her like her own. and just make it like really fluffy please?
it’s okay if no ☺️
I don't know a lot about kids so please bear with me, and apologies for taking forever. Please enjoy ❤
Words: 2,336
I was so nervous I could've thrown up.
Rhea and I had been going out for a few months now and she was coming back tomorrow after having not seen her for over two weeks.
And since we've already been going out for a couple of months, I figured it was either now or never with telling her about my daughter, Celia.
She was almost two now and my absolute pride and joy. Her father hadn't been in the picture since before she was born but I wasn't nervous telling Rhea about him. Just her. Because if she wants to have me she has to have my daughter too and if she can't deal with that then...
Let's say that my saying I'm nervous is a severe understatement. I was absolutely terrified.
Neither of us had said it yet, but I love Rhea. So much. So if my having a child is a dealbreaker then I don't even know what I'll do.
Tomorrow I'm going to be picking her up from the airport after her last match against Raquel Rodriguez. They're giving her a two-week injury-scripted break after having been in multiple WWE events each week the past few weeks.
We've both been really looking forward to it and had even started planning some stuff for us to do while she was here. Luckily we actually live only one city apart so she doesn't have to get a hotel or stay at my house, just in case anything goes wrong.
Which, I don't think it will but you never know.
I was currently bathing my daughter before bedtime, the worry must've been evident on my face.
"Mama?" Celia spoke up.
Looking down at her I saw her looking up at me, her eyes fixated on my face. There was a little crease of confusion and concern between her brows.
"Yes, my darling?" I questioned her, bending down to give her forehead a kiss as I filled the plastic cup with water again to rinse her hair out.
"Why sad?" She asked innocently, splashing her rubber duck in the water as she played. This duck was Sir Quacks a Lot, who was married to the other Sir Quacks a Lot. They had drama with the Mrs Quacks a Lot and we're currently in an argument about Baby Quacks a Lot.
"Nothing for you to worry that pretty little head over," I grinned, booping the top of her nose, sending her into a fit of giggles and splashes.
After Celia's bath, I dressed her in the fuzzy brown bear onesie I had found for her not too long ago and put her to bed.
Walking back downstairs after making sure Celia was asleep, all the nerves and doubts I had managed to push aside came back and hit me.
I went to go grab a glass of water, noticing that my hand was starting to shake. I decided to just go straight to bed. After all, Rhea was getting in pretty early so I had to be up and get to the airport also super early. At this point, all I could do was hope that she wouldn't leave me.
-Time Skip-
Waiting at the terminal Rhea would be coming out of with a bouquet of flowers was nerve-wracking as hell. She had texted me the estimated time they were supposed to land but it's never exact so I didn't actually know when she would arrive.
After a little over half an hour, I finally saw her plane land and make its way to the little hallway between the plane and the airport. Another twenty minutes later I saw her. For the first time in over two weeks, we were in the same place at the same time, together.
My breath caught in my throat as I watched her look around for me, our eyes finally meeting from across the room.
I watched as her gorgeous face lit up and she started to make a beeline for me.
Momentarily forgetting my nervousness I grinned and stepped forward to meet her in the middle as we collided into a tight hug.
"Hey, beautiful," I spoke, my voice thickening with emotion.
I felt Rhea release a deep sigh of relief against me before she responded, "Hey, baby."
"I missed you," I croaked into her neck, shoving my face into her and breathing her scent in.
"I missed you too," She replied as she stroked my hair with one hand and my lower back with the other.
Pulling myself away from her I just stood there and stared at her face for a second before speaking, "Let's go home, yeah?"
She nodded and grabbed my hand as we started to walk towards the luggage claim to pick up her suitcase.
"So, are those for me? Or..." Rhea playfully questioned me, trailing off at the end as she gestured to my hand holding her flowers.
"Oh!" I exclaimed. I had completely forgotten about them in my excitement of having her here with me again.
"Yes, they're for you, sorry," I apologized, blushing deeply. She chuckled and took them from me, smelling them before kissing my temple.
"They're beautiful, Love. Just like you," She smirked at me causing me to blush yet again.
I ducked my head down to hide the blush as I grinned widely and giggled.
We made idle talk as we walked to the luggage claim and then grabbed her luggage before making our way to my car.
Getting in the car my previous nervousness hit me again in full force. Pausing to just rest my hands on the steering wheel and take a breather I could feel Rhea turn to me in concern, "What's wrong?"
She was giving me an opening, it was now or never.
"I have something I need to tell you." Slowly I pulled my gaze from the dash of my car to her eyes. Her brows were furrowed in concern and her mouth was pulled into a frown.
"Is everything okay?" She asked sort of hesitantly.
I nodded quickly, "Yeah, it's just...something I haven't told you yet that I probably should have."
Rhea nodded in encouragement for me to continue.
I took a deep breath. "I have a kid."
Silence.
"What?"
"I have a daughter. Her name is Celia. She'll be two in October." I whispered into the quiet, too scared of her reaction to be any louder.
She looked lost in thought for the next few minutes, slumping back against the seat.
"I'm sorry for not telling you but I could never find the right time and-"
Rhea cut me off, "Hold on. Just, stop."
I shut my mouth, terrified out of my mind of what she was going to say next.
"I just need a second to process this."
"Yeah, no I understand. It's a lot to take in." I quietly replied, chewing on my bottom lip.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered. She sounded choked up and on the verge of tears which made me start crying.
"Because I thought you would leave and I was scared." I sobbed, covering my face with my hands as if to conceal the tears.
"No, no no no no no." Rhea clamored, reaching for me over the console. "I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." She tried to reassure me, smiling softly. "I could never leave my best girl hangin'."
I giggled at the reference to one of my favorite movies ever and wiped my eyes and nose with the back of my sleeve.
"C-can I meet her?" Rhea asked hesitantly, "It's okay if not I completely under-" I leaned over the console and kissed her, effectively shutting her up.
"Of course, you can meet her. She's actually been asking for quite some time now when she gets to meet 'Ree-Ree'." I laughed, recounting the many times she asked for another bedtime story about "Mama's friend".
Rhea beamed and kissed my cheek, reassuring me once again that she was okay with me having a child. We'd be having a more in-depth talk about it later on but right now it was time for them to meet.
We pulled up to my house almost half an hour later, where my sister was watching Celia while I was out.
Getting out of the car, I grabbed Rhea's luggage for her before she even had a chance to grab it and walked up to the door with my keys. Taking a deep breath I unlocked the door, pushing it open before standing aside for Rhea to walk in first.
She nodded in thanks as she walked through, looking around and taking in her surroundings. My house was a bit more on the unconventional side, being a maximalist and all.
"Zoey?" I yelled into the house to find her after closing the door behind us. "Kitchen!"
I rolled Rhea's suitcase against the wall a little ways away from the door and motioned for her to put her backpack there as well before following me.
I made my way to the kitchen with Rhea following idly behind, still taking in my house. As soon as I laid eyes on my daughter in her booster seat I smiled and made a beeline for her, making "monster" grabby-hands.
She squealed with delight, grinning madly all the while as I unbuckled her and picked her up above my head, blowing raspberries on her exposed stomach making her squirm and giggle.
Bringing her down to rest on my hip I kissed the top of her head as she buried it into my neck. I turned around when I remembered that we weren't alone.
Zoey, my sister, and Rhea were standing next to each other, both watching the two of us with a smile on their face. I side-hugged Zeoy hello before introducing them to each other.
"It's so nice to finally meet you! I've heard so many things about you and Y/n even made me get into wrestling." Zoey exclaimed excitedly, making Rhea laugh. "I've heard a lot about you as well so it's great to meet you too."
"Well, I better get going I have to run some errands before I get home to let the dogs out." Zoey excused herself, grabbing her bag before making her way back over to me.
"Bye-bye CeCe." She cooed, tickling her neck before giving her forehead a kiss. "I'll see you later, sis," She gave me another side hug.
"Rhea, it was lovely meeting you, maybe we can all get together soon while you're here? Oh! We could do a double date with you two and me and my partner!" She excitedly exclaimed.
"Totally! That sounds great, we'll definitely have to get together. I can't wait!" Rhea replied enthusiastically. Zoey gave Rhea a quick hug before bounding out the door, leaving us alone with my daughter.
Rhea slowly walked up to us, I could read the nervousness on her face.
"CeCe, this is mama's friend Rhea, remember?" I spoke gently to Celia. She lifted her head from my neck and looked at Rhea with her big beautiful eyes. I could see Rhea's initial hesitation melt away as they locked eyes.
"Hello there, little one." Rhea greeted her softly, waggling her fingers at her like how she does when she's in character.
Celia must have recognized either her name or her picture because she then started to bounce in my arms as she giggled and held out her arms to Rhea to hold her.
"You wanna hold her?" I asked her, shifting my hold a bit on CeCe.
"Um, I-I don't know. I'm not really sure how I should hold her." Rhea stammered.
"Just like this," I replied, gesturing goofily to how she rested on my hip.
"O-okay," She half-smiled nervously, grabbing Celia under her arms and hefting her gently onto her hip. Celia giggled and wiggled around the whole time, putting her hands on Rhea's face and patting them around.
"Sorry, she likes to do that," I apologized embarrassed.
"It's all good," Rhea laughed, gently removing Celia's hands from her face.
Grinning at my two favorite girls I made an offer they couldn't refuse. "How about y'all go and play while I go and make some breakfast yeah?"
"Yes!" Celia squealed, squirming enough that Rhea put her down. "That sounds great, Love." Rhea chuckled.
Celia raised her arm near where Rhea's hand rested, asking for her to hold her hand. Rhea grabbed a hold of her hand and was immediately pulled away towards the direction of the living room. Rhea shot me a look of panic before disappearing from my view making me laugh.
I put on some music and began making breakfast as Rhea and Celia played in the living room.
After I finished making breakfast I set the table as well, wanting a nice fancy breakfast for Rhea's coming home and first time at my house.
I made my way to the living room to get the two of them to come eat but stopped short in the doorway when I saw them.
Rhea sat on the floor crisscrossed in front of Celia with a tiny plastic crown on her head, a pink plastic teacup in one hand, and a giant plastic dinosaur in the other.
Celia stood in front of her also wearing a tiny plastic crown on her head but I could see that Rhea had given her one of her necklaces to wear as she poured the two of them cups of tea.
I smiled as I watched Rhea play pretend with her, not wanting to interfere with the adorableness. Just seeing Rhea wearing her scary full black outfit with dark jewelry and makeup wearing a tiny pink crown was enough to make me fall madly in love right then and there. And I think I did.
"I hate to interrupt, but breakfast is ready," I spoke up, finally announcing my presence.
Celia bounded over to me, holding out the end of Rhea's necklace she was wearing to me. "Look what 'ea gave me!"
"Wow! What a lucky girl you are! Let's go wash up for breakfast though, yeah?" I picked her up and set her on my hip as I turned to look at Rhea who was blushing furiously.
Grinning at her I playfully asked what was the matter.
"Didn't know you were there," Rhea mumbled, reaching up to pull the crown off.
"Leave it, I like it," I smirked as I turned on my heel to make my way back to the kitchen. I think this could work.
#rhea ripley#rhea ripley x reader#the judgement day#the judgement day x reader#tjd x reader#wwe x reader#wwe#wwe raw
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Just Once a Year / Pedro Pascal x Reader
Sequel out now: Maybe Twice a Year
The grand ballroom was alive with the shimmering glow of chandeliers, an ethereal scene that provided a backdrop for the most prestigious awards ceremony of the year. This was the first time Pedro was being nominated and he was nominated for not 1, not 2, but 3 awards. As a first timer, he has broken records for this achievement - and yet what should be a night pure of celebration and joy for him is tinged with sorrow.
He found himself seated in a sea of Hollywood's elite, his heart a complex interplay of anticipation and trepidation. The vacant chair beside him was a stark reminder of the impending arrival of his ex-girlfriend.
Pedro's fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh as he waited for the inevitable moment. He stole glances at the entrance, his chest tightening with each passing second. And then, there you were - radiant as ever in a gown that shimmered like stardust, hair cascading down your back. A small part of him felt relieved that you didn’t appear with your new rumoured beau, but had taken your brother as your plus one instead.
Your eyes met briefly, a connection that carried years of memories and emotions, before you turned away, gaze drifting toward the stage. Pedro's heart raced, and he fumbled with his cufflinks, trying to mask his turmoil with a composed facade.
"Hey Pedro," your voice, warm but cautious, pulled him from his thoughts. "It's been a while."
Pedro's lips curved into a polite smile, one that concealed the storm of emotions raging within him. "Yeah, quite a while."
As the awards ceremony unfolded, a symphony of applause and cheers filled the air, a stark contrast to the uneasy silence that hung between Pedro and you. You exchanged pleasantries about the weather, your recent projects, and the industry's ever-shifting landscape, all while the ghosts of your shared past danced beneath your words.
“How is it we’re talking about the fucking weather when I know what you look like at 2am when you’re too anxious to sleep?” Pedro thought to himself silently.
"You look absolutely stunning tonight," Pedro ventured instead, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness.
A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "Thank you. You look handsome as always. And God I can’t believe I forgot to say this already but congrats on everything. You’ve been in some amazing stuff lately.”
He chuckled softly, his gaze fixed intently on you. "Thank you. So have you,” he replied but he was finding it hard to produce words in his mouth when all he kept thinking about was that you had been keeping up with his projects and had seen his shows. He wondered if you liked them. He wondered if you were proud of him.
The nominees for each category were announced, and the room brimmed with palpable tension. Pedro's name was called, and he graciously accepted the award, his gaze briefly locking with yours as he did. The applause that followed felt distant, as though they were enveloped in a world of their own making. He didn’t know if it was appropriate to hug you before he went to get his award, although he dreamt of this moment his whole life. For you to be the first one he embraced when he finally made a name for himself - it’s all he’s ever wanted. But he knows he shouldn’t, so he turns to his sister instead before making his way on the stage.
When he returns you give him a polite congratulations and the show goes on. In a momentary lull between awards, you turned to Pedro, a soft sigh escaping you. "Can I be honest? This.. sucks. I don’t know how to make small talk with you anymore.”
Pedro nodded, a shared understanding passing between the both of you. "I know. I don’t either.”
As the ceremony neared its conclusion, Pedro found himself stealing glances at you. There was something different about you—an air of newfound confidence, a sense of independence that he hadn't seen before. Pride mingled with a touch of melancholy as he realized that both of you had evolved since your tumultuous breakup.
Just before the event drew to a close, you leaned closer to Pedro, your voice a soft whisper in the cacophony of the room. "Congratulations on your award, Pedro. You truly deserve it. More than anyone else in this room."
"Thank you," he replied, his voice holding a tenderness that belied the complexity of the situation.
As you stood to leave, you turned to him, your eyes holding a mosaic of emotions and words left unsaid. "Take care, Pedro."
"You too, sweetheart," he responded, his voice a gentle murmur.
Walking away from each other felt like a symphony of unfinished sentences and unspoken feelings. Pedro couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia, of the love you once shared and the heartache that followed. Yet, an unexpected thought bubbled to the surface of his mind: "I get to see her. At least once a year, I get to see her." It was a sentiment that resonated deeply within him, a small solace that fueled his determination to excel in his craft, to secure nominations, and to continue crossing paths with you in these fleeting moments. You were a brilliant actress and he had no doubt you’d continue climbing your way to the top. He wanted to be there when you did. Even if he didn’t get to be by your side when you did, he’d settle for being in the same room.
As he exited the grand ballroom, Pedro cast a final glance back at you, who stood amidst a constellation of fellow actors and industry luminaries. A surge of pride swelled within him as he watched you shine, your accomplishments standing as a testament to your talent and resilience. In that moment, despite the awkwardness and pain that had punctuated your encounter, Pedro felt a genuine admiration for you—a reminder of how far you both had come and how he’d never stop rooting for you.
He walked away with a heart brimming with emotions, knowing that the annual awards ceremony had become more than just a gathering of stars for him—it was a canvas upon which your shared journey would continue to unfold, inspiring him to strive for greatness and to keep crossing paths with the woman who had once captured his heart. He would settle for watching your life through pictures and screens if it meant he could have this moment with you - once a year.
-
Dedicated to my babycakes: @just-some-random-blogger who co-erced me into writing <3
#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal#pedro x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro x you#pedro pascal x actress!reader#pedro pascal x famous!reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro fic#pedro fanfiction
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What are you hiding from love?| Yandere!Jk x Reader V Last Part
Summary: Being in a relationship with Jungkook you’ve always noticed the signs, the red flags if you will. Being so in love with him you ignored them, until the people you loved dearly started disappearing one by one.
Warnings: Murder, Jungkook victim blaming ( like he will say i killed you because you are too stupid or whatever), Possessiveness, Mentions of Smut, Controlling, Locking up YN.
Taglist: vante 🫶🏾
A/N: This is made to be scary! That is all. I honestly dont like mixing smut with yandere because i read yandere fics to be spooked not horny lol. This has been absolutely fun to write for you guys! Im so happy how much love it had gotten over the past month since ive been writing it! I love you all so so much! Enjoy!
Its been about two years since Jungkook decided to let yn go on her own! So far, yn has become the owner of the coffee shop, has opened up plenty of them across Asia and plans to open some in The Untied States.
Life has been looking absolutely beautiful for yn! But heres the thing.
Bodies have been discovered. Fresh bodies. Of course going through what she went through with Jungkook, she feared that this was his doing. That the so called hobby has now reached the news channels. Though it says that the crimes has been in only England, it was still capability of it being Jungkook.
“Yn! Are you even listening? Im telling you Namjoon wants to take you on a date!” Joy, yns now close friend that she has gained from opening the coffee shops.
“Sorry, but i dont think im ready to date. The last guy was for 5 years and it didn’t turn out well in the end.” Yn mumbled looking over at the tv that was on the crime scene of the killings.
But what was showed, made yns blood run cold.
What was at the crime scene was dandelions.
The flowers that Jungkook always used to gift her on days he felt like we did something wrong. He would cut the steam off and just leave the flowers to never be able to grow again.
Was he…back?
It was closing time and of course yn being the owner, she decided that it was her duty to close every single night.
But tonight, she couldnt shake the feeling that she was being watched.
As everyone was leaving she saw a guy with a big hoodie on taking his time to clean up his mess on the table. Putting his crumbs inside a napkin then taking the napkin and closing it tightly then throwing it out.
yn watched from behind the counter taking containers from the counter and putting them on the shelf behind her.
This mysterious guy has been coming in everyday. Same time. She never serves him but she knows Joy does and she hates serving him. ‘His glare, it can kill.’ She would say when describing the eyes of this mysterious man.
While cleaning she saw the guy get up and come up to the counter.
Face mask on and glasses… sun glasses.
Its night time.
Maybe it was a fashion statement. Thats what yn left it as. “ Hi sorry we are about to close soon so im gonna have to ask you to leave..” is what she was aiming to say but once she turned around she saw he just left a napkin with hand writing on it.
She grabbed it and began to read it:
“Hi baby! Oh its been such a long time, oh how i miss you. Our child also misses you. 2 years right? That is let you go? Ah, I remember something. Today is our anniversary! Our now 7 year anniversary. Im picking you up at 11! Be ready!
JJK,”
Yn was at this point shaking. Fear took over her body but was trying to hide it. She wasnt doing such a good job at that. As much as she wanted to call the cops, get him arrested, she knew that those cops had no chance in trying to get Jungkook.
Hed kill them all in the blink of an if he even knew that they talked to yn.
When yn got home she didnt let the fact go that when she got there she obviously saw Jungkooks car right outside her town house.
Mind you this is the 5th time this year she has moved. None of the reasons dealing with Kook but they definitely where personal reasons.
She braced herself, once she goes inside her home, Jungkook will be inside.
She could call the cops and run away from home then go to Jins house.
Actually now that Yn thought about it, what if Jin had something to do with it? He was always to calm for her liking honestly. Why was he always just so calm with him? I mean he explained it yes, hes seen it for so many years but why didnt he at least call the cops? Then again was the cops really gonna help him?
Entering the home, it felt like deja vu. Coming home on anniversary and Jungkook was cooking their favorite shared dish.
Spaghetti! Yn liked it because it was delicious and Jungkook probably like it because it reminded him of blood.
“My love! You are right on time! The Spaghetti is hot and ready to be platted. Get comfortable and come eat”
He didn’t need to turn around for yn to know that it was actually him. He colored his tattoos, became more swoll and also cut his long hair.
Yn didnt change anything or didnt get comfortable since this was all just too much for her.
‘Keep calm and go with his plan, yn.’ Thats all she kept telling herself.
Though what was his plan? Drug her? Kill her?
Well, none of those. He wanted her back. If that meant living in this house with her, then so be it. Jin had Bam so, they’d have plenty of time together.
Finally he sat down with two plates of spaghetti and there he was in all his glory.
He had the cockiest smirk while toying with his now new lip ring before sitting down across from yn.
“ Fucking finally, i have you again.”
#bts x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook x yn#jeon jungguk#jungkook yandere series#jungkook yandere#yandere bts#yandere!jungkook#hobisstar writes#jungkook ff#jk bts#jeon jk#spooktober
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IRONDAD & SPIDER-SON WHUMP MASTERLIST—PART 1
Last Updated: September 2023
As promised, here is my long overdue Irondad Whump Masterlist! This list took an embarrassing amount of time to compile and over forty pages in my Google Docs (!!!!!).
Due to the sheer amount of fics, I will be posting in parts. Within these posts, each fic will categorized by its most prevalent trope/theme.
I hope the work from these talented contributors brings as much whumpy joy to you as they do to me!
Also, a very special shoutout to my most treasured Irondad authors iron_spider, for_the_night, madasthesea, losingmymindtonight, AdVitemAeternum, MotherKarizma, and so many more! This post is dedicated to you. ♡
Adoption/Tony Stark is Peter Parker’s Biological Father
5 Times Tony Acted Like Peter’s Dad by for_the_night
Summary: “And the one time he actually was."
*Featuring an award evening, nightmares, a father-son field trip, appendicitis, and a very special gift—oh, and SO many forehead kisses.*
Alive and Healing by Watermeloness
Summary: “‘...bank robbery gone wrong in Queens. We’re receiving live footage from the crime site, where a 15-year-old teenager has been severely injured. Witnesses report a young boy getting shot after trying to stop the perpetrators. The last we’ve heard, his state is critical and he’s being rushed to…’
Statistically, there are a lot of 15-year-old teenagers in Queens. The city is filled with 15-year-old teenagers that are all brave in their own ways. This doesn’t have to be their teenager.
But Peter is not picking up his phone.”
Dad Is Just A Word (You Give It Meaning) by madasthesea
Summary: “Father's Day, two years after May dies.
Peter has something special to give and something important to say.”
For Want of a Dad (In Need of a Son) by GhostInTheBAU
Summary: “So, have you given the camping trip any more thought?’ Ned asks, and he groans internally at the change in subject.
He'd much rather go back to talking about his non-existent love life, thanks.
The trip is during spring break—a four-day long trek out into the wilderness, camping and hiking and gathering who even knows what, learning all about nature and the great outdoors.
But the real kicker?
It's an event specifically designed for fathers and their sons, which is something Peter doesn't have, and something he will never be.
Not again."
Or: Peter longs to have a deeper relationship with his mentor, a more meaningful connection; but he's managed to convince himself that the only reason Tony Stark spends any time with him at all is purely because of his enhancement.
Because of Spider-Man.
Homebound by AdVitamAeternam
Summary: “Shortly after Homecoming, Peter starts having panic attacks. Tony happens to have some experience with those.
What do you do when everyone around you has a tendency to die? What do you do when the last person, the most precious, the one you absolutely cannot lose, maybe wants you? Do you give in, or do you run? Do you take what they offer, or do you keep them as far away from the disaster that is your life as you can?”
I Love You More Than Anything Series by iron_spider
Summary: “The highs and lows of Tony unexpectedly becoming a single dad at 31—from Peter’s early baby years, all the way past the defeat of Thanos”
I’ll Always Protect You (Even If You Don’t Want Me To) by JAWorley
Summary: “So much changed with Peter’s body chemistry after the bite that new things are still coming up that surprise him. One day he and Tony are having a fight and Peter is so stressed out he ends up having a seizure. Seizures… great, so that’s a thing now, and Tony has decided that the best thing is for Peter to stop being Spider-Man. The more the seizures happen, the more protective Tony becomes. All Peter wants is to have his life back."
Or: May asks Tony to take joint custody of Peter to help with the Spider-Man thing and this new stress seizure issue. Peter learns that sometimes parents do what’s necessary even if it’s not a popular choice with their kids.
Questions of Science, Science and Progress (Do Not Speak As Loud As My Heart) by l_u_c_k_y_c_l_o_v_e_r
Summary: “I had to find you, tell you I need you. Tell you I set you apart."
Or: Peter stays with Tony for a few weeks, and the pair get into all kinds of shenanigans. And maybe, just maybe, those few weeks will usher in something more.
These Days I’ll Sit On Cornerstones by Finny3120
Summary: “Tony was ill-prepared to find that the vigilante he'd recruited was a 14-year-old boy. He was even less prepared for Peter Parker to be mute. But Peter hasn't spoken since his uncle died. And the more Tony works with the teen, the less it matters to him. He hears Peter just fine.”
You’re Stuck With Me by for_the_night
Summary: “I’m adopting you. I don’t care what you have to say.’
Peter gaped. Of all of the entrances he’d expected from Mister Stark after being alone in a hospital room for hours, that wasn’t one of them."
Or: Peter gets taken to hospital with a ruptured appendix and Tony comes to a daunting realization of just how little hold he has on the kid outside of Medbay.
Alternate Universe
My Baby, My Baby by SpaceCowboysFromMars
Summary: “Silence falls over them like a warm blanket. Distantly, there’s commotion down on the street as people walk home from clubs. Peter thinks Tony might be his best friend in the whole world. After a long, peaceful moment, Tony says, voice dripping with warmth, ‘Night, kid.’
‘Goodnight, Mr. Stark."
Or: Tony and Peter in the middle of the night, in five alternate universes.
Visiting Hours by Sara (ctrsara)
Summary: “Boss?’
Tony jolted out of his half-asleep state. ‘What’s up, FRI?’
‘There is a visitor here to see you.’ Tony jumped up. Anyone he knew would usually call or text first, so he was immediately on alert.
‘Who is it, FRI?’
‘I need you to have an open mind, and know that I do not believe this person is any threat.’ Oh, yeah, that made him feel better.
‘Excuse me? How about you let me decide that, Watson?’ He started walking towards the door, activating his watch gauntlet.
‘Wait, Boss.’ He was annoyed, but he trusted his AI enough to stop and listen. ‘I also need you to know that I have performed biometric scanning, and this person is who they appear to be. However, they insist they’re not from our universe, and that is the part I don’t understand."
—
In a universe where he never invented time travel, and never brought anyone back, Tony Stark gets a late-night visitor he never could have expected.
Prompt taken from @idk-bruh-20 Irondad fic idea #97 on Tumblr. Idea from @derpmallow.
What The Heart Knows by AdVitamAeternam
Summary: “When Peter wakes up, his head is being assaulted by a sledgehammer.
He has no idea where he is. He has no idea what happened to him. He has no idea who he is, other than ‘Peter.’ But then, he looks over at the man who is scrutinizing him with worried eyes, and he knows who the man is.
That's his dad."
Or: The one where Peter gets hit over the head really, really hard and has temporary amnesia, and makes a very reasonable assumption based on the data presented to him.
Angst
A Far Green Country by madasthesea
Summary: “He just wanted Peter to be happy. More than anything in the world, he wanted Peter to be happy.
Oh, Tony thought as that realization sunk down into the pit of his stomach and took root.
I love him.”
A River To Skate Away On by frostysunflowers
Summary: “Peter has survived a spider bite, a building falling on him, turning to dust and being a teenager.
He can handle anything.
Except being forgotten.”
Agape by canon irondad (tomlinsoul)
Summary: “It's Tony's first date night with Pepper since the Snap, and Peter can't wait to spend some quality time with his little sister. Too bad a pair of hapless intruders, head trauma, and a panicked helicopter ride throw a spanner in the works."
Whumptober 2022 Day 8: Head Trauma
+ Day 7: Seizures
+ Day 19: Repeatedly Passing Out
+ BTHB: Big Brother Instinct
Broken Heart Syndrome by iron_spider
Summary: “Tony is clearly really upset, the kind of upset that Peter’s only seen the likes of a couple of times, and it’s too close after everything happening to really talk about it. He can definitely see that now.
‘I’m sorry,’ Peter says. ‘I’m sorry, I should have answered—’
‘Yeah, you should have answered!’ Tony yells. His bottom lip is trembling and he shakes his head, his eyes wild. He runs his hand over his forehead.
‘Okay, okay, I’ll know for next time,’ Peter says. He doesn’t know what’s gonna make this better. Probably nothing.
‘There better not be a next time,’ Tony says, dropping his hand from his face. ‘God, like this? Pete, no one knew where he was but you, and you—you kept it that way so nobody knew what the hell was happening, and you—you weren’t answering, kid, and that asshole sent me all that shit plucked directly from my nightmares, and I was trying to be strong for May because she was worried, too, and you—and you, I—I thought I wasn’t gonna ever—I thought—Jesus, Peter, you don’t think, you don’t—’
Tony bends over, clutching at his arm and breathing hard through his mouth.”
Dead In There, You’re Dead In There by iron_spider
Summary: “Peter, you’ve been acting insane for the past however many days and it’s giving me an ulcer, what’s going on, what did I do? Tell me. Tell me and I’ll fix it.’
Peter is still stalking around, and Friday is listing off his injuries, from a concussion to broken ribs to a sprained ankle, and Tony feels sick looking at it all.
‘You’ll fix it,’ Peter says, glancing over at him with pure disdain, the look bookended by matching explosions somewhere behind them. ‘Yeah it’s something you can’t fix, if it happens, nope, can’t fix it, it would just—but you’re just saying—’
Tony starts forward towards him. ‘Pete, explain to me what’s happening, please.’
‘The protocol, the protocol,’ Peter insists, waving his hands through the air.
Tony shakes his head. ‘The protocol?’
‘The Avalon Protocol, Tony,’ Peter spits out, with venom.”
Dead-Eyed by iron_spider
Summary: “Hey,’ Tony says, fast, into the phone. ‘Everything alr—’
‘Hey, no, I don’t know where he is,’ MJ says, in a rush of breath. ‘I don’t know where he is, Tony, and I know I have access to that tracking thing, but it feels weird for me to do that, and it doesn’t feel weird for you to do that, so you should do that. And find him and tell me what’s going on.’
‘Okay, calm down,’ Tony says, getting up and stepping back from his workstation.
‘You know you can’t tell me to calm down, because I’m calm, and I’m always calmer than you because you’re like, inherently, not calm. At all, about anything, but especially about your family—’
‘Okay, this is not calm,’ Tony says, starting to pace, even though he’s not calm either, she’s right.
She sighs loudly in his ear.
‘When was the last time you saw him?”
Earthly Dust From Off Thee Shaken by ExpectoPatronum
Summary: “It had started with leaving his bedroom light on at night before he went to sleep. For a while, that had been enough.
But then it wasn't.”
“Forever” by WithACherryOnTop
Summary: “Peter could feel the darkness creeping up on him again, like it had only moments earlier in the Avengers Compound bullpen. ‘‘ony.’
‘Just go to sleep, bud.’ Tony gently scratched his nails at the nape of Peter’s neck.
Peter collapsed bonelessly in Tony’s arms, all evidence of the tears, crying, and sobs hidden except for a stained shirt and the boy’s even, congested breaths.
Tony wiped a hand over his face, a bit flustered. ‘Wow. That went way worse than I expected."
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel and/or Sony. I do not give permission for this work to be copied and/or posted to any other sites.
Gonna Pick Up The Pieces by orphan_account
Summary: “I don’t want to talk to you,’ Peter says. He’s been hiding for the better part of an hour, sitting in the cabin’s laundry room, wedged between the washer and the dryer. Something about the sounds coming off of them calms him, weirdly. The swish of water, the rumble of the motors, cotton rubbing cotton, the button on a pair of jeans dinging the side of the barrel.
‘That’s bullshit,’ Tony says. ‘You always want to talk to me.’
As true as that usually is, this time it rings discordant and tense.
Peter clenches his jaw. ‘Not really,’ he says. ‘You just sorta assume that.’
‘Of course I do. I make for lovely conversation.’
‘Eh.”
Head’s On The Fritz by augustheart
Summary: "Hello?’
‘Tony?’
‘The one and only. What’s up, kiddo?’
The answer rises up in Peter's throat. Stops at the back of his tongue and wobbles there, heavy and leaden. He wants to spit it out, to cough it into the unbearable silence, to not be loud—but, to be steady. ‘I—’ he says. He trembles. ‘Can you—come over? Please?"
Or: Tony makes things better
Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea
Summary: “Peter still doesn’t feel quite solid. Sometimes Tony can’t believe he’s really there either. They cope.”
I Have You by sweetspiderstew
Summary: “Tony has Peter all to himself, and there's nothing else like some good quality time in the workshop, but little mishaps happen, and there's a lot of hugging.”
I’ll Be Right Here by An_Odd_Idea
Summary: “Peter has a nightmare, and Tony goes to be sure he’s okay. It’s not the first one of its kind.”
It Came At Night by Marvelous_Writer
Summary: “What’s supposed to be a normal weekend visit to the Compound turns into one of disaster when unexpected visitors show up."
(Set after Spider-Man: Homecoming)
Whumptober Day Five: Gunpoint
It’s Time to Leave (and Turn to Dust) by hopeless_hope
Summary: "We’re going to help you, I promise, but you’ve got to trust me. Do you trust me?’
Peter looks at his mentor, fear written across his face. He raises a shaking hand back to Tony’s chest, and Tony places his hand over the kid’s. Peter closes his eyes and feels the hard surface of the arc reactor against his palm.
Peter doesn’t like soft things, but this isn’t soft. It’s solid and steady and strong and feels like a truth he can believe in. It feels like presence.
‘Yeah, I trust you."
(In which Peter has trouble coping with the events of Infinity War, but a certain Tony Stark is there to help.)
Meltdown by inkinmyheartandonthepage
Summary: “You said two-thirty,’ Peter said, acting as if he hadn’t heard Tony. ‘I forgot that you changed it to two thirty and not three.’
Tony took a step towards Peter. ‘Hey, Pete. It’s fine. You’re not that late kiddo. Hell, I’ve been to board meetings hours late.’
The joke didn’t land, and Peter’s eyes started to well with tears. He took in a hiccupping breath. ‘Oh god. I forgot. I forgot."
Or: Peter isn't coping after Titan and has been doing everything to keep busy and not think about it. Everything comes to head when he forgets that a time was changed in his busy schedule leading to a meltdown.
Mine, And Yours by crowkag
Summary: “Is it Peter?’
He was met with loaded silence. The anxiety spark became an anxiety plunge and twist.
‘Happy. Is it Peter?’
‘It’s… well. Who else would it be, right?’
‘Hogan.’
He hated this. The spark, the plunge, the twist. The tension creeping from his shoulder blades, clawing down arms both flesh and metal, somehow, someway, and bunching up inside his palms. The hysteria of it all.
‘It’s—alright, I won’t sugarcoat it. The kid’s alive, but he got shot, Tony. Twice."
Or: Tony reunites with Peter in a less-than-ideal manner.
Relax, Just Breathe by hailfire_73
Summary: “Tony,’ said Peter, lifting his head from the glass, his stubbornness spent. ‘I don’t feel so—’
‘Do not,’ said Tony, through gritted teeth, and meeting Peter’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He had just one hand on the steering wheel as he drove them into the night. ‘Finish that sentence.’
Morgan leaned over, hung out of her booster seat, and whispered, ‘It gives dad attacks."
Or: The Starks go on a road trip that goes wrong when Peter gets food poisoning from questionable carnival food.
Scars Can Heal And Reveal Just Where You Are by parkrstark
Summary: “Jesus Christ, Pete,’ the voice says again, and it's not just a voice. It's a voice that belongs to the shadow. The shadow is light in the dark. It's warm. ‘What are you doing on the floor? You're lucky you're by your bed or else it would have been you breaking my fall.’
Peter blinks at the shadow and can't tell if he's comforted or irritated by the new company.
‘What? No quip about me breaking a hip?’ There's silence.
‘Peter?"
Shots Ring Out by itsluckyyou
Summary: “Peter Parker had training. Training to deal with robbers, petty crime, and possible alien invasions. Nothing could have possibly trained him for this, though."
Or: There's a shooter wandering the halls of Midtown School of Science and Technology.
The Pills (They Gotta Go) by searchingforstars
Summary: “Tony. What are these?’
Tony glances up. Sees the packs of pills clenched in Peter’s fist. He’s sure some of them must be dust judging by the force that Peter is holding them with.
‘My pills?’
‘Why are they sitting at the back of the pantry?’ Peter asks, voice dangerously low."
Or: Tony decides taking his medication is optional. Peter strongly disagrees.
We All Have A Hunger by MotherKarizma
Summary: “Morgan,’ he croaked, throat afire, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Hey—hey, it’s okay, I’m just…’
‘You’re sick.’ She mustered up something like bravery, using it to straighten her back and plaster a very grown-up look on her face. ‘I’ll get Daddy!’
‘No!’ Morgan jumped, eyes wide. Peter fought to calm his voice. He offered her a smile that couldn’t have been convincing, not even to a five-year-old. ‘No, you don’t have to. I feel better
now. You don’t have to tell him.’
Morgan’s lips wobbled. Peter knew what her fake pout looked like well enough to know this wasn’t it. ‘Petey…’
Peter had a lot of reasons to feel guilty. He felt guilty for scaring her. He felt guilty for forgetting to lock his bedroom door, for making scaring her a possibility. He kind of, in a way, felt guilty for doing it in the first place, though not nearly enough to stop.
But more than anything, he felt guilty for this: ‘Morgan, promise me you won’t tell him. He…he won’t let us swim anymore if you do. And I’m not sick, my tummy just hurt a little bit, but I’m all better now. Promise me you won’t tell him, okay?’
‘But…’
‘Morgan. Promise.”
We’re Here by An_Odd_Idea
Summary: “Comfortember prompt 3: Nightmares
Peter has nightmares about when Thanos stabbed Tony on Titan”
Who Needs a Happy New Year When You Can Have a Happy Forever? by searchingforstars
Summary: “Peter's already feeling insecure about his place in Stark family holiday traditions, but it turns out it doesn't really matter because New Year’s Eve is significantly less fun when you’re a pair of PTSD-riddled superheroes, anyway."
Or: Tony has a panic attack in a Burger King.
Without You (I Was Broken) by parkrstark
Summary: "How did you get shot? You just webbed me up 5 stories from being shot!’
‘D-Didn’t know it was coming.’
‘Dammit, Peter! This isn’t the first time your spidey sense hasn’t worked. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt because Rhodey told me I was being insane. Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t always working? You shouldn’t go out into battle like this when your powers are being wonky and—’
‘You’re here.’
‘What?’
‘You’re here.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I don’t...I can’t really feel the danger when you’re around."
#irondad#irondad fanfiction#iron dad#iron man#irondad and spiderson#spider man#marvel fanfiction#a03 fanfic#ao3#fanfiction#peter parker whump#peter parker fluff#tony stark#tony stark angst#irondad whump#whump#whumpee#fluff#angst#anti starker
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hey! i read ur marcus lopez fic and absolutely loved it ur so talented omg
i’m as wondering if i could request a fic with prompt 12 with marcus lopez x reader?
🫶
and if so could you also add me to your tag list?
,, after dark "
pairings : marcuslopez x gn!reader
summary : sometimes your past do catches up to you.
content warnings : disagreements
** lowercase intended**
if saying that you had your life together was an understatement. you were working for the biggest and most respected mafias in the country. it was normal to see at least one dead body in the alleyway. a lifeless body, dumped as if it had no worth that got pushed away as a broken furniture no one saw worthy to save.
you were just an assistant who also worked as a hitman, being payed high for even injuring a targeted person. it gave you joy, you wanted to feed on souls that deserved nothing but death to come. you sucked in life of your victims, craving more and more as if it was like food and you were always hungry.
your boss set you out to raid an abandoned apartment to where homed a filthy rich man who unfortunately died due to a heart attack. he kept many important documents that your boss wanted and tonight, thats where you were headed.
you were clothed in a black skin-tight long sleeved top and short skirt which allowed you to hide your dagger, with a pistol on your waistline. when the time calls for it, you were going to be the one to kill whoever saw you and got in your way.
you had not noticed the figure which hid in the shadows watching your every move. as you rummaged through the drawers, you heard something drop. you spun around, gripping onto your gun as you pointed to the person standing in front of you.
" marcus? "
" hey, i was just dropping by- "
" you arent supposed to be here, you know. " you advanced towards him, watching him stumble backwards.
" well, neither should you. why dont you put the gun down, honey? " earning a glare from you, you made a move, linking your leg under his making him fall on his back.
" oh, i remember this. " as you stood above him, he mumbled.
" ignoring your favorite person i see.. its okay.. i bet the memories follow you around dont they. " you dont hesitate but kick his side making him groan.
" leave this place, act like we never even crossed paths. " you sigh, walking away from him.
" dont you miss me? "
" no i dont. and i will not. "
" but seeing you stalk me says otherwise.. how you constantly follow me wherever i go.. i suppose i am grateful that you are looking out for me. " marcus pouted.
you could not accept how right he had been. you were so in love with marcus that you knew itd be difficult to start a life without him. but you could. for all these years before meeting him shows how you could live without him. but why cant you do the same knowing what you two have been through. how could you when the only thing that occupied your mind was him. how he often thought of your life first and put his own life on the line to save you. how could you ever want to leave someone like him. it was now your turn to look after him when he did everything to protect you. even if as strangers, you knew that you still wanted to be on his wavelength.
" look, i know we left on terms we didn't agree on due to our statuses, but you can't blame me to not.. look for you. " it felt like you pulled a nerve when you confessed the last part.
" but you did. "
" i had to okay! what would you do if you are being given a choice, to get your lover killed.. or have your own blood throw you away like youre some meat, even having them turn their back against you? i knew i was being selfish okay? i.. i just cant imagine having you die.. not when i know i could have done something. or me dying. so im sorry if i was being selfish, it was either you dying, or me. and you know what i would have picked. " you were now going on a tangent, gun placed away in its holder, with you rummaging through the drawers. you grabbed every document you could find. marcus just looked at you.
" im sorry, okay? i just wanted you, you to be safe and well. " you could have just chosen to have your family killing you, but in the moment, you just had to. it was either him being dead because you wanted to survive. or him being alive at the cost of your freedom.
marcus never saw the side of your story, too busy grieving with his own. he watched you walk away as if he werent there. as if, he didnt mean anything to you anymore. but he knew, he knew that you loved him enough to save him without even thinking.
a.n : m not very proud with this, dont know why. and to the person who requested this, thank you but sorry because i couldn't tag you, its not letting me. and so sorry for the long wait!
#imagines#oneshots#marcus lopez imagine#marcus lopez x reader#marcus lopez arguello#mattheo riddle#benjamin wadsworth#mattheoxreader#mattheo x you#answered
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Here's a completely random ask for you: what holiday (halloween, valentine's day, national ice cream day, etc.) would each member of the Gaang feel unreasonably strongly about? Can be positive or negative feelings.
oh this is a good question! (i hate so many american commercial holidays so this is a great avenue for me to project my frustrations with us capitalism onto these little guys. and to be clear im just doing us holidays bc otherwise there would simply be too many options and i’d be stuck here forever)
aang: he’s not enough of a hater to dislike any holidays. he’s a big fan of april fool’s day, valentine’s day, and halloween, because he appreciates fun and joy and love and merriment duh
katara: every thanksgiving she goes on an impassioned rant about the historical revisionism of the us empire deployed as a propaganda tool as it continues its genocidal imperialist project and the absolutely sick and twisted audacity of americans to celebrate a known lie in a mockery of the atrocities committed from the past into the present (this one may or may not just have been me, yesterday). every november-december she goes on an impassioned rant about the commercialism of christmas, and how it’s largely a fake holiday devised by capitalists to glorify the sanctity of the nuclear family, and how the supposed “secularization” of christmas is in fact a product of christian hegemony, it’s propaganda and you’re all falling for it because you crave hollow comforts in your cold and dismal life, and instead of attempting to look beyond the scraps you are given under capitalism you all just force yourselves to enjoy a facade of happiness and nostalgia because you refuse to admit that you’re fundamentally uncomfortable in your society!!!!!!!! (this is what i think but wisely refrain from saying because it’s not worth it. katara, however...) also she likes valentine’s day sometimes (depending on whether or not she has a boyfriend). she also has a lot to say on columbus day and the fourth of july of course, but this bullet point is already far too long.
sokka: his favorite holiday is pi day. he does not care for any other us holiday (but he has been known to enjoy a halloween here and there), but he specifically hates april fools because aang insists on pranking him every time, for some godforsaken reason. (he’s just so prankable!)
toph: her least favorite holiday is valentine’s day because it promotes m*rriage, one of her most hated institutions (it’s a long list). her favorite day is taco tuesday
zuko: he insists on celebrating shakespeare’s birth/deathday as if it is a real holiday that anyone actually cares about. and he gets offended when no one else cares. his least favorite holiday is the fourth of july, but not for any political reasons, it just has really bad vibes.
suki: she loves halloween because it has everything you could ever ask for in a single day: dressing in elaborate costume, eating so much candy, and getting really drunk. she’s also one of those people who gets really obnoxious on 4/20, at which point mai is like “you know it’s hitler’s birthday, right?” and immediately kills the vibe. just because she can :)
mai: she has a love/hate relationship with halloween, because theoretically it’s a celebration of the gothic, the liminal, the macabre, the ghostly. but in practice it’s just an excuse for everyone around her to get wasted. she hates christmas more though. santa freaks her out and cloying, forced cheer and merriment is unnerving and infuriating, actually.
ty lee: she dreads valentine’s day every year because she simply has too many suitors and it is very stressful. she likes april fool’s day because it gives her the opportunity to exercise her more devious inclinations. she can prank people so well they don’t even know they’re being pranked; on april first the world is her playground.
azula: she has no real opinion on any specific holidays. they’re petty distractions for mindless drones who require a modicum of frivolity here and there to spice up their otherwise dull, worthless lives. however, she quite likes tax day.
#bonus: yue’s favorite holiday is mid autumn festival <3#lawful-chaos#asks#the gaang and#modern au#sorry for the katara rant in the middle of this post. it was thanksgiving yesterday. im hearing xmas music in stores. i couldn’t help myself#i should make a holiday tag#since a lot of these points are references to other similar posts ive made#okay:#holidays#if u go thru this tag you can find prev posts#instead of having to add bulky links to the post itself lmfao
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Straw Hats reunion on Sabaody except SanUso are a couple and Sanji came back as a transwoman (shoutout Iva!). [read on ao3]
Usopp sees Sanji and his heart stops beating. He had imagined a million ways their reunion might go, and this was one of them, but he never thought it would ever become a reality. It's Sanji, beautiful as ever. The same but so different. Usopp looks at Sanji and is mesmerized by her shiny, long blonde hair as it cascades over her shoulders. He's enchanted by her artful makeup and the way her goatee has filled out, now complimented by some hair on her upper lip. Those lips, so full and tinted with a rouge gloss that stains the cigarette clenched between her teeth. She's got on a suit just like usual and her legs are long like usual but now she's got curvy hips and--Usopp chokes--boobs!! Sanji is so beautiful and looks so happy and Usopp cannot contain his joy or lust upon seeing her exist as her true self.
Speaking of lust, Sanji absolutely loses it when she sees Usopp. She's overwhelmed by the way Usopp is looking at her. She hadn't expected disgust from her boyfriend because he is sunshine incarnate and knew she was trans before she'd admit it to herself. But to have him look at her with such obvious pride drives her crazy. If that wasn't enough, she has to deal with the fact that the past two years have been extremely kind to Usopp. Her boyfriend is fucking hot now. He was adorable before, but now he is sexy, with his biceps and pecs and abs and back and smile and confidence and-
Sanji wakes up with a groan, squinting against the harsh sunlight. Warmth floods her chest at the sound of a familiar chuckle.
"Well, nice to see you, too."
Sanji realizes she's now lying down on the grassy deck of the Sunny. She groans again, realizing that she probably passed out--possibly from blood loss. Someone has got their arms around her, holding her up. Not just anyone. It's the object of her affection and the reason for her current state.
Sanji closes her eyes, squeezing them tight. Her body shakes as Usopp laughs.
"Oh, not so nice to see me after all?"
"More like it's too nice. If I look at you I'll definitely pass out again," Sanji admits. A moment later, she takes a chance to peek anyway. She gets an eyeful of Usopp's thick, muscled chest and shuts them again. Nope, nope! She can't handle it. She rests her head on that chest, relishing the way her whole body moves with his as he laughs again. Her wraps his arms around her and she feels safe.
"Nice to know that that part of you hasn't changed," Usopp teases. The softness of his voice as he utters his next words has Sanji's heart beating wildly in her chest. "But so much of you has changed. And I'd love to see it. Will you let me?"
"You can look at me if my eyes are closed," Sanji tries to argue.
"Yeah, but it's not the same. Please, Sanji? For me? I've waited two long years to be with you again."
Damn it all. Damn, Usopp and his sweet words. Damn, Sanji for being so weak for Usopp and double damn the sniper for being unshamed to use that fact to his advantage. Sanji loves him so much.
Using all of her courage and finding all of her self-control, Sanji opens her eyes and finds Usopp's.
Usopp's eyes have the same joyful, curious sparkle they always have and Sanji blushes as they look at her with wonder and amazement. Usopp runs his hand over her hair oh-so-gently, appreciating its feel and length. Sanji still has half of her face hidden, but now, her long bangs fall over her right eye. She is perfect in every way and Usopp doesn't know what to do with all the love pent up to bursting from inside him.
He also doesn't know what to do about the embarrassment that fills him as Sanji sits up and gazes at him just as intently. Her hands run over all the muscles he worked hard to obtain during their time away. She twirls her fingers through his long, curly hair and brushes them over his soul patch. She smiles at him and he can do nothing but smile back.
"You're so beautiful," the lovers say in unison. They laugh together, and unable to wait any longer, they finally seal their reunion with a kiss.
"Get a room!" Zoro and Nami yell from the sidelines. The navigator scoffs and the swordsman rolls his eye when they're met with two middle fingers courtesy of the couple still engaged in a lip lock.
They'll let it slide this time. It's a celebration, after all.
#sanuso#usosan#sansopp#transfem sanji#usopp#black leg sanji#god usopp#sabaody#one piece#I CARE THEM SO MUCH#i wrote this in a 15 minute frenzy I need to go lay down#red's writing#red's fic
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Halsin with a Tav who had a toddler? Like they get back to Baldurs gate or theyve been nursing an egg(for the Gith and Dragonborn Tavs) that’s now hatching.
Pls let him be the dad he’s always wanted to be 🥹
Okay, first off thanks for sending in your request! I hope it’s alright to do this in a mix of headcanons and narrative blurbs because I have too many ideas for this wholesome content. Also, if I interpreted your Ask wrong please let me know and I’ll amend!
But alright, here we go—let’s give our Big Bear some love and let him be Daddy Halsin because he deserves all the best things.
*TW: Pregnancy talk, mentions of past trauma, wholesomeness so wholesome it hurts
Halsin will be in shock for a brief moment before going into Daddy Halsin mode. This man has just gone through the most traumatic hundreds of years; in pure survival mode after losing his family, being held prisoner in the Underdark, dealing with the Shadow Curse and all that it has brought upon him—he never once during that time was afforded the opportunity to simply…live. He always focused on doing what was necessary to survive. So now that he finally can let some of his walls down? Now that his lover just told him they have a child?
He looks at you frozen in disbelief…he never thought he would be able to have his own family. And now you’ve given him one of life’s greatest joys in the mere blink of an eye. His whole world has turned on its axis in the best of ways and he needs a moment to find his feet on the ground again.
Whether it’s biologically yours or you’ve adopted, it doesn’t matter—he views it all the same. He is in awe, deep gratitude bursting forth for this bounty of nature you’ve provided him with; that you’ve invited him to share.
“My heart…you,” Halsin’s voice breaks, “Why did you not tell me before?” the question falls past his lips with a tremble, but there is no trace of anger or hurt in his tone. Only awe, tinged with a soft skepticism as though this moment will slip through his fingers and he will wake to find it was all a dream.
You tell him why. Maybe it’s because you were scared he wouldn’t want anything to do with you or your child…maybe you didn’t want to distract him from all that still needed to be accomplished…maybe you didn’t want to add another burden to his already heavily-weighed-down shoulders—whatever it is…
He understands your fears but tells you to put them to rest because nothing—absolutely nothing—could ever deter him from loving and caring for you and your child. He is more than willing to step into the role of a father…if that is what you should wish of course, to share this part of your life with him…
As soon as you give him the affirmative, he is all over you. Wrapping you up in his strong embrace, placing kisses wherever his lips can reach before settling his face against your neck and inhaling deeply. Your scent calms him, and he needs it to ground himself after the revelation that he finally—finally—has the one thing he thought he’d never have again…a family. He is a dad.
He’s a dad!
His deep laughter echoes through the air. He’s overjoyed, a little scared maybe too, but his unbridled joy is contagious and you find yourself tearfully laughing along with him.
With your invitation, he quickly stepped into full dad mode, and wants to unleash all the doting upon you and your child that he possibly can.
If the baby has not been born/hatched yet; he’s all about using his skilled hands to melt the tension from your feet and calves and anywhere else you might be tense from carrying the weight of another; letting his healing magic wash over you when your head is pounding and stomach is churning from the extra hormones; making sure you have proper nutritional meals to keep your stamina up…his healer capabilities really kick into high gear here.
If your little one is already in the world, they immediately take to Halsin like a moth to light. And he takes to fatherhood just as easily. It is a precious and priceless thing to watch the two of them bond so quickly. You knew he would take to it naturally, having all the qualities of a loving and supportive father. He was always a wonderful listener, he was just as good of a teacher, and he still held so much wonder and love for the world even after all his years. His zest for life was contagious and played right into the natural curiosities of a child.
Beneath all of the stoic wisdom is a man who loves to play. Loves to experience everything life has to offer. And it shows when they decide to have storytime before bed…or any other time your little one asks for stories. Which is a lot of the time because Halsin is rather good at it. He could be a bard if he wanted. But all he wants is to see the expressions of wonder on your child’s face, the shrieks of laughter and gasps of surprise filling his ears as he twists and turns the stories, acting them out with grand gestures and motions.
Sometimes storytelling evolves into playing “Adventurers”—or so that’s what the two of them call this game anyway…you call it pure chaos, but you don’t mind one bit. Not as your little one rides on the back of a giant wildshaped bear through the forest, roars and laughter tickling your ears. You join in at times, and it usually ends in one big giant cuddle pile as morning turns into afternoon and sleepy little eyes close for a short nap. It’s at times like these his heart threatens to burst, and you can see it in his eyes—feel it in the way his fingers trace your jawline and move softly, reverently into your hair…soon you’re drifting off in the peacefulness of it all too. Halsin just lays there holding the two of you in his arms, listening to your soft inhales and exhales. In the slow moments is when he really feels it hit him. How contented he is.
They’ll go on walks around the forest together, sometimes stop to examine a plant or a flower, your child asking Halsin 123812378 questions about everything they come across, and he answers every one of those questions with the utmost of patience. He genuinely loves to share his knowledge with young and curious minds. You can tell by the way his eyes light up, and how his voice excitedly carries across the meadow as he explains things like how flowers grow from the ground with the help of the sun and water and air.
He even asks some questions of his own to get your child thinking and talking, and also just to be silly and play: “what kind of animal would you be?” ~ “what is your favorite thing to eat?” ~ “do you think cats can have fins?” ~ “what is your favorite thing to do with mommy and daddy?”
When your child is sad or upset, he is there guiding them through their big feelings. Oak Father knows, Halsin has had his fair share of coping with tough emotions through his years. Even with all the practice he’s had though he still gets overwhelmed at times. Children need help getting through these sorts of big feelings, not to be admonished or chastised for feeling something natural. Of course while he usually spends time wildshaped when he needs to think, he knows that might not work for a child, and there are certainly other solutions. Like physical connection—hugs, and holding a safe space for your little one to feel. Maybe they need help labeling what they’re feeling, and Halsin is right there ever-observant and gentle with his words, “I see that you fell, does it hurt anywhere? Were you scared when you fell from the tree?” Your child responds tearfully, “it was scary,” so then after a quick scan Halsin knows he doesn’t need to mend any broken bones. He just needs to hold them and tell them it’s okay to be scared and to cry, and that they are very brave for doing so.
It’s moments like this that you find your heart swell with fondness so vast it nearly hurts. Because you know how capable of ferocity he is, how much strength and fortitude he has shown in battles past…that seeing him like this, so patient and supportive, so loving and gentle…you know he has finally been able to take the armor off both literally and figuratively.
He walks lighter, laughs louder, plays harder. His love knows no bounds, and he makes sure the two of you know it with every breath he takes. With every scratch he mends. With every toy he whittles. With every blanket he tucks in and every kiss he lays atop a sleepy little head. With every word and kiss and hug…he embraces this simpler but no less meaningful side of life with arms opened wide.
One day, after a very important and engaging conversation about “daddy, where do babies come from?” your little one asks him another question. “Daddy, can you and mommy make a baby?” His eyes lift to find yours, a heat there so smoldering you swear you could feel it sweep over your skin in a dizzying rush. “Little One,” he starts, tearing his gaze from you to look down softly at your child, “would you like that—a brother or sister to play with?” Their little eyes light up and they shout “yesyesyes!”
Halsin’s smile lines deepen as he laughs loudly. “You will just have to wait and see my little heart, all will be as nature intends.” He knows that is a conversation to have with you in a more private setting. Though he’s pretty sure he can tell by the speed of your breathing, the flush of your face, and the warmth in your gaze that you are no doubt feeling the same sentiment he is in that moment.
Adding to your little family might happen sooner rather than later…and he definitely would not say no to having more little ones running around.
#my heart 😭#my heart is full#Halsin#Daddy Halsin#please let this man have a family it is not too late for him#Best Dad Ever#all the Dad Jokes#i YEARN for this man#bg3#Ask
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