I'm Planning To Post An Annabeth X Reader Story Next!

I'm planning to post an Annabeth x Reader story next!

Love Leaves Scars: Your Move, My Riddle.

[L.L.S. Masterlist] | [G.H. Masterlist] | [M. Masterlist]

Warning: Mention of throwing up and being nauseous, Skye and Asnid having a screaming match, reader has a panic attack and faints, Skye is just being herself, and Tobias being a dickhead. (Tell me if I missed some)

Pairing: Oc!reader x Grayson Hawthorne

W.C: 1.4k

The room erupted in yells and accusations. And all of them were directed at me and Avery, but I could barely hear them through the ringing in my ears. I had my hand clutched to my chest, and my vision was blurry. My chest was heaving, and I felt myself gasp for air.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

was all I could hear.

I saw the blurry figure of Asnid arguing against Skye Hawthorne, and I tried to call out her name, but no sound came out. I tried to catch a single word that came out of the older Hawthorne's mouth, but it was no use. Her voice was simply hidden away by the loud sounds of my heart beating against my chest. My throat tightened and I felt less and less air enter my body.

"Breathe, Verity, breathe," I kept telling myself, but it was no use. It was as if no amount of reminding could teach me how to breathe. It was like I was underwater, and every intake of breath hurt and made me even more distressed.

I looked down at my hands and they were shaking uncontrollably. I stood up and felt the room spinning as I did so. I reached a shaking hand towards Asnid, but before I could get a hold of her arm, I felt my eyes close.

With one last final gasp of air, I allowed the darkness to embrace me in its warm and comforting embrace. I just hoped I didn't hit my head and bleed to death when I collapsed.

When I regained consciousness, I was laying in a king-sized bed. I blinked once. Twice. Thrice. My eyes adjusted to the bright light coming from the windows. My head was throbbing as I held it in my hands and sighed.

Once the throbbing subsided, I took in my surroundings. The walls were wrapped in a deep red color with gold intricate patterns. The floor was covered in a soft gray-white that tickled my toes as I walked around the room.

While looking around, I wondered if I was dead and this was the place I would be staying in for the rest of my afterlife.

The bed sat in the very middle, and across from it hung a big TV, possibly 55 inches. A small shelf placed below it held different kinds of books, allowing the guests of the room to enjoy and lose themselves in a reality built on words and imagination.

I was so caught up reading the titles on the spines that I failed to hear the door of my room open. It was only when I felt two arms wrap around my body and the flowery scent of the person's clothes invade my senses that I realized I was indeed alive.

"Asnid," I whispered, her name falling off my tongue so smoothly. I felt water dripping down on my neck where Asnid had buried her head. I chuckled softly and pried her head away from my neck. Her eyes and nose were red, and tears continued to stream down her face.

"I'm okay, Asnid, I'm okay," I assured her and placed her hand on my heart. A sob came out of her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I whispered assuring phrases in her ear and gently patted her head.

It went on for a few more minutes before her breathing started to even out. She sniffled into my shirt, and I jokingly told her not to get snot on my favorite shirt. She shoved me away, laughing, her tears drying on her cheeks.

"Good thing Mr. Blonde guy saved your head before you got to hit it, I was so worried, Vers," she told me, holding my head in her hands.

"Grayson," I said under my breath. "Grayson? That's his name?"

I couldn't help but feel a warm, comforting feeling in my chest at the thought of Grayson's actions.

"Stop with the delusions, Verity," a voice in my head said, and I shook my head and closed my eyes. Focus. Focus. Focus. I repeated over and over.

"This bed feels so soft, Verity," Asnid said as she laid down and rolled around the bed in delight. I looked to my side and smiled at her as I watched her move around the bed and try to get comfortable, until something caught my eye.

There, sitting comfortably on my bedside table, was an envelope. To be specific, the envelope that the lawyers had given us before the will reading started.

The memories from the will reading resurfaced in my mind. From the moment we entered the room to the moment they'd announced me as the new owner of Tobias Hawthorne's belongings.

I started feeling the uncomfortable rumbling in my stomach. It made me sick. I felt like throwing up, but I didn't want to ruin and stink up the carpet.

"All remaining monetary assets and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Verity Quinn Rosewood."

The words echoed in my head over and over and over again. The scenes of Asnid and Skye screaming at each other in anger, and Skye pointing her manicured finger at me, accusingly, flashed through my head. Nash and Jameson's laughter. Xander's jokes. Grayson's piercing grey eyes.

"Verity? Are you okay?" Asnid's concerned voice snapped me out of my trance. I tore my eyes away from the envelope and ran a hand through my hair, smiling at her.

I nodded at her, but her eyebrows pinched together, and her eyes continued to stare at me, utterly unconvinced of my response. "Yes, Asnid, I'm fine," I assured her with a soft smile and sat beside her.

Asnid turned to something behind me and reached for something I couldn't see. It wasn't until she placed it on my lap that I realized it was the unopened envelope.

"You should read it," Asnid nodded her head towards the envelope. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Call me if you need me, I'll just go and check on Avery and Libby," Asnid said. I assumed the two other girls were staying in another room outside of mine.

I heard the soft indication of the door opening and closing. A shaky breath left my lips, and I reached for the envelope laying on my lap. My hands shaking slightly as I held the white paper in my hand.

Open it. Open the letter and read what he wrote.

I carefully ripped open the sealed envelope, and a card sat inside, waiting to be read. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

It's just a letter. Just a letter from the man you hate the most.

I took the card out of the envelope and read the words on it. I was expecting maybe a long explanation of why he chose me as his heir, why he chose to ruin my life again. Maybe I was hoping too much that he'd explain why he did what he did.

It was delusional. But I hoped and hoped and hoped. I was slapped awake by my own delusions.

4 words.

16 words.

"Your move, My Riddle."

No other words or letter were written on the paper. After his message, he had written his initials:

T.T.H.

I threw the card beside me on the bed and cradled my head in my hands. Anger, betrayal, and frustration bubbled in my chest. I wanted to scream and break something to let out my frustration, but I was sure it would be no use.

It would not help me in the slightest. It would not help my ongoing anger towards the now deceased Tobias Hawthorne.

T.T.H.

"Your move, My Riddle."

Riddle...

The words swarm in my head, and I could feel the pain pinching itself in my head once again. I was forced to recall all the times he called me that nickname. The number of times he used to congratulate me with that nickname. The number of times he prompted me to start my move in chess with that nickname.

"Your move, My Riddle."

My Riddle...

I hastily reached for the card again and noticed something I hadn't seen when I first read it.

Your move. My Riddle.

It was not an apostrophe, but a period.

My breath caught in my throat as the words started to make sense now.

It was an indication. He wasn't calling me "my riddle"; he wasn't just saying the phrase he used to say whenever we played chess. Now, this was no longer the chess game we played when I was younger. It wasn't just his little games we played during the weekends.

Tobias Hawthorne. Even in death, you are playing your silly little riddles.

I hurriedly ran to my door and yanked it open. "Asnid—" I began, but the rest of the words I wanted to say became air. Because standing in front of me was none other than Grayson Hawthorne.

Taglist: @whysosmugwitch

Love Leaves Scars: Plot Twist of the Century

[L.L.S Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [G.H Masterlist]

Warning: Skye is a warning yall

Pairing: Oc!reader x Grayson Hawthorne

W.C: 2.3k

I observe as the sky is bathed in a soft hue of blue, and the sun emerges from its slumber. The sky is adorned with wisps of clouds and the graceful presence of birds, infusing it with vibrant life and color. A gentle, chilly breeze brushes against my skin, causing a light shiver to ripple through me. I draw my blanket closer, taking solace in its warmth, as I savor each sip of the steaming coffee I have brewed. All the while, my gaze remains fixed upon the ever-changing canvas of the sky, as well as the graceful movements of the birds.

"You're awake quite early," I hear Asnid's morning voice raspily remark. "Good morning," I greet her warmly, setting my mug down on the table of the balcony. Asnid settles into the vacant chair opposite me, reaching out to take a sip from my mug. "From what I recall, you're not one to wake up early, Vers," Asnid remarks. "I found it difficult to sleep last night," I confess, my voice tinged with vulnerability. Sleep has evaded me ever since our arrival here, five days ago.

"Is the bed not providing enough comfort?" Asnid inquires, her concern evident. I assure her that the bed is perfectly adequate. It's simply that the memories I have tried desperately to forget persistently haunt me, even within the realm of my dreams. Ever since I turned twelve, I have been unable to dream at all, and I can't even remember the last time I ever did dream. Yet, sleeping within Hawthorne House has reawakened my ability to dream. Alas, these dreams are far from pleasant—they can rather be described as nightmares.

"Are you nervous about the will reading?" Asnid speculates. "Why would I be nervous about something like that? Im sure Tobias Hawthorne included me in that will for one of his games," I reply. But deep down, is that truly the case?

I turn away from Asnid and fix my gaze upon the captivating vista before us. Hawthorne House, perched upon its expansive estate, commands attention. The forest surrounding us sways in unison with the whims of the wind.My eyes remain on the scene, for a moment, I felt a semblance of peace wash over me. A semblance, but not quite complete.

"We should eat breakfast, Verity," Asnid suggests, rising from her seat. Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from the captivating view, following Asnid downstairs to the dining area. The long table is adorned with an array of breakfast delicacies—varieties of bread, succulent fruits, and a tempting assortment of treats. It is a veritable feast, brimming with flavors that screams sugar rush. "Good morning, Miss Verity and Miss Asnid," one of the maids greets us before departing to the kitchen.

I pull out a chair for Asnid, then take my place beside her. It doesn't take long before the remaining occupants of Hawthorne House begin to trickle into the dining area, joining us for breakfast. However, one person is noticeably absent.

"Where might dearest Grayson be?" Xander inquires, his mouth full of bread. "He left yesterday for some errands and hasn't come back," Nash replies. My eyes meet Nash's, and he raises an eyebrow inquisitively. I simply lower my head, focusing on the food before me. Silence settles upon the room, punctuated only by a small exchange of words.Everything remained silent until...

"I'm home!" a voice rings out, shattering the tranquility.

As Skye Hawthorne enters the dining room, the atmosphere shifts. The three grandchildren momentarily pause their eating before resuming.

"Good morning, boys, did you miss me?" She ask while giving a three of them a half-hearted hugs before her attention turns to me. Her eyes light up, and a sly smirk forms on her lips.

"Verity Rosewood, long time no see, my dear," Skye greets me, approaching with enthusiasm. I rise from my seat and reciprocate the hug she offers. "Oh, how I missed my favorite future daughter-in-law," she remarks, planting a kiss on my cheek. I resume my seat as Skye takes the one beside me.Just great. 

Skye then turns her attention to Asnid, "Well, who is this pretty lady over here?" Asnid, taken aback by the question, blushes deeply and introduces herself politely. "I'm Asnid, nice to meet you, Miss Hawthorne," she responds with a sweet smile. Skye attempts to return the gesture, though a fleeting expression of disgust betrays her true feelings. Skye possesses a talent for feigning kindness, concealing her true emotions.

Concerning Grayson's whereabouts, Skye poses the same question she asked her sons earlier. Nash provides the same response he shared with Xander, indicating that Grayson ventured out on errands and has yet to return. Skye then shifts her attention back to me, "How are you, Verity? I've missed you, my dear,"

"I've been doing great, actually," I reply, offering a sweet smile as I continue to enjoy my breakfast. Skye's hand delicately tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, further blurring the boundaries of comfort. Such a sweet but fake act. "Where is Zara? Shouldn't she be here when the will reading starts?" Skye queries, indulging in bread and fruit as she awaits an answer.

After excusing ourselves from the table to give the Hawthorne family their privacy, Asnid and I walk away, leaving the dining room. I can sense Skye's gaze following us until we leave the room.

"Who is that lady?" Asnid asks once we are out of earshot. I reply, "That's Skye Hawthorne, the second-born daughter of Tobias and the mother of the four grandchildren." Asnid murmurs her suspicion, "She seems like bad news."

"She is, so be careful," I warn her. Asnid nods obediently, understanding the potential dangers. We decide to minimize our interactions with the Hawthornes by staying in our room until the will reading commences.

As I assist Asnid in zipping up her dress, she raises a question. "Do you think the Avery girl has arrived by now?" I consider her inquiry and respond, "If she hasn't, it means we'll be staying here even longer until the next scheduled will reading." Asnid then confides, "I kind of like it here." Our eyes meet in the mirror before us. I cannot deny that I share a similar sentimentI couldn't say that I didn't feel the same. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house that haunts you even in your dreams. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house which makes me remember memories I choose to forget. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house where you met your first love.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your stay here, hon," I offer a small smile, which she reciprocates. Words alone would not suffice to convey the depth of my disdain for this place—the unsettling feelings it evokes, the memories it forces me to confront, and the sight of the man I once loved.

Our attention is diverted to the sound of a knock on the door. "Asnid? Verity? You need to come down now," Nash's voice reaches us from the other side. Asnid responds, "We'll be out in a minute!" She places a hairclip in her hair, and I patiently wait as Nash's footsteps fade away.

"I'm done! Let's go!" Asnid exclaims, grabbing my hand as we make our way down the stairs and into the Great Room. As we enter, the room is already filled with people, although the main event has yet to commence. Oren, Tobias's head bodyguard, stands by the wall, strategically positioned to observe the room's exits. The Laughlin family occupies one side of the room, while Zara and her husband engage in conversation with the lawyers, Grayson at their side. Nan sits at the front right of the room, with Xander irritating her incessantly. Skye occupies a solitary seat, and the remaining Hawthorne boys are seated together.

"Let's sit beside them!" Asnid whispers to me with excitement, suggesting that we sit beside the two unfamiliar girls in the wingback chairs. One of the girls had long brown hair while the other had short blue hair.  Eagerly, we take the seats beside them. The girls turn their attention to us as we settle in. Asnid takes the initiative, extending her arm and introducing herself. "Hi! I'm Asnid! What's your name?" she asks cheerfully, and both girls shake her hand. The brunette girl introduces herself as Avery, while the one with blue hair is named Libby.

"Oh! You're the girl mentioned in the will too!" Asnid exclaims, pointing out Avery's connection. Avery nods in acknowledgment. "Do you know why? Were you mentioned too or are you related to these people?" Libby asks.  "Honestly we're as confused as you are. I'm not mentioned but Verity is," Asnid says before linking her arm with mine2 and reassures them, "We're not related to the Hawthornes, don't worry." I observe as Libby visibly relaxes. "Finally, someone who isn't 'richy rich'," she exhales, prompting giggles from Asnid.

Deciding to engage in further conversation, Asnid moves to sit beside Libby while Avery takes Asnid's previous seat. A"Were you dragged into this as well?" Avery asks. "Yeah, sort of," I chuckled. "Do you have a history with them?" Avery shoots another question. I hesitated to give her a truthful answer but eventually still did. I nodded my head and told her how I used to play with the four Hawthorne grandchildren when we were young.

Avery responds, "Good for you, because I don't." Tobias Hawthorne you sick old man. "Even in death, he likes to play stupid games," I sigh, expressing my frustration. Avery begins to offer a reply, but her words are cut off by one of the lawyers in the room. "Now that everyone is here, it would be wise to start," the lawyer announces, and the three of them position themselves in a triangle formation, signaling the beginning of the proceedings.

The lawyer, whom I recognize as Alisa's father, begins by stating that we are gathered to hear the last will and testament of Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne. He explains that per Mr. Hawthorne's instructions, his colleagues will now distribute letters that he had left for each of us. The other lawyers begin to walk around the room, handing out the assigned letters to each person.

I receive my letter, and I notice that Avery has received hers as well. From the corner of my eye, I see Asnid staring at me with a worried expression. I turn to her and offer an assuring smile. I mouth the words "I'm fine" to her, and she nods, redirecting her attention back to the lawyers. "You may read the letters given to you once the will reading has concluded," The lawyer instructed. 

The lawyer proceeds to explain that Tobias had stipulated that all individuals mentioned in his will must be physically present, and we have all fulfilled that requirement. The reading of the will officially commences.

"I, Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne, being of sound body and mind, decree that my worldly possessions, including all monetary and physical assets, be disposed of as follows," Mr. Ortega reads aloud, ensuring that everyone in the room can hear his words.

The room is filled with a palpable tension. Everyone is on the edge of their seats, their hearts pounding against their chests and their breaths held in anticipation. The silence is so profound that the ticking of the clock is audible.

One by one, each person present in the room is given their share of Tobias's fortune and assets. When Skye and Zara receive their share, they engage in a heated sibling dispute, creating a disturbance in the middle of this crucial event. Mr. Ortega intervenes, calming the two down and emphasizing the near impossibility of challenging the will. Now, it is time to address the grandsons.

"To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave..." As Mr. Ortega's voice resonates through the room, the tension reaches its peak. Zara mutters bitterly, "Everything," expressing her discontent with the situation.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee," Mr. Ortega continues. 

Another eruption of Hawthorne family drama ensues, triggered by these words. The wealth distribution becomes apparent: the grandsons receive their allotted amounts, the two daughters receive Tobias's belongings and five hundred thousand dollars, Nan receives her daughter's jewelry and a yearly sum of one hundred thousand dollars, Oren is bequeathed a toolbox and three hundred thousand dollars, and a mere one hundred dollars are designated for the Laughlin family. "Please, everyone," Mr. Ortega held up a hand and everyone stopped talking all at once. "Allow me to finish," The room goes silent once again but this time everyone turns to me and Avery sitting beside each other. 

"Please, everyone," Mr. Ortega raises his hand, and the room falls silent once again. All eyes turn towards me and Avery, who are seated beside each other. The anticipation hangs heavily in the air.

"The remainder of my estate, including all properties, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs," Mr. Ortega announces. The room fills with a mixture of surprise and astonishment. Libby and Avery's eyes widen at the lawyer's words. I can feel the weight of everyone's gaze upon me, waiting for the rest of the will to be read.

"All remaining monetary assets and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to..."

My heart races uncontrollably, pounding against my chest, clamoring to be set free. The sound of my own heartbeat drowns out all other noise. My ears feel as though they're ringing, overwhelmed by its deafening rhythm. I struggle to draw a breath, feeling as if my lungs are suffocating, desperate for air. Every fiber of my being cries out for help, for relief. I cannot bring myself to meet anyone's gaze, not even Asnid's. In the midst of my distress, I sense Avery taking hold of my hand, offering a small measure of solace. Yet, it is not enough to quell the tumultuous screams and cries echoing within my heart.

"Verity Quinn Rosewood," Mr. Ortega finally utters my name, and the world around me seems to come crashing down.

Taglist: @whysosmugwitch

hiii!! You seem really awesome :D how are you?

Hiiiii! Thank you for the compliment! I'm doing great, how about you?

꩜ .ᐟ 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦! ★ 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟑)

ִ ࣪𖤐 characters: kenji sato as himself; you as the coach's daughter ִ ࣪𖤐 summary: it was an unwritten rule that the coach's daughter is off-limits. too bad kenji sato has a hankering for forbidden fruit. oh, he tried to resist it alright, not wishing to risk the ire of the coach but boy did you make it hard for him. ִ ࣪𖤐 tags: whipped kenji sato, kenji sato in his loser and pathetic era, self-indulgent self-insert, bamf reader

Kenji Sato was merely strolling through the neighborhood, weary to the bone after nursing Emi to sleep. It was a little past midnight, but even then, the city hummed with its own heartbeat —a symphony of distant sirens, the occasional screech of tires, and the steady murmur of conversations drifting upward. He had just turned a corner to a batting cage that he knew never closed when he chanced upon you.

You were wearing a baseball jersey that seemed several sizes too big on you, and shorts that revealed an expanse of milky thighs. You had a cap on backwards, with your hair neatly tied up in a ponytail. He would be lying if he said that didn't make him feel things. He had to do a double take because he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating.

You were practicing your pitch. No, wait. That's an understatement. You were throwing as though competing in the world championship and not merely hitting mark after mark in a batting cage. Kenji couldn't help but admire you. Your pitches were a blend of power and finesse, each one finding its mark with uncanny accuracy.

With each pitch, you adjusted your approach—mixing in curveballs that broke sharply, sliders that darted sideways, and sinkers that dipped low. You varied your speeds and locations, testing your control and honing your ability to keep hitters off balance.

And every time you landed a hit, you smiled. Your smile hid secrets that Kenji Sato desperately wanted to pry from your lips. Under the glaring lights of the batting cage, you glowed like a shooting star over barren wasteland.

Kenji burned with the need to meet you. He quickened his pace until he found himself joining you in the cage.

Laughter rang out the otherwise quiet baseball park. You watched the man, who had introduced himself as Kenji, mumble obscenities under his breath as he missed pitch after pitch.

"Damn it, woman," He finally said out loud, his expression warring between amusement and annoyance. "Who taught you how to do that?"

"My father!" You called back, leaning back on the balls of your feet as Kenji came to approach you. His powerful well-muscled body moved with easy grace.

"You have got to introduce me," He said, panting slightly from the night's exertions. "Need him to teach me those moves."

You craned your neck to look at him. He was a good deal taller than you were. Up close, his shoulders were wider than you had anticipated. His black hair gleamed in the lights. His firm mouth was curled as though always on the edge of laughter. He was a man in every sense of the word. You weren't sure if your throat was dry because of practice or because of him.

"Eh, I don't think he'd teach the likes of you," You said rather wearily, suddenly hyper-aware of your proximity and the fact that you were glistening with sweat. You probably smelled, too. A faint pink blush coated your cheeks when Kenji leaned closer.

"Why's that?" He asked, clear eyes shining with intrigue. "Man hasn't met me yet."

You stepped back in surprise. "You're cocky," You blurted out, averting your gaze from Kenji's scrutiny.

He puffed out his chest. "I think I'm entitled to some bragging rights," He said tersely.

You arched an eyebrow at him, "Really? Coming from the man who couldn't even hit a single one of my throws?"

Kenji quickly deflated. "Hey, I was just...taking it easy on you..." He mumbled begrudgingly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

You laughed and started walking towards the exit. "Sure ya are, sport."

Your laughter tugged at his heartstrings and made his pulse skittish. Kenji was pleased at himself for making you laugh.

"I really am!" He defended, jogging to catch you. "If you wanna go another round, I'd be more than willing to."

You shrugged him off. "As much as I want to wipe the floor with your ass," At this, Kenji let out a derisive snort of offense. You snickered. "I'm beat, Kenji," You added exhaustedly.

Kenji Sato felt his spirits drop to the soles of his feet. He wasn't quite ready to part ways. He glanced at his watch. It was already four a.m. He quickly caught your wrist as an idea sprung on him. "I know a place."

Kenji Sato thanked the heavens above that Tatsuya was still open. He wasn't sure it would be, it was hard to think of other places to go to when you had your arms wrapped around his torso. The streets were empty and Kenji's motorcycle roared with life as it glided through the city. He wanted to drive well within the speed limit, but you had objected, saying something along the lines of, "This bike's made to fly!"

He indulged you, how could he say no to a pretty lady? His chest squeezed every time you laughed giddily and urged him to go faster. It didn't do his poor heart any favors when you tightened your grasp around his waist every time he sped up.

The thrum of the engine beneath Kenji only matched the rush of his bloodstream. It was a long time since he felt like this. Frankly, he doubted he ever could. His life primarily revolved around being Ultraman, and being baseball player, and babysitter to a needy infant Kaiju.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was just Kenji Sato with you.

Sitting across you and sharing a meal was the most peace he had in months. He leaned eagerly across the table, his eyes hungrily taking you in. Kenji had more appetite for you than for the Okonomiyaki set before him.

You were happily eating the gyudon you ordered, until you noticed that Kenji wasn't. Confusion set on your features. Swallowing perceptibly, you fixed a bite for him. He looked like he wanted a piece of what you were eating.

Kenji tried to hide his laughter as you raised your spoon to his mouth. "Here, try some. It's really good." You coaxed, smiling brightly at him. Kenji's heart pounded at how fucking cute you were. He couldn't remember the last time someone fed him.

He leaned forward and reluctantly took a bite, a faint blush coating his cheeks.

"MMM..." He said, chewing enthusiastically in the face of your expectant gaze.

'If my team could see me now...' Kenji didn't even want to finish that thought.

"So what do you do, Y/N?" Kenji asked, washing down his bite with a glass of water.

"I'm studying to be a kinesiologist," Y/N supplied, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a tissue. "My father disapproved, wanting me to take up business or law but I lived and breathed baseball. He didn't want me to play the league, so we came to a compromise." You recounted, chuckling. "It was the closest I could get to the action while still maintaining my parents' approval." You added ruefully.

You lifted your gaze to Kenji's somber expression. He was resting his face on the palms of his hands, regarding you seriously. His grey eyes were like summer lightning. You feared you would lose yourself in them. You cleared your throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly before leaning forward. "So, why did you become a baseball player?"

Kenji leaned back. His eyes softened, his mouth curved into a warm smile. "My mom. We were big Giants fans. Every time Hideki Matsui would score a home run, we'd do this little cheer — here, lemme show you..." Kenji stood up (much to your amazement) and ran in tiny little circles, one arm outstretched and the other holding up his index finger imitating a foam hand, accompanied by chanting the Giant's baseball cheer.

You promptly burst out into laughter, but Kenji didn't seem to mind. Instead, he lifted you off your seat and into his arms, "Come on, babe, ya have to do it, too. More effective that way." He said softly, his lips close to your ear.

Goosebumps rose at the back of your neck and down your arms. You briefly wondered if he could hear how much your pulse raced at the proximity. The shopkeeper, who was polishing the glasses, looked at the two of you like you'd grown two heads and grimaced.

Young ones, these days.

"You're a girl dad, too?" You repeated, biting into what was supposed to be Kenji's custard cream puff. Kenji laughed when a smudge of cream lingered at the corners of your mouth. He leaned forward and wiped it off with his thumb, licking the offending custard clean off his finger.

You watched with rapt attention as his tongue darted out, wondering idly (thirstily) if this was normal behavior to have with someone one just met. Your eyes traced his every movement as he leaned against his motorcycle. You were also leaning against his bike, perched close enough to Kenji that your shoulder brushed with his.

The fluorescent lights of the 7/11 store the two of you suddenly found yourselves in, cast a gentle glow over Kenji's features. His dark eyes shimmered with tenderness, a look you weren't quite sure has ever been directed to you in your entire life.

'So this is what it's like to be on the receiving end,' You thought, warmth blooming in your chest.

"Emi. Named after my mom," He supplied after a few beats of silence. "Pain in my ass, that girl. Hasn't let me sleep in three months." He added gruffly, but there was no mistaking the note of adoration in his voice.

Your lips quirked into a smile as you imagined Kenji with a baby, but a sense of foreboding washed over you. "And her mom?" You asked carefully.

'It would suck terribly if he was already married,' You thought glumly, your shoulders slumping slightly.

Kenji's eyebrows rose, and he laughed weakly. "Nothing like that. I adopted her. No mom in the picture." He said, rubbing the back of his neck as he peered down at you.

'JACKPOT.' You thought triumphantly.

Kenji failed to notice your quick mood swings, much too focused on the chocolate eclair he was snacking on. However, there was a question he was itching to ask you all night.

"And yourself?" He asked in between mouthfuls. "Do you and your boyfriend ever watch baseball games together? I have an upcoming game and you could — ah, bring your guy around..." His tone casual, but nothing about the way Kenji's insides were turning and twisting was casual.

You snorted in an unladylike fashion that made Kenji chuckle. "No. No boyfriend, but I'd gladly watch your game." You said, shooting him a bright smile.

Kenji's heart sang with delight and he resisted the urge to kiss you right then and there. "Cool, cool, cool," He said in rapid succession, but he quickly backtracked for fear that he may have offended you. "I mean, cool that you can come watch my game...not cool that you don't have a boyfriend. I mean, that's okay...pffft...boyfriends are overrated, anyways." He said, scratching the back of his head.

Satisfaction pursed your mouth. "To be clear, I'm just attending to see the opposing team kick your butt."

Kenji rolled his eyes before leaning down to your eye-level, "Sorry to disappoint, darling, but I'll be the one doin' the ass-kickin'."

Darling. Good Lord. It made your toes curl in exhilaration.

Your breath caught at your throat but you met his gaze unflinchingly. "Well, sweetheart, if your performance is anything like tonight, I'd be better off betting on your opponent than on you."

Kenji grinned at your feisty remark, but refused to rise to your bait. "Come on, baby, I best get you home. Think fatigue's getting to your head, 'cause there's no way in hell I'm gonna lose next week."

A pang of disappointment tugged at your heart at the mention of going home, but knew that Kenji was right. The desserts the two of you had been eating were long gone. You watched as Kenji unlatched his helmet from the hooks on his bike.

Kenji noticed your sudden disquiet. He held the helmet to his hip, eying you carefully. He didn't want to drive you home yet, but he was not blind to the exhaustion in your eyes and the sleepy droop in your limbs.

"What?" He teased, approaching you. "No comeback?"

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking out into giggles. God, this man. Instead, you shrugged your shoulders noncommittally. "Hey now, just didn't want to break your ego. I hear the big ones bruise like a peach."

His laugh was low and throaty. You could listen to him all day. He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering briefly as if savoring the moment. "Come to my game. You can trample my ego any time. For now, I gotta get you home, angel."

The drive home was one that you swore you would never forget. Kenji insisted you sit in front.

"So I can catch you when you fall asleep, doll," He murmured against your ear as he caged you in with his arms. Strong, firm, and protective. His long legs crowded you in until you were snug and safely pressed against him.

There was no danger of you falling asleep, of course. Not when he held you so close, with your back to his warm chest. Your skin tingled, but not from the cold night air. It was as though he set fire to your entire being.

The ride felt unbelievably short and long at the same time. When he stopped in front of your apartment, you baulked at the idea of getting off his bike. Momentarily, you debated feigning sleep just so he would carry you over the threshold.

"Here we are, babe," He said softly, assuming that you had fallen asleep. You were grateful for the helmet that hid your blush.

Kenji walked you to your door, like the gentleman that he was. You reached your doorstep, and turned to face Kenji, lingering in the moment before saying good night. Kenji stood close, his hands buried deep in his pockets, a gesture that seemed more about self-restraint than warmth.

"Thank you for tonight," You said softly, your voice betraying the flutter in your chest.

Kenji nodded, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. "My pleasure."

Silence settled between you two, charged with unspoken words and the weight of mutual attraction. Kenji took a small step closer, enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. You held your breath, mind spinning with the possibilities of what could happen next. Kenji's eyes flickered down to your lips for a fleeting moment before meeting your gaze once more.

"I should go," Kenji murmured, though his tone held a hint of reluctance.

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry as you struggled to find the right words. "Yeah, of course."

"Goodnight, Y/N," Kenji whispered, his voice low and intimate.

"Goodnight, Kenji," You replied softly.

Kenji turned and walked back to his motorcycle. You watched him go, your heart pounding with longing. The engine rumbled to life with a throaty growl as Kenji swung himself onto the seat, the familiar vibrations of the bike beneath him calming his racing thoughts. He adjusted his helmet, securing it snugly under his chin, before flicking on the headlights and glancing back at you one last time.

He waved back one last time before disappearing into the inky darkness.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi! Had this sitting on my drafts for a week. I wrote and re-wrote this several times before I was finally satisfied. Let me know what you think! Like, reply, reblog!

Opinion!:

A character with no trauma at all is boring like WHERE IS THE DRAMA?!?!?! I don't think anyone had such a perfect life girl✋️