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inherdaze · 2 months

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jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over.

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat.

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.”

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely.

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.”

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death.

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed.

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?”

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs.

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky.

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market.

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.”

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around.

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times.

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor?

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent.

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back.

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you.

He doesn't.

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there.

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind.

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived.

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived.

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you.

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens.

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think.

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions.

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides.

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup.

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter.

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well.

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already.

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things.

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.”

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second.

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder.

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you.

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward.

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven).

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.”

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.”

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home.

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass.

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold!

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you.

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants.

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.”

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.”

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him.

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too.

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves.

“I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated.

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.”

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that).

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning.

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless.

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has.

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do).

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead.

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away.

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage.

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.”

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.”

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help.

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.”

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.”

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside.

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you.

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.”

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively.

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi.

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.”

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.”

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response.

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean.

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright.

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion.

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.”

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.”

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue.

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.”

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter.

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.”

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts.

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.”

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay.

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.”

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out.

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.”

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed.

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way.

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on.

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love.

You peer down into the pot.

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.”

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way.

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.”

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again.

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste.

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own.

Your fingers twitch.

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.”

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes.

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut.

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor.

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen.

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.”

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face.

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love.

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share.

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable.

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you.

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn.

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?”

It’s a little loose.

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching.

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure.

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you).

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one.

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space.

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand.

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door.

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him.

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs.

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers.

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.”

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you.

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay).

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.”

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush.

Finally, he fesses up.

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.”

You see Kiyoomi make a face.

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.”

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens.

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?”

The both of you choke.

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening.

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated.

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.”

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes.

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way.

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response.

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around.

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe.

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around.

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward.

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole.

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi.

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—”

“Miya.”

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.”

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush.

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you.

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side.

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.”

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly.

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left.

“Miya told me to confess to you.”

Your blood runs cold. Confess…?

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it.

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room.

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day.

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously.

“I wish you could come with me.”

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile.

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say.

“Goodnight, angel.”

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does).

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done.

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it.

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy.

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door.

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige.

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely.

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.”

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you.

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb.

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day.

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in.

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.”

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.”

Your mouth drops open.

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.”

You stay rooted still.

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.”

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together.

(He wants to).

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt.

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him.

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please.

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear.

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name.

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in.

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!”

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.”

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll.

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you.

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly.

“I love you, Kiyoomi.”

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you.

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!”

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.”

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes.

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?”

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again.

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.”

He gives an approving cluck.

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand.

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe.

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around.

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock.

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.”

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately.

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips.

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?”

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.”

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.”

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love.

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you.

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.”

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!”

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!”

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—”

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own.

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #sakusa fluff

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thanotaphobia · 5 months

Text

fly bird fly

i'm losing my mind. i'm going crazy. i'm going CRAZYYYYY. i wrote this in like 2 seconds literally oh my god

i will crosspost this to ao3 in a second lmao EDIT: CROSSPOSTED

⋆

They trip through the portal, and Phil’s stomach drops.

Not that it wasn’t already on the fucking floor. Through the floor, even. All the way in fucking hell, where apparently, that goddamn eye beast thinks they belong. Phil trips through the global portal and ends up by the cornucopia, Tubbo shrieking in his ear and a vague ringing in his ears.

His lungs hurt, clogged with thick dust from the crumbling marble ceilings. He can still see Chayanne in his mind’s eye, terrified but hiding it well. Tallulah, openly terrified. All the other eggs, dirty and frightened. He can still hear Foolish’s voice in his ears, shouting, screaming. He can see Fit’s face, and that thing. He can’t believe how tall it was, towering over them. And El Quackity…

“Phil, lasso me,” Tubbo demands.

He shoves his face into Phil’s space. Phil doesn’t jump– just stares at Tubbo and the dust in his hair, the blood running down his face, and then blinks.

“What?” he asks.

“Lasso me, lasso me,” Tubbo says, already pulling out his glider and shoving it onto the floor, struggling to open it. “We can fly, you can fly–”

Phil inhales, the very action sending bolts of pain through him, and his wings extend without so much as a thought. It’s strange, having muscle memory for something you haven’t done in months. His feathers ruffle, and every inch of him aches with the effort.

“I don’t know if I can, Toby,” he says, and Tubbo shakes his head.

“You take the paraglider, I have water, we can– you can fly us out, can’t you? Can’t you? We have the coordinates–”

“My wings are– I can’t–”

“Can you get us there, Phil?” Tubbo asks, shoving a lasso into his hands. The other end is tied around Tubbo’s waist, and Phil looks at him. He sees Tubbo face and the blood and his own sword crushing through Tubbo’s sternum with the thick crack of still-wet bone, and he exhales. Then he nods.

“I don’t know,” he says, “but we can try.”

“Go,” Tubbo says. “I have a water bucket.”

“Okay,” Phil says, and he fumbles for his grappling squack, and fires.

Flying isn’t something that just comes naturally. It’s a skill that has to be learned and honed, a sport like any other. There are specific muscle groups linked to certain maneuvers, stretches specifically created just for avians who fly professionally, all sorts of things in order to make someone’s wings in perfect shape for all types of flying. Long distance, sprints, racing twirls. Phil is known for being able to do them all– or at least, he had been. He can remember the training, the time he’d put into it. The things he’d had to do in order to instruct his body over and over and make it used to the strain.

It has been more than six months, and his muscles scream.

His shoulders ache. His forearms burn with the stress of pulling Tubbo behind him. His legs cramp and his lower back throbs. The pain is immeasurable, uncountable, uncontrollable. Phil can grit his teeth but it doesn’t stop the flashes of white behind his eyes as he spreads his wings and flies, desperate. He can barely see the horizon as he goes, but he does anyway, listening intently for Tubbo and pushing down the instinct to curl into a ball and sob with the pain.

They land, and it’s a brief moment of relief before they’re off again, Phil firing his grappling squack and Tubbo shouting something unintelligible into the wind behind them. He trusts Tubbo to land the water bucket shots every time he lands, but he only has to a couple times before his MDA pings he’s getting close; his wings are numb by now, the shoots of pain frequent and intense, making him shudder and twitch every three seconds or so. Behind him, Tubbo is yelling, screaming into the wind, and Phil would join him if he wasn’t so out of breath. Every inch of him is on fire– and not in the good way, not in the Bolas way, just in the torturous way.

He keeps seeing Chayanne. Flashes of yellow on the landscape below. Hope, like a flower, blooming in his chest. But every time he sees it, or sees Tallulah, a black fist crushes that hope with a quick blink.

Finally, he sees water, and the boat. His wings are on the verge of giving out and he barely gets Tubbo out and over the water before he stumbles, cramps, and pulls into a nosedive.

When he slams into the water, it’s cold– it shocks him, and he inhales by accident, coughing as he breaks the surface. His wings are wet and heavy but he can’t bring himself to care, spitting out clumps of water and dust mixed together into a thick, glue-like paste. He feels like a cement mixer, and ahead of him he can see Tubbo crawling out of the water and onto the back of the boat, hair plastered to his forehead. Somehow, he finds the strength to lift his arms and make his wings spasm in a way that pushes him forward, towards the boat. He feels Tubbo’s hands on his arm and then the faint sound of him shouting, and then Fit invades his gaze and two other hands grasp him, dragging him onto the boat.

The wood is hard beneath him and Phil lies there for a second, still spitting up water and gunk. Fit and Tubbo are talking, and he clues in just as Fit says–

“Phil, we have to go get the others.”

“I can’t,” he says. Neither of them seem to hear him. His wings lie limp and lifeless behind him, waterlogged and exhausted. His entire back is on fire and his feathers are dull, the weight dragging him back as he forces himself to stand. His body feels like one gigantic bruise.

“We have to get others,” Fit says, the elytra on his back ruffling. Phil envies him, but only for a moment.

“I can’t,” Phil insists. He rummages through his inventory, and comes up with a lasso in his hands. “My wings are gone, dude, they’re– I can’t fly, it’s not physically possible. I can’t get anyone–”

It doesn’t matter how much he wants to. It doesn’t matter how much guilt gnaws at him, tearing through his stomach lining with teeth that gnash and chew.

“I will, then,” Fit says, determination writ on his brow. His face is impenetrable, but Phil sees his own guilt reflected back at him. “Here, the lasso, I’ll–”

And then he’s gone, and Tubbo is left supporting Phil with one hand, and Phil is still reeling. They have one singular moment to breathe. Phil spits onto the deck, and Tubbo follows suit, red blood mixing with water and then disappearing as another wave washes up onto their feet. They stumble forward and Phil shakes Tubbo off, then shakes off some of the water from his wings. Even that little motion sends acres of pain flashing through him, like sparks of electricity up and down his spinal cord. He thinks he might be dying.

He kind of hopes he is.

God, Chayanne.

“Phil,” Tubbo says, looking at his MDA. It’s ringing, and vaguely Phil realizes his is too. Everything is still a little fuzzy in his ears. “Shit. Meteor. We need to go, we need to–”

And then they’re on the move again.

He has no choice. He runs.

#qsmp #q!phil #q!tubbo #q!fit #qsmp purgatory #im Dying i cried im going crazy im #ghdkfhgkdjfhgkdfhg #my writing

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

It’s Just, a Little Crush…

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

WandaNat x ShyFem!Reader

Song Inspo: Crush

Warnings: Jealousy (subtle)

Smut: Oral (All), Strap (R), Fingering (R), Squirting(R), Nipple Clamps (R), Overstimulation | Kinks: Master(N), Mistress(W), Praising, Humiliation(if you squint), (I was on some whore shit my dudes 🤷🏼‍♀️)

8,937 Words

It was a peaceful day, the sun was out but the warmth wasn't unbearable as the Fall breeze brushed across your exposed skin. Since it was an off day for training you settled comfortably into the hammock in the garden, allowing the nature to calm your chronically nervous heart. Sounds of leaves flying by, and the birds chirping were doing you wonders as you sipped on your water and read "I Think I Love You."

In a sick twist of irony a melodic laughter is passing through your ears, you peered over your book and your heart skips at the sight. Natasha and Wanda were stood outside the doorway, sharing the sweetest of moments as Natasha kept the cackling woman upright. They were truly the most beautiful people you'd had the pleasure of knowing, and it was no shock to you that you'd fallen in love, but it mattered not when they were already together, and you couldn't be a person around them.

—————————

Sighing to yourself you wondered if you should head back inside for a nap, sharing the outdoor space with them would be too much to bare, and you'd been there your fair share of time. You closed your book, then nearly fell from the hammock when Wanda's face was mere inches from yours., "Hey there Y/N/N, are you busy?," she asks, and your hands reflexively ball up., "Hiya Wanda, um, I-I was actually just headed inside to take a nap."

"Boo... We were going to ask you out to lunch.," Wanda whines, and your heart skips at the way the both of them practically stare through to your soul., "Oh, uh, maybe next time then.," you say while hurriedly rushing by, but Natasha catches you by the arm, and you're now faced with her., "We're holding you to that.," you nodded dumbly, then when her hold softened you continued on your path to safety.

"Nat, we're trying to court her, not scare her.," Natasha chuckled., "Yeah, well your way isn't exactly working out that well, so a little bluntness may be just what we need."

—

That night you found yourself in a state of disarray, everything you had attempted to cook failed until all you were left with was instant ramen. Normally you'd be enjoying a feast for the God's prepared by the lovely Wanda, but alas she was out with Natasha for their anniversary dinner, and the compound of men decided it was every 'man' for themselves.

You were boiling your egg in an attempt to liven up the bowl when you heard this obnoxious slurping sound., "That was most delicious, thank you lady Y/N.," Thor boasted, followed up by a loud burp, and you turned to him with a scowl., "That was my dinner Thor!," the big oaf of a man shrunk when you shouted, being the shy little thing that you were hardly anyone had even heard you even speak above a whisper so this was clearly a shock to him.

The man looked like a wounded puppy, and you felt like absolute shit for yelling at him., "It's okay, I'm not even that hungry anyways.," you reasoned., "Sorry for yelling.," and just as you went to leave the kitchen you ran into a soft body, nearly tumbling backwards at the impact but a pair of strong hands gripped your shoulders to steady you. Viridescent eyes bore into yours when you looked up to see who it was and you gulped at the intense eye contact.

"Go sit, Natasha and I brought you dinner.," you went to rebut, but it died on your tongue when she heavily sighed., "Good girl.," you nearly tripped while following Natasha to the table and Wanda held back her snickering., "Thor, get out.," and poof the man was gone.

Natasha silently unloaded the bags while you sat with your eyes cast down staring at the hands in your lap as you picked at your thumb., "None of that dorogoy, your skin only just started to heal.," Wanda tuts, taking the space besides you she reaches over to take your hands in hers, and your breath hitches while your heart does gymnastics in your chest.

"Fettuccine and garlic bread for the pretty lady.," Natasha teases, and your smile is genuine at the concise care shown to you., "Enjoy honey.," The women engage in light conversation as you eat, hoping that you'll interject, but you're far too polite to even consider interrupting them., "How is the food?," Wanda asks, you sigh with a wide smile to follow., "Delicious, thank you."

Wanda frowns when you take your hand back and move to start cleaning up, "Nope, watch.," she instructs, then your eyes widen when the kitchen illuminates in a cloud of crimson red. Dirty dishes zoom through the air, and just like in the Disney movies the things comes to life. Suds upped sponges scrub at the dirty dish ware before they float into the dishwasher where a box of detergent is floating above, a stream of powder flowing into the machine before the door closes in a flash of red.

"Woah.," the pair giggle at your fascination, and it's then that you feel far too visible, the urge to escape them increases tenfold and you abruptly jump to your feet causing both of them to follow as if there was an invisible fire alarm going off., "What is it detka?," Wanda asks while cupping your cheeks that heat up within the same instant that she touches you.

"I'm just, I'm really tired and we have early training tomorrow, so I am going to go to bed.," you take notice of the sadness that fills their eyes when you make your excuse to leave, Wanda steps out of your way, but before you can leave she also pulls you into her body., "Sweet dreams Y/N/N.," she whispers, the ghosting of her lips at your temple has you nearing a state of cardiac arrest. Only to be made worse when Natasha strong arms you into her hold next., "Goodnight sweetheart."

"Goodnight guys, thanks again for dinner.," you smiled kindly at the pair, then you made your quick exit, and that barest of interactions only made them yearn for you even more., "God Natty, she's just the cutest little thing.,"

——

Natasha and Wanda entered the training room to set up for the day, and just as they went to enter they freeze in the doorway. They were expecting the room to be vacant this early in the morning, but it appears you wanted to get an early morning warm up in, and it was the cutest thing they'd ever seen.

"You're a teaser, you turn 'em on; leave 'em burning and then you're gone.," you were doing jumping jacks while singing along to the Abba song with your back turned to the door. Your dri-fit shirt was clinging to your body as the sweat suctioned it to your skin, and the women held no complaints as your muscular form was made readily available to their eyes.

"She speaks the truth.," Natasha whispers into Wanda's ear, receiving a jab to the ribs as a silent warning., "It was worth it."

"Looking out for another anyone will do. You're in the mood for a dance, and when you get the chance.”

"Here it comes.," Natasha whispers to her lover with the widest smirk., "Shh...," Wanda sneers.

"You are the dancing queen.," you spin around with your eyes closed, singing with all your might., "Young and sweet, only seventeen. Dancing queen!.," The women found great enjoyment in watching you move about to the rhythm as you belted the lyrics out with such a deep, resounding passion.

"You can dance; You can jive, Having the time of your life.," Your singing soon blended into a shriek though when your eyes shot open to see the beautiful couple stood there watching you. The burning in your cheeks only intensified as a nervousness settled deep within you as Wanda was beaming, and Natasha looked to you with that lopsided, teasing smirk of hers.

"H-Hi guys, did you need the gym?," you tried to skate right passed the previous moment, but Natasha's chuckling left you more nervous., "We came to set up for training, but to our surprise we got a show instead.," the former assassin jested, much to her downfall as Wanda once again jabbed her in the ribs.

"Detka, the gym is meant to be shared.," Wanda coos while pushing your sweaty locks off your face, you blink a few times in quick succession in an attempt to understand how she'd gotten so close to you in just a blink., "Don't let Natty tease you into running off.," she continued to speak softly, being so close you could see she was equally as amused, but you could also tell neither of them meant you any harm with all of their teasing.

"I myself enjoy your presence Y/N, much more than hers actually.," Wanda jokes when she saw your walls were finally falling., "Hey!!," you giggled when the former assassin protested her lovers words, and both women took in the beautiful sound, fully embracing the way it was more genuine than your usual nervous one., "I'll remember this.," Natasha grumbles, you and her girlfriend shared a knowing look then burst into even harder fits of laughter.

—

Once the rest of the team floated into the room you became quiet again, Natasha and Wanda wanted to glare at the men for ruining their chances of spending quality time with you. Then they remembered this was sort of all of your jobs, so they settled the festering anger, and instead they focused on the assignments.

Steve assigned everyone a partner for the hour, doing his best to ensure it was a suitable match so that everyone was challenged, but not in a way that left one side unfairly vulnerable. Part of you was relieved when it was announced you were to be with Nat, but another part of you feared the proximity sparring brought with it. Joking around with the couple was one thing, but to be at Natasha's mercy—because there was no way you were getting the upper hand over on her—was rather daunting. Natasha was however thrilled beyond normalcy, smirking smugly all the while Wanda was telepathically cursing her out for the subtle win.

"Here detka, let me help you out with that.," she mirrors you, straddling the bench and leaning in unnecessarily close to you while wrapping your hands for you., "Th-thanks.," Natasha loved just how easy it was to get to you, if just sitting with her closer than usual was an issue, she can't help but internally beam at how flustered you'll be when under her.

"Don't mention it sweet stuff.," her lips gently pressed to your cheek., "Now come on.," she playfully commands, leaving you on the bench a thoughtless mess until Steve barked at you to meet the slyly smirking former assassin on the mat for work. You took in a deep breath, then against the shake in your legs you made your way over to face her with faux confidence.

Natasha nods, a silent command if you will, so your hands raised and you began to mirror her as she was circling the mat. To her total shock you took the first step to make contact, but she was too quick, and you overestimated your lunge so you began to fall down. Natasha was proud when she saw you gracefully turn the fall into a tucked roll, springing back up before she herself could even get the upper hand on you.

"Good save detka.," and just as you begin to feel a sense of pride you're gasping for air as your back hit the mat., "Never get too cocky.," she teases with an outstretched hand to help you back to your feet, pulling you to your feet abruptly, and her lips graze your ear., "Save that energy for tonight sweetheart."

Natasha stepped a few paces back, snickering quietly as you stood there in stunned silence. You didn't exactly understand the innuendo, but her tone left you aware that it was dirty. With your clearly flustered state she made her next move, and in quick succession your back hit the mat once more, you gasped painfully, and your entire body felt like it was on fire since this time you were trapped underneath her hovering body.

Natasha was straddling your body, the first moment of squirming got you nowhere when she was able to scoot up effortlessly, trapping your arms against your sides, and so you went limp., "Oh no, don't give up now krasivaya.," you glared up at the woman, but it held no true malice, so she returned your look with a smirk., "Come on, use your training detka, fight me.," she snorted when you began to thrash beneath her., "You'll have to try harder than that if you plan to ever get the upper hand on me.,"

"Well maybe I don't want that.," you angrily huffed in the heated moment, but within the second your eyes widened at your confession., "Natasha, I-I.," she shushed you with a finger to your lips., "Shh, don't ruin the moment.," she throws you a wink before removing her body from yours, her outstretched arm lends you to know she's clearly not upset with you., "Better see you at the movie tonight Y/L/N.," she parts with another kiss to your cheek.

Natasha heads off feeling rather accomplished, swaying her hips tauntingly knowing your eyes were still on her body, then she winks at her lover who simply rolls her eyes in response.

The next moment when Steve announces everyone's permission for dismissal you run off to the showers to cleanse yourself of all of your sins, and to likely overthink the previous moment. Especially when you hear the unmistakable sounds of the couple of your dreams giggles. They'll surely be the death of you one of these days, you're certain of it...

—

When you arrived to the living room it had been after thirty minutes of contemplation. Wanda's voice in your mind was what finally got you to make the choice of coming down before one of them came up to collect you. Facing either of the women after what you said to Natasha, and knowing she relayed it to her lover felt like a task within itself, add on the whole team and it felt nearly impossible.

Your thoughts were only confirmed when as you entered the living room there was no available seating for you, and the entirety of the team was staring at you. Wanda saw the way your hands instinctively balled up, your nails digging into your palm made her feel sad., "Detka, come over here please.," and with the way she looked at you it was as if your feet knew it best you complied., "Sit here honey, the movie is starting, and we'll keep you warm."

You internally groaned—as if you weren't hot and bothered already, Wanda had to turn away to hide the smirk as she heard your thoughts., "Don't worry detka, if you get scared we're here to protect you.," Natasha whispered against the shell of your ear, and you weren't sure if the hairs now stood at attention were from the threat of a horror film, or from the way her hot breath fanned across your skin, but either way you knew you were in for one hell of a night.

Tony's selection of the Leprechaun, a movie you were unfamiliar with, turned out to be the worst thing to have ever happened to you. Natasha and Wanda didn't feel the same though, because as the film continued to torment you you'd began to shift into them. One particular scare had your entire body jolting off the couch, but Natasha was quick to grab your hand, she spun you around then pulled you into her embrace., "Shh, detka it's okay... We got you.," you missed the shared smile of accomplishment between the lovers, and had you not been beyond terrified of the murderous little shit on the screen you'd have been far more ashamed of the way your face was smushed into the older redheads breasts.

Wanda had maneuvered your lower half so that your legs were no longer dangling, and were instead laid over her lap, and she made sure she glared at all other Avengers who were not minding their business. She soon found her eyes transfixed on your relaxed face in lieu of the film as you'd quickly fallen asleep against her lovers chest. The scene was rather domestic if one just overlooked the way Natasha smirked at the sounds of the screaming girls on screen.

As the movie ended Tony had advised Friday to turn the lights on before the women could attempt to stop him, and just as soon as the rays reached your eyelids they shot open, and your body went rigid in their holds., "Sorry.," you'd sheepishly apologized, voice slightly muffled by the smooth skin of the assassin and your heart began to hammer even harder as you truly took in your compromising position. Natasha only held you tighter when you went to squirm out of her hold., "Detka, relax.," and to all of your shock your body settled into her.

——

After a month of nonstop missions the redheads were desperate for your attention. They'd only seen you in passing, your shy demeanor returning far more prominently when you were as exhausted as you'd been made to be. Natasha had already scolded Fury for his overuse of you, and she made sure you'd never know about it either, you just thought the need for missions had suddenly lessened.

They gave you a few days to yourself, to catch up on sleep, and have some relaxing you time. Even if the simple act of doing so physically pained them, so now that they deemed you rested up they were going to cash in on their 'share a meal with us' ticket. Evening was fast approaching, the perfect time to catch you and take you to the new Italian place up the street.

As the couple entered the living room they found you were fast asleep on the couch, and they audibly awed at the cuteness overload. Your right hand loosely held onto the TV remote on your abdomen while your other arm was laid over your eyes to block out the light. Waking you up felt so cruel, but the selfish part of them overwhelmed their minds so they stepped towards you, but just before they could wake you up Tony and Sam burst through the entryway, hands clapping together loudly, and therefore startling you into an upright position.

"What's wrong? Who needs help?," you slurred, jumping to your feet so fast you ended up swaying a bit, and Wanda was quick to pull you into her steady form., "Shh detka, the only thing that needs help is these two idiots.," she shushed you while sending the men a pointed glare, her demeanor only softening when you cuddled even further into her side while also yawning., "Then why all the fuss?"

"Well Y/L/N, we're glad you finally asked.," Tony teases, then gestures for Sam to answer., "It's been a long month—you'd know that most. Stark and I have decided that for team bonding tonight that we'd all go out to the nightclubs.," you immediately began to tiredly shake your head in the negatory but Tony simply scoffed, "Not a choice Y/L/N, so wear something nice, preferably revealing, and be ready by 6PM."

Tony effortlessly dodged the item surrounded in crimson wisps that was thrown at his head, and Sam was fortunate enough to not have said the wrong thing so he followed the billionaire out without incident. Wanda quickly turned her attention to you, the pretty girl lightly trembling in her hold—not enough that one might see, but surely enough for her to feel.

"Detka, what's wrong?," you looked up to her and Natasha with an adorable pout., "I-I don't have any nice clothes, all I have are my mission suits and my casual stuff.," Natasha put her hand on your back, rubbing lightly to soothe you., "Don't worry your pretty little head angel, we'll find you something to wear—you rest."

—

Natasha and Wanda were true to their word, but judging by the skimpy clothing they left you with they weren't opposed to Tony's idea. Sighing at the idea of being so exposed you began to sort through the offered wardrobe. Had you not been going to a place with booze you'd have just found a proper place to hide from your group of persistent teammates.

Natasha and Wanda were waiting for you at the compound entrance, but Tony was quick to shove them into an awaiting car with Sam., "She'll be there shortly, I'll make sure of it, you three need to secure our booth reservations.," and before they could rebut the man slammed the door and tapped the car to usher if off.

"You look really nice Y/L/N.," Tony greets your nervous form as he enters the kitchen you were nervously snacking in., "Don't you have a wife?," you deadpan and the billionaire chuckled., "Yes, and two perfectly working eyeballs.," You'd rolled your eyes, then moved to straighten out the tight red dress clinging to your body before accepting his awaiting crooked arm, reluctantly you'd looped yours through and allowed him to take you to the car.

—

Natasha and Wanda were at the bar ordering shots when you'd walked in with Tony, and it really was a shame because you looked great. Once they returned to the table their faces fell when they saw Tony sat there without you, "Where's she at Stark," Natasha asks, the bite in her voice unrestrained and the man gulps, because he's not sure the truth is much better than them thinking you just weren't here.

Wanda saw the way he looked between them instead of at them so she was quick to shift her gaze backwards. Her jaw was nearly on the floor when she saw you on the dance floor with a mixed drink in your hands while your body moved along to the rhythmic music with ease., "Fucking hell.," her cursing drew Natasha's gaze from the useless man and over to you., "Chertov ad.," she confirms, her shot being thrown back with ease, and without another word she was dragging a speechless Wanda behind her on the way to the dance floor.

Natasha stops just out of your eye line, the both of them more than okay being silent observers for the time being as you sip your drink and sway your hips delectably to the upbeat music.

"See you blowin' me a kiss, it doesn't take a scientist to understand what's going on, baby."

Wanda was the first one to notice the blonde making her way towards you, Natasha was the one who saw the interest you were showing. Jaws clenched at the varying sights, and the idea of quietly remaining on the sidelines was thrown right out the window.

You'd found the eyes of strangers flattering, but there was a layer of emptiness that came with their gazes, you knew why it was there, but you reminded yourself that this is the reality you needed to get used to; rendezvous with total strangers because the women of your dreams are not likely obtainable.

"If you see something in my eye, let's not overanalyze. Don't go too deep with it, baby."

Or so you thought, because the stark blue eyes that once expressed clear interest in you from across the dance floor were now glowing a crimson red, her body quick to scurry away, and yours basically followed suit in reverse.

"You say the word forevermore, that's not what I'm looking for. All I can commit to is maybe. So let it be what it'll be. Don't make a fuss and get crazy over you and me."

The sight startled you ever so slightly in your inebriated state, the step backwards you took was reflexive, and it left you to gasp when a pair of hands settled over your hips, the scent of her distinct perfume the only thing letting you in on who's holding you., "I'll play loose; not like we have a date with destiny.," Natasha found the lyrics rather amusing, so she leant forward, beaming at the way your body shivered from the simplest of contact., "Detka, I think if we're all being honest here our date with the all elusive destiny is well overdue."

"It's just (aah) a little crush (crush); not like I faint every time we touch.," Wanda suddenly slid before you, successful in sandwiching you between her and her longtime lover., "It's just (aah) some little thing (crush); not like everything I do depends on you," you gulped when she began to lean in, her lips teasingly slid over your cheek, leaving a smudge of her dark red lipstick behind en route to your ear., "This is also so much more than a crush, so how about you stop running from us, hm?"

Wanda was pleased to see the excitement behind your intense stare, then when your gaze not so subtly dropped to her lips she knew they had you where they wanted you. Her hands settled over Natasha's as she leaned into you, but her lips only ghosted over yours, she was giving you the chance to pull away, and when you didn't she eagerly closed the lingering gap.

Natasha's strong hold on your hips tightened when your ass was pushed back into her by the force of Wanda's lips that collided with yours, she smirked against the nape of your neck at the gasp you released upon feeling the bulge of her strap in her pants., "That's for you detka.," she confirmed, causing you to whimper into Wanda's mouth, and grind against her of your own volition., "We're going to take such good care of you tonight krasivaya.," another sinful whimper left your mouth when Wanda all of a sudden pressed her pelvis to yours, you were able to feel yet another bulging strap.

You could feel just how wet this brief steamy encounter made you, and so you were nothing short of desperate when reaching to pull Wanda even closer, if that was even possible. Wanda, much to your dismay, pulled away from the kiss, chuckling as you tried to chase her lips., "Look at her Tasha, so desperate for us.," the widow chuckled along with her partner., "Then how about we blow this joint, and give her exactly what she wants lyubov'.," Wanda smirked., "What do you say detka?"

The second you nodded the three of you were flying to close your tabs, each woman with your hand in theirs, and the widest smiles on all your faces as you proceeded to run out of the club in a fit of giggles. All of you failing to see the smug smile on Tony's face while his empty hand sat before Sam's gobsmacked face. The younger man dropped a $20 into the hand of the billionaire, cursing the whole time about having had no clue this would happen, and why the hell Tony's ass needed a broke dudes cash.

Tony snorted., "It's the principle of the bet bird man.," he clapped his hand over his shoulder in a show of faux camaraderie while slipping the bill into his pocket., "I wonder how they failed to notice the lack of the team being here."

"Sam, those women had their own agendas for this night, the lack of a couple super soldiers, an archer with a family, and a socially inept scientist didn't bother them in the slightest."

"Are we going back to the compound?," Sam questioned, and the billionaire shook his head., "Oh, absolutely not, I value my sleep too much, plus I got a wife and kid waiting for me at my actual home. Good luck birdboy."

—

Sitting in the backseat of a car, a panting mess, was not how you saw your night going, but you weren't complaining; Happy was not either. The women of your dreams were becoming your reality, their hands and lips were all over you, any skin that was visible to them was fair game. The whimpers they were able to pull from you was all the inspiration they needed to keep going, well there was that, plus the fact that they'd never really intended to stop.

Once Happy stopped the car Wanda used her powers to throw the door open, a bit irrational you think, but hot nonetheless. Natasha's hands were on your hips in no time, gentle but brisk as she pushed you across the seats and into Wanda's arms. Then upon exiting the car you watched them exchange a look, the smirk on Nat's face worried you, and within a second flat you find yourself thrown over her shoulder as the two of them effortlessly sprinted into the compound. To feel just how wanted you were by the gorgeous women was rather arousing, even if it was a bit humiliating to be carried, truth be told that was a contributing factor for why your panties were likely in ruin.

The moment they placed you down on the bed your eyes began to wander, the space that felt forbidden to you, but was always open for your viewing looked exactly as you'd expected it to. Natasha and Wanda shared a smile, giving you your moment to observe all that's new to you. Too afraid to overwhelm you—their shy baby. Their room was expectantly bigger than yours, that didn't phase you one bit, it was the built in reading nook that left you with bubbling envy., "Feel free to use that anytime you want detka, but for now, do you think we can use you?," the way she smirked at you while basically staring into your soul had you instantly rubbing your thighs together, a non verbal yes if you will.

The soft way in which you'd also gasped lent to Wanda settling down besides you, a soft hand turning your face to meet hers., "First, can you tell us how much you had to drink angel?," melting into her touch you softly hummed., "Only the one, I-I'm not even drunk anymore."

"Perfect.," she beamed, then her hand shifted to tangle into your hair, pulling you in for a tender kiss that soon left you breathless. With your focus on Wanda, who's tongue was not afraid to explore your mouth, you failed to hear Natasha's slacks hitting the bedroom floor. Only when her hand joined Wanda's in your hair, turning you away from the witch to look to her did your eyes have a chance to wander. The real sight of her naked transcended your greatest fantasies, she was otherworldly, and you were still shocked she wanted you like this.

Having your eyes on her just felt right, Natasha had been anticipating this moment for so long, and it was living up to all of her expectations. Your eyes still held an innocence, but the way you instinctually licked your lips at the sight of her strap told her you likely knew a bit more than they expected; that honestly excited her., "Come here krasivaya.," the redhead used her hold on your hair to gently pull you up from the witches lap you'd migrated into, and into her strong arms instead., "May I?," with her hand on the zipper of your dress, and her eyes on your lips you'd found yourself at a loss for words, so you sheepishly nodded instead, and just this once she decidedly let it slide.

Next to slide was your dress down your body, hitting the floor with a soft thump, that was a direct contradiction to the wild one inside your chest., "Holy shit detka, you're soaked.," her eyes were transfixed on the wet patch that covered the majority of your panties, a fresh wave of embarrassment crashed over your body, but the ever knowing former assassin was quick to use her free hand to stop yours from their fidgeting, and her lips finally pressed to yours to quell the insecurity she knew was fogging up your tortured mind.

Soon Wanda's pressed up against your back, hardened nipples brush against your skin as her lips tenderly press to your spine column. You shudder at the feeling of her cold fingers on your exposed hips, your body more than a bit overwhelmed by both of their attentions. Peering over your shoulder she locks eyes with her lover who's just pulled back from you for air, they have yet another silent discussion while you work to regain some composure.

After you witnessed Nat nod her head yours is being turned to the side so that Wanda's lips can meet yours, catching your soft whimpers as Natasha's slowly marking your chest, briefly she toys with your nipples, chuckling against your skin at the way you whine and shimmy., "Such a reactive little thing you are detka, we're going to have so much fun ruining you.," her hands naturally settled over the hem of your panties, warming the entirety of your body., "Please...," her eyes widen, it wasn't her exact intention as she settled on her knees, but your soft pleas and the smell of your arousal help her to make her mind up., "As you wish."

A breathy sigh of relief leaves you when the sticky material of your slick coated panties are finally removed from your body. Natasha's body shakes with excitement when met with your glistening folds, the need to taste you has been steadily on her mind for months now, so it should be of no shock as she dives right in. The moment her tongue flicks over your clit your body jolts back, pushing into Wanda, and pulling an affected groan from the brunette as your ass smacks into her strap.

Natasha heard her lovers cries, so without a second thought she lifted your leg over her shoulder, then with blind precision she reached around to guide Wanda's strap to your pulsing entrance, and the witch didn't have to be told twice, her hips thrust forward, filling you to the brim, and her lips attached to your neck once your head flew back against her shoulder due to the blinding pleasure coursing through you.

The couple worked in unison to bring you to your peak, Wanda's hands played with your breasts while she deeply thrusted into you, all while Natasha never wavered from using her talented mouth to stimulate your clit, and with a final thrust you were screaming, your walls fluttering around the strap that was now coated in your thick arousal. Once the brunette slowly pulled out of you Natasha swiftly replaced her strap with her tongue, collecting every last bit of your addicting arousal that flowed on out.

"You did so well for us detka.," Wanda coo'd, hands still gently kneading your breasts, her lips peppering kisses to your skin to calm you while Natasha continued to clean you up., "We're not even closed to finished yet either.," the redhead said as she emerged from between your thighs, her face shining with both your slick and the accompanying smile., "Good."

Natasha quirks a brow, thoroughly amused by your subtle traces of attitude, her heart then picks up at the thought of breaking you in., "Your Master wants you on your elbows and knees, with your ass up.," her words were stern, but her thumb stroking over your cheek was soft, a total contradiction to the darkness taking over her once green eyes., "I'm gonna fuck you while you suck your Mistress off.," she gently pecked your lips, then as if her intention was to give you whiplash she spun you around by your hip, and pushed you towards the bed.

Wanda was already laying down, so you were careful when climbing onto the bed, your hands were besides her thighs, while your spread out knees settled between her legs., "Look at our precious girl Tasha, so pretty and on top of that she's just such a good listener.," you whimpered as the woman praised you., "Yeah? Then why isn't she doing what I said?," before you could mutter an apology you were screaming from the immense pleasure Nat's strap was bringing to your body, your walls stretched with every inch she managed to push into you, it was the same length, but looks were deceiving because it was thicker than Wanda's.

Natasha hips were stilled, allowing you time to adjust to her size, but she was also patiently waiting for you to get to work. After you caught your breath, and felt your heart return to some sort of baseline you looked up to see Wanda's eyes were already on your kiss swollen lips, the same pair that were meant to be bringing her pleasure, and though she wasn't frowning you could see the disappointment in her eyes.

Taking in a shaky breath you used one of your hands to lift the strap up, the tip grazed over your mouth, leaving a trail of your slick behind that you experimentally licked, the brunette watched intently to see your reaction, and the way you moaned at the new sensation didn't disappoint. In fact, it only turned her on more, her hips jutted off the bed, causing the strap to clash into your teeth, you didn't let that throw you off though. With your hand on the base you pressed down, primarily for her pleasure as she moaned at the sensation, but also for leverage as you began to take the strap in., "That's right honey, make your mistress cum."

Natasha began to move, her thrusts were slow and deep, neither woman intended to hurt you, or let carnality win out without your wishes; honestly all they wanted was to love you, and you surely felt that in all of their movements. Wanda was restraining her hips, that much was obvious to you, the same was to be said for how Natasha kept a consistently slow pace, it truly warmed your heart, but you needed it harder., “Master, Mistress: please use me—need more.,” you’d whined pathetically around the tip of the witches strap, and with a shared set of smirks the lovers gave you exactly what you wanted.

The room soon filled with the sounds of your moans, that were repeatedly interrupted by your gags as they used your body like a rag doll. Natasha was pulling you back by your hips so aggressively that there’s likely going to be marks, while Wanda shoved you down by the grip in your hair as she unrelentingly fucked your throat., “Fuck, detka you’re taking us so well, I can tell you’re close.,” Natasha grunted while fighting the grip your walls had on her strap to thrust into the spot that had you seeing stars., “Go ahead baby, let go for us.,” Wanda added breathily as Natasha reached around to rub your clit, bringing you over the edge.

Wanda’s body stilled beneath yours as your body jolted so harshly that the harness hit her clit just right, and sent her tumbling into the world of immense pleasure with you. Natasha lifted your body upwards with her toned arms, her hips continuing to rut up into you in a desperate need for her own release, while in turn deliciously prolonging yours., “Fuck, you are so perfect detka, taking my cock so well.,” you managed to plant your feet on the edge of the bed, and with that leverage you pushed down into her thrusts, and in under just a minute she was screaming in pleasure, her teeth sinking into your shoulder as the wave’s overwhelmed her, and in turn you were thrown into another blinding orgasm of your own.

Natasha’s tongue glided over the harsh mark in an attempt to soothe you, her lips continued to travel over your back, leaving deep marks behind while the both of you came back down., “Clean mistress up detka, I’m going to go grab something.,” Natasha pressed a kiss to your temple while holding you tightly to her body, then once she noticed Wanda had shimmied out of the strap she lowered you back down, then glided her strap right on out of you.

Wanda’s hand settled on your cheek, the two of you sharing a soft moment before you did as your master said, causing the witches head to fly back into the pillows while her hands flew up to her breasts for added stimulation., “Fuck, you’re so good with that tongue of yours detka, gonna make your mistress cum again.,” she panted out, you were only meant to collect her previous release, but she wasn’t complaining with how deeply your tongue was thrusting into her, swirling around and prodding at her spot that sends her body into a fit of trembles.

Natasha watched from the doorway, arousal pooling in her lower abdomen with just how well you were able to work her longtime lover over, and with how eager you were to clean up the mess you brought about for a second time. This moment with you was already greater than either had expected it to be, with how shy you always were they really only expected you to take what they had for you, which was more than enough, but your eagerness to please them just the same was a welcome surprise.

Natasha abruptly flipped you off of Wanda, smirking down at your cum drunk expression, and leaning down to kiss you passionately. Slipping her tongue passed your lips she was moaning instantly as the familiar tang of Wanda enveloped her tastebuds. While your mind was preoccupied with maintaining the heated kiss Natasha’s hands slipped between your bodies, a cold feeling being drug over your abdomen left your body to shiver, making the redhead excited for the next reaction she was likely to pull as she expertly clamped the metal over your sensitive nipples., “Oh fu-fuck...”

She pulled back to gaze at your face, ensuring that the pain had only been momentary, you looked back up to her with a subtle smirk, she was relieved to find you enjoying the clamps., “Master.,” she quirked her brow in a silent response., “Thank you.,” tugging on the chain she offered you pleasure in lieu of a response, your consequent moan a thrilling sound., “Such a reactive little play thing.,” she mused.

Without another utterance she was crawling up your body, her thighs settling on either side of your face, situating her core above your eager lips., “Look at what you’ve done to me honey, time to do your due diligence, and show me just how you made your mistress scream.,” she lowered her puffy core down, sighing as soon as your tongue swiped through her sensitive folds, and screaming as you sucked her clit in between your teeth., “Fucking good girl.,” her groan made your heart swell, and only added to your need to please the women of your dreams.

Wanda enjoyed watching her lover writhing above your body while her heart rate settled, granted, seeing the way you pleasured her did have it stuttering every time you managed to pull a raspy, strained moan from her lovers throat. The sight of you beneath her was the most exhilarating for her, a smirk overtook her features upon seeing your thighs clenching. Clearly you were just as affected as she was by Natasha’s borderline pornographic moaning, and the witch would not be wasting an opportunity to taste you from the source.

Crawling down to face your cunt she was in awe, your gaping entrance spastically fluttered around nothing, she was smiling gratefully at the opportunity, with her heart now set on remedying your little problem. Lithe fingers swiped around your entrance, causing your body to squirm at the unexpected, but oh so satisfying touch. Wanda was pleased with the way your body responded, so she gave you what you wanted by pushing three of her fingers into your warm cunt. She pounded into you at a brutal pace, your walls having tried to hold her in a vice grip, her mouth had latched around your clit to add to the excess pleasure, and as if she’d intended to overwhelm your system, her other hand tugged on the chain.

Natasha fell into her orgasm head first, your sudden, and unwavering moaning sending nonstop waves of pleasure throughout her. Luscious, muscular thighs closed around your head, effectively cutting off your access to oxygen, but you were too overwhelmed by your own bodies trembling to even register the fact that you weren’t breathing anymore. Not that you’d even complain, it would be the hottest way to go, you were sure of it.

Wanda’s mouth was agape, your back arching, and trembling thighs had only caused her to increase her pace in hopes of helping you reach yet another peak, which is why her face, palm and fingers were now coated in your release. After a moment of sitting in her shock she felt a little concerned to see your body slump into the mattress, with her magic she yanked Nat off of you, and both women gasped at the sight.

“Holy shit Nat, please tell me she’s breathing.,” killing you was not on their agenda, and she sighed in relief when you gasped suddenly. There was no way to know if it was Nat’s thighs suffocating you, or the never ending orgasms that left you to be knocked out, but either way the couple were actually shocked, and worried. Their concerns settled with the rise and fall of your chest though, and that fucked out smile settled over your gorgeous, cum drenched face.

“We fucked her unconscious.,” Nat marvels, and Wanda joins her at your side to hear your breathing., “Mhm.,” the both of them laid kisses to your swollen lips before climbing off the bed to plan out how to take care of you in this unexpected state, and with a brief bout of eye contact, and an accomplished kiss they set off to do their parts.

Wanda left the room with the dirtied sheets, as well as a fresh set to add to the dryer to make sure the bed is as warm as possible for you. Then she headed off towards the kitchen on your shared floor to make a feast worthy of the appetite the lot of you built up, while Natasha carried your slumped form into the bathroom. She gently settled the both of you into the tub, smiling fondly as you settled into her hold even further in your deep sleep. She washed your hair before moving onto your exhausted body, being extra careful as she slid the loofah over your bruised hips, while also still admiring her handy work., “Such a beautiful thing you are.,” she cooed while finishing sudsing up your chest that was also covered in their many marks.

Wanda entered the bathroom just as Natasha was standing up, the lovers shared a soft kiss, and the witch helped the redhead get you out. They worked harmoniously to dress you in their clothes; Nat’s sweats, and Wanda’s cami. They then laid you against the fresh set of warmed up sheets, sighing dreamily at the sight of you so adorably laid out on their bed. Natasha settled her chin on Wanda’s shoulder, while her arms wrapped around her waist, and the little witch leaned into the familiar comfort.

“She’s all ours now Natty, our patience finally paid off.,” Natasha spun the witch around, and stared into her eyes, a vulnerability was ever present within them., “I love you Wands, and I love her too—so much.,” the brunette softly smiled at her lover, then leaned in to press a reassuring kiss to her lips., “I love you both so very much Natty.,” she cheered., “We did it.,” Natasha shook her head at her lovers antics., “Go freshen up lyubov’, I’ll finish the food.,” they shared a parting kiss, leaving you to rest while handling everything that was necessary.

Wanda straddled your waist after getting out and dressed, her hands cupped your cooled cheeks, and she simply stared at your calmed features for a brief moment before moving forward with waking you up., “Krasivaya, time to wake up.,” she whispered in your ear, then pressed her lips to your jaw softly, chuckling when you were squirming at the tickling touch.

Her lips slowly continued to travel up until she pressed them against your inviting lips., “Come on now detka, wake up.,” you whined weakly, trying to shift away with your eyes still tightly shut, but the sounds of your muddled thoughts told her this process of hers was working., “We’ve got fettuccine alfredo.,” she whispered, and within an instant your eyes were fluttering open, you were clearly a bit disoriented but with the mission of having pasta on your mind, your tummy expectantly rumbling, well it was clearly enough to motivate you to awaken.

“There she is.,” she cooed teasingly, watching as the remembrance of tonight’s events come crashing over your mind. A giggle left her when your eyes widened at the sight of her straddling you, as if your face hadn’t just been pressed against her pussy a little over an hour ago., “Wands, wh-what did this all mean?,” you softly croaked out, your hands now balled into fists at your side, and her once smiling face fell., “Oh detka.,” her hands unfurled yours, and linked them with hers instead, lifting them up to kiss your knuckles before leaving them over her chest so you could feel her heartbeat., “This meant everything to us, do you feel me?”

You nodded a bit sheepishly and she beamed., “This heart here, it beats for my girls only.,” the look of confusion in your eyes was amusing., “M-me? I’m your girl?,” she nodded., “Our.,” Natasha interjected into the soft moment, you turned to where the sound came from and saw her signature smirk, but what really caught your eye was the tray in her hand. Wanda shrieked as you abruptly sat up, but your hands wrapped around her to save her from falling.

Your breath hitched though as you saw just how close her face was to yours, the sight of her luscious pink lips enticed you, and in a mustered up moment of bravery you leaned in to kiss her. An air of innocence to contradict tonights earlier shenanigans was present as you moved your lips against hers, “Your girl.,” you repeated in a whisper against her lips, feeling as she smiled at your disbelieving tone.

“Our girl.,” Natasha corrected once more, using her hand to guide you away from the witch by the chin, and leaning in to kiss you a bit more harshly to convey the message more clearly., “Our perfect little one.,” she concluded as she pulled away from you, and Wanda was quick to readjust your bodies so that she was leaned against the headboard with your back to her.

“Open up.,” Natasha boomed with a forkful of pasta in her hands, to which you instantly did, moaning languidly as the creamy pasta brought you into another state of bliss., “Fuck, Wands that’s delicious.,” you said over the mouthful., “Swallow your food love, and what about me?,” the redhead pouted in your direction, and you giggled in response, bringing a warmth to both of their hearts., “We both know who made it.”

Wanda snorted as Natasha dropped the fork into the pan with a dramatic flare., “Yeah, well I carried the hot dish into here for your sake.,” you met her faux annoyance with a genuine smile., “I’m sorry Natty, I appreciate you too.,” the redhead groaned at your too cute for words nature, leaning in to kiss your lips., “Well aren’t you just the most adorable little thing.”

You attempted to shy away from her, taking compliments from the goddess’s had always been hard for you., “Detka, you’re gorgeous, if anyone’s a goddess here it’s you honey.,” you tried to hide behind your hands at being called out, but Natasha pulled them away instantly., “Hey, don’t hide from us detka, a beautiful lady such as yourself deserves to be marveled at.”

“We will remind you every day just how beautiful you are until you believe it detka.,” Wanda’s hands tenderly roam over your sides as she speaks so sweetly to you. Natasha moved the tray out of her lap so she could reach you better, her thumbs removed the tears pooling on your lower lashes, then her fingers tenderly traced the outline of your face., “Beautiful.,” a teasing smirk on her face as she booped your nose, and chuckled at your warming cheeks., “We love you Y/N/N.,” the soft confession wasn’t all that shocking to you after the shared night of passion, and it was somehow even easier for you to reciprocate., “I love you too.”

Wet kisses were simultaneously deposited on your cheeks, you giggled wildly at the sensation of your cheeks being permanently smooshed, their hearts fluttered in their chests at the sound of your genuine giddiness, the couple shared a final teary eyed stare at the reality of the situation; you were theirs, giggles and all.

———————

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goosetheluce · 4 months

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you're my home (lucy gray baird x fem!reader)

info: cussing, ever so slight angst, mutual pining, confession, reader is running from district twelve with lucy gray

a/n: it's not weird to have a crush on someone with the first name as you !! taylor swift and taylor lautner did it leave me alone

»--•--«

you stirred from your rest at the bright sunbeams pouring through the trees. and maybe also lucy gray's insistent tugging and repetition of your name.

"holy shit," she grumbles, clearly dismayed. "wake up! we're almost there. gotta get moving."

" 'm up. lord."

you heaved a sigh and arched your back, a tight line of pops rushing down your spine. you took a deep inhale, eyes shutting again as you ran a hand along your fucked up, greasy hair.

traveling on foot for a week isn't the most flattering look.

when you peeled your eyes open, you were met with lucy gray's judging stare beating down on you. considering the way the corners of her lips twitched, though, you knew she couldn't stay annoyed at your heavy sleeping for too long.

"gimme a break, lucy gray. i'm not used to this," you rasped. you rolled out of your tent and lay dramatically on the forest floor. what's a little more dirt, anyway?

she scoffed and her radiance peeked through her exasperated face. the wide smile woke you up a little more.

"should've hung out with the covey more while we were still around the district," she scolds, grabbing your soft hands and wrapping them in hers to pull you to your feet. "might've taught you how to not be a baby."

"maybe. but i ran away with you, didn't i?" you retorted. "i think that makes me pretty grown."

lucy gray's playful smile faded into a more serene one. she simply gave a nod and stepped away, picking up her backpack.

"look what i found while you were asleep," she murmured. she pulled out eggs (poor mother bird), and a bundle of herbs for tea later. your mouth watered.

"no salt and pepper?" you teased, taking an egg and inspecting it. it was heavy. you were hit with homesickness as you remembered your kitchen, which sometimes struggled to stay stocked, but at least you had the chance for butter.

you both decided on soft-boiling the eggs in the tiny pot you begged lucy gray to pack before you ventured off. you sat and ate, peeling away the crackling shell and talking about the journey and whatever else before packing up and hiking through another day.

things were natural with her. hell, everything about her was natural. her beauty was untouched by the standards of the capitol and instead flourished freely. it was evident in the lively bounce of her dark waves and her sunkissed olive skin. you wondered when the last time was you looked in the mirror without picking everything apart, envying lucy gray's outward confidence.

"i still can't believe we're doing this," you spoke up, the silence becoming insufferable.

lucy gray turns her head to meet your eyes, her expression neutral. sweat pooled on her hairline and dripped down her temples. you knew if you reached out to touch her, her skin would be blazing with the power of the sun. good thing she doesn't burn.

"like, running away and all that. i thought i'd rot away in twelve for the rest of my life."

till i met you, you added on silently.

lucy gray laughed.

"a woman like you? naw, i had to steal you away. couldn't let such a beauty go to work in those damned mines."

"you really think i'm that much of a priss?" you sighed, batting your eyelashes at her sarcastically.

"oh, honey, i never said that. sometimes a girl just wants a treat for herself. so i got my treat."

you blamed the high noon for your feverish cheeks.

the minutes turned into hours, and the shadows stretched across the grass. laughter rang across the fields.

"your first kiss was billy taupe? he's so fucking boring, i'm sorry," you cackled, eyes shut tight from hysteria. "sadly for the rest of us, though...next to you, anyone is boring."

"what? first kisses aren't exactly known to be glamorous," lucy gray defended. "besides, i got the real deal after him."

"oh?" you perked up, voice stabilizing. "this mystery guy must be the reason your head was in the clouds...at least, according to maude."

suddenly, the happiness drained from her face. "for a while, i guess. wasn't worth it." you averted your eyes to the front of the scenery. your grip tightened around the straps of your backpack.

"you deserve better. you'll find someone. a hot guy from district four, maybe," you teased, nudging her arm with your elbow.

like me.

"oh, perfect, a fisher! don't even need to buy cologne for his birthday; it'd be useless against that rank," she remarks sourly.

you giggled as her teasing gaze met yours. your grin was mirrored, and you memorized the crevices of her smile lines. her eyes fluttered down to your lips for a brief moment before she cleared her throat and unraveled her map.

you let out a deep breath and looked around. you remembered when you first met lucy gray, frozen and terrified to see somebody else outside the limits of twelve. she eyed you warily from the lake, her lips parted and brow furrowed.

you realized you should probably say something to the girl in the lake, but you didn't know what. she waded toward you and began a less-than-friendly warning before you interrupted her.

"we don't have food. i'm just out here to gather some things."

the girl's voice halted and her shoulders reluctantly dropped from their defensive position.

"thank god."

"what are you doing in there? aren't you gonna get caught?" you inquired nervously, eyes flitting everywhere. the girl laughed brightly.

"those joke 'peacekeepers' don't care about anything that goes on past the fences. not even a covey girl swimming. scandalous, i know."

you stared as the sun washed over her soaked hair.

"lucy gray baird," she offered up her name. "but you can call me lucy gray. that's what all my friends call me."

"i'm..." you started, walking to the edge of the dock to meet her at the water.

she muttered something quietly, bringing you back to the present.

"what's that?"

"ah, just that we should stop here for the night. it's not a good idea to go through the forest in the dark. so easy to get lost," lucy gray corrects herself. you nodded and looked around for a spot.

"there looks good," you suggested, pointing to a spot under a lone cluster of trees. lucy gray hums in agreement before starting towards the spot, taking your hand in hers. your heart skipped.

the sky wept deep indigo, bleeding down into the horizon as the sun sank. insects chirped and buzzed, their calls flowing through the tree leaves and across the grassy plains. the fire was warm; the smell of roasted game and pungent tea carried away in the wind. lucy gray's wavy voice split the thick summer air pleasantly. your eyes stayed fixed on her. her dainty fingers held her tea. a sly smile painted her face.

"you stare a lot," she remarked. "you know that, right?"

your eyebrows raised a bit. you kept looking, wondering how she'd noticed and still hadn't even looked up to meet your gaze. until she did.

god, you loved the way her eyes looked like a cup of black coffee. the way your grandma used to make it. or maybe the tree bark you peeled away from a rotting trunk as a kid. the soil embedded between your fingers after a long day of work.

"i do know that," you responded a second too late. awkward delivery. you swallowed and looked into the towering coniferous forest. shadows crept from beneath the canopy and raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

"we should probably wrap it up soon," you insisted. "put out the fire, get to bed, all that." you picked at a scab till it flaked off.

lucy gray scoffed, setting her tea beside your backpacks.

"the sun is barely gone. just 'cause the birds are sleepin' don't mean we are."

you said nothing in return, still wary of the woods nearby. your fingers pressed firmly into the skin of your arms, which were rested on your knees. you sighed and put your head down.

you felt lucy gray's gaze burning into you. you felt the former scab swelling and the droplet of blood spilling down your arm.

"you messed with it too much. might get infected if we don't clean it," she asserted. you smiled with your head on your knees. lucy gray was making an excuse to touch you. you wondered silently if she felt the same intense heartrate, the same jolt of electricity every time your arms brushed as you hiked through the countryside.

away from all the rules.

you lifted your head and saw lucy gray hurrying back with a damp towel and honey. your brow furrowed.

"what's that for?"

she chuckled as she kneeled down to wipe away the blood and dirt with the towel.

"it'll keep that cut clean. antibacterial properties an' all. trust me."

your breath hitched as the towel made contact with your cut. the gentle sting of raw honey being spread across the wound is what snapped your drooping eyelids back open.

definitely not lucy gray's lips so close to you.

"...hey," she whispered.

"hi?" you responded, smiling a bit.

"it's alright if you're homesick. you can talk to me about it, if you'd like."

you breathed out a long sigh and pressed your forehead to hers. she hesitated before bringing her left hand to rest on the side of your face.

"lucy gray," you began, but struggled to finish. you pulled back slightly to make eye contact.

"i'm not that homesick. i have you," you whispered softly.

"you're my home."

you were met with a tense silence. you wanted to turn and run, because how could you be so stupid to tell her that, and you ruined the moment, and-

suddenly her lips are pressing gently into yours. your eyes widened. the taste of the tea she was drinking lingered on your tongue as she shuffled back.

"fuck! fuck, i'm sorry, i wasn't thinkin'," she apologized, voice shaking as she stared at you. she fiddled with her hands anxiously. you'd never seen her so flustered.

all you did was make your way back to her, cupping her face in a heavy kiss. you smiled against her, feeling her body relax into yours. her hands rested on top of yours before sliding comfortably onto your waist. she pulled back, jet black eyes bright with starlight and exhilaration.

"coming with you, getting away from twelve...it's been the best decision i ever made," you confessed, dropping your hands from her face and instead rubbing her arms. "i've wanted nothing except you for like, a year now."

"we've known each other for almost three years. i'm wounded," lucy gray teased, her fingers unsuccessfully smoothing the top layer of your hair.

"well, was i better than billy taupe?"

"quiet, you."

»--•--«

#lucy writes #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x reader #tbosbas #tbosas #tbosas x reader #lucy gray x fem!reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #the hunger games

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wtfgaylittlezooid · 24 days

Text

Stickbug AU

Just so y'all can get an idea of what I'm yapping about, I'm gonna spill everything I have planned for this AU so far on this post. I'll try to update it as I come up with more ideas.

NOTE: SO THIS CAME OUT A LOT LONGER THAN I THOUGHT SO IF YALL WANT TO CONTROL F TO CERTAIN SPOTS HERE ARE THE HEADER NAMES: The Hollows Creation AVA IV Chosen & Dark Anim VS Minecraft Purple KING LETS GO MY FAVORITE KING AVM Season 3 Victim & the Mercenaries After Everything

So this AU takes place around 50 years after the canon events of Bug Fables, and I'll explain as I go along so you won't need to know the events of the game.

Some needed information is that Humans are heavily implied to have disappeared/died, and some species of bugs have gained sapience in the "Day of Awakening," though some species remained feral with a few individuals gaining sapience far after the Day of Awakening.

The Hollows Creation

Alan is still in this AU, and in a way he is still the Hollows "creator." In this AU, he's a creature called a "Deadlander Omega" found in the Giant's Lair/Deadlands. Basic information is that they're colossal bird-like Deadlanders which are so big only their claws and eyes have ever been seen. In game they like to drop other Deadlanders onto the player which triggers a fight. Alan is a more aware Omega. He likes to collect whatever piques his interest, normally anything that shines due to the lack of sunlight in the Lair. However after a while of dropping Deadlanders onto the few passing bugs, he got more curious by bugs.

NOTE: THIS IS DRAWN BY @tatos-stick-pile SHE HAS DONE SO MUCH FOR THIS AU

So what did he do? Sneak out of the Giant's Lair. Used the overgrown weeds to his advantage and would look around. Found out about larva and got fascinated by the fact bugs came from that. So whatever larva he could find he'd take back-- which wasn't often since most people wouldn't just leave their larva/eggs lying around.

Anyway he'd bring them home. The Deadlanders wouldn't register the larva/eggs as bugs or alive so they could just crawl around and munch on the grass until they eventually grew up. Alan started realizing "oh shit grow your own entertainment" when his first little stolen egg grew to a bug, a grasshopper (victim). Alan would basically use a jar to keep Victim from running off, would drop Deadlanders on him to watch the fights even if Victim sucked at fighting.

Now even if Alan doesn't recognize the bugs as living and thinking things, he isn't stupid. He notices how they use the shiny crystals he likes to collect to heal. So when he sees Victim nearly getting killed in one of the fights he puts two and two together and "gives" Victim the crystal. AKA impales him and literally kills Victim. When he notices Victim stops moving, throws him away and tries again.

He finds a hornet larva. Decides to try something different. Bugs use the crystals for health, so as the larva crawls around and eats he crushes up one of his crystals and mixes it into areas they know they like to eat in. Because of the magic in the crystals, whatever sticks in their bodies results in the larva becoming strong, healthy, and extremely powerful sorcerers.

Chosen fights-- both the Deadlanders and Alan-- but can't win. He tries running, but Alan rips off a wing and puts him in the jar. Eventually Alan gets lucky and finds a wasp larva, and unfortunately for Chosen, this one doesn't seem to understand anything other than following Alan. Of course y'all can guess what happens from here: Alan pits the two against eachother, Chosen tells Dark they can team up to fight Alan, and end up doing a lot of damage to him before running. It takes a long while for Alan to rebuild his health before he tries again. This time a lot more careful with a little bumblebee larva (Second). He keeps a very close eye on it to make sure it doesn't hurt him, and an even closer eye to make sure it doesn't get away.

AVA IV

Red's a ladybug, Green's a grasshopper, Blue's a firefly, and Yellow's a caddisfly. While Bugaria takes place in the Giant's Lair (AKA a abandoned human home)'s backyard, the color gang are from the front yard. They each have their own reasons to travel to Bugaria: Yellow has heard about Roach technology and really wants to see how it works for himself, Red wants to join the Explorer's Association and fill out his bestiary along the way, Blue wants to visit the Harvest Festival and give an offering for the goddess of Harvest, Venus' approval, and Green just wants to stick with his friends.

However getting to Bugaria is difficult. While before most people would take the swamp, the only thing that resulted in was a lot of tension and frustration since they couldn't communicate with the Leafbugs living there and would only result in a lot of deaths on both sides. The swamp got closed off, and as a result, left two main paths. The Caravan is the most popular for good reason: it is an extremely long road usually consisting of many bugs, although because the trip normally takes around a month, it is not safe from bandits nor the weather. A lot of injuries tend to happen and many come out malnourished. The other option takes a day. Just follow the path through the Giant's Lair. There won't be many Deadlanders, but if there are, only large enough groups of bugs or explorer teams can go through to ensure safety.

Since they're a group of four impatient, naive, younger bugs, the Color Gang goes through the Deadlands. It isn't that bad actually, until a little bumblebee catches Red's eye, and an glint of Blue catches Yellow's. Each go off path, Red finding a very excited and nervous Second Coming, and Yellow finding a half of the Roach's ancient Key.

And This catches Alan's attention, because that bee and that key are both of his things. They get to see Alan's spooky ass eye, and Second urges them to run, but before they can the Color Gang gets squished by Alan's claw and Second and the key get picked up. Second isn't happy, stings Alan right in the eye, and gets dropped right next to his friends. He tries helping them up so they can leave, but they're still struggling. He takes too long and Second and his friends get a jar slammed over them.

Alan keeps watch of them, now mostly curious because that's a LOT of bugs in one jar. He's expecting them to fight or do something, but instead... they just sit together. They just chat and sit against the glass, and what really shocks Alan is when they pull out food and start sharing it. I think this is the moment it clicks for Alan that there's something more to them. Alan leaves, and when he comes back he brings back two things. A good pile of food for them, and one of his crystals. He places them on the ground and lifts the jar before perching to see what they do. They're too injured to leave even with the crystal's healing, but Alan is just fascinated with this new discovery. That they're complicated, that they think. For as long as they stay in the Deadlands, which is only a few days, he tries making it as comfortable as possible to see what they like. Tries modeling after what he's seen other bugs do and live in.

They leave of course, taking Second and the key half with them. Alan doesn't like it, but he lets them. Now he's curious on if they'll come back, and now just has a lot to think about now that he's realized they can think and feel.

Chosen & Dark

After everything with Alan, the only thing Dark and Chosen knew was the other, so they clung. Dark itched for a fight, and Chosen was more curious about the outside world. Eventually this lead to the two becoming an explorer team.

It wasn't bad at first, but Dark of course gravitated to the shadier areas. Dark THRIVED in bounties and fights, meanwhile Chosen started second guessing whether or not he liked being an explorer. Every time they had to leave a kingdom or village, he'd always just felt disappointed. But Dark wanted to keep going, so he followed.

Eventually they started to get a reputation. They would do any quest, no matter the morals, and they wouldn't sell you out. They would get worse and worse clients, and were quickly teetering on the line of hitmen, and Chosen eventually had enough. He didn't see the point in it anymore, he liked the slow moments. Dark meanwhile thrived in a fight, because it was the only thing hes ever known.

This led to a fight between them. A bad one. Dark had been experimenting with Roach crystals to boost his own abilities, and somehow, Chosen ended up accidentally dragging Second and the Color Gang into it. There was a lot of collateral damage and Dark showed off how he was not above killing people, by targeting Second's friends. They died, and that mixture of sheer rage and grief was what triggered Second's skill in magic. Y'all know how this goes, Second beats the shit out of Dark Lord, revives his friends, but before he can land the killing blow, Chosen stops him.

Chosen doesn't want Dark to die, but he can't be with him anymore. So he rats on Dark. Gets him thrown in Rubber Prison, and Dark takes this as a betrayal. They depend on each other, and Chosen wouldn't even defend him and never visited him. Chosen regrets this decision every day and before he can get arrested too, he hides and is labeled as missing.

Anim VS Minecraft

This stumped me at first because how the hell do you mix bug fables and Minecraft but NO WORRIES I FOUND A WAY

After the Deadlands, first thing Color Gang does is sign up for the Explorer's Association. Unfortunately there can't be teams of 5, so they split into two teams: Blue and Yellow form Team Sunset, and Second, Red, and Green form Team Second. They do quests for a while, Yellow spends a lot of time focusing on the key half, and eventually they team up for a pretty important quest!

Not sure what this quest would be exactly, but basically they get lured into a cave and when they get into it Red starts acting weird. And then he starts attacking them and going for the key and yep if you've realized it WE FOUND A WAY TO ADD HEROBRINE FUCK YOU MINECRAFT CREEPYPASTA BUGSONA

Art once again by @tatos-stick-pile

Herobrine is a recently awakened Golden Orb Weaver spider who uses his silk to puppet Red around. This silk is SHARP too. He tries going for the key because he's heard of the artifact and its power and he really wants it to expand his territory. He gets his ass kicked when they figure out whats going on and he escapes.

Afterwards Yellow decides to be more secretive about the key half. They don't figure this out for a while though, but the entire reason Herobrine was expanding his territory is because he looks after lesser bugs ESPECIALLY ones that have recently awakened. He just hates regular bugs.

Purple

And I lied to start with Purple I have to start with an Explorer Team y'all should be familiar with-- unless youre coming from the bug fables fandom and to that i say hello how do you like the shitstorm so far. Anyway one Explorer Team, Team Orchid. It consists of an orchid mantis named Orchid and another mantis named Navy.

Orchid is an explorer for the sightseeing and to help people. Navy doesn't exactly care about that, he's mostly around to make sure she doesn't get herself killed. Eventually he gets an idea that they can get a pet for some extra defense. Orchid LOVES the idea, and so Navy drags her to the Forsaken Lands to find something strong enough.

Orchid falls in love with a mothfly and won't settle for anything else. That mothfly is Purple, a recently awakened mothfly who is extremely confused because he's only been around feral mothflies and its his instinct to stick with them. Anyway y'all know how this goes, Navy "trains" (aka beats) Purple, who can't fight back and goes to Orchid for comfort. Purple causes a massive rift in their relationship and its not even their fault. Orchid wanted a pet to dote on and Navy wanted something to train. But Orchid isn't stupid-- even if Purple is a mothfly and can't talk she starts recognizing he's awakened. He's a child. She starts treating him as such despite how much Navy HATES it and Purple of course starts seeing them as their parents and really looks up to them.

And one day Navy is sick of it. Takes Purple by the arm and drags him back to the Forsaken Lands and far from Orchid. Purple is nervous but still trusts him, thinks its for training. Navy drags him all the way to the abandoned Ant Settlement and tells him to stay there. To prove his training he needs to protect that settlement until he comes back to get them. Purple of course is "okay ❤️ yay❤️."

He doesn't come back. Neither does Purple. But Purple sticks to the settlement and protects it-- getting a little overly defensive of it. Overtime more mothflies are drawn to the area and of course they form little hivemind clusters and whoops! False Monarch 2. But since Purple is awakened and actually intelligent he has a lot more control over the mothfly clusters-- or False Citizens-- and they act more as an extension of him. Purple forms his own little cluster too-- and hates being separated from it and DESPISES being acknowledged as "just a mothfly" so he dresses with a mask and cloak to be a better bug. He gets a bit of a superiority complex as well due to just being surrounded by nothing but feral bugs that he can control.

Anyway the sudden re-population of this abandoned settlement with False Citizens does not go unnoticed. Especially because whenever one wanders close, Purple tends to have a citizen stalk and lurk around the edge until it creeps the bug out enough for them to leave. So a bounty is made once again for the False Monarch.

Blue and Green see it. They think it would be SO fun to lean into their competitive sides and see if whoever got the killing blow on the bounty would finally prove their team as better. So they go to the settlement, see the citizens staring and stalking them and ignore it. They aren't attacking them, after all. They're just being creepy.

They end up finding Purple who is NOT happy and is immediately defensive. But he's not attacking them. He's just kinda throwing a fit and making himself look bigger. Which is weird because bounties are usually extremely dangerous and hostile, but this one is just... throwing a fit. They end up just nearly dodging a fight when some of the citizens start grabbing Green and Blue to throw them out and Blue blurts out they don't want to fight. Turns out Purple does understand Bugnish, but can't speak it.

Great! So they don't have to kill the pretty chill bounty. But others don't know that, and they need to bring back proof they killed Purple to get the bounty taken down. They bring it up to Purple and after vague translations, they make a deal. Purple's been having trouble with a strong enemy near the settlement, so he gives them their mask and helps them defeat the enemy.

And its a big fucking spider, but thankfully they have Purple's range to help in the fight, and while its going smooth at first-- Purple ends up bailing. He's spent too long away from the settlement and figures since Blue and Green are strong enough that they'll be fine. They aren't. Because they needed Purple's range. Purple almost ends up getting them killed, the only reason they survived is because their friends realized they were gone for a long time and come just in time.

Green and Blue afterwards take the mask and leave. They're pissed at Purple but they can confront him another time, they mostly just want to be away from him at the moment.

KING LETS GO MY FAVORITE KING

Time for King! Y'all know King's deal. He has a child he loves with all his heart. In this AU he is a Violin Mantis and his little Goldie is a mantis nymph. King personally isn't an explorer, but Gold REALLY wants to be once and he always finds it difficult to say no to Gold.

Anyway Gold hears wind of a tourist thing. They're doing this mini-tour of the Deadlands in a 100% totally nothing will ever go wrong encased area. Its gonna focus on theories on the Deadlands and what Gold is more interested in-- how Explorers made it safer and how they traverse it.

King doesn't like it. Its called the Deadlands for a reason. But Gold really wants to and is begging him and is doing all his chores and being the most perfect little nymph so he can go. And they claim its safe. King finally caves and takes Gold, and y'all can guess what happens. Deadlander breaks through and kills his son right in front of him before the Explorer escorts can kill it.

So like any regular parent experiencing grief King vows to fucking blow up the Deadlands and everything in it. Not like anybody cares about that fucking place and is widely considered a No Man's Land. He ends up getting his hands on the other half to the Key and is obsessed with finding the other half.

AVM Season 3

While going towards the Termite Kingdom to hopefully find some clues on where the other key half is, King gets lost along the way and finds the abandoned Ant Settlement. False citizens are of course not happy and watch him, but he ignores them. He might as well search the place while he's here. He ends up finding Purple, whose not happy and already a little on edge because Blue and Green haven't come back despite promising they will.

King notices the bounty paper Green and Blue drop and promptly manipulates Purple. Tells them that they probably won't be coming back. But I imagine Green and Blue were yapping to Purple, mentioning the key half because both dont take it that seriously, and Purple sees King's key half and mentions it through a drawing.

King turns up the manipulation to 100. convinces Purple to take his citizens with them (wants to use them as a deadlander bait). If they get the key they'll be strong enough for their village. He just has to get the key from his friends and bring it to King.

Very cute doodle once again from @tatos-stick-pile

Purple does. A while after he's ditched the village to be with King, they run into Color Gang again. They're chatting and having fun and eventually Purple just... dissapears along with the key. Y'all should know what happens, the chase happens, Purple brings the key to King, he combines them and gets really strong and starts destroying shit. Big fight starts up, King focuses on superpowered Second, the color gang go after Purple, who isn't really that strong. He tries getting help from King, but King ignores him. Leaves him for dead.

This fucks up Purple. Because King introduced that fear and realization of abandonment in Purple. And Purple not only realizes how many mistakes he's made, but also realizes he's in fact a lesser bug. That's why nobody wants him. And people don't hesitate to kill lesser bugs when they're in their way. Purple gets both super emotional and terrified for his life, and is forced to abandon his beloved cloak and mask to make a run for it. Green pursues him, everything else happens.

Not sure how everyone splitting up would work so far, but Red somehow gets Herobrine and some of the bugs he watches involved in the fight. Green convinces Purple to go after King, and the bigger fight starts. King uses the Key to attack anyone and hes close enough to his goal hes gotten a lot more brutal. Will just hold whoevers nearest and shoot them point blank with it. Y'all know that scene. The scene where King is nearly killing Purple and goes through that flashback and is slapped in the face with the realization he sees Purple as his own son. That still happens, King gives up, helps Purple and Purple still sticks to him.

Victim & the Mercenaries

Shortly after being discarded by Alan, a cordyceps fungus found and started growing in the grasshopper's body. He is EXTREMELY lucky, because the tiniest crumbs of magic crystal left in his body was just enough magic to balance out the fungus sticking to him and passing on its memory without completely overloading it and turning him into a zombie. But its not perfect, and it still shows in the mini holes in his body. He also woke up fucking PISSED enough to turn him into a Locust

I'm gonna keep this section extremely vague since we still don't know what happened to Victim in AvA canon. Just know he built a massive "charity" corporation in the Termite Kingdom that claims its going to find a way to turn the Deadlands useful. AKA he wants an excuse to have enough money to research a way into killing Alan.

This involves hiring explorer teams, leading him to the Mercenaries: Hazard, Ballista, Primal, and Agent. They are explorers who work in the shadier areas of the Association and are EXTREMELY difficult to hire as they only accept high rewards up-front.

Some concepts for Victim and Agent since I haven't settled on a design for them...

Chosen and Dark catch Victim's eye, since they're rumored to have attacked an Omega and lived. However since Chosen is missing, Victim and the Mercenaries stop by Rubber Prison to visit Dark. Now Dark and the Mercenaries were very well known in the same area, so they know each other. Doesn't mean Dark likes them.

They convince Dark to help them with the promise of his bands back and a dead Omega. Dark thinks Chosen would absolutely love a dead Omega, and so he doesn't hesitate.

Shit happens. Chosen and Second get captured by the mercenaries and Chosen is PISSED at Dark despite all the regret. They're both mad at each other but Dark's doesn't last long when Victim starts torturing Chosen for information. He's mad at Chosen but he doesn't want that.

He blows up at Victim a little at it, so to get Dark to listen, Victim rips off a good chunk of Chosen's remaining wing. That makes Dark stand down, and now Dark doesn't know what to do. Chosen feels too guilty about everything to say anything, and Dark is too prideful to apologize. More shit happens-- Victim has the gem of Hoaxe's crown. Long story short it can brainwash Hornets, which Victim starts using when Chosen keeps refusing. That pushes Dark more off of Victim but he can't do anything lest Victim directs it all back on Chosen tenfold.

More vague shit. Mr alan becker i need the next part of episode six soon please. Anyway big fight in the Deadlands. Everyone's in there and Victim wants Alan DEAD. But Victim is getting progressively more and more pissed off because despite being attacked Alan is being as gentle as he can. He's going the extra mile to make sure he doesn't kill them. Anyway Dark ends up snapping Chosen's antennae to break him out of the brainwashing and Victim gets cooked.

Chosen decides to not murder Victim-- mostly because clearly that's not permanent and its too good for him. Victim is extremely upset about this because the fact nobody is killing him and just being weirdly merciful and the fact hes lost all control has sent him into a breakdown. Its challenging all the rules hes lived by and how he thought the world worked. Hes screaming and shouting at them.

Which attracts the attention of another Omega. Now the thing about Omegas is because they're pretty fragile due to being mostly bones, it means they need to build armor to survive. And they're territorial. Usually if an Omega picks a fight the one with the better armor survives.

Once again-- art provided by @tatos-stick-pile THEY ARE COOKING

And to protect the bug he KNOWS he hurt and was alive-- Alan attacks the other Omega despite already being extremely injured and losing most his armor. The others dont have a choice but to hide out of sight, and eventually the other Omega wins and kills Alan. Tries looking around for the interesting thing that was shouting but finds nothing and fucks off along with a few undamaged parts of Alan's armor.

Everyone except for Second and the Color Gang decide to take their leave. I imagine throughout the story theres a lot of moments where Alan works on making it up to Second and just truely shows he cares and is regretful. So Second tries reviving him, but the problem is that Alan is just... fuckin' massive. Even when they're dead or asleep they're so big their bodies get mistaken for terrain.

It doesn't work at first. Until Yellow finds the gem Victim left behind that he used to control Chosen, and he learned that this can boost magic. He gives it to Second and he completely exhausts himself and they revive Alan. Yipee!! Everyone is saved happy ending go home its over

After Everything

Chalk my liar count to 2 y'all

Purple lives with King, and King has officially adopted him. They still have their own issues they're working towards, but they're slowly getting there together.

Dark and Chosen don't know what to do at first. Chosen wants a chill and peaceful life, but Dark directly contrasts that. He's much more well known and hated than Chosen. Just by being with him, he ruins Chosen's happiness, but he just wants to stay with him. Chosen wants to stay with Dark as well. Thankfully, one of the mercenaries pops up. They're pissed at first, but all they do is mention a town.

Looking into it, after the attempted takeover half a century ago, the bandit leader Astotheles got inspired by the celebration. He wanted a home, a nation for his people, so he left Bugaria because it obviously wasn't gonna happen there. Outside the nation's borders, he established his own village. Where bugs who are abandoned or discarded can come to start anew.

Chosen and Dark decide to move to there, leaving behind and finally moving on from everything that happened to them.

Victim on the other hand went missing. He took that loss HARD. Agent thinks he has an idea on where he went, but needs extra help, so he puts up a request. He's not bringing the other mercs because they don't know about the cordyceps thing and Victim prefers to keep it hidden.

Color Gang ends up taking it up. They are low on berries and its the only request on the board. Nobody is happy about this. Agent makes sure to go with them, and he leads them all to Snakemouth Den. In the den there's a lot of spores and magic in the air, and it gets worse the deeper you go in because in that cave is an ancient Roach laboratory where experimented on cordyceps and magic in an attempt to recreate the immortality of the Everlasting Sapling (that thing is long dead it doesnt matter).

Anyway Victim went here for a power boost. Thinks he just needs to try again and he'll have more control and he'll win. Now he aint thinkin' clearly because the magic that is so goddamn potent in this cave is messin with the fungus. And y'all remember what i said?

"He is EXTREMELY lucky, because the tiniest crumbs of magic crystal left in his body was just enough magic to balance out the fungus sticking to him and passing on its memory without completely overloading it and turning him into a zombie."

Yeah. Ends up shanking himself with the crystals to try and force more magic in him and it makes the fungus go stupid crazy and completely overgrow out and through his exoskeleton and whoops! say goodbye to your sentience. Control freak loses everything even the control over himself. Fun little boss fight I also imagine he has a poison thing going on.

Anyway they end up knocking him down and restraining him, Agent rips out all the crystals. Victim isn't dead yet but he's in awful shape, and congrats you earned Second's pity. Second heals him and Agent pays them a shit ton for that and brings Victim home to help him recover.

Anyway thats it for the AU so far holy god that was so much longer than I expected if you made it here we should go on a date to texas roadhouse together

#anim vs bf au #my writing #animator vs animation #ava #avm #animation vs minecraft #ramble #long post

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larluce · 6 days

Text

Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU

@dsabian , @theplatanitosqueal , @stressed-but-chill , @gregre369 , @chaosofbelievers , @thelordofabsolutelynothing , @another-tblr-fangirl , @aceauthorcatqueen , tagging you since you liked the other parts ^^

LINK TO THE OTHER PARTS: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 (You're here) , PART 7

In Arthur's chambers.

Arthur: (sleeping peacefully)😴

Merlin: (flies above him, chirping and picking at him)

Arthur: (still half-asleep) Hmmm... Merlin, not now (covers himself with the blanket to go back to sleep)

Merlin: (changes to human form and falls on Arthur)

Arthur: (out of breath for a moment and shouts) What the-Merlin! 😠

Merlin: (very excited, jumping in Arthur's lap) It's happening! It's finally hapenning! 😄

Arthur: What is happening? (looks the sun isn't even up through the window) And so early? (rubs his eyes)

Merlin: The eggs! They're hatching! (gets off Arthur and runs to the window where the nest is)

Arthur: (getp up, drowsiness finally gone) What? Really? (runs to the nest too)

Merlin: (points at one egg) Look!

Chick 1: (gets out of his shell all damp with lots of bare, pink skin exposed)

Merlin: ...

Arthur: ...

Merlin: He... he is...

Arthur: Ugly?

Merlin: Was I like this when I was a chick?

Arthur: You are a magical entity, Merlin, you were never a chick.

Merlin: Oh, thank the gods!

Chick 2: (gets out of her shell)

Merlin: (smiles) Oh, this one is a female!😊

Arthur: How can you know so soon?

Merlin: Magical entity.

Arthur: Right. (waits a moment, but nothing happens) How long until the others hatch?

Merlin: It could take the entire day. (holds the eggs and the chicks carefully and puts them in Arthur's hands)

Arthur: (scared as fuck as he holds them) WOW! Wait! What are you doing?! 😨😱

Merlin: You have to keep them warm.

Arthur: (whisper yelling) I can't incubate them! I'm gonna crush them!

Merlin: You don't have to sit on them just hold them close to your body to keep them warm. Meanwhile (stretches his limbs and cracks his knuckles and neck) I'll stretch my wings for a bit. 😊

Arthur: You're leaving me with these little merlins just so you can take a fly?! 😠

Merlin: (suddenly serious) Yes, Arthur, I've been incubating them for a whole month without a single break and now I want to fly for a couple of hours. Is that too much to ask?

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (raises his voice) I said is that too much to ask?

Arthur: No, no, no, not at all. Go ahead.

Merlin: Awww, thank you 😄. I'll be back soon. (changes to bird form and flies away)

Arthur: ...

Arthur: (to the two chicks and the 3 eggs, holding them closely) Your mom is very scary, boys.

Chick 2: (chirps a little)

Arthur: And girl. Right, you're a girl. (walks to the bed very slowly, sits and yawns) There you go. Now I have to stay awake (yawns) until Merlin comes back.

3 hours later. Arthur is asleep again, the chicks and the eggs close to his bare chest.

Chick 1 and 2: (chirp loudly)

Arthur: (half asleep) Shut up, Merlin (about to move, but suddenly remembers) The chicks! (completely awake now, but doesn't dare to move and looks down fearfully, thinking) Please be alive, please be alive.

Chick 3: (comes out of his shell)

Arthur: (sighs in relief and smiles) Only two more left. (holds carefully the chicks and the eggs with his hands and sits slowly) Oh, you're fluffy now. (taps chick 1 and 2 on the head whose plumage now is white and downy) You're still ugly though. (Looks at the eggs closely, worried) Please tell me you made those cracks.

Merlin: (appears and lands on the nest holding a death bird with his beak)

Arthur: Oh, thank the gods you're back! (walks to him and puts the eggs and chicks back to the nest carefully) And you brought food.

Merlin: (sits on the eggs to keep incubating them and starts feeding the chicks)

Arthur: If you needed food you could've just told me. I would've sent my hunters for food.

Merlin: (chirps)

Arthur: But then I wouldn't let you take a fly. Very smart. (Yawns and looks through the window) Servants are going to bring my breakfast soon. You better use that invisible spell of yours before they do (yawns and goes back to bed)

3 days later, all five chicks are now out of their shell and are bigger. To Arthur, they look like fluffy little white balls with very angry faces. He takes turns with Merlin to keep them warm and to hunt for food. Today it was Arthur's turn to feed them while Merlin stretched his wings a bit.

Arthur: (scolds while he feeds the chicks raw meat using a tweezer) No! Don't steal your brother's food! Bad, bad! 😠 (someone knocks his chambers' doors and he hides the nest behind him quickly and demands) Who is it?

Morgana: (from outside) Morgana.

Arthur: (sighs relieved and relaxes) Come in.

Morgana: (enters, singing happily) Where are my favourite nephews! 🤗

Arthur: (blushes) They are not your...! or mine... I'm just helping Merlin look after them.

Morgana: (Looks at the tweezer in Arthur's hand) Is that Gaius' medical tweezer?

Arthur: They wouldn't stop pecking my fingers. Like this they won't take my fingers off when I feed them.

Morgana: (takes the tweezer) Let me help. (Starts feeding the chicks)

Arthur: Oh, not to 1. He already ate a lot.

Morgana: (confused) 1?

Arthur: Yeah, the one with a number 1 in his head.

Morgana: ...

Arthur: You know, because he came out of his shell first. And this one is 2 because she came out se-

Morgana: You named your children after numbers and put numbers on their heads with ink?! 😡

Arthur: They are not my children! 😠. They are not even 'children'! And how else was I supposed to identify them?!

Chicks: (chirp louder)

Morgana: Now you made them cry.

Arthur: They are crying because you are not feeding them. (Takes the tweezer and continues feeding them)

Morgana: I can't believe Merlin let you name them like that.

Arthur: He didn't want to name them at all.

Morgana: (Confused) What?

Arthur: He doesn't want to get too attached to them since they're gonna leave as soon as they learn how to fly. (Sighs, feeling guilty) And I guess he's afraid of getting attached again to any merlin since...

Morgana: Since you killed Claws?

Arthur: (looks at the window, frantic, and then back to Morgana) Shut up! Merlin could be back at any moment!

Morgana: Didn't it occurred to you that maybe Merlin doesn't want to get attached to them because he knows you don't want to get attached to them?

Arthur: What?

Morgana: He adopted those chicks, Arthur. For you they may be just birds but for Merlin they are more than that. How do you think a single parent feels when their current partner doesn't accept their children?

Arthur: I... didn't think of it that way.

Morgana: So you realize that if you want to be with Merlin you'll have to be their parent too, right?

Arthur: I guess... (looks at the chicks) Fuck.

Morgana: You despise the idea that much?

Arthur: Is not that. It's just... I'm barely 18! I didn't expect to be a father so soon. And I expected my children to be, you know, human.

Morgana: You also expected your one true love to be a beautiful princess and here we are. (sighs) So? Do you still want to be with Merlin?

Arthur: ...

Time skip. Merlin with Arthur in his chamabers.

Merlin: (in his human form, after trying a spell on the nest) I did it! (jumps happily)

Arthur: (gets closer, curious) What did you do?

Merlin: Oh, I improved the invisible spell on the nest, now no one who isn't us or Morgana can see the chicks while they are there.

Arthur: That's great!

Merlin: Yeah, I don't have to make the spell constantly anymore and you won't get caught by your father. They are even save from other raptors now. It took me a while to get it right. (his smile gets sad)

Arthur: (concerned) What is it?

Merlin: Nothing, it's just... They... they don't need incubation anymore, but I... I still want to embrace them. But I can't, there's no need anymore.

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: (his eyes tearing) I know I'm not supposed to love them, I'm not really his dad or anything. I'm not even a real falcon.

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: And I know you didn't want them here in the first place, but-

Arthur: (shouts) Merlin!

Merlin: (startles)

Arthur: (extends his hand to Merlin and says softly, smiling) Would you dance with me?

Merlin: (blushes, confused) Wha... what? 😳

Arthur: Would you give me the honor to share a flying dance with me?

Merlin: I... (still very red and confused) but you... you don't have-

Arthur: Humans can also dance, you know? It's true I have no wings, but I can make you fly if you let me.

Merlin: (smiles widely, eyes watering) I'd love to.

And they dance. Arthur discovers that, while Merlin is very agil with his bird wings, he's very clumsy with his human legs, but he lets himself be guided by Arthur all the time. There are stomps, there are laughs, but they soon find a comfortable pace and Merlin ends up with his arms around Arthur's neck, and Arthur with his hands on Merlin's hips, dancing slowly at the rhythm of the music of their hearts.

Merlin: (still dancing with Arthur, confused) Are we supposed to mate now?

Arthur: (laughs softly) There's no rush for that. But I want you to be my partner. My mate if you want to call it that way. I love you, Merlin, and I want to be with you and have a family with you.

Merlin: Oh... (gets a little sad) But we're both male, we can't... (opens his eyes wide) Or can we? 😲

Arthur: No, two males can't.. procreate, but we don't need to worry about that. (Points at the nest with his head) We already have a family together.

Merlin: (Gets so happy he might cry and kisses Arthur on the lips in a fit of joy)

Arthur: (In shock for a moment, but soon kisses back and they kiss for a long time)

Merlin: (separates the kiss, but keeps their faces close, catching his breath) Did I... Did I do it correctly? I saw some humans do that with their mates.

Arthur: (smiles wide) You did it wonderfully.

Merlin: Arthur?

Arthur: Yeah?

Merlin: I think I love you romantically.

...

Just so you know, this is how the chicks look:

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin prompt #merthur fic #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt #Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU

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shorelinessightlines · 27 days

Text

He ended up doing it on a Sunday. Race weekend. Daniel put his fist through the drywall after his first DNF of the season, and Max broke up with him on the spot.

It had felt very 2018, their argument. Max's head fills the blank spots in his memory with old footage from their pre-Renault days. Daniel, for better or for worse, has not changed so much—it makes it easier to substitute the finer details.

Details have always been difficult for Max, which makes him feel shitty. People think he can't remember because he doesn't care, but he does, he swears he does. There's a lingering, near-permanent part of Max that aches for the smell of Daniel's burnt eggs and charred toast late at night, one that hurts more when he wakes up in the morning to the sound of birds and not the smoke alarm going off.

Caring makes no difference. He's unsure if they were still in their racesuits, or if they'd changed out of them in the few hours it had taken for media duties, debriefs, and post-race apologies slash unfollowing-sprees to wrap up.

The particular characteristics of their argument fade away to this: Daniel had said, "Fuck you, Max," innocuous and unsurprising, but it had brought him back to days at the karting track, the other kids flitting around and shouting swears they only just learned how to say.

Max had run them into a barrier, they complained to their parents, but he would already be sprinting over to Jos, holding up his helmet like, Did you see that? I was brave. I didn't back out. I did exactly what you told me to do.

"That is unfair," he had responded, feeling not very much like himself, and Daniel had looked at him like he had two heads.

"You're dumping me."

Daniel, likely, had never been dumped in his life. Why would anyone dump Daniel? Daniel was fucking perfect and this—this was just another thing Max had managed to fuck up.

"I am not dumping you, Daniel, always you use such ugly words, it is—"

"Max, oh my god, shut up. You're dumping me, and I get you're having a rough time right now, but this is—god, this is just crazy."

Max sniffed then, maybe, sad and angry and violent-feeling. Boiling inside. Hating Daniel in the moment and knowing he would miss him in the morning.

"You—Daniel, you know. Fuck you, this is not fair."

Max told Daniel about the karting tracks. Max told Daniel everything, like his crush on Mark Webber growing up and when his dad died. His hands had been shaking from the weight of his phone in the middle of their Monaco apartment and all Max could think to do was tell Daniel, because he told Daniel everything and Daniel would surely know what to do.

"You wanna talk about unfair? I just had one of the shittiest races of my goddamn life and—" Daniel swiped a cheap lamp to the floor. The bulb shattered. "—my boyfriend is breaking up with me at the racetrack not four hours later. Fuck, isn't that unfair, Max?"

Max's voice tembled when he talked. "You punched the wall. You are so violent, Daniel." It comes out wrong, but it's true. Daniel is violent like Max's father. So is Max, most days.

"I am not Jos," Daniel spit; he knew what Max meant, he knew Max better than anyone and it was still so angry. Daniel hated Jos, and god, Max never used to think like this before but it's so easy, these days, to be reminded of his late father. Last names, misplaced shadows, bruises that had purpled unevenly on Daniel's knuckles—familiar and disgusting and angry. This is not fair.

It was a regular spat—Daniel yelled and cussed Max out and punched a wall and broke a lamp and it was all normal. But fuck, all Max could do was be reminded of the karting tracks, of his dad, and that made Max feel even worse because everything reminded him of his dad and racing reminded him of his dad and Daniel reminded him of his dad and the hole in the drywall reminded him of his dad and—

Max remembers (details, details, details—) the distant way he had said, "I will not do this with you anymore."

It's only been a few days since Max and Daniel broke up. He thinks he is already starting to regret it.

---

Max has taken to imagining a life where he is, perhaps, a fish.

It would fit the empty, white nature of his apartment—if it were in reality a fishbowl, and he just swam in circles endlessly. If Daniel were his fish-friend and they lived their fishy lives together. Nothing could be so bad, of course, if there was Daniel.

But, this is not possible. Jimmy and Sassy would simply eat him.

"Nah, mate," Not-Daniel materializes on the couch. Max doesn't question it; Not-Daniel has been showing up on his couch a lot as of late, to fill the vacancy Real-Daniel left behind. "Nah, Sassy wouldn't eat you. Jimmy, now... that's another story."

"You underestimate Sassy."

"Oh no, far from it," Daniel's voice is strange and round because he's gaping his mouth open and shut to imitate a fish. He looks silly. "Sassy's too cunning. She's waiting for Jimmy to eat you so she can tell me what happened and I'll throw Jimmy out the window. Then she'll have the apartment all to herself. It's quite the plan, actually."

Max laughs at that and blows imaginary bubbles to Daniel, which he catches and throws back at him like a baseball. Then Max throws a pillow, and Daniel laughs too.

"I wish we were really fish," says Max. "I don't care if Jimmy would eat me." In the perfect world of his daydream, Daniel responds:

"Yeah, we'd make the best fish couple, don't you think?"

Of course, Max broke up with Daniel two weeks ago, so he has taken to telling these things to Lando instead. Lando has much less interesting responses, like, "Are you sure you don't want to see a therapist?"

Max scowls.

"I do not want to see a therapist. Why would I need a therapist?"

Lando raises an eyebrow, then both eyebrows. A strange habit.

"Your dad died, like, a week and a half ago," Lando ticks off on one finger. "You broke up with Daniel after five years together, you drove possibly the worst race of your life last weekend, and now you think you're a fish." Lando wiggles four fingers in front of the camera. Max wishes Lando were here in real life so he could shove Lando's dumb fingers into Lando's dumb face.

Then he reminds himself that Lando is his friend, and then Max feels shitty and angry and just like his dad. (Everything these days reminds him of his dad.)

"How lovely."

"Nah, I wouldn't say as much." Lando has a strange expression on his face, the grainy quality of the phone camera merging his eyebrows together into a caterpillar. "Mate. Get help."

"I do not need help."

"That's exactly what Daniel would say." Fuck you, Lando.

Max feels a sudden, sharp pang of anger and regret at just the sound of Daniel's name—wrong on Lando's tongue, marred by a British accent and a chaotic friendship that always managed to make Max insecure. Fuck you fuck you fuck you. You don't know him better than me.

"Daniel would not say that," he says instead of screaming. His voice sounds odd and strained. Mean. Angry. "Daniel is—Daniel would not say that."

Lando says, "Maybe not when you knew him, but you two haven't been teammates for five years. That changes more than you might think.”

"Daniel—"

"—didn't tell you when he got fired, did he?" Lando raises his eyebrows again, because he knows he's right and he is a smug dickhead.

No, Daniel didn't tell Max when he got fired. Max found out through Instagram of all places, and it had felt especially strange back then because they lived together and Daniel told him everything.

It was an exchange—Daniel would spill all his insecurities and his break with Michael and the way the car felt more like a death trap than a vehicle most days, and Max would tell Daniel about how much he missed eating breakfast with Victoria on Saturdays, about the dumb photoshoots Red Bull made him do now that he was a world champion, about Jos and the moment he died and the way Max felt shitty and free and so violent.

But Daniel didn't tell Max when he got fired, and he didn't tell him about his eating problems, and he didn't—fuck, Daniel was so kind and so gentle and sometimes he punched walls so hard the plaster crumbled from the power of his fists.

Daniel was one of those things that hurt more that it healed. Soft and tender in the right places—if Max pushed too hard, he would bruise him. If Max touched his shoulder he might scratch himself on Daniel's sharp edges; might break, like the walls did, under the force of Daniel's anger.

He feels like he's breaking, now. He needs Daniel, all the time, bruises and scars and plaster and all. (He needed his dad, too, and he has come to wonder if needing vicious things has been written into code, much like racing has. If his dad taught him brutality with the braking zones, at the karting tracks all those years ago.)

"I can recommend you a therapist," Lando is saying in this coddling kind of tone, the one you would use on a baby.

Max had never been coddled. It feels odd to hear it now, at his grown age, by a friend two years younger than him who probably found out Daniel was fired exactly when Daniel did.

He says, "Fuck you," and doesn't really mean it.

Lando responds, "Can't do that if you're a fish."

---

Jos's funeral is on a Sunday. Race weekend. The Australian Grand Prix.

Max is convinced Jos wrote that specifically in his will just to screw Max over one final time. Unnecessary, really—Max still jumps at his own shadow, when he mistakes the rigidity of his own shoulders for his father's.

Max catches a glimpse of his silhouette on the grass, bulky and stiff next to the thin lines of other attendees. He grimaces.

It's too sunny out, for a funeral. Max feels overheated in his black suit. Victoria stands at his side and wipes sweat from her brow, equally uncomfortable in a black dress and heels. Jos's other children, most of which Max honestly forgets exist some days, stand ramrod straight and look appropriately sad, sweating through their Sunday-best while their perfect blue eyes and slightly chubby faces scrunch up in grief.

Max tries to imagine Jos yelling at these kids and thinks bitterly that to them, Jos was maybe a good father. A good man, husband, citizen. They must miss him so much, they must be so sad he is gone.

Max tries to find an emotion within him that is not confused or afraid, and comes up empty.

His half-sister finishes the eulogy abruptly—it's wet-sounding, something guttural and painful clogging her throat. After that, the rest of the service passes by quickly. He stays behind with Victoria while all the guests file out and his half-siblings get ushered to the car by their mother; it would probably look bad if Max were the first to leave his father's funeral.

When the last guest has disappeared into the parking lot, Max flops down beside his father's freshly-dug grave and puts his head to his knees. Victoria sits down much more gingerly, careful not to ruin her dress.

"He was a weird dad," she says, unprompted. Max supposes this is the part where they are supposed to mourn him. "I don't remember too much of him. He always took you places and left me home with Mom."

"He took me to the karting tracks."

"Yeah, I know." She sighs. "You missed a race for this. He would've hated that."

Max supposes he would have. He can't decide if that makes him sad or angry or—or vindicated, somehow. Max is sure that if Daniel were here, some more prominent emotion would have risen to the top, just to pick a fight with whatever Daniel wanted to say.

They could never seem to settle when it came to Jos Verstappen.

"Do you think Daniel would have missed the race to be here?" The words bubble up, unbidden. Max practically chokes on them. To be with me, lies unspoken between them, solid like a rock in Max's throat.

Victoria looks at him with something like pity. "He had a habit of doing anything for you," she says like it's a bad thing, "if only you would ask."

Max does not say anything to that. He's not sure there is an answer to be had.

Victoria nudges him with her shoulder. "He won today, you know."

"He did?" The fondness cuts its way out of him. Home race. Big deal. "That's good. He deserves it, of course."

"Hm. He wouldn't have, if you'd been there."

Max bristles at that. He used to like being better than Daniel, being compared to Daniel. He used to like it because Jos liked it, and he wanted Jos to like him.

"Daniel is a good driver."

"No championship, though."

"You sound like Dad."

Victoria smiles, wry. "Fuck, don't we all somedays. You know, I yelled at Luka at the karting tracks the other day to brake later. It was like something came over me, you know? It felt like—like this is what we were born to be. And that felt dumb and ugly and I fucking cried in the bathroom when we got home."

Max gets that feeling. "I broke up with Daniel because he punched a wall," he offers, and it's so stupid, the way Jos has wormed his way into the best parts of their lives and rotted there, like a dead dog in the town well.

"Ah. I was wondering why you didn't ask him to be here."

Max shrugs. He is silent for a while, trying to pick out the right thing to say, and then:

"Do you miss him?" Victoria asks. "Despite the violence?" He wonders if she means Daniel or Jos.

He says, "Is it bad, if I do?"

---

Max is not all that surprised when he wakes up on Tuesday morning and finds Daniel on his couch. It used to be their apartment, after all, and Daniel still has the key.

Daniel is awake when Max stumbles into the living room. His stubble makes him look more tired than he actually must be. He says, "Howdy," in an exhausted and sheepish tone, and Max says, "I was going to drop off your things, I promise."

Daniel blinks.

"That's not what I'm here about."

"Oh." Max blinks too. "How was Australia?" He’s pretty sure he’s already had this conversation with Daniel at least four times in the past week since the funeral. Well, there's no harm in trying again.

"It was great. I won."

"That is good, for the team. I knew you could do it, of course, I told them so."

Daniel shakes his head. "You would have won, if you had been there."

"You sound like my dad," Max blurts out. It is true. You do sound like my dad. Victoria sounded like my dad. Everyone sounds like my dad.

Daniel narrows his eyes and doesn't say anything. Please do not look at me this way. It is not my fault he is haunting me.

Max scrambles to find something else to talk about. "I will make us breakfast," he says, already shifting away from the couch. “Cereal is fine, yes?”

"Uh. Sure. Sounds nice."

Max escapes to the kitchen, which is, in reality, only a few feet away. Still, the separation of the counter and the couch enforces a sense of distance—protection.

Daniel, of course, does not obey the invisible boundaries Max has outlined in his head. He rises, takes a few steps, and now he is in Max's space; lingering like he doesn't know what to do with himself, purposeful and aimless and intrusive.

"Do you—do you need help?" Daniel is peering over his shoulder. Max looks at him, their faces close. Then, he looks back at the two bowls he had laid out on the countertop and frowns.

Max's shadow splays itself across the countertop, and the broad line of Jos’s shoulders stares at him, aloof and alone. For a second, he wonders if the silhouette is Daniel’s, and it is Max who is the ghost.

He feels his heart sink, like the other four times Not-Daniel has woken up on Max's couch since Jos's funeral. Not-Daniel is still saying: “I can help, if you want me to.”

Max feels inexplicably angry, at that—wants to scream that of course he needs help, he has always needed Daniel’s help—Daniel used to char the toast and burn the eggs and make coffee that tasted like burning rubber. Max has not yet learned how to make breakfast without Daniel fucking it up.

Jos used to fuck up the breakfast too, a traitorous voice whispers in Max's ear, and he tenses.

It is different, of course, Max knows this. Jos burned the toast because he didn't care if Max ate ashes. Daniel burned the toast because he loved Max, and he couldn't help but ruin some things.

Max remembers to reply, trance-like, “No. I am okay. Sit back down.”

He turns to look at Daniel, and finds he has magically appeared on the couch once more.

The first time this happened, Max had freaked out, had thought he was going crazy. Now, it’s more disappointing than anything.

Logically, Max knows that he dropped off Daniel’s copy of the key a while ago, along with Daniel’s hoodies and knick-knacks and journals. Daniel has not actually been in their apartment in a very long time, and Max knows this because he has not had to replace a dented pan or nicked glassware in a decent amount of time.

He asks Not-Daniel, as he preps two bowls of cereal: “Do you remember what we were wearing, when we broke up?”

Daniel has always remembered little things like that. Small, tiny, minuscule details that Max could never seem to grasp.

“Nah, mate. I forgot.”

Details. Max was never so good at them.

#raine.fic #dr3 #mv33 #maxiel #ln4 #daniel is probably not this angry irl tbh

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outro-jo · 9 months

Text

study buddies

pairing: lee felix x (gn) reader

type: imagine

warnings: non-idol au, college au, mutual pining, idk

notes: these pics just gave campus crush vibes and i said something that my friend and i ran with so here we are. i may or may not have a part two if those goes well

not taking requests at this time

masterlist | info

————————————

your morning started in a panic, waking in almost the same position you were in the night before. head tucked into your arms on your desk with your now dead laptop and notes scattered under you. slowly you open your eyes and reach around the table top for your phone.

7:45

with a gasp you shot up from your desk, neck aching in protest but you ignored that for now and rushed to put on some clothes for class. once dressed, you packed up your bag and threw it over you shoulder, rushing out the door.

across campus, felix was having a wonderful morning. he was up early enough to make it to the gym with changbin, seungmin made eggs for everyone in the apartment once he was back, he took some time to look over his notes for the day, and he even had a little time to stop at his favorite coffee cart on the way to class. as he walked across the quad at a leisurely pace, he enjoyed the sunshine, the cool morning breeze, and the bird song.

a stark contrast to your chaos coming from the opposite direction, still trying to pull on a shoe and catch the loose leaf papers falling from your bag.

felix took a seat in his usual spot for his morning class, removing the leather crossbody back from his shoulder and remove the contents from the bag. methodically he took his time to pull out his laptop, a notebook with accompanying textbooks, and lay out his favorite pens in a neat row. he smiled, satisfied with his work.

the professor walked in from the back corner of the room like he did every week and walked over to his podium without a glance to the other student. mornings were not his favorite and that was apparent by the dark circles under his eyes and the right grip on his coffee cup, like it was solely responsible for sustaining his life at that moment. he took some long sips and went over his notes for the day and made sure all the equipment was set up.

felix took the opportunity to scan the room as students filtered in, checking the doors for one person in particular. the loud sound of the professor clearing his throat echoed throughout the large hall as if to signal he was ready to start class.

8:03

a little later that normal but he’d have to figure out some way to forgive himself for that when the coffee kicked in. the role call began and felix’s attention shifted from the names being called in the front and the doors in the back.

“they’re never this late.” he mumbled to himself and checked his watch for the umpteenth time to find it hadn’t changed from the last time he looked.

lost in thought and worry, he almost missed his own name being called. “LEE FELIX!” the professor yelled in a less than enthusiastic tone.

“oh! here!” the young man half raised his hand, offering the older an apologetic look.

he rolled his eyes lazily and continued down the list of names. when yours was called, felix could nearly feel his heart beating out of his chest. maybe that extra shot of espresso wasn’t such a good idea.

suddenly a whirlwind came and took a seat next to him. “HERE!” you frantically yelled and raised your hand high.

“hmph.” the professor acknowledged you, not caring enough to mark you tardy.

“there you are! i was starting to worry.” felix let out a breathy chuckle of relief as you set up your work space for the next hour.

“yeah, i feel asleep studying last night and didn’t set my alarm.” you panted out between gasps of breath.

felix smiled warmly, “well, it’s a good thing i got this.” he slid over a plastic cup of iced coffee now dripping with condensation.

“ah, you’re an angel! i swear i could kiss you.” the words of gratitude flew out of your mouth without little thought and you took a sip.

felix smirked and leaned into you to speak in a hushed tone as the class started.

“i just might take you up on that.”

the combination of coffee mixed with the sudden intake of air was too much on your poor windpipe you began coughing embarrassingly loud. felix’s eyes went wide and he started patting and rubbing your back to help clear your airway like he wasn’t the one that caused the commotion in the first place. at the bottom of the stairs, your professor looked up to see what the noise was and once again rolled his eyes before continuing the lecture.

it might have been a joke what felix said but you couldn’t be too sure, hence the reaction. ever since freshman year, you’d found yourself in a class with the blonde haired, now blue, aussie each semester despite not having the same major. after being forced to work a project together in your second semester, you found that the two of you had a lot in common and became fast friends and seat mates in every class since. though you shared a lot of similarities, you were both vastly different. felix was neat, organized, and exceptionally punctual while you were a wild force of nature barely making it anything on time. he secretly loved that about you among other things as he’s gotten to know you.

sitting next to each other a few times a week, every week for the last two years along with late night study sessions, group projects, and the occasional fun night out, gave felix a lot of time to get to know you. he grew fond of how despite the best intentions, you could never show up on time. he loved that you always arrived in a loud mess, garnering the attention of nearly everyone in the room. he loved that you could only drink iced coffee, never hot, even on the coldest winter days—an order he committed to memory the second day of your fateful project that second semester. he loved the way you laughed after a few drinks on a night out. it wasn’t the usual quiet laugh you gave when he made a joke about the class material or the professor in the hushed environment of the library. it wasn’t an “lol” text he received when he sent you a meme throughout the day. it was loud and vibrant and beautifully carefree thanks to a few shots.

as class droned on in front of him, and your eyes focused on the lesson and writing on the board, he was lost in you. your cute features, the color of your eyes, your steady breathing.

you were blithely unaware of the absolute fawning happening next to you. the comment from before had caught you completely off guard but you pushed it aside and listened to your professor, furiously taking notes. this honestly wasn’t the first comment felix had made like but every time he said something like that you brushed it aside. there was no way someone like felix could ever like someone like you.

you were a mess, chaotic, and not nearly as hot as he was, though you knew he didn’t care about stuff like that. still you couldn’t help but let your insecurities get the best of you, especially when it came to him. but you weren’t immune to his charms. his cute wide smile, the freckles that dotted his cheeks, the way he always took care of you. since that first project together, felix has always brought your coffee order, or a granola bar or snack(knowing your poor eating habits), or even sometimes a flower he thought was pretty. you can remember having to call home one night after a party when someone put something weird in your drink. he sat by you the whole night to make sure you were ok. felix was definitely an ideal man, but he certainly wouldn’t be into you, you often thought.

class came to an end and you, felix, and the other students stood to pack up your bags and leave. felix had a sudden burst of courage, feeling like he had to do it now otherwise he might never ask.

“hey, um…”

you glanced up at him with your eyes wide in curiosity. the nerve was starting to fade but he shook his shoulders to try again.”

“so, i was-um-wondering…”

your hair tossed over to one side of your head, making him lose his train of thought again.

“get it together!” he thought to himself.

you giggled lightly, seeing he was zoning out as he often did. “you wanna study tonight, right?”

his shoulders slumped. you perceived it as relief, understanding what he was trying to get out… when it was actually defeat of his body betraying his own mind but nevertheless he played it off with his signature sunshine smile.

“ah, yeah. sorry, i’m a bit in my head today. i didn’t really catch the notes.”

you shrugged, “‘s ok! you’ve had my back plenty before. it’s the least i could do.” you finished packed up and threw you bag over your shoulder. “so, i’ll come by tonight? 6? i’ll bring pizza, ok?”

a few second went by before felix finally blinked and his smile widened.

“oh, yeah. sounds good.”

“ok! i’ll text you!” you waved and walked towards the exit.

felix stood frozen in his spot as you breezed out the door, feeling the full weight of his disappointment weighed on his shoulders.

“i guess i’ll try again later.”

part 2

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snoocupz · 17 days

Note

okay I'm a sucker for a rare pair and even more for a rare pair ot3...pls propagandize me im very curious :0

Hi! Oh my god, that makes me SO happy! I never expect my little shipart to get this much attention - let alone have people like the ship and wanting me to talk about it!

I wasn't sure whether I want to share my whole headcanons about them getting together yet or not, and decided to instead collect some headcanons about these 3 that I love! So here;

My little collection on Klapolloquill headcanons! 🩷

- Simon and Klavier have briefly been friends before Simon went to jail. Klavier, as a new and young prosecutor, desperately seeked contact in the office and loved Simons style from the start. Dark clothes, an interest for music and an ex bass player - all while still being somewhat of a nerd abour psychology & birds. He had tried to build up an active friendship to him - unfortunately it was cut short due to Simon admitting to murderer and going to jail. (Klavier should feel this pain again in the following years as not only his best friend Daryan, but also brother go to jail).

- Once finally free past Dual Destinies Apollo and Simon build up some sort of friendship thanks to Athena. Quickly they realise they were mistaken about each others characters and after a whole they start to bond on a deeper level due to the trauma they had experienced... mostly because of Apollo losing Clay, and Simon losing Bobby. (Bonus angst points if Claypollo and Blackbright were secretly canon and they bond over the loss of their ex lovers).

- Klapollo starts dating first. Klavier had feelings for Apollo early on after meeting him, but it took a lot of time and change for them to finally get together.

- Klavier, however, is also the one who is self aware about being Polyam. He previously had crushes on more than one person at the same time and once time passes and he builds up the friendship to Simon he wanted to have he eventually starts crushing on him. Hard.

- He confesses his crush to Apollo, fearing the worst. It is a huge insecurity of his and he doesn't get it across without tears and apologies, clarifying how much he loves Apollo as well, just to be... very perplexed about how calmly Apollo takes it. In fact, Apollo starts gently teasing Klavier about his obvious crush. He finds him adorable, blushing when looking at Simon like this. Apollo is ultimately the one who convinces Klavier to ask Simon out.

- Unknowingly Simon has a little crush on Apollo anyways. This young defense attorney shines brighter than any sun, he is smart, pretty, such a gentle and stronger soul than he believes of himself. Simon enjoys himself around the both of them, so endlessly much, and with passing time Simon feels lovable again, after prison and losing Bobby (the only person that made him feel lovable before).

- Eventually all 3 shyly allow themselves to get closer. Especially Klavier with his gigantic crush on Simon can hardly believe it everytime he gets to sit between both of them on the couch. Just having his knee slightly touch Simons makes his head spin and they keep smiling at each other more when passing each other on the prosecutor halls.

- And hey! Who would have thought! They fall in love! Each of them, with one another. And in fact, their ideas of love fit together perfectly. All 3 of them long for nothing more but a calm, domestic lifestyle.

- What that looks like...? Easy. A cozy apartment, many plants, falling asleep cuddling, with one cat and one dog at the side. Breakfast on the balcony as Klavier slurps his vanilla latte, Simon makes them eggs, and Apollo tries to stop Taka from stealing bacon straight from his bagel.

- Mikeko (Apollos cat) adores Simon. No day passes where this cat doesn't chose to sit on his legs or lap. Whenever the cat chooses him, Simon is careful to not move a single inch. May she rest as long as she wants to!

- Taka (Simons hawk) adores Apollo. After being afraid of her for months (sorry, Taka has always been female in my brain LMAO) Apollo realises that she is not only well behaved but also seeks active contact to him. Simon falls even more in love with him when seeing Apollo feed the bird on the balcony and daring to pat her feathery head.

- Vongole (first Kristophs, then Klaviers dog) is the most sweetest girl of girls. Greeting all of them with enthusiasm and DEMANDING to sleep in the bed at all times, she won each of their hearts and can be considered the true Queen of the house!

- However, it can be complicated to cuddle, ESPECIALLY if you are Simon Blackquill, and a living cuddle sized heater. He must always sleep in the middle automatically as Apollo loves to rest his head on his chest while Klavier has the most freeziest hands in the history of forever. And yes, he will randomly warm his hands under Simons shirt at every possible moment.

- Funnily enough, their household works very smoothly together. Apollo cooks at most, but his desk easily looks like it explodes after one use. He keeps leaving things around and forgetting about them. Simon cleans, and he has no issue cleaning after Apollo at times. Klavier is the one to take the dog and plan their dates, and no date has ever been dissapointing, he's fantatsic at planning them!

So at most! This ship is really fluffy and comforting in my eyes, so here are some random thoughts on them! Thanks for listening to me rambling! <3

#ace attorney #aa #apollo justice #klavier gavin #simon blackquill #klapollo #klavquill #justquill #simollo #klapolloquill

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notmazikeen · 19 days

Text

SixEyed | Gojo Satoru

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

‧₊˚✧[chapter 4]✧˚₊‧

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The sun began to shine through your blinds. The busy people in their cars, trying to get to work on time. The cold air stinging your skin. The warm chest- The loud laugh coming from Shoko?!

The flash of her phone, she took a picture to capture the sweet moment. "WAKE UP!" Shoko exclaimed with a giggle.

You broke from your trance as she screamed and Gojo groaning loudly with annoyance.

He threw the duvet covers over the both of your heads, "I'm so sorry..." You say though a stifled giggle. Satoru just gripped your waist tighter in response.

"I'll send you two love birds the picture. Bye!" Shoko's voice faded as she closed the door on her way out.

Satoru looked at you under your grey covers, with a smile?

"Good morning." He rasped out. Ugh, his grumbly morning voice was so attractive. "Good morning, Satoru." Your voice as sweet as ever. A furious blush across your features. His grip around your waist loosened but didn't move.

"She'll never let this go will she?" Gojo dramatically sighed and lifted the covers off the two of you. You sat up and shook your head. "Of course not, it's Shoko." The both of you broke out in soft laughter. His eyes were squinted, he honestly looked so handsome right now. He looked happy.

Satoru stretched his arms and yawned loudly. Loudly like a dad sneezing in a quiet room. So dramatic of him. As always.

His feet swing to the edge of the bed slowly. His head turning to the side to meet your gaze. "You talk in your sleep. Oh, you're also clingy if you couldn't tell." He smirked softly before running a hand through his nappy hair.

Your eyes widened at his words. You looked away in embarrassment before rubbing the side of your neck. "What did I say? Yea, Shoko wakes me up if I start trying to cuddle with her."

Satoru rose from the bed and placed his hands on the edge of your bed. His eyes level with yours now. He looked cocky, and was probably about to say something with the same tone too.

"You were mumbling something I couldn't make it out." He lied through his teeth. Wanting to keep this as his little secret memory. Honestly it was cute how he was clearly so infatuated with you. Oblivious you, you didn't understand the extent of his crush.

You covered your eyes with your palms, groaning dramatically. "Sorry, that's so embarrassing. Haha..." You whined. Even though you weren't making eye contact with the tall man, his eyes burned through your palms. You could feel his predatory stare on you. Then a shift in the bed.

His hand softly removed yours from your face. He smiled softly and tilted his head. A toothy grin then escaping his lips. "C'mon. I can smell Sugu cooking breakfast." Your face was so red right now. You could feel the hot sensation across your face and ears. Your body throbbing with a heat flash.

You could only nod in response. Quickly swiveling around in the bed to stand to your feet. You rubbed your eyes and fixed your shirt, untucking it from your shorts. You were basically Adam Sandler right now. The outfit was eating. A long ass shirt and basketball shorts? Fantastic.

Just as the thought brushed your mind a soft giggle erupted from Gojo. "Adam Sandler what are you doing here?" He teases, watching you roll your eyes playfully. You push past him to walk into your bathroom. "Waitin' for them to play Gangnam Style." You reply back to him. The two of you breaking into laughter again.

Shit why was he actually perfect. He can be actually be funny, sweet, protective, and sexy under his ego?!

After the two of your freshened up, he followed you into the kitchen. A savory smell of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, wafted into your nose. You hummed in satisfaction at the mouth watering smell. "You guyssss, you didn't have to make breakfast!" You gave them a heartwarming smile.

Suguru turned his head to meet your eyes, along with Shoko. "Figured we'd need it after last night. You two sleep good?" He added a smirk to his last sentence. To which you turned to Satoru, who was already annoyed.

"Best sleep I ever had." He adds. His annoyance clearly a joke, which make you nod quickly. "I sent you that picture by the way!" Shoko hums with a little dance. Someone must have gotten laid last night and it wasn't you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After Suguru and Shoko departed from your home, Satoru asked if it was okay that he stayed for a little while longer. Of course you let him, who wouldn't?

The both of you went to shower, him in Shoko's bathroom, and you in yours. Conveniently he had a change of clothes in his car, but he was snooping around your kitchen... in hardly anything.

His sweatpants hung low on his waist, some parts of his body still damp from the shower. His white hair clinging to his face and his towel draped across his shoulders. It was a mouth watering sight to see.

You sprawled out on your couch, dressed in an off the shoulder sweater with some comfy shorts. Staring at Satoru with admiration.

"Looking for something, Nosy?" You smirked softly, catching his attention. He looked somewhat shocked, not hearing your footsteps bring you to the living room. He bit his lip and avoided eye contact for a moment. "Was just cravin' something sweet." He said sheepishly.

You roll your eyes and giggle softly, of course he wanted something sweet. Every time that he went out with you, Shoko, and Suguru, you always had to stop at a store so Satoru could buy a sweet treat. At resturants, he'd always get dessert for the table. He'd finish the dessert before anyone could have more than one bite though.

You met his gaze as you squeezed past him, giving him a soft smile. "I have a bunch of stuff stashed away up here." You hum. Leaning your torso against the counter and reaching up to try and reach for your sweets hidden behind some cans and boxes.

It was just barely out of reach, even on your tip toes. Damn, why the hell where your cabinets so high?

Satoru shuffled quietly before finding his place behind you. A hand gripping the edge of the counter beside you and the other reaching up towards the cabinet. His torso and hips were pressed against your back, trapping you suddenly against the counter. What the hell? This was something straight out of a movie.

He let out a soft grunt struggling to find something behind the boxed food, making your skin raise in goosebumps. Your face was as red as ever. The position, the frustrated noises coming from him, and the fact that it was Satoru in all of this.

He finally reached for something he was fond of and pulled it down in front of your face. "Can I have these?" He mumbled. His warm breath suddenly close to your ear. Fuck, he was so close.

You opened your mouth in an attempt to speak but nothing came out, so you cleared your throat. "Y-Yea." You stumble out. Your words sounding pathetic, how did he make you suddenly at a loss for words. He wasn't even flirting with you, but the way his toned body pressed up against your ass and back made you weak.

His lips ghosted over the nape of your neck, his slender fingers gently moving your hair out of his way. "Were you surprised that i'm a camboy?" He mumbles, his words igniting something primal in your stomach.

You slightly cocked your neck, shifting your body and accidentally pushing your back closer against him in the process. A very quiet huff escaped his lips. If you hadn't been holding your breath you wouldn't have heard it.

Both of his arms trapped you in place now, his knuckles turning white, contrasting against your darker colored countertop. "Y-Yea I was..." You mumbled quietly. The tension between you two had magically appeared. It was making the air thick and heavy, and fuck it suddenly felt hard to breathe correctly.

He smirked softly at your comment. "Did you like my stream?" He questioned. His voice was strained, like the bulge forming in his boxers.

You stay quiet for a moment. Satoru didn't like that, he needed a response from you. His body stood up straighter and he placed a hand on your hip, turning you to face him now.

His eyes low, his face stained a light pink, and his damn hair. The wet strands sticking to his forehead. Creating a masterpiece of a man. His muscular body flexed as he backed you flush against the counter.

The way your eyes traveled down his body made him tense up. Your eyes felt like needles against his skin. Every touch, every look, every word from you right now could break his control. "Answer me...Please." He practically whines.

Finally your eyes meet his, feeling a bit embarrassed you were basically just standing there and gawking at him. "A lot. I liked it a lot." You choke out. Your voice no higher than a hushed whisper.

The draw you felt towards his touch was driving you insane. The need to feel his warm skin against yours again. This was so out of character for you. Usually you didn't care to bother with Gojo but something clicked. He was truly a dream, and even if there were rumors of him getting around with the desperate college girls in your class, you didn't care. He was here with you right now wasn't he?

His strong hands picked your body up, softly placing you on top of the countertop. His fingers slowly tracing up and down your thighs. Working his way to spread your legs ever so gently.

Your stomach churned with butterflies, it was degrading how desperate your body felt. The cotton of your underwear beginning to turn a darker shade of red. You needed something, anything to ease this desire.

His face came close to yours, he subtly licked his lips, like he was ready to devour you.

You could feel his hot breath across your lips. He was so close again. You hadn't even noticed how he pushed himself between your legs. How you unknowingly squeezed your thighs around his waist. The bulge in his pants throbbing for an ounce of friction, yet he was inches away from actually making contact with you.

His slim fingers ran up your body, finding their resting spot on the side of your face.

"Did you touch yourself to me?" He huffed out. The shifting of his feet made his aching boner rub harshly against the fabric of his boxers. He swallowed hard, trying to cover up how badly he wanted you.

Your eyes quickly diverted from his. Your face becoming flustered at his lewd question. Was he really going to make you answer that? Of course he would...

He softly grabbed your jaw. His crotch finally making contact with the warm sanctuary between your thighs. His fingers made you regain your eye contact.

"P-Please." He cleared his throat and inched his hips closer against you. Softly rutting himself against your throbbing cunt. The contact making you let out a shaky breath.

"I need to know. Please." Satoru's voice struggling to remain composure. He was begging for your answer. The way his eyes searched for an answer on your features, made you nervous.

You bit your lip and placed your hand on his bicep, stroking it softly. "I came from watching you..." He froze. Satoru's hand on your thigh tightened its grip.

"F-Fuck. Say it again." He groaned out. The words clearly going straight to his cock. You could feel it too. When you said that, his cock twitched against you. You were bothering him so bad you could feel his cock twitching through both of your clothes.

"I w-was the one who..." You paused for a moment. Wondering if you should really say it. He followed your command the other day though, he wouldn't shame you. He was a camboy for fucks sake. "The one who asked you to... spit o-on it."

He pushed his head into your neck. Resting his forehead against your shoulder and collarbone. A soft groan leaving his lips. "Ha. I haven't even gotten to k-kiss you and I swear I could cum right now from your words."

You bit your lip and pushed your hips forward, grinding your cunt against his bulging erection. "Toru..." You mumbled. One of his hands laying flat against the counter and his other still gripping your thigh, only it would inch closer to your shorts every time you spoke.

His lips placed soft but passionate kisses against your skin, causing a stifled whimper from you. "I can't fuck- I want no- I need you so bad." He grunts. His voice silky smooth, almost sounding like a purr.

Satoru leaned upwards again and stared at you for a moment. Both of you looked lust drunk right now. Your hands wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer, and kissing his soft lips. The two of you now caught in a passionate kiss.

It was a heated kiss. The tension in the room finally finding its way out. Gojo's free hand traveled down to your ass. Squeezing it firmly and pushing you closer against his cock. Earning a groan from the both of you.

His fingers now traced the bottom hem of your shorts. Tugging on them softly, but roughly.

He was trying his best to take it slow with you, to enjoy the moment he's only been able to fantasize about. Your soft erotic noises were no help though, your words cut through his resolve like a knife to a piece of meat.

You underestimated what was about to happen. Just how devoted this man was about to be to pleasuring you until you cried. Satoru had craved your touch since the moment he met you. Your soft eyes turned something in him. The way you carried yourself. The way you were so calming and bubbly.

He wanted to make you his, he wanted everyone to know you were his.

He broke away from the sloppy kiss slowly. His eyes low and predatory. Satoru studied you for a moment. Drinking in your flustered face. The way your body fit against his perfectly.

"I promise I will make you forget about everything besides my name, baby." He purred.

And holy shit were you so ready.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

@drakenswifeyy @sapphireandange @madaqueue @starlightanyaa @agentkeegan

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dwaekkilinos · 3 months

Text

wind and water (pt. 2) | lee felix

summary: People always had a way of looking at you as if your skin were composed of paper mâché and your heart was made of glass. They just assumed you were kind of like a weak bird . . . but Felix Lee looked at you like you still had some flight left.

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | surfing au, childhood friends to lovers, slice of life, angst, fluff, eventual smut word count: 11.7K chapter summary: you think you're kind of like a weak bird; felix lee believes you still have some flight left. warnings/notes: explicit language, typos probably, more talks of death and not too good coping mechanisms, hurt and comfort, felix rly is a sunshine and i love him, reader is all over the place, it's very obvious they have crushes on each other but duh they can't get together, fleabag references, bird metaphors, a painful mother-daughter relationship, bridgerton easter egg, my mad fat diary easter egg, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, dry humping, making out, they're young and dumb and both extremely traumatized, bat metaphors aka felix is afraid of bats, and i think that's it for this part but if i missed anything let me know, ok ok hope you enjoy <3

chapter two: can you see right through me? ( ← previous | next → )

Here was the deal: you did not like to think of yourself as a little bird. Not anymore. It felt too fragile, too innocent, too beautiful, and you now felt like you were anything but.

You’d always been a wimpy-looking kid. You’d been told you had these off-putting eyes, not the kind that’s intimidating or anything like that, but the kind that's a little too hard to look at without getting a chill up your spine or something. Your lips were always chapped too, so you supposed you weren’t winning any beauty pageants any time soon.

And god, did you hate your nose. You had always considered yourself one of the unlucky ones, inheriting your father's nose which, not to mention had its own small legacy within your family. It was a nose that was only found on your father's maternal side of the family tree. And of course, your (fucking perfect) sister got lucky and ended up with your mother's nose (like of course!).

So there you had it—you had always considered yourself unlucky in the looks department. It was something that you’d come to terms with anyway; something that you had to after being picked on throughout elementary, junior high, oh, and then high school, because, well . . . yeah . . .

That was the thing though—you had always viewed yourself as less. You never really felt like your mother's little bird, you always just felt like yourself: unnerving and . . . odd. You never felt pretty enough. You always felt like you were just . . . there. Erin was the one everyone was always looking at.

You supposed that was why you fell for every guy that gave you a sliver of attention, especially your ex-boyfriend. He had been the first to call you pretty—something you never thought you were. You supposed that was why you got so attached to him. He was the first person to make you feel pretty enough . . . until he ruined that too, and left you feeling like some kind of ugly, unfortunate little soul.

That winter after he cheated on you and the relationship fizzled into nothing, you spent alone. You didn’t even tell anyone. It was too bothersome; too personal; it was like if you told someone, then it’d lose all its meaning (not that it meant much to him anyway . . . ).

But it meant everything to you.

Everything meant something to you.

And when that winter turned into spring, then summer, autumn, winter, and spring again, you finally did get over it, silently and alone as you had always done. You told people then. You told your mother then.

You remembered it even now.

You’d told her and it was as if she had lost her little bird. You watched it all happen, too. You watched as she realized.

People looked at you as if your skin was composed of paper mâché and your heart was made of glass. You were always breakable, ever so fragile. When you were young, your mother used to call you her Little Bird. Delicate. That was what you had always been. Never harsh or rough, just delicate, soft. You were your mother's little bird, in desperate need of protection.

And when she had found out her little girl had kept this relationship from her; had kept the fact that she had given herself to him body mind and soul . . . well . . . she was no longer her little bird.

You were no longer her little bird.

I can’t believe you would do this to yourself, your mother had whispered, voice full of shock and . . . and an ugly hint of betrayal.

That was the last time you cried before you found out the news of her illness. That was the last time you let yourself resent her. That was the last time you could without a guilty conscience.

But it never left your mind.

You hadn’t known what she meant then, and you still didn’t. However, you did know that you wished you had never told her, because maybe then she wouldn’t have died disappointed in you.

And now all you had left of her were memories you wished you could erase.

Your mother’s little bird . . .

What a fucking joke.

You were no little bird. You weren’t delicate or gentle. Your mother had made sure you knew that. Your mother had made sure you knew that Little Bird had finally flown too soon from the coop, with broken wings, crashing toward the ground, unable to take flight. And on her way down, she met a boy who made her feel soft, and graceful, beautiful . . . until he didn't anymore. She met another boy soon after, and another, and another who made her feel like the delicate bird her mother always told her she was. But they never lasted. They all eventually poisoned her softness, morphing it into weakness.

Still, she . . . you . . . you never stopped chasing that soft, warm feeling they gave you in the beginning. You looked for it in every boy, hoping you'd meet one and the feeling would stay. And just as you were about to collide with the ground, broken wings and all, you met one who made you feel exactly like that.

But this time, the feeling stayed longer than a few weeks. So, you thought that was it. You thought you had found the one everyone was always going on about, until he, too, used your softness against you and poisoned it, turning it into weakness.

And it broke you quietly, harshly like a hiss, not a whisper, until you were able to glue back the feathers he had ripped from your back when he left.

You supposed that made you foolish. It was silly of you to think someone would stay.

Your mother made sure to tell you that. She made sure you knew giving your heart or . . . giving yourself . . . your body to a man, no, a boy was, indeed, foolish. It was stupid, and you were the idiot for believing otherwise.

I’m just trying to protect you, she’d whispered as she came to tuck you in for the night, stroking your hair like she used to when you were a kid.

But her words still stung, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth for months to come.

And a few months later, she got the news. Stage four. Practically untreatable.

A year later she was gone.

But her words remained, and your anger grew.

It was something you couldn’t admit; something that was almost cruel, but you couldn’t help it. But you were angry. Angry at her. Angry at her for what she’d said. Angry at how she’d favored your sister more. Angry at how you grew up. Angry at her for dying. Just so . . . so angry.

And how could you even admit that?

Your mother was dead and you were alive, haunted by the fact that you were so angry at her and she never knew. What kind of sick person did that?

Maybe she did know. Maybe she’d told you to look for her in the wind, knowing it’d haunt you forevermore. Maybe she wanted you to know what a horrible daughter you were. Maybe she knew . . .

But then . . . why didn’t she haunt you?

You’d seen glimpses. You could’ve sworn she was there, somewhere in the shadows lurking. Sure, could it have been the hallucinations? Yeah, you supposed . . . but you could just feel her.

She was still ever-present, and yet . . . she wouldn’t visit you. Had you displeased her that much?

It didn’t make any sense.

When your mother was just a girl, she’d lost her father. She’d lost him and she’d born it well; she’d told you stories about him when you were growing up; she had old pictures and still celebrated his birthday every year. She knew what loss was. She knew how this felt.

And she also knew she, too, would’ve given anything just to see him one last time.

Yet . . . for you . . . she remained silent.

It didn’t make any fucking sense.

Losing someone felt a lot like losing yourself. Your mother knew this. You’d seen it happen to her. You’d felt it happen to yourself.

At first, it feels like nothing . . . like this perpetual numbness is all you will ever feel because it's all you can fathom. But that's because it hasn't hit yet. You're still holding out for a sliver of hope, convincing yourself that you still have time, that she could be brought back and the treatments would finally work. It's a human thing . . . a sad, utterly human thing everyone made of flesh and bone falls victim to. It's a weakness—a devastating one at that.

Hope is what makes us human. So when you lose all your hope . . . what then? What do you have left?

Nothing.

That's when it hits—when you realize you have nothing left. You realize this isn't some obscure bad dream that you can't wake up from. You realize that this person that you held so close to your heart is really just . . . gone.

They're gone, and you're not.

That's when it happens: your entire being fails on you. Everything stops working, and you lose yourself. You stop working because you realize that this person you depended on so heavily throughout your entire life is no longer there. They no longer exist. They're just gone, but somehow for some reason, you're still here. And all you can think is—what makes me so special? Why her and not me?

Grief had a funny way of feeling a lot like guilt.

And your guilt always manifested as ghosts—the ghosts you'd lost throughout your life.

No one ever truly felt gone to you. It'd always felt like they'd gone away on a trip and you were just patiently waiting for them to return. Sometimes you could hear them. Sometimes even feel them, their essence, the person they used to be.

It'd been that way ever since you were a kid. Oftentimes, out of the corner of your eye, you swore you could see figures pass your vision, figures that had passed on. Hell, even the kids in your grade would joke how you could see dead people, but you never really paid them any mind.

You couldn't see dead people. You didn't have some sixth sense or anything like that. You had guilt and grief and ghosts.

Because really . . . if what people said about you had been true, if you really could see the dead, then why wouldn't your mother haunt you?

Haunt me, you would sob for weeks after her death under your breath in the dead of night. Haunt me, please. I need you. Please, haunt me. Fucking haunt me.

But no ghost ever came, only the perpetual darkness galloped in, consuming you whole.

Your mother was gone, and all your memories of her came with anger and resentment and pain. . . . Guilt was your ghost, not her.

Because the truth was: you knew why she wouldn’t haunt you.

You’d failed her. She died with disappointment in her veins; she’d died in vain.

And then you fucked up your life.

She’d wait for Hell to turn over before she even thought of seeing your face again. That much was clear.

Yet . . .

Haunt me, you carved into a wooden panel of the bed slat you were currently (and begrudgingly) glaring at. Your hand shook as you marked a line under the words with the beer bottle cap you were using to carve. And when that was done, your hand fell to the floorboards, just near your head, and you stared at the two, daunting words.

Now . . . let’s back up. Where are we? How did we get here? What’s going on?

Well, dead mother aside and it’s just another boring, hot day in Southhaven, duh. Day is normal. Grace. A glimpse of Felix. A look from Chris. Blah, blah, blah.

Then, Chris comes barging into the kitchen just when it’s getting dark. He needs the minivan. Why? Well, apparently he and his old friends from high school are getting together for their annual bonfire or . . . whatever. Felix is trailing in behind him, apple in hand as he watches Chris beg like he’s a preteen once again.

And you, well, you’re caught in the crossfire, accidentally stumbling upon the situation just as you’re going into the kitchen to grab popcorn for you and Grace. One thing leads to another and . . . Chris is allowed supervision of the minivan for one night if he drags you along with him (you know why; you know the Bahngs are worried about you; you know they want you to hang out with people your own age, but still).

So you’re forced to tag along. But . . . Felix is there, too, sitting in the front with Chris. And then you’re there. The place reeks of smoke, and you immediately wonder if throwing yourself into the bonfire is too dramatic for a Wednesday night.

Chris is gone in ten seconds, being whisked away by one of their friends. Minho, you think you catch his name, but your mind is elsewhere. Felix leaves next, not by choice, however. He’s quite literally picked up by two other guys and taken . . . somewhere. And then you’re alone again. Of course.

Whatever, anyway, you couldn’t remember how it happened now, but one minute you were outside, then the next you were in their kitchen, taking a shot of whatever. Tequila or vodka, you don’t know. All alcohol just tastes like rubbing alcohol and hot coal sliding down your throat.

And the next thing you know, you suddenly can’t stand to be in your own skin anymore, and you’re wandering up the stairs with a beer bottle in hand and a need to be alone, alone, alone.

You supposed you freaked out again. Just a little, right? You couldn’t remember how or why but somehow, you ended up in a random bedroom, tucked under a bed, staring at the words Haunt me for the past five minutes while you calmed your shaky hands and beating heart.

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath as you ran your fingers across the horribly carved words.

What were you doing?

Why couldn’t you just drag yourself downstairs and be fucking normal?

You used to be so good at it. You used to be so . . so different. You used to be able to let Hyunjin and Jisung drag you to bars where the three of you would just walk around shitfaced, trying to find the bathroom in each and every bar. It used to be fun. Now . . . now you didn’t even feel like drinking the rest of the beer that sat just on the outside from under the bed.

Dropping your other hand to cover your face, you loudly groaned. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

With a sigh, you dragged your hand down your face. Your eyes were on the carved words once again. Swallowing hard, you allowed yourself to trace the carvings with your fingertip.

Haunt me.

And you were back in that house; back in your house, eyes always on that damned dining table. You didn’t know how long you’d waited for your mother to take her seat every single night. You just remembered watching, waiting, wishing . . . only for nothing to happen.

Haunt me.

Would the next person to knock at your door be her or . . . death? Would she see you then?

Almost as if like clockwork, a knock at the bedroom door came. You whipped your head in that direction, eyes on the sliver of light peeking out from the gap in the door. A shadow of two feet stared back at you, making your heart hammer in your chest.

Waiting in silence, you didn’t dare speak a word, wondering if the person or . . . ghost would be the first to talk. And slowly, they opened the door, stepping inside while your heart climbed to your throat.

But then:

“Can I join you?” the person asked, their voice deep and smooth, and you instantly knew who it was.

Your heart dropped.

It wasn’t her.

You watched, oddly heartbroken, as he awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot, but you didn’t dare say a word. “I’m not, like, stalking you or anything if you were wondering . . . um—” a clearing of his throat— “I just . . . I didn’t know where you went. Someone mentioned seeing a girl go upstairs and then, well, I heard you in here. So . . . totally not stalking.”

A beat of heavy silence.

Then:

“There’s room, Felix,” you mumbled out, letting him know in the littlest of words that he could, in fact, join you.

Within seconds, there he was, his face peeking under the bed, eyes finding yours and immediately smiling. You felt yourself trying to fight off a small smile of your own as he crawled under the bed until he was laying comfortably next to you, arm brushing arm.

The funny thing was: you oddly felt more comfortable than you had a second ago. But then again, you quite liked being around him. It seemed everyone did anyway. He was just that type of person.

And yet he kept following after you. (You hated how it made you feel warm, almost . . . special.)

“So . . . “ he chuckled under his breath, eyes on your profile, “what are you doing under here?”

You didn’t turn to meet his gaze. Feeling it on you was one thing but having to make eye contact felt like a whole other path you did not want to cross just yet. So instead, your eyes remained on the bed slat as you whispered, “Dunno . . .”

“Right,” he breathed out, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. Oddly, it only made you want to scoot closer. “Well . . . hiding from the world doesn’t seem like too shabby of an idea actually.”

“Mmm . . . why?” you forced yourself to ask.

“I mean it sucks, doesn’t it?” he elaborated with a small shrug. “Why not hide under a bed? Makes me feel like a kid again . . . small . . . almost untouchable. No one can tell you what to do; what to feel; who to be.”

Then, you did turn. Your eyes on his, searching. “Hmm, I never thought of it like that,” you whispered. “I mean . . . . well I guess I’d do anything to be little again, too.”

“So you can speak more than two words at a time,” he whispered back, his eyes trailing across your features almost as if he were trying to memorize them. And then . . . then he smiled that warm, kind smile he always sent your way, and it was like you were eight years old again watching the sunset with a hand in yours.

You smiled back.

Felix breathed in sharply, his smile flattening as he tongued his inner cheek. “You know . . . we haven’t talked much,” he murmured as his gaze faltered, landing on your shoulder instead of your eyes.

Feeling anxious under his gaze, you toyed with the end of your old tee. “I know.”

“Well . . . you don’t say much either,” he muttered again, chuckling under his breath.

Something tugged at the corner of your lips—a small, ghost of a smile. “I know.”

“I’d like to change that,” Felix whispered back, not missing a beat. Then, when he’d realized what he said, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to the bed slat. “Not the not talking bit, well, I mean not the you not talking part. I’d like to change the not talking at all thing.” He was waving his hands around now.

You raised your brows.

He dropped his hands.

An incredibly awful awkward beat of silence.

Then: “Yeah . . . “ he went on, puffing up his cheeks and blowing out air. “I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I’d like to talk to you more . . . if that’s alright with you.”

He turned his head then, his eyes searching for yours, but this time, you were already staring at him. His brows were pinched up, almost as if his whole body were asking you this one question.

And you began to wonder . . . did you make him nervous, too?

The thought almost made you laugh. There was nothing intimidating about you. How could you ever make someone like him nervous?

Before you could stop yourself, another smile lifted onto your face, except this time, it morphed into a grin. “I think . . . I think I’d like that, too,” you found yourself mumbling, the grin never leaving your face, because really, you just couldn’t help yourself.

Relief instantly flooded his face. “Good. Good,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head with a small, dopey grin on his face. Then, he nodded once and turned back to face the bed slat. “Great.”

However, your eyes stayed on him a little longer. To be honest, you couldn’t tear yourself away. There was something in you that just wanted to memorize this moment. You weren’t sure why and you weren’t sure what it meant, but you did know you had taken extra care to focus on the freckles adorning his cheeks, especially the one that oddly resembled a small heart. That one you were sure would be ingrained into your brain for weeks to come. That one you were sure you’d draw over and over again in your sketchbook, unable to completely replicate it.

You began to wonder if he had these freckles when you were kids, too. You wondered if you had been so enraptured by them back then, too. And then you began to wonder why you couldn’t remember.

Felix Lee seemed like a hard person to forget.

. . . Why had you?

“You know—” Felix abruptly pulled you from your own mind, making you blink a few times before you tore your attention from him— “when we were kids, I used to think your house was haunted.”

Quickly, you snuck a glance at him through the corner of your eye. His eyes were trained on the bed slat. Well . . . they were trained on where you had carved your thoughts. He’d seen it.

Haunt me, he’d seen and he’d begun to tell you his own ghost stories. You, of course, stayed silent, swallowing hard as you waited for him to continue, because truly . . . you couldn’t remember any of it.

You couldn’t remember your old house or him or anyone from your life here. You just remembered fights and crying yourself to sleep. You remembered hurt, and yet . . . sunsets and Cherry Cherry saltwater taffy.

But everything was bleak, almost blurry, almost like they weren’t your own memories. Or maybe you hadn’t wanted them to be your own. Maybe you’d wanted them to belong to someone else.

Maybe that was why you stayed silent, and let Felix tell you his memories.

And, so, he did, and you listened.

“This was when I had trouble sleeping yeah? So when Chris and I would stay the night . . . I’d always be the last one awake and I swear I could hear people, like, talking in the middle of the night. But, like, it was crazy. They were always angry, always kind of, like, yelling but in a whisper, you know?” he went on, trying to paint the picture with his hand motions, but your eyes were locked on his face, watching each and every expression he made. “I was convinced your house itself was possessed and angry that me and Chris were there.”

It was unusual, because he’d said these things and you instantly had this dumb grin on your face that you were desperately trying to bite back. You just couldn’t imagine the man beside you cowering in a sleeping bag as he convinced himself ghosts were haunting him.

Then . . . it slowly began to dawn on you.

His ghosts . . . they were fighting, he’d said.

And it hit you.

His ghosts weren’t ghosts. They weren’t even just a child’s mind playing tricks. Because they were real, yes, but . . . Felix’s ghosts had been your parents.

Your smile slowly fell, your heart sinking as the corners of your lips crumbled into a thin line. And you began to wish your house had been haunted.

Felix, of course, caught onto your expression, but he hadn’t known. No, instead, he went on, “It’s stupid, I know, but back then I would always go home and beg my mom never to let me go back, but then . . . you’d ask and I’d end up back there, absolutely shaking in my sleeping bag. I swear I nearly pissed my pants every time.”

“I don’t remember that,” you muttered back, but you did know.

“The sleepovers or the ghosts? Because the ghosts were one hundred percent my imagination,” Felix said, laughing under his breath.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to offer even a smile back, because although you didn’t remember, you did know. You knew how it felt to be twelve, hiding in the bathroom with your older sister while your parents fought in the kitchen. You knew how it felt for her to tell you that your parents wouldn’t be together much longer and you should just accept it. You knew how it felt to be a hopeless romantic, watching Disney princess movie after movie, dreaming of your true love’s kiss, and then have it all crushed the moment your eyes set on your parents. You knew how it felt to ask your father if he still loved your mother, only to be met with an I don’t know anymore.

You knew how it felt to be a child and have your heart broken again and again, even if you couldn’t remember . . . this.

“All of it,” you ended up hoarsely whispering out. And then you felt it: a tear spilled down your cheek. Embarrassment flooded in quickly, and you harshly wiped it away. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I do this. I don’t mean to be such a fucking downer. It’s just . . . I think your ghosts were just my stupid parents.”

His eyes were on you again or maybe they had never left, but now . . . now you felt him staring. He didn’t speak, although, that told you what you needed to know.

He wanted to know . . .

He was waiting for you to continue on your own time, and you . . . you just couldn’t help but indulge yourself.

“My dad’s not the best guy,” you all but hissed out a second later, rage piling up inside you as years and years of anger and hurt spilled down your cheeks in the form of tears. “After my grandma died . . . he went away. Business trip. When he came back, I found out that he had been cheating on my mom the whole time. Apparently, he’d been cheating on her with multiple different women throughout the entire relationship, and the only reason why we moved was because he was fucking one of his goddamn students.”

You didn’t know why you were telling him this, you just . . .

You just . . .

“I wish I could tell you the house was haunted. I wish it had been one of your ghosts, but . . . “ you muttered, bitterness on your tongue as the words tumbled from your lips, unable to stop it.

A deafening beat of silence.

And then you realized what you had done.

Felix had never asked you what happened. He had never given any indication that he wanted to hear anything about your bullshit. No one ever really did, so why did you ever expect him to?

Quickly covering your face with your hands, you wished the ground would swallow you whole. “God, I’m sorry. You can leave. I’m fine, just tired, really,” you huffed out, your words muffled by your hands. “Go, it’s OK.”

But Felix just . . . laughed under his breath once again and simply hummed, “No.”

That was when you peeked at him through your hands, finally meeting his gaze. “No?” you questioned, searching his eyes for the punchline of the joke.

Felix only shrugged. “You’re a person of few words. Why can’t I be one, too?”

But you couldn’t take him seriously. “I’m serious. Don’t be dumb, you don’t have to listen to me whine about my dead mom and deadbeat dad,” you went on, watching him carefully. “Seriously, go, have fun.”

Nodding once, you thought Felix understood. You thought he was going to finally crawl out from underneath the bed, and leave you be. You thought he was going to finally leave your side like all those before him. But instead . . . he just pointed to the bottle cap resting beside you and asked, “Can I see that?”

And you were left shocked again. “I guess,” you tried to whisper out as you picked up the cap and hesitantly handed it to him, wondering what he was up to.

Felix muttered a quiet thank you before he took the cap from you and began to carve something into the bed slat. Only when he pulled his hand away did you realize he’d carved out the word ‘No’.

Your brows lifted.

“Sorry, I thought maybe you needed a visual,” he mused, finally turning back to you with a small grin playing on his lips.

Scrunching your brows, you glanced between him and the carving. Until: “Dick,” you scoffed out, but . . . but you were laughing. It was quiet laughter, sure, but laughter nonetheless as you shook your head at him.

His grin only grew.

Beat.

He still wasn’t leaving.

One more beat, and you breathed a hesitant sigh of relief. Maybe you could do this. Maybe you could let yourself trust him little by little.

You turned to meet his gaze, maintaining eye contact. His brown eyes were warm . . . welcoming . . . trusting. (It was no wonder he was such a brilliant muse.)

Maybe you really could trust him . . .

Beat.

B—

“Fine . . . “ you heard yourself choke out before you knew you were speaking, “where do I begin?”

His grin had begun to morph into a warm smile that matched his eyes. “Wherever you want,” he whispered, his voice deep, yet . . . gentle. “No one can tell you what to do under here, remember?”

Beat.

He smiled wider, his eyes crinkling now.

You finally smiled back, weakly.

And then . . . you started from the beginning.

You told him about how you realized everything when you turned seventeen. You told him about the fights during your childhood and how you always thought that was what love was like. You told him about when your grandmother died and your mother cried every day. You told him about when your father finally came back and the cups and plates that were broken in the following days. You told him about how your sister moved away shortly after that, and how you were stuck.

You told him about senior year of high school. The fights every night until four in the morning as you laid in bed, listening. You told him about having to clean up the broken plates after your father would leave in the middle of the night to get away from your mother, and how one time a shard of glass managed to embed itself into your skin. You told him how much it hurt feeling the glass press deeper and deeper into your skin day by day. And how it took two weeks for your body to finally push it out.

And when the floodgates had finally opened, your cheeks quickly staining with tears, you finally mentioned the night you begged your father to stay only for him to give you a look with pain that matched your own. You told him how your father heard you cry for him, and how he simply told you he never wanted to see you or your mother again.

You told him how your father returned home the very next day, and the cycle restarted. (It would continue, end, then restart for the following four years, as well, but that was a horror for another time.)

The days you would leave class early to cry in the bathroom because you just couldn’t take it, weren’t forgotten either. And how even the simplest of comments would set you off.

You told him how you went from this A student, never missing a day of school since the start of junior high, to someone who would ask her mother to pick her up early or beg to stay home from school just this one day. You told him how suddenly it went from being December to July in the blink of an eye so fast that you couldn’t even properly remember your graduation.

And just when you were about to tell him how in those years, this sadness had turned into rage toward both of them, you stopped. Nearly holding your tongue, you glanced at him in shock. You couldn’t say that, could you? What if he judged you? What if he called you ungrateful? What if he told you you were sick, just like you had hypothesized? What if—

But then you did look at him. You really looked at him, your eyes meeting his, searching on a deeper level than before, and you knew the answer.

Felix’s eyes were warm and gentle and kind. They were unlike anything you had ever seen; unlike anyone you had ever known. And under that bed, you swore they had whispered to you, assured you that there was no judgment there.

And you believed them. You believed him.

“I’ve been too scared to tell people this but . . . “ you slowly mumbled out, continuing to search his eyes. (Any sign of disgust and you’d shut everything down.) “I don’t know how much my mother loved me. God, that sounds stupid, but I know she loved my sister more.” Wetting your lips, you nearly laughed. “You know . . . parents always say they don’t pick favorites but, like, Erin . . . Erin is perfect, and I couldn’t even keep my GPA above a 3.4. I had nothing else. It was just school and sleep and nothing for me, but Erin was out there doing . . . doing everything.”

Felix nodded, listening, eyes attentive. And you felt this weight lift from your shoulders, breathing a sigh of relief as you continued, “And, you know, Erin doesn’t actually know shit about anything. She wasn’t there when it happened. I had to hold mom down every fucking night. I had to cling onto her fucking leg so she wouldn’t go after him. While Erin . . . Erin was building her new life, and yeah, I’m happy for her or whatever, but she has no idea how hard that was, and mom always acted as if she was this—this saint that drove her to the hospital one time, but I was there. I was fucking there.”

The rage had set in. It trickled through your veins, poisoning your heart.

“I brought mom breakfast every morning when she couldn’t get out of bed. I stayed with her every time she cried. In—In college, I came home on the weekends instead of being with my friends because I didn’t want to leave her alone with him. I was fucking there and I got nothing for it,” you all but sobbed as you shook your head. “She never even asked if I was OK, and I was begging for her to see that I wasn’t. I wanted her to hold me. I wanted her to apologize for taking my innocence away for—for stealing my fucking childhood. I wanted her to be my mom.”

I wanted her to be my mom, your words rang throughout your ears.

That was perhaps what hurt the most—the fact that she was supposed to be your mother, and the fact that you couldn’t say she hadn’t been. Because she had. She’d cared every day; she’d loved you every day, but some days you wondered how deep that love ran. Some days you wondered if she would’ve rather not been your mother. Some days you wondered if she resented you because you also came from your father and wore his face, practically taunting her.

I wanted her to be my mom. But perhaps she had wanted you to be her daughter, too. Only, maybe she had wanted you to just be her daughter and not his.

I wanted her to be my mom. But she never asked to have a daughter who resembled the man who’d torn their family apart.

Clutching the locket around your neck, you breathed in a shaky breath, your bottom lip trembling. “And then she got sick,” you barely managed to croak out. “It was like my world ended, because as much as I hated what she did to me . . . I think . . . I think she was the one person I loved the most in this world, and the thought of someday being without her . . . “

Your words trailed off but you knew you were nowhere near done. The floodgates were open now, and you’d be a fool to think you could stop them.

“I know she loved me,” you went on, trying to ignore the trembling in your voice. “I know that. I know. She would tuck me into bed every night even when I’d come home from college. She would give me forehead kisses and hug me and tell me she wouldn’t know what to do without me, but . . . she also used to call me her little shadow, like I was just her daughter and not a person.”

Beat. Beat. Beat.

Your heart or his? Or . . . hers?

“And I knew what that meant. I knew she saw me as an extension of herself, and so . . . we would fight. We fought all the time, and every time we did, she’d bring up the fact that I was just like my father,” you bit out. “She’d say I knew how to make people feel horrible. I knew how to ruin everything, like I couldn’t possibly be her child, I had to be just his and only his solely because I wasn’t complying to her every fucking whim. And, you know . . . every time I’d wonder if she truly did love me as much as she said . . . or if she loved me the same way she loved my father: in moderation with grudges and resentment. I wondered if she hated me as much as she loved me.”

There it was. I wondered if she hated me as much as she loved me. Would you be condemned now?

But for once, you didn’t care. You just . . . you wanted these words, these feelings out. And so, you went on . . .

“Then . . . she fucking died and when she did, she told me to look for her in the wind as if that makes any fucking sense at all,” you nearly scoffed, shaking your head as your tears continued to fall. “But . . . she missed home. I knew that. Dad had taken her away and she’d blindly followed him and I knew she regretted it every day. She always wanted to go back home; back here. I mean she always wanted me to come back with her, too . . . so I guess I knew what she meant. If I ever found myself back here, she’d want me to see her in everything. In the long roads, in the sand between my toes, in the trees . . . in the ocean, but now that I’m here; now that I hear her voice everywhere . . . I can’t help but wonder if she meant for it to be this cruel.”

As those words left your lips, you could have sworn you could feel her ghost. And maybe she was there, listening as her resentment for you grew. You’d understand if it did, too. You were angry and hurt and Erin was grieving.

There was no competition to determine who the better daughter was. The answer was clear. It was in the wind, the ocean, the sand between your toes, the sunburn on your back . . . hidden in the lines on your face.

Dropping your hand to the floorboards, you choked out a gruesome sob, nearly coughing all over the man beside you. “Like . . . did she mean she’d always be with me? Or did she want me to know that I’d never forget her dying; that I should be haunted by her death throughout my life?”

Felix didn’t reply, and you didn’t expect him to. This was no question for him. It was for her, and she was no longer there to answer. You’d forever be wondering . . .

And when the silence had gone on for too long, you angrily wiped your cheeks and nose, before you sighed out a shaky breath. “I haven’t had much time to think about what I want in life or what I want here,” you began, your voice quieter now. “All that I’ve done is for my mother; for her to be proud of me. That is my life. But . . . I think . . . what I want is to be loved as much as I am hated. I think my mother’s love would have been much easier to swallow then. Maybe then I’d get it down without choking. Or . . . maybe it’d kill me.”

Fuck.

“Fuck,” you spoke aloud. “And you wanna know the worst part? . . . I still . . . I don’t get it . . . because now I just . . . now I have all this love and . . . and hatred for her and I have nowhere to put it. I don’t have a mother. She’s gone and I’m here, and I’m stuck with everything she left behind. I just—How . . . how do you love someone who’s gone? Who do you give it to?”

Your words rang throughout your ears. If you knew the truth, would it kill you? If she was still alive, would it have been you instead of her?

You couldn’t help but think that that was how it should have been. It should’ve been you instead of her. It should’ve—

The warmth of a hand sliding into your own caught you off guard, pulling you from your mind. Slowly, you glanced down at your hand, finding Felix’s intertwined.

Had you spoken too much? Was he telling you to shut up? Did he—

“Sorry,” you immediately blurted out, trying to pull your hand from his, “I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

But Felix gently secured his grip around your hand. Hesitantly and cautiously, as if asking for your permission, he laced your fingers together, holding your hand firmly in his.

And it was as if you finally understood what he had been saying the other day.

“Felix?” you questioned, unsure.

He only squeezed your hand as if telling you it was OK. “She’s always going to be your mom, you know?” he began a second later, his words quiet, cautious. “Death doesn’t take that away from you. I don’t think it has to take your love for her, either. That you should keep, and don’t . . . don’t let it go.”

Slowly, you turned your head to look at him once again, only now . . . now he was staring at the bed slat and not at you. And you watched as the thoughts raged on inside his head.

His brows scrunched in thought. “I didn’t know her well. I mean I can remember bits and pieces, but it’s not her I remember from back then. I didn’t know her. I know that, but . . . “ he trailed off, wetting his lips. “I remember you guys being here, and I know what my mom told me in the years after you left. Your mother loved you, too, and that kind of love . . . it’s not cruel. Know that.”

“But . . . “ you swallowed hard, “what if as I grew up . . . her love for me outgrew, too? What if she only loved me because I was a kid? Because I was small and needed her?”

“I’d like to think once you love something . . . someone, that feeling . . . stays, and if it doesn’t then . . . “ he turned to you, his eyes glassy now, too, but he wouldn’t let the tears fall, “then it was never love in the first place.”

You offered a weak smile. “Well, I don’t think there was much love in my family to begin with. I don’t even know if I know how to . . . how to do it.”

He offered you a weak smile back. “I’ve found that it’s those people who know how to love better than anyone,” he nearly whispered as he squeezed your hand once again, now rubbing your skin with his thumb.

And for once . . . for once, you squeezed his hand back. It was comforting. It was innocent. It felt . . . safe. He . . . he felt safe.

“Grief feels a lot like guilt and . . . fear,” Felix went on, searching your eyes now. “And when you lose someone, it’s like learning how to be a person again. You question everything. You wonder if you have actually lived at all. You begin to ask yourself if you could have done more when they were alive. You blame yourself. Hate yourself.” He took a deep breath, and in that time, he reached out to curl your hair behind your ear in a comforting manner. “It takes a long time to forgive yourself for just . . . being a person and . . . being . . . alive, but it starts with knowing that your mother would not want you to live the rest of your life thinking about how hers ended.”

Beat.

You swallowed hard.

Beat.

He stroked your hair.

Beat.

“Love doesn’t work like that,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It’s forgiving.”

Your brows twitched. “And if I can’t?”

The corners of his lips tugged into a small smile. “That’s the thing, sad eyes . . . you will,” he mumbled before his thumb was touching your cheek, wiping the tears that had fallen.

Beat.

Your heart or his?

Yours.

Definitely yours.

Once again, you swallowed hard.

His hand remained.

“How about we go . . . “

But his words muted in your ears as you zoned out, getting trapped inside your mind again. You felt the urge to do something to thank him. No one had ever listened to you like that and told you that everything wasn’t ruined and you weren’t this horrible, no-good person. No one had ever let you know you weren’t alone like that, and if there was one thing your mother had told you growing up, it was to thank those who helped you.

But you never knew how to do things right. You always did them just a bit wrong. So when he’d told you everything would be OK, when he’d brushed your hair back, when he’d wiped your tears, when he’d cared for you like no one else had proudly done, you felt the urge to tell him that you liked him . . . that you had been drawing him and he’d become something of a muse to you.

Now, you were your mother’s little bird who’d flown from the nest too soon and met boy after boy. You were an adult whose younger self had dreamt of finding her prince charming. You were someone who found love in many things and longed for that love back. You had always loved people with a hug or laughter or a kiss. You’d loved every boy who’d made you feel special, and you’d always shown them through your body.

So, yes, you had a tiny crush on this someone you knew from the past, and now he was so close and you just wanted to let him know that you were grateful. So why couldn’t you just tell him that?

You tried, but you couldn't get the words to tumble from your tongue. You were thinking too much again. So you just stared at him, with your mind spinning and your heart pounding in your chest. Beat. Beat. Beat. For a split second, you thought you might tell him that because he cared for you, you just had to care for him (because that was just how you were raised, right?).

But you didn't.

Those words never left your lips. Instead, you did something that shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you. You glanced at his lips, then crashed into him, slamming your lips onto his and nearly knocking out all the air in your lungs.

The warmth of his lips obliterated every thought in your head, melting your mind as you melded into him. Felix, however, remained stunned, his hand frozen still on your face while you pressed your chapped lips against his soft, plush ones.

But when your fingers gently grazed his cheek, traveling up to curl his hair behind his ear, he gave in. He reacted quickly after that, and gripped onto your hips, locking your leg over his hip the best he could under the bed to shift closer to you. And then he was wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer to him until there was no space left between. His other hand found its way to the back of your neck and he deepened the kiss. It was sloppy and needy . . . like the two of you were trying to drink each other up; like you were thanking him and he was thanking you right back.

And his touch. His touch lit a fire inside you as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, asking you for permission first. And you willingly gave it to him, parting your lips just enough to allow him access, and relishing in the way he nearly groaned at your neediness.

Every squeeze of your hips, every hurried touch he left along your sides, your legs, your arms, face, lips . . . you felt yourself sinking further and further into him. You just wanted more and more and more. No one had ever felt this good. No one had ever tasted this sweet. No one had ever made you want to kiss them until the sun rose, but him . . . He was nearly otherworldly.

“You’re so pretty,” you heard yourself say against his lips before you began to kiss his cheek, then his jaw, until you reached his neck.

Felix chuckled under his breath, tilting his head to the side to allow you more access and you eagerly took it. “I’m pretty?” he questioned, his voice deeper now as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when your tongue lazily licked the lobe of his ear.

“So pretty,” you mused, continuing to kiss his beautiful, beautiful neck as you drew yourself closer to him, your core now directly resting on top of his lower half.

That was when you felt it—his hardness poking you where you needed it most. You couldn't tell if he was fully hard due to the material of his jeans, but you didn't care. The feeling alone was enough to set you off—your skin grew hot and your breath hitched in your throat as your core ached for even the simplest of touches.

“You’re—” he began, but his words quickly died on his tongue as you worked your way back up to his lips. Slotting your tongue against his, you swallowed every thought he could’ve spun.

Grinning against his lips, you mumbled, taunting him, “I’m?”

(See . . . the thing was, being intimate with someone . . . it gave you confidence, so being intimate with him . . . well . . . you felt . . . otherworldly, too.)

But he only groaned, his deep voice doing unspeakable things to you as his grip on you tightened. His touch only spurred you on further. “You’re—” he cut himself off as dived back in, his mouth skillfully working against yours— “everything.” His words shocked you to the core, but not for long as one of his hands tightened around the hair at the back of your head, pulling you into him while his other hand tugged your body against his, the movements simultaneously brushing your clit ever so slightly against the tent in his jeans.

If he knew how he was affecting you, he didn’t show it. It just seemed he wanted more and more of you, and that was it. Yet, still, his simple touches were making your underwear stick to your core, and you were becoming more and more lost in him as the seconds passed.

When your core began to ache all too much, you listened to your body, subconsciously grinding against his hardness. And instantly, he curled into you, a deep moan sounding from the back of his throat as he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

But he didn’t dare touch you like . . . that . . . back. No . . . instead . . . his hands stilled, his touch light against you as he halted you from grinding against him again.

And you were left out of breath, dazed, and confused, with an odd ache in your chest.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He kissed your neck once, but it was gentle, almost innocent, and then he was pulling away.

And you realized what had happened.

He hadn’t wanted this. Holy shit, you’d just. You’d kissed him and he didn’t want you. Fuck, fuck, you’d fucked everything up again. Fuck.

Shaking your head, that sudden realization was the only thing you needed to know before you practically jumped away from him. “No, I’m sorry, I—fuck—” you stammered out as you detached your body from his and leaned back, facing the bed slat in utter shock. “I should’ve asked you. That’s so creepy. Oh, my God.”

“Shit, no! I didn’t—” Felix quickly ushered out as he reached for you, his hand caressing your cheek in an instant. “I just . . . “ His eyes met yours, searching and you searched right back, practically begging him to tell you the truth. You knew you’d never been someone people . . . liked. You could take this. He just . . . he just had to tell you. But instead: “I just . . . I can’t be . . . intimate with you.”

Your brows furrowed, your face hot. “Um . . . OK . . . I’m sorry. I’m just confused . . . why’d you kiss me back?” you questioned. Your eyes widened once you realized what you’d said. “I mean, not that you like have to. You don’t have to want to kiss me. I just, I guess what I mean is, well—”

“Because I wanted to,” Felix quickly cut you off, his deep voice like silk. “I want to kiss you. Fuck, I want that so fucking bad.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “A lot . . . but I can’t want that . . . not right now.”

You blinked once. Then twice. Then once more as you stared at him while confusion and something else twisted through your brain. He wanted to kiss you. He had, and yet . . .

Why was he holding himself back?

Beat.

And then:

Felix sighed, his hand dropping from your cheek. “Can I walk you . . . us home?” he asked.

You nodded in response, but your mind was elsewhere.

He’d wanted to kiss you, but he couldn’t. Somehow . . . you understood. And oddly enough, it made relief revisit you once again that night.

As you walked through the empty streets of Southhaven, you couldn't help but wonder how you ended up here. Because the thing was: you had just spent a few hours with a boy you had known when you were small but couldn’t place his face to your memories, and now . . . now you were . . . kind of friends.

Not only that, but you had never felt more seen, more understood in those few hours than you ever had in your entire life. No one your age had ever actually cared enough to try and get to know you. The only ones who had were Hyunjin and Jisung, but they weren’t here, and you’d been missing them for some time now. You thought maybe you’d missed them before you even left. You thought maybe you’d missed them once your mother was gone.

(Perhaps you’d missed the person you had been with them when your mother was alive.)

But the others . . . Those who you’d grown up with all just labeled you as one thing and steered clear of you their entire lives.

But it wasn't like that with Felix.

Now . . . before you admitted this, you would just like to defend yourself by saying that yes, you knew it was a problem, and yes, it was probably a character flaw or whatever. But . . . ever since you were a kid and the boys in your grade would stick notes in your locker, asking you out as a joke, you’d had this innate urge to prove yourself to men . . . or rather . . . to be liked by them.

It was sick, and you knew it, too, but it was something that’d haunted you for years. It was something you desperately clung onto throughout your life.

It was something you’d hoped no one else saw in you. It was also something you knew men or at least the men you’d known liked to take advantage of. Because you were you—a weak bird hoping someone would take her wings and help her fly.

And when you’d kissed Felix, you’d kissed him because you wanted that approval from him. You knew that. You knew it was wrong, but he’d looked at you, listened, told you everything would be alright, and you just wanted to show him you were grateful in the only way you’d known how.

So when he’d stopped you, it’d stung as it always did, but that was better than the disgust you felt with yourself after. So, did it feel like shit? Yes, but there was relief there, too. Because, now, now you hadn’t ruined this. You hadn’t ruined the comfort you’d found in him.

For once, nothing was ruined. It just was.

And the best part—he was still walking right beside you. He hadn’t left (and oddly, you wanted to fight against the urge that told you to push him away), and it seemed he didn’t plan on doing so for a long while.

That, to you, was the hardest part of that night for you to wrap your head around. Everyone left sooner or later, but when he’d told you he wasn’t going anywhere . . . a part of you believed him.

And you . . . you had never felt this way with anyone. Everything and everyone had always felt like an expiration date. The girls in school would talk to you there, sure, but never outside of those walls. They had never asked you anything about yourself. It had always been about them, so much so that you forgot you actually had a personality of your own.

You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up in that position, but you were you and had a small bit of an inkling.

Because here was the thing: when you're sixteen, you'll do anything to fit in. You yearn to be prettier, to be girlier, to be more, but not more in the too much sense, rather more in a just right kind of way. So you befriend people who aren't considered weird by the masses, and it works for a while, because you are able to mask your true self for a while. But sometimes she slips out. Sometimes you say something a little too . . . odd . . . and they look at each other, laugh, and call you weird, trying to pass it off as if they're not ridiculing you.

Then after a while, you realize, they're not just laughing as a joke . . . they're making fun of you.

And you come to the conclusion that you have to accept the fact that some birds are high-flying birds. Those birds, like your perfect sister, fly with their heads held high. They fly with elegance and beauty and class. They fly like they own the world. And you . . . you're a part of the other birds—the birds who don't fly high; the ones who can't no matter how hard they try. You're constantly trying to fly with these high-flying birds, only to be met with failure. Your wings aren't strong enough. You're not strong enough.

So you accept that some birds are high-flying birds, and others are not, but you still hope that you can fly together. You hope for this every time, and every time you're met with that same old familiar feeling of failure.

Some birds are high-flying birds, and others are not. They were never meant to fly together.

It was one of the reasons why you wondered Hyunjin and Jisung were still your friends after all these years. They flew high. They knew who they were. They were something to be admired, and you were just . . . there.

Come to think of it, you’d never met another low-flying bird before. And then . . . as you kicked a stone in your path, your head hanging low, you snuck a glance at Felix out of the corner of your eye.

You began to wonder what type of bird Felix Lee was . . .

“Vulnerability is a tricky thing,” Felix sighed out a second later, almost as if he had felt your eyes on him. “I’ve struggled with it a lot this past year, and I know what it makes you want to do. I know how easy it is to mistake it for something else, and I know how crushing it feels when . . . when reality comes crashing back in.”

Swallowing hard, you took in his words. You knew what he meant. You knew he was talking about what had happened between the two of you back at the bonfire. And you knew what he was saying.

It wouldn’t happen again.

His lips on yours couldn’t be, and that . . . that you were beginning to think was OK. Did you find yourself staring at him a little too long sometimes? Yes. Did you maybe think you felt something for him? Yes, but . . . you’d always had a hard time distinguishing your emotions.

Everything would be ruined if you did find yourself drawing his lips one too many times. So you’d stick to walking side by side, knowing nothing would ever happen between the two of you. You’d stick to being his friend, because that . . . that oddly felt right.

And for some reason that was what you wanted . . . and you hadn’t wanted something in a long time.

So, your heart didn’t sink when he said, “I know you think you know what you want from me, but . . . it won’t help. It won’t help and then . . . then you’ll hate me.”

And with a small smile playing on your lips, you understood. “I don’t know if it’s possible to hate someone like you,” you hummed back, unable to wipe that smile from your face for once in the past several months.

Felix stiffened ever so slightly beside you, but he didn’t cease walking. He didn’t think you were hitting on him, did he? (You nearly laughed. As if you could ever do that.)

But nevertheless, you stopped in your tracks and tugged on the edge of his shirt, pulling him toward you. Where this sudden confidence came from, you had no idea, but for some reason, the anxiousness you’d once felt around him had lifted.

Felix, too, seemed shocked by your display, but you ignored this, keeping your hand clutched around the fabric of his shirt. “Listen, I won’t try to kiss you again if that’s what you’re worried about,” you sighed, lowering your eyes to your feet. “I told you sometimes I say things I don’t mean . . . but sometimes . . . sometimes I do things that I don’t mean to do and then . . . “

“Yeah, me too,” Felix hummed back after a second. “However—” his words paused, causing you to meet his gaze— “I was hoping we could be friends.”

And whatever was left of your anxiety toward him was gone, relief replacing. “I’d like that,” you found yourself breathing out with a small grin on your face.

I was hoping we could be friends.

When you were a kid, you had a hard time making any friends. You were awkward and kept your mouth shut at all times. The messages in your yearbooks would always be directed toward how nice you were, but they didn’t know you. You didn’t have a kind soul. It took a while to realize that. It took even longer to accept it—that you were a miserable child who grew into an even more miserable adult.

And yet . . . I was hoping we could be friends.

When you were a kid, you had a hard time making any friends, except . . . it seemed . . . for him. And although you couldn’t remember him, you remembered how he’d made you feel.

Sunsets. Laughter. A hand in yours.

The two of you had been friends long ago, and now . . . I was hoping we could be friends.

Had it always been that easy? Had—

“Where’d you go?” Felix whispered in that deep voice of his, dragging you from your mind.

“Hmm?” you hummed, looking up at him in a daze. Only then did you realize you’d zoned out, a smile on your face as your mind raced. This happened a lot, yes, but no one had ever noticed before. (It seemed Felix had a funny way of shocking you again and again.) “Nowhere, just . . . just here.”

Felix nodded once. “OK . . . ” his words trailed off, and then he was leaning toward you, his face so close you could feel his breath on your cheek. Tilting his head to the side, his eyes flicked across your features before a small, half-grin touched his lips. “Maybe one day you’ll take me with you, yeah?”

Your brows twitched, eyes searching.

“I—” he began again, but he was quickly cut off by the sound of distant clicking. His face fell instantly. “Shit.”

Thinking nothing of it, you cluelessly looked around. “What?”

Felix grabbed your shoulders, his eyes searching the trees. “I hear them.”

“Hear . . . who?”

“The bats.”

“The bats?” you deadpanned, nearly laughing. “Really?”

Felix clicked his tongue in fake annoyance. “Yes, the bats,” he scoffed as he dropped his hands, pouting slightly (you found this . . . endearing to say the least).

But you only shook your head in response, not knowing what to say. And then . . . the two of you began to walk again. Felix walked a little faster. . . . You found this also amusing.

“God, you know I fucking hate those little fuckers,” Felix huffed after a minute (still going on about his . . . bat problem). “I swear it’s like they haunt me.”

You snorted, “You’re crazy.”

“No, no, I’m telling the truth,” he quickly defended, now walking backward so that he could face you without stopping. “There was this one time Chris and I went camping, right? I wake up in the middle of the night, have to piss, so I go outside, I’m wringing it out and then I hear this clicking noise.”

And for now, you humored him similar to how you always humored Jisung and his outlandish stories. “No way,” you hummed, only half-listening as you watched his face light up in excitement while he spoke.

“Yes! Yes!” Felix clapped, practically jumping in front of you as he went on. “I’m standing with my fucking dick out, looking over my shoulder like the fucking sky is falling and then I step on a branch and this fucking thing comes flying at me, almost took my head off, I swear.”

A loud clap of laughter that you couldn’t stop escaped you, causing you to slap a hand over your mouth. “Oh, I’m sure!” you couldn’t help but say, words muffled by your hand.

He vigorously nodded his head. “Swear on my life!” he exclaimed, slapping his chest to embellish his point. “I’m so serious, the little asshole chased me all the way back to the tent.”

You laughed again. Louder this time. “No, you’re kidding,” you nearly giggled out, finding it hard to see his excited face as you laughed so hard, your eyes just about squeezed shut.

“I’m so fucking serious,” Felix continued, laughing along with you now. “Ever since then, it’s like they’re out to get me. Like, like that goddamn pervert told all his friends I was an easy target, and now! Now, every time I’m alone, they come out of the fuckin’ shadows.”

And then you were laughing so hard, your sides had begun to hurt. You just couldn’t help it. You just kept imagine this actually happening to him, and that was it.

It was odd, too, yes, because you’d yet to realize this was the first time you’d laughed like this since your mother died. Hell, you weren’t even thinking of it or her or the wind or heartbreak or anything. You were just there . . . and he was there too and that was . . . it.

(And true to word, you wouldn’t think of these such things until morning came. The rest of the night would be filled with laughter . . . just like a childhood you barely remembered.)

“Shut up!” you exclaimed as you caught up with him, slapping him on the arm like you would normally do to Hyunjin. “You’re ridiculous.”

Felix began to slow down, still walking backward but not as fast as his eyes stayed trained on you, watching as you continued laughing at him. “Oh, yeah?” he hummed as you shook your head, covering your mouth with your hand while you continued laughing under your breath.

“Yes, Lixie,” you mused, teasing a stupid nickname and dropping your hand as your laughter fizzled out into just a smile on your face.

He smiled back, warmer this time as his eyes flicked to your eyes. “I like that,” he nearly whispered, now walking in sync with you.

“What?” you questioned, tilting your had to the side in thought (but your smile remained).

His lips parted. “Y—”

A loud clicking sound echoed throughout the streets. And that time, you did hear it.

“Fuck!” Felix exclaimed, immediately jogging two paces in front of you. “See! See! That cunt’s calling my name, I’m telling you.”

But all you could do was laugh (because maybe he had a point, and that was so fucking funny to you).

“Quick. We have to run,” he went on, clearly having a little more fun with this than he’d expected. “Run or they’ll catch you and suck your blood! Quick! Quick!” And then he was moving, quickly jogging down the street/

“Felix!” you called out to him, groaning in annoyance as he grew further and further away from you.

His eyes, however, had never left you. “Oi! Quick, I say! Quick!” he yelled into the night.

Then you saw it:

He was holding out his hand . . . toward you.

And you couldn’t help yourself.

With a wide grin on your face, you broke out into a jog, reaching him in no time, seconds before you clasped his hand in yours. And as the two of you ran, your laughter filtering throughout the night, you began to wonder if you had been here before.

You could remember a boy around the age of eight, and he was laughing. A soft giggle with eyes that smiled too. Then . . . colors. Sunsets. The feeling of floating. The taste of Cherry Cherry saltwater taffy. And . . . (you remembered) . . . the warmth of a hand in yours . . .

The warmth of his hand in yours.

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earthbound-girl · 9 months

Text

Romp in The Barn (Stardew Valley Fic)

(NO MINORS!) Cute Fluff and a look into Domestic life with Sam plus a tame smut scene.

“What?” Sam asked looking quizzically at Sebastian.

“Yeah, did you not realize they did that?” He said as he laughed at his friend's expression.

Sam couldn’t believe that he never realized it. When you and him had kids, he left the naming up to you, It was the least he could do since you took his last name when you got married and He leaves the care of Starry Farms up to you. He giggled to himself. He just couldn’t believe that the person he married was this cute and nerdy.

“Well thank you for the info, Seb. But now I need to get back to my kids.” And also ask my cute spouse about their names. He thought.

“Alright then. See ya. Thanks for the laugh!” Seb said over his shoulder as walked back to his house.

Sam started his way down the path to yall’s. He couldn’t wait to get back to his kids and you.

A Few Hours Later

You get back to your home, after a few long hours of feeding your animals and taking care of crops. The worst part of farm life was the long list of never-ending chores. But it was better than working at a soul-crushing office job. You sit down on your couch and sigh in relief. You couldn’t stay for long, you still had to go to town and see if the townspeople needed any help, along with picking up more seeds from Pierre’s and then going to Willy’s shop to replace your fishing rod. At least you had your horse, Milly now, which made traveling so far easier and faster.

“Ama!” You snap out of your thoughts and look towards your firstborn child. They looked so much like you but had the personality of their daddy. You smiled at them.

“Yes, Sweetie?” you asked.

They came running to you and scrambled into your lap.

“Look at what I made!” they exclaimed as they showed you their latest crayon drawing.

In the drawing was a family, your family. Sam with his spikey hair drawn in yellow, you with your signature hat holding your newly added baby, and then them in the middle with a huge heart surrounding all of you.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful sweetie!”

“Tank you ama I made a new one, so baby Nicolas could be in it”

“Aww, I’m glad you wanted to include your sibling, baby” You kiss the top of their head. “Have you shown your daddy yet?”

“No, not yet, dadda is busy with baby.” They say as they keep gazing at the drawing.”

You set them down and get up off the couch. The break was over, now it's parent duty.

“Well let us go find him and show him.” They look up at you and smile super big before taking your hand and heading to their shared bedroom with their little sibling. You head inside to see Sam cradling your baby in his arms. He has taken to his father role so well. He is such a doting dad and loves his children so much. He sees you come in and he sets the child back into their crib so they can nap.

“Hi dear.” He walks to you and pecks your lips quickly.

“Did you get everything done on the farm today? If you didn’t, I won't be mad!” he teases you.

You roll your eyes at your husband and smile up at him.

“No not yet, I just came in for a break. Then Rosie wanted me to show what they drew.” You give him the drawing and his eyes light up as he looks at it.

“This is so good! Great Job Rosie! This is going on the fridge!” Your child smiles at their dad and starts jumping up and down yelling “YAY!”

“Oh Oh, sweetie, shh, your little brother is trying to sleep okay.” You put your fingers to your lips.

“Oops, sorry momma. Yay.” The say in a tiny whisper before running downstairs to put their drawing on the fridge.

You and Sam giggle softly as you watch them run out the room. You hug Sam and put your head on his chest. He kisses your head.

“Long Morning?”

“You have no idea. The cows had another baby, and I ran out of hay for the chickens, so they were not too happy with me. So, no eggs today. Then I forgot to set out a scarecrow and the birds came and ate up some of the seeds I just planted.” You vented.

“I’m sorry dear. If I knew more about farm work, I’d help you out more.”

“I know Love. But you take care of the housework and our kids. Plus I didn’t marry you cause you know about farming.”

“I know, you married me cause of my rugged good looks and rockstar status!” He jokes at you. He loves when you smile and laugh at him.

“Damn right, Love.” You laugh at him.

He leans down and kisses your smiling lips. His kisses always made you feel better. They made the day's woes melt away. You were so lucky that he said yes when you asked him to marry you, though if you asked Sam, he would say he was the lucky one.

Your lips part and he puts his head against yours. “Do you feel a little better?”

“I do. Thank you, Sam.”

“Anything for you dear.” He smiles at you.

“Oh by the way, I went for a walk before the kids got up and I saw Seb… and he said something I need to ask you about.”

“Oh what’s that?” you asked.

“Seb told me that you named our kids after your favorite fictional characters. Is that true?’

You part from Sam and look down before you start to giggle and that turns into a quiet laugh, so you didn’t wake your sleeping baby.

“You didn’t realize that Sam?” You laugh out.

“Well, I knew that they were unique names. I just thought that it was a distant family member's name.”

You grab Sam’s hand and head down the back stairs to ya’ll’s bedroom. As soon as you are out of the baby’s room and have the door close so you can’t wake them up. You lose it and let out a very loud laugh. You laugh until you have tears in your eyes and looking at Sam’s puzzled expression made it worse. You turn your back to him and calm down, as much as you can before turning back.

“Sam. I love you so much.”

This made his expression even more confused and you almost start laughing again. “I love you too?”

“I mean it Sam; I love you so much. I love that you can make me laugh this much… and also that you just don’t question my weird ways.” You hug him and hold him tight. Even though he was still confused, he couldn’t help but hug you back and hold you just as tight.

“Though Sam, I can’t believe that you didn’t realize that I named them after certain characters. I even told you I was.”

He holds you out a bit. “When? I don’t remember this.”

“I think a few weeks before I had our First and a few days before our Second. Though I will admit that we were busy with something else.” You blushed.

“Oh, no wonder I don’t remember. You were distracting me with your wild ways.” He says as he wiggles his eyebrows.

You rolls your eyes. “Well now that you realize, are you upset?”

“Of course not, I trust you. I love how nerdy and cute you are, and this just made me love you even more if that’s possible. I could never be mad at you for being you. Though, I should ask are you mad at me for not remembering.”

“No, never. I can never be mad at you Sam. But. I think you need to be punished for not seeing my true nerdiness.”

“Oh no. Not punished and what pray tell would my spouse propose as a punishment?”

“Well for one, You have to watch my favorite (Y/F Show/Movie)” You state

“Dear, that is not a punishment, especially when we watch almost the same things.”

“I wasn’t finished. We watch my favorite (Y/F Show/Movie) while I..” You pull him close and whisper in his ear. “cockwarm you.”

You hear him giggle darkly and he pulls his face back to look at you.

“And… that’s it? Dear. I can handle a little cockwarming but I know that you won’t. You can’t sit still long enough. Are you sure this isn’t a punishment for you then for me?”

“I can too. I’ve been practicing. And this is a perfect opportunity to see if that practice paid off.”

“And when have you been practicing?” He asked you. You look at him and see his eyes are dark. You love seeing him get like this. Sam is usually a gently lover and wants to make you feel good. But sometimes, like moments like these, his eyes will get dark and he will get a bit dominant.

“Whenever you and the kids go visit your mom.” You admit finally. His gaze holds you and you can feel your underwear getting wet.

“Mhmm. So sneaky. And when was I going to know about this?” He mused.

“The next time the kids spent the night at your mom’s.” you whispered. Your skin felt hot, and you started to breathe a bit heavy. You wanted to whine. You wanted your husband right here and now. But you reeled yourself back, remembering that you had one child in the living room and one asleep upstairs. Sometimes being a parent sucked.

“You know mom has been wanting to see the kids. Why don’t I drop them off tonight and we can see if your secret practice helped?”

Fuck. Fuck. So hot. Need him now. Want him now. Wasn’t this supposed to be his punishment? Why am I the one over here getting so needy!?

“O-Okay.” That’s you can say.

“Seem’s like I’m not the one being punished now. “ He lowers his face down and gives your neck hot quick kisses. You can feel yourself getting lost in Sam’s touch, you wanted Sam. He feels the same. You want nothing more then to stay in this hot love haze.

But this gets interrupted by your child, who starts to yell for you and your husband.

“Ama! Dadda! I’m hungry. Can I have cereal?”

You both freeze and stay still. He pulls back and sighs. “Looks like we are being called.”

“Yeah. But at least we will have tonight.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Me either”

You both part and you look in the mirror to make sure you don’t have hickies and Sam has to readjust himself before he goes out to take care of your child.

You hear your husband and child laughing and the sound of cereal being poured. You try to distract yourself, trying to stop your heart beating so fast, your skin to stop feeling so hot. Once you get like this, its hard to stop. You either have to take care of it yourself or… or… You start to come up with a plan.

A couple of minutes later, you exit your bedroom and see your child sitting in the living room with a bowl of cereal watching tv. Normally you would just gaze and smile at you how cute this scene is, but right now you need Sam.

“Hey Sam. I forgot I need some help in the barn. Can you come and help really quick?’

He puts his cup down and says “Sure.” Then he looks at your child. “Sweetie, are you okay? Cause I need to go help mommy in the barn.”

They barely look away from the screen before saying “Okay dadda.”

You and Sam head outside to the barn. Your heart is pounding and you need him. You need Sam to help you.

“Dear, What is it that you needed help with?” He asked after going inside the barn.

You shut the barn’s roll up door. Before walking back to Sam and reaching up to bring his face to yours and kiss him hungrily. You have to stop so you can take a breather. Sam is breathing just as hard and looks at you with those blue eyes you love so much.

“I need you Sammy. I couldn’t wait till tonight. So please. Please fuck me.”

“In here?”

“It was either here or the Coop and here there is a lot of soft hay and less eggs.”

Sam giggles.

“You are just too cute and when you are this needy, so fucking hot.” His backs you up against a wall and starts to kiss you hard. You moan in his mouth and his tongue plays with yours. He leaves you breathless and he pulls back.

“Fuck angel, you are just so sexy.” You goes straight for your neck and starts to leave a trail of hickies. After he examines his work, he pulls off your shirt and starts to kiss and suck your nips. Leaving them swollen and sensitive. He kiss down your body and stops at your bottoms. He slides it off you and sees how wet you you are for him.

“So wet. You are such my needy spouse.” He licks and kisses the wet spot, eliciting a moan and a whine from you,

“S-sam p-please. No teasing!” you stutter a plea.

“I can’t help it dear. Seeing you like this, makes me just want to devour you slowly.” He kisses the wet spot one more time before sliding off your underwear. Even though he has seen you so many times like this. He is still amazed by you. He loves you so much and he is going to show you what you do to him. He hurriedly loses his pants and underwear. He turns you around and pumps himself a few times before lining himself up to your hole. He uses your wetness as lube and smears his cock before slowly entering you.

“Ahh, Fuck! Sam! Sam!” You hold onto the wall as best as you can. Its so good. So good. Everything is hazy and all you can feel is Sam. All you need is Sam.

“Hah, Fuck. Angel You always feel so good. Feel so amazing.” He bottoms out inside you. He holds for a few seconds, before he backs out and thrust it back deep inside you.

“HA! SAM!” That thrust made your knees buckle and almost drop.

He does it again and again. Holding you tight so you won’t fall. Until he finds his rhythm and is thrusting in and out hard.

"Baby! Baby! God you feel so good!” You hear him moan out. The sound of his thrusts echoes around the empty barn. You are so glad that you live deep in the woods.

You both are reaching your climaxes. A couple of more thrusts. Your hole pulsing with every thrust.

“Cum! Gonna Cum!” You moan out.

“Fuck yes! Cum! Cum for me angel! Cum for your husband! Not! Far! Behind!” He thrusts to punctate his sentences.

You feel it. You can feel it building. It starts in your stomach and goes straight to your head. “AHH, SAM!!”

You tip over the edge and your hole tightens around Sam’s cock, taking him with you.

Angel!” He releases deep inside you. All his love is now inside you.

Sam collapses against you. Holding you as you both ride out your orgasms. All that can be heard is the sound of your heavy breathing. Sam’s head rests on your shoulder and he roll your head to him and lay your head on his.

“I love you Sam.” You whisper in his ear.

“I love you too, Sweetie. So much.” He kisses your shoulder. He slowly pulls out.

You always feel so empty when he pulls out. Especially after such hard loving sex like this. Sam turns you around and kisses your forehead, your temples, and finally your lips. He hugs you tight.

“You are the love of my life. I’m so happy we are married. I’m so happy I have you. Then you made me even more happy when you gave us our kids. I seriously love you.”

You tear up and hold him tight. He kisses you one last time and gets dressed quickly before your child comes out to see you in such a state. Sam steps out and you hear. “Oh hey Seb.”

You freeze in place before quickly throwing on your clothes and check to see if Sam was just joking. God you hope Sam is joking. He is not. Standing on the other side of the barn is a stunned blushing Sebastian and in his hands is a hoe. Your hoe specifically. One that you were going to go pick up from Robin today.

Well, shit.

#stardew valley #stardew valley smut #stardew bachelors #stardew valley sam #sam sdv #sam stardew valley #sdv farmer #sam x reader #sam x farmer #earthboundwriter

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azuremliam · 3 months

Text

Bug World AU Timeline Part 1

A masterpost to organize all the Bug World shenanigans in chronological order! This will probably become a very long post so I'll keep it under the readmore. 👍

This reached the link limit so here's the Second Part!

Myriaxanthus The God Devourer

The Primordial Hunt

The Primordial - The Golden Apocalypse

The Crystal Crafters - Scarab's Origin

Creating the Citadel

Family

Marceline

Beast Attack Rescue Crew

Grub Jake

Pupa Jake

Princess Bubblegum

(First Meeting Old) First Meeting Revised

You're A Scarab?

The Tour

The Bird (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Impressions and Crush

Midnight Hunt Admitting

Noticing

Noticing Again

Observation

Big Bro

Big Bro?

Slip Up

(And ) The BIG Slip Up

Oh Worm

Aphid Thief!

Downtime

The Hunts

The Wishmaster

Dream Science

Recovery

Courtship (Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)

Home?

Trust

Dedication

Over Hunter

Cordyceps

Primordial Soap Opera

Candy Kingdom - The Marshmallow

Attractive

Original

Visiting Abegail (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Snuggle Bug

Sleep Cheering Up

Honey

Kisses

(Head)(ache)

(Envious ) (Scarab)

Snuggle Bug 2

Myriaxanthus

More Kisses

Everything's Golden

Transformation

VS The Beast

Revert

Work In Progress

Cosmic Being - Azure Liam

Love Sick

(Dancing) (Bug)

Transforming Practice

Christmas Party

Biding Time

Flattery

Dr. Lambton

Tired

Calm

Transforming Practice Round 2

Art

Eggs

Egg Debate

Brooding

Hatchlings

Names

Whoops!

Rest

#bug world au #masterpost #long post #timeline #adventure time oc #fionna and cake oc

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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 10 months

Text

Mary had been trying to pair Remus up with random blokes around the castle. Ever since Remus came out it had been the girls duty to find Remus a nice boyfriend.

"You deserve the best, because you are incredible, Remus" the ginger had said.

So at breakfast, the girls kept naming boys who apparently were gay as well. And even pointing at where they were seated.

Remus, that fucking bastard. He kept playing the girls' game. Giving his opinion about said boys.

"That one is cute" he commented and the girls squealed in excitement.

"I know Donovan plays rubgy and is also in a swimming team... Super athletic. Imagine the muscles" Mary giggled.

"Oh yeah?" Remus raised an eyebrow, looking directly at Sirius. And that wanker smiled at him.

Sirius had been trying his best not to be jealous. But he was furious that Remus was playing along and eyeing at those stupid boys.

Sirius and Remus weren't official. Sirius was still figuring out what he felt for Remus. So they kept whatever they had hidden.

Sirius knew Remus only snogged him because he let him. Maybe he was too innocent to go around looking for someone better. Someone who was not a mess like Sirius was. Someone who was not a coward.

The idea of Remus dating one of those boys, made Sirius insides turn and twist. And Sirius wanted to puke his breakfast.

Sirius wasn't sure if he wanted Remus to be his. But the idea of him being with someone else, made him really angry and sad.

That was selfish. Sirius wanted Remus to be happy. But preferably not with someone else.

He is not going to wait for you forever. A voice said inside his head. He is going to get tired of being your little secret.

"Marly, why don't you talk to Donovan next practice?" Mary continued "Talk to him about Remus"

Sirius moved his leg under the table to control his anger. Remus' eyes were on him. Sirius fixed his eyes on his eggs. His appetite disappeared.

"Would you like that, Remus?" Marlene asked.

"I don't know..." Remus blushed, looking down.

"Oh I get along with Donovan" James offered as he put his arm around Lily "I could ask him if he is interested" he smirked.

Fucking James! Why was he doing that?

It was because he was a gentleman and a good friend and he didn't know about Sirius' feelings.

"Honestly, lads I don't need a boyfriend" Remus whispered. But he didn't insist. He didn't cut them off.

Sirius was about to explode. He kept moving his leg.

They ignored Remus.

"Are we sure he is into boys?" Lily asked nervously.

"Bisexual" Marlene nodded "Rumor has it he prefers blokes than birds..."

Sirius clenched his teeth.

"But he has nothing in common with Remus"

Sirius could've kissed Peter. Thank God! Someone with common sense.

"Doesn't matter. They say opposites attract" Mary smiled.

"WOULD YOU STOP?" Sirius finally exploded, even hitting the table "Remus doesn't want a fucking boyfriend! Didn't you hear him?? He is fine by himself!!"

Sirius was aware that he sounded like a crazy person. Everyone was looking at Sirius as if he had lost his mind. But Sirius kept his eyes on Remus.

He couldn't figure out what Remus was thinking. His eyes were intense on Sirius. Sirius couldn't tell if he was angry, surprised, disappointed. Would he prefer Donovan? Was he actually considering starting something with another boy and leave this thing with Sirius behind? Sirius didn't want to lose him.

"Damn Black..." Marlene commented letting out a whistle.

"Why are you so angry?" Lily asked.

"I am..." Sirius was now embarrassed. He was so scared of people figuring him out "I am just so fucking tired of people being obsessed with romance and pairing people up"

James had become obsessed with his relationship with Lily. Peter had his crush on Mary. And Marlene spent half of her time with Dorcas Meadowes.

"I don't really want to have a boyfriend, guys" Remus added, smiling to their friends "I am fine spending time with you"

Sirius wanted to find his gaze. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry. And also thank him, because he was relieved. He was relieved he didn't choose someone else. That he kept choosing Sirius. Even if he deserved better.

"But Remus, at least have a bit of fun, love" Mary touched Remus' chin "I get now why you haven't snogged any girl. But you haven't snogged a boy either"

"Have you actually kissed someone, Remus?" Marlene asked curiously.

Remus' eyes flickered towards Sirius. But then he looked down. They didn't know he stuck his tongue down Sirius' throat mostly every day.

"Yeah don't worry, I've kissed a boy"

Everyone ooed and cheered raising their eyebrows in surprised. Sirius felt his cheeks on fire. Remus' eyes were still on him.

Please don't tell them! Sirius thought. We agreed. I am not ready to be judged.

"Who is he, Remus?" Lily asked with a smile "Do we know him?"

Sirius was a coward. He was a coward. He was a bloody coward.

"No, you don't" Remus said, his eyes still on Sirius. Then he looked to his friends "He is from my other school. He's name is Grant"

Sirius frowned. Grant? Remus had told Sirius about him. But he hadn't mentioned that he kissed him. Sirius thought he had been Remus' first kiss, actually. Was it true? Or was he only saying that to mislead his friends?

Grant had been there for Remus when Sirius wasn't. Grant had been a better friend. Grant this. Grant that. Sirius didn't particularly like him (even though he hadn't met him). But now he hated him more.

And their friends were happy for Remus, asking him a lot of questions about Grant. And Sirius felt like he wanted to cry.

If he only had the courage of admitting he had never felt this way about someone. That he felt sparks everytime he kissed Remus' lips. That he felt his chest burning when he was close. That he cared about Remus more than anyone could imagine. That he thought about Remus day and night. That he thought Remus was the most beautiful, amazing and wonderful person to exist this earth. And he was so lucky to be able to know him, and be his friend.

But Sirius was so scared of what others might think of him. And he was scared of starting a relationship with Remus. And he was scared of losing Remus. He was scared of what The Blacks would do if they found out about this. He was scared of himself and what he might do to hurt Remus.

But fuck, he loved Remus. As a friend. As something more. As anything. But he loved him. But he was too much of a coward to admit it.

#marauders #maraudersera #muggleau #marauders muggle au #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #james potter #peter pettigrew #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon #lily evans #jily

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ahoy-robin · 2 years

Text

First Date

Robin Buckley x Reader

Today is the day of your first date with long time crush, Robin Buckley. Let’s hope nothing goes wrong.

wc: 2.3k

a/n: i love this piece. everything i write is just self-indulgent and it’s fun. what if i wrote for other characters though...that would be crazy ahaha

Today’s the day. The day you’ve been waiting for. Your first date with Robin Buckley. You were sitting in your car in her driveway hyping yourself up in the mirror. “You got this. You guys are friends, kind of. She likes you. You like her. Nothing can go wrong.” You got her flowers, but now you are second guessing yourself, ‘God this is so cheesy, she’s probably gonna hate these’. Before even getting a second knock in, the door swung open to reveal a wide-eyed, smiling Robin.

“H-Hi Robin” you breathe through a smile.

“Hi Y/N”

“These are for you” you push the bouquet of multi-colored carnations into her arms.

“Oh” she’s taken aback at first, looking between you and the flowers with a smile growing on her face.

“Wow, thank you. I should, um. I should go put these in a vase. You know ‘cause they’re flowers and like flowers need water, right? and I wouldn’t want to be carrying them the whole time, that could be weird because I don’t know where we’re going. Not that the flowers are weird, they aren’t. They’re very pretty and you’re you- You can come inside while I, uh, do that. Yeah, you can just come in, through the door.” Robin rambles as she continues to look between you and the flowers. You kept eye contact with her, smiling while she babbled. She leaned against the open door, motioning for you to come inside.

You loved listening to her. Anything she had to say. However, you’ve never really had the chance to interact one-on-one, it was always in a group setting. You always thought she added something special to the conversations.

“So this is my house, my kitchen” Robin leads you through her home.

“Very formal tour, very educational.” you retort, trying to add a sense of humor to the conversation.

You knew Robin was funny. That was something you really liked about her. She’s laughed at your jokes before too, so you can only assume she finds you funny as well.

She finds a vase under the sink and puts the flowers inside with some water. Pulling the vase to her face, she smells the flowers and places them on the kitchen counter.

“These are very pretty, thank you again, Y/N. Did I say thank you before? I think I’m saying it again, I don’t know if that’s weird.”

Filled with sudden boldness, you grab her hand and reassure her with a smile, “You did say thank you early, Robin.”

She looks down at your hand grabbing hers and back up at you. You swing your hands back and forth gently, “Should we get going? It kinda looked like it could get stormy and my plans involve the outdoors.”

“Uh yeah, yeah definitely”

Still holding hands, you lead her back to your car. Going around to the passenger side first, you open the door for her. Robin hurries into the car and looks in the other direction so you couldn’t see her blushing. You get in and start the car. Robin catches your eye as you turn to look behind you in order to back up. You can feel your face get warm as you try to focus on not hitting anything.

“So, where are we going? You said something about the outdoors?” Robin is the first to break the silence.

“Oh well, I could tell you or I could keep it a secret and you just have to wait and see?”

“If I guess, will you tell if I’m right?”

You glance in her direction with a smirk.

“You know what? Yeah, go for it, Buckley”

“Ok so, the outdoors…the outdoors…what is outside?”

“Trees, clouds, possibly birds?” You joke to egg her on.

“Are those hints? Are we going bird watching? Y/N, I don’t want to be rude if it’s your actual hobby but we’re also not 80 years old so I’m guessing..?”

You laugh at her enthusiastic guesses, “No, Robin I wasn’t planning on going bird watching. We’re almost there”

She looks out the window for hints of where you could be going, but it looks like you’re in the middle of nowhere. Although that is what most of Hawkins looks like.

“This is like the middle of the forest, Y/N? What exactly were you planning on doing out here?”

“I’m not here to hide a body, Buckley. Don’t worry, I like you too much to do that.”

A beat of silence passes before you realize what you said. You look over to Robin to gauge her reaction. Robin watches you with her eyebrows raised and a smile.

The rest of the short drive is filled with comfortable silence. You reach the top of a small hill overlooking the town but it’s still a ways away. You park and get out of the car, walking over to your trunk.

“This is what I brought us out here for” you gesture to the open trunk.

Sitting in your trunk is a picnic basket and large old blanket.

“A picnic? Yo-You brought us a picnic”

“Is there something wrong with a picnic? I-I thought it could maybe be kinda fun?” you panic at her reaction. You couldn’t tell if she was excited or upset.

“No, it is! It is fun. It’s really nice actually. Like really nice. Who doesn't love a picnic?”

To show her eagerness, Robin reaches into the car and grabs the blanket. She nods and waits for you to grab the basket and lead the way.

You smile at her reaction, glad that it was positive.

“Yeah, okay good, great so it’s just over here.” You both walk over to a large tree and get situated under the shade.

In the basket you brought sandwiches, fruit, drinks and some homemade desserts.

So far, you think to yourself that the date has actually been going a lot better than you planned. You didn’t know what to expect. Would it be awkward because you and Robin weren’t super close? You had met through Steve and he believed you’d guys be perfect for each other, but he wouldn’t tell you why.

Your conversations flowed naturally and neither of you noticed the dark clouds starting to roll in.

“See, Robin that’s where I think you’re wrong because mint chip is the all time best ice cream flavor” you argue through a laugh.

“How could I be wrong? I scoop ice cream for a living? I think I would know about-“

Robin is interrupted by a large boom of thunder.

“Oh shit” you both mumble as you feel the few first drops of rain hit your heads.

“We should go”

“Yeah” Robin agrees.

You both work to throw the food bags and containers back into the basket and wrap up the blanket as fast as you can.

The run to your car is full of loud laughter and almost slipping multiple times.

Much to Robin’s dismissal you still opened the door for her, which made you stay out in the rain just a little bit longer. You hurry to the drivers side and quickly turn the heat on.

“You didn’t have to do that, now you’re soaked and probably freezing.”

“It-It’s okay, I-I wanted to” you reply through shivers.

Robin blushes and wraps her arms around herself. You both sit in silence, trying to warm up. The rain hitting the roof fills the silence of the car comfortably.

The thunder cracks loudly outside, sending a vibration through the car. You notice Robin flinch at the sound.

“Are you okay, Robin?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You place your hand on Robin’s knee, rubbing back and forth with your thumb.

Your actions cause a hesitation in her answer.

“Uh yeah, yeah I’m okay. Thunder makes me a little nervous that’s all”

“We can leave if you want? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, I can take you home” You offered, knowing that that was the opposite of what you wanted to. You wanted this date to last as long as possible, forever even.

“Actually, it’s kinda nice sitting here…with you. I want to sit out here. And plus I wouldn’t want you to drive in this heavy rain, you know? It’s not like super safe out there and we should wait for it to let up?”

You nod your head, biting your lip to hide the wide smile that’s eager to spread across your face. The sky had other plans. The rain only seemed to come down harder.

“Did you know that flower colors have meaning?” Robin inquired to break the quietness.

“I may have heard something like before” you turn in your seat, leaning against the door to face Robin.

“Well they do. Like back in the Victorian era, or like 19th century times people would send bouquets that held secret meanings in the flowers to tell each other how they felt. And one of the flowers they used were carnations..” Robin’s rambling through her monologue as she fiddles with her hands.

“Like the ones I got you?” you interject.

“Yeah” Robin stills and looks up to lock eye with you.

“They, uh, the reds and whites and pinks they have different meanings.”

“And what do they mean?”

“Individually they all have special meanings, but you know, to not go too overboard with explaining every little thing, they all have different meanings of love or admiration. Especially the red ones, kinda like roses, you know?”

“Oh” you look away from her. You could feel your face heating up.

You definitely didn’t know about all of this history. Robin was really special and you did like her a lot, but you didn’t know if she felt the same way.

“I, um, I didn’t know about those meanings. But, Robin,” You threw your doubtfully inner voice out the window.

You grabbed her hand tightly in yours, “I do really like you and I don’t know if you feel the same way about me. But I want you to know that I think you’re really awesome and funny and like incredibly smart and-”

You were interrupted by Robin cupping your face in her hands to get you to look at her.

“Can I kiss you?”

With eyes wide, you slowly nod as best as you can with her still holding your face.

Robin leaned over the center console of the car and pulled you closer to her face.

Your lips collided simultaneously with a large crack of thunder and lightning flooding the sky. In that moment, that’s exactly how you felt on the inside, like lightening and thunder were shooting off all over you.

“I really like you too, y/n” Robin whisper as she pulled away.

“Good that’s- that’s yeah” you mumbled, your mind still reeling, trying to catch up.

She giggled as she let go of your face and sat back in her seat.

“It looks like the rain’s letting up” Robin pointed out the window at the sky.

Being pulled back into reality, you became aware of your surroundings and notice the lack of heavy rain hitting the roof.

“Huh, it is”

“We should head back before it picks up again and we get stuck out here?”

You nod, adjust yourself in your seat and start down the road.

As much as you didn’t want to go, you know it was probably a safe bet. If you had it your way, you’d live in that moment with Robin forever. Sitting in your car, in the rain, talking about nothing and everything.

“Those cookies you brought were really good”, Robin changes the subject on your mind so easily.

You giggle at her choice of discussion, “Thanks, I made them.”

“You made those?”

“Yeah, I love baking and cooking, but mostly baking”

Robin watches your face as you discuss your interests.

“I didn’t know that”

“Well, maybe there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Buckley” you make an attempt at flirting.

“Maybe I’d like to learn more about you”

“Maybe you should guess?” your call back to your first conversation in the car.

“You actually are into bird watching, aren’t you?” she mocks.

“Yeah, you totally got me, those were my plans for our next date”

“Damn, I ruined the surprise? Guess I have to plan the next one”

You laugh at each other’s sarcastic comments. The light-hearted jokes about a potential next date and even more dates after that filled your mind with hope for a future with Robin.

Unfortunately for the both of you, your continuous banter made the car ride back to Robin’s house go by a lot faster than you had wanted.

“We’re here already?” Robin asks, sounding disappointed.

“Looks like it” You smile at the fact that she sounded upset to leave.

“I had a lot of fun. Despite the rain and all. It was a very nice picnic”

“I had a nice time too”

Thunder was rumbling lowly in the distance and it made you both laugh. Light rain drops patter against the windows of your car which prompted both of you to make a run for it to the door.

Shifting from one foot to another, you’re unsure if you should hug or kiss or both. Robin brushes your hair behind your ear softly and holds her hand at your cheek.

“You’ll call me, right?” she smirks.

“You’re gonna get sick of me calling you”

“Hm, I could never” she mumbles against your lips as she pulls you into another kiss. This one ended a lot quicker this time, much to your disappointment .

Sensing your defeat, Robin quickly reassures you, “I don’t need my parents watching us right now.”

You smile and nod at her explanation.

“Please drive safely” Robin pleads as she opens her door and wishes you goodbye.

“I always do” You wink and head to your car.

Sitting in your car, you watch as she disappears into her house.

“Well, shit” You laugh and let out a huge sigh through a smile as giddiness takes over you.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley fluff #fluff #wlw #sapphic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #maya hawke #robin #buckley #my writing #'

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