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souliebird · 11 months

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[[and then i met you || ch.1]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.

a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.

words: 5.6k

You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man.

You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.

The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis.

You want to trust them, but you can't.

The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands.

You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life.

You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name.

You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.

Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner.

That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in.

There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you.

The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours.

It scares you so much it's not your choice.

You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that.

A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information.

She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."

The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter.

It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take?

You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices.

Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.

You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.

Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.

You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.

Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?

Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running.

This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.

You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.

Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

You trace it with your finger.

Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases.

Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering.

But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner?

"All done?"

Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.

"Foggy will be out in just a minute."

Your head jerks up at that.

"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."

You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left.

You turn your head to follow her gaze.

"Matt!" Karen calls out.

A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up.

The cameras don't do him justice.

Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.

But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.

Just like Minnie's.

The realization shakes your entire world.

This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world.

You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer.

You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.

You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.

It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"

"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you."

You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest.

He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"

"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that.

Your throat gets tight again.

You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat.

Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"

You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment.

Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it.

"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office.

This is it.

Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father.

You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office.

This isn't about you or your fears.

This is for Minnie.

You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you.

He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart.

But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain.

He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.

You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him.

"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it.

You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before.

Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.

"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.

Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic.

His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen.

You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."

He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.

"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party."

The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.

"I think you are the father of my child."

All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up.

You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.

You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.

He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth.

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.

You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.

"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."

You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.

"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille."

You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe.

Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.

"...her?"

His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.

Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face.

And you know.

You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well.

This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy.

"I have a daughter.."

"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.

"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity.

You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention.

If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger.

"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper.

"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe.

He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up.

"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"

"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."

"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.

"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times.

Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you.

A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"

The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.

"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

"She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."

You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good.

Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"

"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."

Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"

You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."

"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him.

He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"

Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."

"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."

He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying.

"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there."

You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"

You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes.

"We can go at your pace, Matthew."

He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."

You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."

Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me."

Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan.

"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"

Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea."

You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?"

He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.

"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"

"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting."

You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."

He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?"

"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."

That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"

"Yes."

You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."

The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office.

Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"

The door opens and the final partner for the law firm is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."

Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."

Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.

"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.

You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?"

Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"

You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"

Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to…I want to do this right."

"I do, too."

It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie.

You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over.

You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice.

He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.

"Can I ask you something before you go?"

You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."

"Can you tell me what she looks like?"

Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.

"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"

There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.

"Buddy, we gotta go."

You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."

A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him.

"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.

"Thank you."

You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.

"Can I call you tonight?"

"Yes, please."

"Does eight work?"

"That's perfect."

"I'll talk to you then."

You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.

Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man.

You really hope he's a good father too.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #fanfiction #soulie writes

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yanaromanov · 4 months

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pretty little beginnings

- professor!natasha x lawyer!wanda x reader

part summary: the start of the new semester sees you reunited with your best friend, kate, but also introduces you to your surprisingly gorgeous new professor. when you get a perfect score on her first class test, she’s keen to have a conversation with you…

part warning(s): teacher/student relationship, age gap (r is of age), power dynamics, married wandanat (no cheating), pet names, mentions of anxiety, mentions of bad family relations, reader is a perfectionist, minors dni.

authors note: i have no idea about america or their universities so am purely basing this off my own experience at my uk university, so if anything is incorrect i apologise but also let’s just pretend it’s not :)

part one of the inescapable love series

inescapable love masterlist

･｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

7.8K words

The beginning of term was always one of your favourite points of the whole year. To most, returning to campus after summer was somewhat of a bittersweet moment, having to come back to the reality of long classes and endless studying. For you, however, it was the start of something new, a fresh look at different courses that hadn’t yet bundled up into countless assignments or exams. The start of term always carried the least amount of pressure and therefore, the least amount of anxiety. Everything was starting from page one again, and it always provided you with a few weeks of sweet relief before you’d once again inevitably realise just how stressful school truly was.

Aside from the pressure of classes, most of your peers also found sorrow in the end of their summer break visiting home and their families. For you, however, this wasn’t one of your mind’s concerns. In fact, the trip back to university provided solace, a well-deserved partition between the people who you’d spent the past few months trying to tolerate.

Now, to say your family were awful to be around would be overstating things, in truth they weren’t all that bad, but spending summer with them was certainly not on your list of dream holidays. Most days you hid away in your childhood bedroom, trying to avoid the bickering voice of your mother, persistently droning on about school and your grades. She’d always taken a great pride in her children and that had certainly extended to you, her ideologies of perfection constantly looming over your shoulder. Your dad liked to drink, not enough to endanger his health but enough to wake you a few nights a week when he’d stumble around the kitchen in a drunken stupor. This itself was rather a hypocrisy, your dad being the one who dragged everyone to church on a Sunday morning to praise the Christian values when it seemed the holy day was the only one he didn’t seek out the bottle. At least now you were thankful that Sunday was the only day you had to deal with your older brother, when he’d join the rest of your family at service. For years, his perfection had been a constant reminder of how you were the disappointing child, despite attending one of the most prestigious universities in America.

In fact, your family was one of the main reasons you had even applied there. Not, as one may think, to appeal to their standards, but in fact, because it was about as far away as possible you could get from them. England was your home country, growing up in a small town in the southern parts of the land. Moving to America had been a big deal, having to completely relocate your life to an entirely different part of the world, but it had been something you desperately needed. At first your mother had been hesitant to let you go at all, but once she’d heard the ranking of the school you’d earned a scholarship for, she was all for having a daughter at a prestigious university in the states.

So, that was how you ended up here, already three years into your university career with only one to go until graduation. Living in America had been just the step you’d needed, finally giving you space from your overbearing family and in the process, also gifting you with one of the closest friends you’d ever had. Kate had been the first friendly face you’d seen at your new school, smiling widely as you’d first stepped into your shared dorm and energetically shaking your hand. Ever since, the pair of you had been practically inseparable, growing closer and closer everyday, and three years later, you still found yourselves sharing a dorm room.

Despite Kate’s skills in friendship, there was one thing about her that one may call a character flaw; the inability to ever wake up on time. It was the first official day of the semester, a few weeks having passed since the two of you had had your happy reunion and redecorated your shared room. The sun shone through the curtains which you had opened almost an hour ago. In all honesty, it was quite impressive how Kate had managed to not only sleep through your alarm, but hers as well. Atop of that, you’d not taken the curtesy to get yourself ready in a quiet manner. Now however, Kate really needed to wake up.

A tress of black hair flew up in the gust of wind that the pillow brought along with it. Moments later, Kate was sitting up quickly, cursing out at you for throwing at her in the first place. You chuckled at her antics as she tried to wipe away the hairs clinging to her mouth. “You overslept, Bishop,” you called, voice light and playful.

Kate scowled back at you, finally free from the mess of her bed head. Seconds later, you were dodging the pillow flying back across the room towards you.

“Hey!” you called back, narrowly missing getting hit in the head. “You’re the one who told me to wake you up, remember? You said this was the year you were getting your shit together.”

Kate’s expression was nothing short of unimpressed. She let out a loud groan as she threw herself back down into the confines of her bed, bringing her hands up to hold her face. “Can we reschedule that to next year instead?”

The chuckle that left your lips was light. “You know there is no next year.”

Your hands reached out towards her, grabbing hold of her duvet and ripping it from her bed. A small scream escaped Kate’s lips as she desperately tried to rescue the cover, albeit she arose unsuccessful. You passed her a small smirk as you threw the duvet to the floor. “If you’re not ready in five minutes, I’m going for breakfast without you.”

The girl passed you a none-too-happy glare but eventually settled on rolling out of bed, groaning loudly as she fell ungraciously to the floor. Simply laughing off her antics, you moved towards the full length mirror that hung in your dorm to check your outfit one last time. The warm weather still clung to the September air, resulting in the floral summer dress you’d adorned for the day, a small white cardigan sat atop of it. As always, your worn-in converse sat upon your feet, tattered from the years they’d spent traversing you to class.

American weather was just another one of the things you loved about living in the states. Summer in England was sticky and gross, the house always too hot, lacking AC and unbearable to sleep in at night. You’d always end up tossing and turning, sweat sticking the shorts to your body. Every street smelled like disposable barbecues and there never seemed to be enough ice in the shops to cool your drink. Overall, it was a rather uncomfortable experience. But Summer in America was a whole different story. It felt like the movies when they’d jump out of school on the last day, sun shining down on top of them. It was warm outside, and you could enjoy the sun before slinking back to a cool room with beautiful air conditioning, rather than you’d dad’s old fan that was louder than an airplane flying overhead.

“Are you almost done?” You finally turned away from your reflection, glancing across the room to where Kate was pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail. She’d dressed in a pair of old shorts and tshirt, obviously forgoing the ritual you’d followed of dressing cute on the first day.

“Yep,” Kate replied breathlessly, moving to put on her trainers, hopping around the room as she pulled them on. Once they sat upon her feet, she stood upright and looked at you with a dopey smile. “Okay, let’s go.”

You smiled shamelessly back, opening the door to your dorm in order for the pair of you to venture out. Kate simply passed you a small thanks as she slipped out into the corridor, followed closely by you after locking up your room. Thankfully, most days you left together as Kate never seemed to remember that crucial step.

———

“Wait, so you’re actually taking Russian this year?”

Your eyes rolled as the question rung out. “Kate, we’ve talked about this so many times.”

The girl shrugged her shoulders. “I just don’t get why you’d take a random language, that’s all.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you watched Kate take a bite of some scrambled eggs. As she did most mornings, she’d chosen to load her plate up from the breakfast trays, paired perfectly with a full glass of orange juice and a large mug of coffee. On the other hand, you’d only had a slice of toast, simply buttered, then a coffee of a similar size that you’d already downed. For someone who liked to attend meals so close to classes, one would expect Kate to choose smaller portions that she could maybe finish without shoving it in her mouth two minutes before she had to leave.

“I told you, Kate,” you repeated with another sigh. “I had to pick up some credits and the only thing that fit with my timetable was either Russian or a programming class.”

Your face screwed up at the last words you uttered, the idea of such a thing enough to turn your nose up. Kate could have taken some offence, considering her major was computer science and she was in such programming class, but it seemed she was too focused on finishing her half-eaten eggs.

“I thought you said there was a Spanish class you could take?” Kate said, talking around a mouthful of food.

Your eyes rolled in your skull, not only at her actions but at the fact she’d only remembered that small detail of your previous conversation. “There was,” you replied, crossing your arms on the table. “But I just thought Russian sounded more interesting.”

Kate raised a brow as you shrugged a shoulder. She didn’t have much time to judge you however, as you checked your phone to see there was only a few minutes until your first classes. Kate scrambled to finish the food on her plate as you collected your things, downing the rest of her coffee before pulling her backpack on to her shoulders. In the end, she had to run after you out of the dining hall after you’d already left, not letting yourself be late because of her antics.

The pair of you walked across campus together, Kate branching off to her first class and promising to meet up at lunch. You continued on to the building in which your timetable indicated your Russian class would be held. It was all rather new to you, a building you’d never been in before on campus. You supposed it fit with the class that you’d be taking now, stepping into something entirely new.

Thankfully, you found the lecture hall quickly, not discouraged by your unfamiliar surroundings. A lot of the seats were already filled up, the class just a few minutes from starting. You found a space down near the front, a usual spot for you in your determination to never miss anything a lecturer was saying, persistent on never having a blank spot in your notes.

The remaining minutes passed as you set yourself up for the class, pulling out your notebook and pen and setting them neatly on the desktop. Remaining students filed in, filling up what had to be one of the smaller lecture theatres on campus. It seemed there were barely thirty students who had decided to take the class, a small number compared to your usual large English lit course.

Noise bubbled in the room as the clock ticked by. At the exact second the hour struck, a door to the left opened wide.

“Good morning. If you could all settle down now, please. I need to take attendance.”

All attention fell upon the person who walked through the door, silence befalling the room as their voice echoed through the hall. As your eyes lifted from the scribbles on your notebook, they too sought out your new professor, but what they found was certainly not what you had been expecting at all.

The woman that approached the desk at the centre of the room was perhaps the most gorgeous you’d ever seen. Her hair fell perfectly in cascading curls, a brilliant red draped across her back. She wore a pair of black slacks, paired with a light blue dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Her heels clicked meticulously across the polished wood as she set a laptop down at the centred desk, opening it up and glancing down at the screen.

It seemed you were not the only person affected by this woman’s presence as the entire hall fell silent as she began to call register. Most professors at this school were old men, droning on about things tirelessly. Even when presented with a female professor, none ever compared to the power and lure that this woman seemed to radiate across the class.

Once she’d finished calling names and assured everyone was marked down correctly, the red-haired woman moved towards the front of her desk, leaning back against it as a pair of arms came to cross over her chest. Your eyes found particular interest in the very expensive looking watch that sat upon her left wrist.

“Okay, my name is Professor Romanoff, as you have probably seen on your timetables. I will be your teacher for this class on introductory Russian.”

All ears seemed to be on the professor as she spoke, her voice confident in the space it held.

“I will start off by saying that this class is not easy so if you have taken it for that reason, I suggest perhaps changing.”

A tight smile appeared on a pair of red painted lips as the professor continued talking, the curtness behind it clear.

“This class is not impossibly difficult but it is certainly not a free ride. Anybody who treats it as such, is likely to fail.”

You weren’t sure what it was, maybe something in the air, but your attention seemed to cling to everything that fell out of the professors mouth, practically drinking up every word that she said. Your eyes found themselves particularly focused on her lips, adorning a shade of red so perfectly you even questioned if they were naturally that colour.

Professor Romanoff continued to rattle off expectations for the class, bringing up exam dates and testing styles before discussing an outline of everything the class would cover. Your pen jotted down everything she said, almost working faster than your brain could keep up, that ever persistent need to be perfect taking over once more, just like it did every time the new semester rolled back around.

Overall, the class seemed to be mostly an introduction. Professor Romanoff outlined specific topics you’d cover, before beginning to teach the difference between the English and Russian alphabets. Whatever it was she said, every word was jotted down into your notebook with persistent attentiveness.

The class seemed to pass by quickly, the order to pack up echoing out earlier than you thought it would, but with a quick glance at your phone, you realised that an entire hour had indeed passed. You tidied up your belongings, throwing them all into the old backpack you carried about everywhere, then got up to follow the crowd out of the lecture theatre. Your mind found itself satisfied with the enjoyment of the class, finding everything taught very interesting. Some part of you even found yourself somewhat excited for the next time you’d dawn the building and Professor Romanoff’s class.

———

“So how was it?”

Kate’s words were out of her mouth before you’d even sat down at the table, delayed in joining her by a few minutes due to your English professor droning on too long in his lecture. A sigh escaped your lips as you finally set yourself down at the dining table, throwing your backpack underneath as you looked over at your friend.

“How was what?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Your Russian class,” she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing ever said.

“Oh, right,” you replied, reaching for the cutlery on your tray and using it to begin cutting the omelette you’d picked up for lunch. “It was good.”

Kate raised a brow, obviously more curious than your answer could satisfy. “Just good ?”

You nodded in response, raising a single shoulder. “Yeah, good. It was really interesting.”

Kate hummed, taking a bite of the chicken burger she’d chosen for lunch. Like she often did, the girl spoke around her food to ask you another question. “How was the professor? Some old Russian guy?”

Unsure of exactly why, it felt like your heart gave a little flutter when Kate mentioned the professor, maybe it had something to do with the way you’d spent most of the lesson staring at her and thinking how beautiful she was. “Uhm, no actually,” you replied, taking a small bite of your food. “It was a woman. Quite young looking too.”

Kate’s interest seemed to be piqued, a single brow raised. “How young?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know how young. Like, thirties? I don’t know.” You shrugged again, unsure of how exactly to answer her question.

The girl across from you hummed. You could tell why it was a suprise to her, it had been to you too when you’d first laid eyes on your new teacher. Most professors at this university were very good at what they did, but that often came with the experiences of age. A younger professor was an uncommon sight.

“What was her name?” Kate asked, still chewing another bite of her burger.

“Romanoff.”

Kate hummed. “And she was any good?”

“Yeah,” you replied lightly, trying not to think too hard about the way her red hair had formed perfect curls. “She seems a little strict but she’s a good teacher.”

“Well, that’s always good I suppose.”

From there, Kate seemed to become disinterested in the professor, instead moving on to discuss a cute girl she’d seen in her programming class. You’d asked more questions but the pair of you knew Kate would never do anything about any crush she had, she would get far too nervous and stumble over all of her words any time she tried to talk to anyone. Many times you’d watched her fail to flirt with someone drunkly at a party, accidentally blurting out something stupid that caused the other person to turn away. Each time you’d end up giving her a pat on the back and assuring her she’d get the next one, both of you secretly knowing it probably wasn’t true. Nevertheless, it was fun to fantasise about cute people you saw on campus and Kate often liked to share all the things she’d like to do with someone if she could actually talk to them.

Your conversation slowly passed on to other things, talking over activities you both did over summer, but sooner than you’d like, the time came for you to both head to your next classes. You both packed up your things, tidying away your lunch trays before heading out of the dining hall and across campus, Kate giving you a very dramatic goodbye before disappearing into her coding class and you slipped away to criminology, some part of your mind still clinging on to the idea of alabaster skin and perfect red curls.

———

The semester kicked off quickly and before you knew it, you were already three weeks in. Your time had been spent flitting between your classes, keeping consistent with your notes and readings. That fresh term feeling still resided within you, positivity and interest radiating through you in each of your courses. Though your creative writing class remained your favourite, your new Russian elective had quickly climbed the charts to take spot number two. Something about the language simply drew you in, perhaps how different it was to English, but every class seemed to suck you in entirely and leave you eagerly awaiting the next one.

Through Kate’s complaining, you were exceedingly glad that you didn’t pick her programming class, the professor apparently loading far too much work on his students. Though, you were never sure how much of the complaints could simply be down to Kate’s dramatics. The pair of you continued to spend your free moments in each other’s company, talking over every meal and studying in the library. You made the most of the disappearing sun, basking in the last of the summer warmth on the campus lawn, your head stuck in a book while Kate napped next to you.

You’d also easily picked up your part time job once more, the manager of the campus coffee shop reminded of your hard work the past three years. The job itself was usually rather tiring, filling up your weekends and free mornings, but it paid for your food so you knew it was a necessity. Thankfully, the lingering warmth had meant the shop had remained rather quite so far, not too many people racing for a hot coffee while the sun still shone down from above. Your experience however, let you know that in just another few weeks, you’d have to pick up the pace and things would get increasingly harder as the temperature began to drop. Yet, for now you basked in the calmness that the summer brought. But one person in particular seemed determined to change that.

Kate stumbled around the room, grabbing different outfits from the closet and trying them on, before deciding they were no good and tossing them on to the floor. She’d never been a very quiet person getting ready, usually singing along to whatever band she found interesting that month, but at that exact moment, you wished she’d sometimes find a slightly calmer routine.

Your head hurt, most likely from dehydration. It had been a long afternoon shift at the coffee shop and it seemed summer was giving everyone one grand goodbye, bringing the temperatures soaring and consequently, leaving you with a very sweaty shift. Now you were back in the dorm, showered and in some light pjs, hoping to finally get started on the work you’d been thinking about all day. But someone seemed destined to distract you. Your eyes fell to Kate, desperately trying to find a top to match the current skirt she was wearing. “I hope you’re gonna clean that up,” you said, glancing at the mess of clothes on the floor.

“‘Course I will,” Kate replied, pulling another top from a drawer. “Ugh, why does nothing look right!”

You glanced once again to the girl, taking in her current appearance. “Wear the silver top,” you said nonchalantly.

Kate began rummaging in the drawer, knowing what you had meant and what to look for. She pulled the top out and tried it on, looking at herself in the mirror and letting out a pleased hum. “Looks good, thanks.”

She passed you a grateful smile and you simply passed one in return, merely thankful that she’d stopped making such a fuss while you were trying to work. Your body turned back towards your desk, eyes falling back on to the open notebook in front of you.

“I really can’t convince you to come tonight?” Kate’s voice whined as she touched up her makeup in the mirror. “It’s always super boring without you.”

“I told you already,” you replied, not looking up from your notes. “I can’t go to a party, I have to study.”

Kate sighed loudly. “What are you even studying for? It’s only the third week!”

“My Russian class. I have a test on Monday.”

Your roommate blew a gust of air from her mouth, the repel evident. “You still have all of tomorrow to study.”

“You’re right, I do. And I intend to use all the time I have.”

Despite still looking at your notes, you could see the eye roll Kate gave you. “Whatever, loser,” she called, grabbing a bag to take with her. From behind, you could hear her pulling on a pair of heels, which would probably end up in her hands before the night was done. “I’ll try be quite coming in,” she said, reaching for the door.

“Keys?”

“Shit.”

The noise of scrambling filled the dorm once more as Kate rummaged about in her backpack for her set of keys, an item so frequently forgotten about. You heard them jingle in her hands before being slipped into her purse. Then, she said her actual goodbyes and slid out of the room, finally leaving you to study in peace. You released a relieved sigh as silence fell back over the room and you allowed your eyes to scan the Russian letters and grammar scribbled out across your paper. Whatever party Kate was venturing to that night, it wouldn’t be the thing to keep you from studying, your mind entirely focused on the terminologies written in your notes and determined to commit every piece of it to memory, no matter how long it took.

———

Natasha loved her job, truly she did. In fact, she’d given up her career of lawyering to begin teaching, something about it always drawing her in. But one part about her job that she didn’t enjoy as much, was marking papers. Although it was an integral part of her role as a professor, it seemed marking always held tedium in the never-ending correcting of answers and decoding of illiterate handwriting.

A low sigh escaped her lips as Natasha circled yet another grade atop of a paper, a red ‘D’ followed by a smaller ‘62%’. It wasn’t a surprise to her that most of the grades were on the lower side, especially for her introductory class, the highest so far reigning at a 73. It always took new students a while to get used to the new alphabet and syntax that Russian carried, their grades reflecting that sometimes up until the midterm. Papers like this were Natasha’s least favourite to grade, constantly having to mark down corrections for spellings or grammar, and usually taking up more of her time than she’d like.

The smell in the kitchen at least worked to brighten up her mood, the soft aroma of a home cooked meal fluttering straight from her nose and down to her anticipating stomach. Wanda always loved to cook and each night Natasha loved coming home to eat whatever she’d stirred up for that night. Her wife dotted around the stove top as Natasha sat across the breakfast bar, two stacks of papers sat next to her. Her mind was hoping by the time she was finished marking, Wanda would have dinner ready and the two could finally relax for the night.

Determined to get finished, Natasha reached for another paper on the stack, briefly brushing over the student’s name before beginning her marking. The usual first questions went expectingly well, but as the test slipped into slightly trickier territory, it seemed the common errors that Natasha had grown so used to seeing, were entirely absent. As each question progressed, Natasha found herself becoming continually bewildered at the perfect answers provided on the paper. At the very end, flipping over the last sheet of paper on to the counter, she lowered her eyebrows in confusion. “Huh.”

Wanda’s head raised from where it sat looking down at a pan, now gazing over at her wife with an inquisitive look. “What is it?”

Not answering immediately, Natasha flipped through the test once again, looking over the many check marks next to every question. Slightly confused, she closed the paper, looking up to meet her wife’s eye. “Some student just got a hundred percent. Like, a perfect score.”

Now it was Wanda’s turn to look a little shocked, her brows raising as she leaned across the counter. “You think it’s legit?”

Natasha shrugged, the scenario playing in her mind. “I mean, I monitored everyone whilst they took it. Nobody looked to be cheating.”

The taller redhead let out an almost amused hum. “Impressive. What’s this outstanding student’s name?”

The paper flicked back to the front cover, Natasha’s eyes flitting over the name scribbled on the top of the sheet in neat handwriting. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Natasha’s mind searched its archives for any mentions of the name, its presence feeling familiar on her tongue. She fell back to taking attendance, specifically on the first day of class. The name had rung out in the hall and a small voice had picked up to answer it. Natasha remembered her amusement at the English accent she’d heard radiating across the room, originating from a young girl in a pretty summer dress near the front row. It seemed some part of her mind had locked in the gentle smile that accompanied such a sweet voice.

"Cute name," Wanda hummed, moving to stir her pot before her recipe could burn.

"Yeah..." Natasha's eyes remained on the sheet in front of her, scanning over the name and conjuring images of the face that matched with it. "I just don't know how she could have done this perfectly." Her fingers flipped through the pieces of paper, eyes scanning the work written in black ink. "I mean, everything is exactly how is should be. Even her cyrillic is written neatly."

Wanda let out a low hum as she continued fussing about with the stovetop, her answer coming out rather nonchalant. "Maybe she's in the wrong class? Was supposed to enroll in one of your others at a higher level?"

The proposal had already flashed across Natasha's mind, the work in front of her seemingly too good for someone of beginner status. There was always something wrong, some letter they'd missed or some word in the wrong order, it was never this perfect. Her mind had scoured back to previous years, trying to remember if she'd taught her before, but the name sounded too unfamiliar, and besides, she would have recalled that distinctive cute accent that this certain student possessed. "Maybe," Natasha replied finally, turning back the paper to the front. "But I don't see why she wouldn't have swapped out already. I mean, she would have had to have noticed by now, right?"

Wanda licked the small spoon in her hand, tasting her dish before tossing the metal away into the sink. It always amazed Natasha just how much of a multitasker her wife could be. Still adding things to her meal, Wanda tossed a comment over her shoulder. "Well, there's only one way to find out. Talk to her."

The idea washed over Natasha, already present in her own mind. The curiosity of the situation was pulling her in, already wanting to know more about this mystery student. As she thought of the girl in her head, more interest seemed to curate within her. Seeing that adorable smile she'd caught each time she'd called attendance, hearing that charming little accent that followed her name being called, something about it all drew her further in than one may expect, in ways perhaps unrelated to the test in front of her. Excitement and curiosity brewing in her, Natasha looked up to smile at her wife. "I think I will."

———

Today was not a good day for you. Not only had you forgotten your water bottle back in the dorm, but it was also the first day of the semester you’d be receiving back a test. It was only a small one, one that wouldn’t dent your final grade enough to matter, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t spent hours studying for it. You should have known that the peaceful calm that followed the start of term wouldn’t last forever, but it seemed every year the reality of things slipped your mind and you suddenly felt the anxiety crashing down on your shoulders a few weeks in.

Aside from a small introductory piece you’d had to write for creative writing, this was your first proper assessment of the year. As you sat in the lecture hall, waiting for class to begin, your mind flooded over everything you’d done to prepare, the hours of studying you’d put in, thinking back to the questions and if there was anything you could have possibly misread. Your foot tapped quickly against the floor as you pondered the possibility of a bad grade, particularly the berating that would follow from your family if they ever found out. You tried your best to settle your anxiety as the minutes ticked by, assuring yourself that you’d put in all the effort you could, a good grade surely waiting for you after all your hard work. But when the doors to the hall opened and your professor walked in, the pit in your stomach only dropped further.

“Morning everyone,” Professor Romanoff called out, briefly glancing across the class. In her hands you could spy the laptop she usually carried, alongside the stack of test papers you’d be receiving back very shortly. Your heart continued to beat in your chest as attendance was taken, voice slightly shaky when it came time for your name to be called.

“Right,” the redheaded woman said, closing down her laptop after finishing the register. She reached for the stack of papers in her desk as she stood, moving towards the front of the class and looking out. “As I said, these tests are mostly just a baseline to let me know you’re all on track. Though, if you are failing, maybe come see me and we can have a chat about why.”

With that, Professor Romanoff began towards the class, calling out names and passing out tests. You tried not to look as she walked up the isle next to you, the first time close enough to touch. Mostly, your eyes remained on the desk in front of you, mind reeling at the possibility of failing. You wouldn’t fail, right? You’d studied for hours.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

A low voice brought your head up from its position, mind dragged from your thoughts and thrust back into the present moment. Your eyes raised to see your professor suddenly stood in front of you, her stare focused upon your face.

“Yes?”

A tight expression appeared on the redhead’s face, almost a smile but not quite reaching her eyes. Her fingers slid your test paper back towards you, face down against the desk. Your eyes flickered down to it before returning to her gaze. “See me after class, please.”

If there were any words you wanted to say, your throat tightened to prevent them from escaping. Before you could even comprehend what she had said, Professor Romanoff was already moving on towards the next student. Your eyes followed her momentarily, then darted back towards your upturned test. You failed, your mind screamed at you. You must have failed.

Tentative fingers reached out towards the paper, your heart preparing for the first ‘F’ ever written on one of your tests. You were already thinking about how you’d have to explain this to your parents, how you’d let it settle within yourself. The paper flipped over, the red writing of your grade distinct at the top of the first page, but when your eyes fluttered over to it, they did not find what they had been expecting mere moments before. Instead of a giant ‘F’ like you’d been anticipating, the paper held a large ‘A’ on the front, then beside it, in a smaller circle, a 100% mark.

Your eyes almost couldn’t believe what they were seeing, mind more relieved than any time you could remember. Almost at once, your body had relaxed, that small smile appearing on your lips like it always did when you did well. You hadn’t failed at all, in fact, you’d done the complete opposite. Maybe this day wasn’t going as bad as you had anticipated. But then you remembered your professor’s words.

See her after class? What could that possibly mean? Your mind suddenly became erratic again, the anxiety taking control and catastrophizing every possible scenario. You were unsure how you felt with the idea of spending time alone with Professor Romanoff, suddenly worried she may have the ability to read minds and would be able to tell how much your mind had floated back to her face over the past few weeks.

The thoughts in your head were so loud you didn’t notice when your professor first began going on the test. It was only by question four you’d caught on, suddenly snapping back to reality and trying desperately to join back in with the class seamlessly. It seemed, however, that your mind still couldn’t concentrate, entirely focused on the conversation the red-haired woman in front of you had requested to have.

Your eyes fluttered around the room, glancing at the other students to perhaps gage how everyone else had done on the test. Briefly, they fell upon the desk next to you, spying the ‘56%’ scribbled on to the top of the test paper that sat there. When your eyes raised to the girl it belonged it, she passed you a quick scowl, making an eye to the perfect score that sat in front of you. Feeling far too seen, your eyes snapped back to your own paper, hoping that said girl knew you weren’t at all judging, though by her face, it seemed those were her exact thoughts. For the rest of the lesson you vowed to keep your eyes glued to your own paper, too scared of what they might find in the faces of those around you.

Eventually, your professor’s words began to drown out, overtaken by the lingering anxiety clouding your mind. Before you knew it, you’d spent the entire hour stuck inside your head, rethinking every possible scenario that could possibly occur after class. Now, you were forced to face the reality as Professor Romanoff dismissed the class, requesting papers be returned to her before anyone left.

You watched from your chair as a line of students all placed their papers in a stack on the side of the wooden desk. Slowly, you began to pack away your things into your bag, trying not to draw attention to yourself any more than necessary. When you stood, you clutched your test close to your chest, hiding the score away from anyone who might have passed you a look any similar to the girl previously sat beside you.

As the line of students dwindled down, all turning to leave the lecture room, you slowly approached the desk at the centre of the room. The last of your class let the doors swing closed behind them just as you reached the wooden surface, leaving you in the room entirely alone with your professor. You watched her from behind as she wiped the chalkboard clean, erasing away any remnants of the previous lesson.

The air felt so thick you could choke on it. Your mind told you to make yourself known, clear your throat or something, but it seemed you were almost frozen in place. Only when Professor Romanoff finally turned, did you even move at all.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N.”

The woman dusted her hands against each other as she began to close the gap between the two of you. Both of your eyes met each other, her gaze locking on to yours as she walked back towards her desk and sat down on the edge of it. You swallowed harshly as you danced on the balls of your feet, your irrational thought of mind reading suddenly coming back to you. But Professor Romanoff didn’t say anything towards the sort, instead, simply extended her hand out towards you, palm facing up to the ceiling.

“Oh, right,” you stumbled, handing over the test paper which she had just previously been looking at. It was slightly crumpled from being pressed to your body but the woman seemingly took no notice, simply glancing over it before returning it to the pile of others on her desk, a low hum escaping from her lips.

When her eyes turned back to meet yours, you suddenly noticed how green they were, never having been so close as to regard them before. Blazing emerald gazed back at you as your heart pounded in your chest.

“This is a very good paper, Miss Y/L/N. I’ve never had a student get a perfect mark on one of my tests before.”

As Professor Romanoff’s voice caught your ears, your heartbeat only seemed to quicken its pace. Something in her gaze felt scrutinising, the small curt smile on her lips enough to practically drag your next words out from your mouth.

“I-I didn’t cheat if that’s what you think. I swear.”

It was spilling out before you could stop it really, words tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to plead your case. That had been the conclusion you’d drawn from this scenario, the reason you’d been asked to stay back in the first place. But to your surprise, Professor Romanoff simply raised a skeptical brow. “I never said you cheated, did I?”

Suddenly you felt very warm, like the wonderful AC you always gushed about had instantaneously disappeared. “No-I just-I-I mean-“

The words tumbled from your mouth, barely coherent. They were quickly silenced when Professor Romanoff raised a hand, passing you a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“I don’t think you cheated, Y/N,” the professor said after a moment, lowering her hand once more. “I’m just curious as to how you achieved such a high score.”

You felt a little stupid, mind too ahead of itself like always and blurting out the first thing it thought of without even thinking properly. Professor Romanoff’s words washed over you and you picked up on the question present, thinking over your answer briefly before shrugging your shoulders. “I just studied, I guess.”

That perfectly sculpted brow raised once more. “Studied?” Professor Romanoff seemed to look you up and down, gazing at the way you picked at your nail beds anxiously. You stopped immediately when she seemed to notice, instead moving to hold your hands behind your back. The professor moved her eyeline back up to you once more, a curious expression now taking over her face. “Have you taken Russian before?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Professor Romanoff let out a low sigh, adjusting herself on the table where she sat. She was once again wearing a pair of fitted slacks and polished heels, partnered today with a short-sleeved white blouse. From this distance, you could tell the material was silk. You tried not to stare at the woman’s exposed arms as the came to cross against her chest, and more importantly, at the slight cleavage on show that now pressed higher as she moved.

“It’s highly unlikely for a beginner to get a perfect score on a test,” your professor said, eyes meeting yours. “Especially so early on.” The air seemed to grow thicker as the redhead leaned in closer towards you, her gaze narrowing ever so slightly. “So if you’re lying to me, sweetheart, I’d appreciate if you didn’t.”

The name hung heavy in the air, hammering at your lungs as you stood under the woman’s scrutinising gaze. Suddenly, you felt warmer, your heart rate picking up even more as the words of defense began to stumble from your mouth once again. “I-I swear I’ve never taken it before. I-I just-“ You swallowed harshly, trying to regain some of your composure. "I looked at the syllabus over summer and maybe taught myself some of the basic concepts is all. And I did some extra reading, but I just wanted to be prepared! I haven't actually done Russian properly before, I promise. I-I just-"

Professor Romanoff raised her hand once more, silencing your stuttering. "It’s alright, milaya," she said, a small smile now spreading across her lips. "Calm down." The Russian was recognised by your ears but not your mind, left untranslated in the conversation as the redhead continued to talk. "You’re not in any trouble. I was just curious"

The gentleness of your professor's voice was enough to settle you down, suddenly feeling foolish for blurting out like you had. You took a moment to breath, looking down at your feet as they swayed you back and forth. "Right," you said, voice now quiet in the near-empty room.

When your eyeline raised to Professor Romanoff once again, she was still looking back at you with that gentle smile, her eyes soft under the light. After a moment of her gaze on you, she released a small sigh, reaching back to place a hand on your test that sat at the top of the pile. "This is very good test, though," she said, nodding her head towards you. "You should be proud of yourself."

The praise washed over you in a wave of warmth, spreading across your cheeks and down the back of your neck. It wasn't often you received recognition for your work, it certainly never being enough back home, so you never really learned how to properly cope with it without your face embarrassingly heating up and a dopey smile appearing on your lips. You tried your best to hide these now, looking back at the redhead in front of you. "Thank you, professor."

The woman smiled, unbothered by the way your fingers had moved to begin fidgeting with the zip of your hoodie, desperate to find something to distract your flurried mind. "I assume you have another class to get to, Miss Y/L/N?" Professor Romanoff stood up, now looking down on you from a few inches above, her heels adding even more height so that you had to slightly raise your head from where it had been to look up at her.

Your head nodded. "Uhm, yes I do."

The redhead began to collect the papers that sat on the side, adjusting them into an orderly pile. From behind the desk, she smiled over at you. "Well then, hurry along. I wouldn't want to make you late."

Your head nodded again, more frantically this time. "Of course." You adjusted the backpack on your shoulders before turning away, headed towards the door to your right, but before you could reach it, Professor Romanoff's voice called out again.

"And Y/N?"

You turned quickly, facing her desk once more with an awaiting expression. The woman met your eye, the smile on her lips different now, almost what one could mistake as a smirk. She looked over at you as she said, "Keep up the good work."

For the third time, you nodded, feeling yourself heating up again. "I will," you replied, smiling sheepishly. "Thank you again, professor." And with that, you turned and reached for the door, rejoining the rest of the world with a blush on your cheeks. As you headed towards the exit of the building and on towards your next class, your mind tried desperately to think about anything other than the way your professor’s arms had looked pressed against her chest, or more noticeably, how sweet the nicknames she had called you felt upon your ears.

#inescapable love au #professor natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #platonic kate bishop x reader #lawyer wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader

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vettelsvee · 2 months

Text

I DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR WINNING | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

rbr sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader | part 2 here

summary: y/n thinks she's sick from f1 traveling stress, but what if that's not the reason of her sickness?

word count: 992

warnings: hints of having sex. mentions of wishing to die (because reader is sick af). use of y/n

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

It was barely five in the morning, and the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon of the city of Berlin. Sebastian and you, without having been able to rest after the German Grand Prix that had taken place just hours ago, were at the airport of the German capital, ready to head to Hungary, where the next Formula 1 competition would be held.

You were aware that following the lifestyle of a high-level racing driver was not easy. However, you didn't think that getting eight hours of sleep or having free time would become privileges that you would have, in part, during the holiday period. Despite the excitement that filled you every time you embarked on a new destination, you had been feeling unwell for several days, and no matter how hard you tried to remedy it, all you did was worsen it.

Seb, who knew you well enough to know that something was wrong, tried not to make a big deal out of it. He knew that you tended to get sick frequently, although the fact that you was quieter than usual and didn't have as much energy as usual started to worry the blonde who, at the moment of takeoff, observed carefully as your face grew paler, while you gripped the armrest of the seat tightly.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Sebastian asked with concern.

You tried to breathe deeply to calm the wave of nausea you were feeling right now.

"Yes," you simply replied, faking a smile. "I just feel a little uncomfortable with takeoff, you know airplanes and I are not friends. Stop worrying, love. You'll see it'll pass soon."

Despite your multiple reassurances, Seb couldn't convince himself. Your eyes reflected how you felt, and he had no doubt that you were hiding something from him to avoid worrying him.To try to relax you, he leaned towards you to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I know you've told me you're okay, but if you start feeling worse, let me know, okay?"

You nodded, silently thanking the German for his concern.

Although he tried not to make a big deal out of it, the truth was that as the flight progressed towards its destination, you felt worse, even reaching the point where nausea turned into frequent trips to the bathroom to vomit, and constant dizziness into a desire to faint and not wake up for a few days.

"Seb, I swear… I can't deal with this anymore."

After suddenly getting up from your seat, hurrying to the bathroom trying not to cause too much commotion among the other passengers, you quickly locked yourself in the small cubicle, bending over the toilet to empty everything you didn't know you had inside yourself. Sebastian watched with concern as you fled, trying not to lose his composure under the curious gaze of those present, including a few Red Bull engineers.

“Y/N!”, Seb called out as quietly as he could, anxious because you weren’t responding. “Are you okay? Please, open the door.”

You didn't answer him, which only heightened Vettel's anxiety. He fixed his gaze on the bathroom door, waiting for you to come out and give him some explanation of what was happening.

After what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the bathroom with a completely pale face and a tired look. Sebastian simply pulled her close to his chest and held her tightly in an embrace.

"Love, what's wrong?" he said anxiously. "I need to know what's going on. Things can't continue like this if you're going to keep accompanying me. I'm sure it's getting to you: everything is overwhelming you and..."

Suddenly, you began to cry from the helplessness you were feeling, causing Sebastian to hold you even tighter, stroking your back to help you relax as much as possible.

"I can't take it anymore, Seb. I feel awful. I want to die right now."

"We should seek help," he said, wiping your tears away. "We'll see what we can do now to keep you as relaxed as possible for the remainder of the flight, okay? And when we land, we'll go to an emergency room to see what's wrong with you."

Sebastian then called one of the flight attendants in their area and explained the distressing situation, emphasizing that he wouldn't want anyone to find out to avoid conflicts with both the media and his team. The flight attendant simply nodded and informed them to return to their seats, immediately assisting the world champion's partner.

"Mrs. Vettel, here's some water and an aspirin," the woman kindly offered you. "Additionally, I've informed the crew about your wife's situation," she said, now looking at the blonde, "and they confirmed that if she gets worse, there's no problem in making an emergency landing at the nearest airport."

"I'm not Sebastian's wife..."

"Thank you very much," the driver interrupted, thanking the flight attendant for her assistance.

The German began to laugh at your reaction as soon as the woman left.

"You should have seen your face, Y/N. You can't deny that you didn't mind being referred to as my wife," Seb said, stroking your hair and opening the water bottle for you to take a sip.

The flight continued, and although the nausea had been brought under control, the discomfort persisted. The couple was aware that there was only, thankfully, about half an hour of travel left.

"Darling," Sebastian whispered sweetly. "Close your eyes and focus on your breathing: inhale through your nose, and exhale through your mouth. I'm here, hold my hand."

You followed your partner's instructions, allowing yourself to be guided by his voice, which was truly comforting in those moments, in each inhalation and exhalation. Gradually, you began to feel calmer, and you would even swear that you hadn't felt this way in several days.

Finally, the plane reached its destination. You felt greatly relieved that the flight, which had caused you so much distress, had come to an end as it had left her physically and mentally exhausted.

As soon as your feet touched Hungarian soil, Sebastian made sure that you felt as comfortable as possible before heading to the hotel. Despite the rush Britta, Sebastian's PR, took a moment in some small seats to rest and, as much as possible, recover from the turbulent journey they had just endured.

Although he knew he might hurt your feelings, Sebastian decided to broach the subject with a mischievous smile:

"Love, don't you think we've had enough intense Sunday nights celebrating my victories? Because I think it's led to something good."

At first, you were a bit confused, but a few seconds later you let out a shy and sweet laugh. The driver wasn't lying: sex had become your ritual to bid farewell to the weekend and, above all, as a celebration of Seb's victories that season. Now that you remembered, there were quite a few occasions where you didn’t use protection, so you thought that the possibility was even more up in the air now.

"It could be, Seb," you said with a knowing smile. "If I am, we could have a pretty big problem..."

"Please, love, don't say that," Vettel drew closer to you, taking your hand and gently tracing small circles on it with his fingers. "If you're pregnant, I'm sure you'll be an amazing mother. Besides, I know we haven't talked about this, but I've always wanted to be a father and I can't imagine anyone better than you to fulfill this dream."

Tears began to form in your eyes, and you hurried to wipe them away to prevent your boyfriend from noticing.

"So, what do you say? Should we tell Britta that we need to go to the pharmacy and buy a test? That way we can find out, and if it's a no, we can keep trying," you clarified eagerly. "What do you think about tonight?"

Feeling excited, after you explained the situation to the woman who had become another member of the family, and who, obviously, had been thrilled at the possible news, headed to the nearest pharmacy to avoid arousing suspicions among the journalists and paparazzi, who were lurking around with the intention of getting the latest scoop on the man of the moment.

Alone together and holding the small bag containing the test, you began to feel nervous as they approached their room. Upon entering the suite, you both sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to calm themselves before checking whether you would become parents.

"Okay," you said, taking a deep breath, "I'm ready."

After that, you opened the box containing the test and went to the bathroom, where you followed the instructions carefully. Once finished, you placed it on the surface of the sink and returned to where Seb was, waiting for the indicated time to pass to see the result.

You approached your boyfriend, who gently stroked your back once again to comfort you. He knew you were nervous and scared. He felt the same way.

"Whatever the result is, I'm grateful to have a woman like you in my life. I'll be by your side no matter what, ok?" Sebastian reassured you.

Tears filled the your eyes again, and as you looked at your watch and saw that the waiting time was over, you ran as fast as you could to the bathroom, followed by an anxious Sebastian.

Quickly, you took the test in your hands and saw the result:

"It's positive!" you shouted, your voice trembling. "I'm pregnant, Sebastian!"

A wave of emotions engulfed you both, not knowing what to do except to embrace tightly as you felt a mixture of astonishment and joy, as well as uncertainties about what could happen from that moment on.

"Well, it turns out that in the end I'm not just good at pointing with my index finger when I win," Sebastian teased you mischievously.

"I find it surreal that you're making dirty jokes after finding out we're going to have a child."

"I guess," the driver continued playfully, "we'll have to tell this little one that his dad is a two-time, for now, Formula 1 world champion, and that his mother is a champion in other aspects."

You laughed at your boyfriend's quips, finding them unbelievable.

"Come on, Seb, don't act modest now saying you didn't have merit. You know perfectly well that I motivated you quite a bit during those baby-making sessions."

"Of course, I'm not saying otherwise," the German continued jokingly. "I'm sure the baby will become the royalty of Formula 1. Who wouldn't want to have Vettel and Schumacher genes?"

Both of you burst into laughter, filling the room, giving way your thoughts on how you would tell your families, the media, your respective coworkers... Especially, you spent a few minutes sharing your expectations about what your life would be like from that day on.

"Miss Schumacher and future Mrs. Vettel, let me tell you that now that we know we're expecting a little miracle, I propose we celebrate it in a more... intimate way."

"You can't even give me a day's break, can you? I don't know about you, but I'm convinced my father wouldn't find it amusing to hear his daughter screaming to ask her boyfriend for more," you said, knowing your father would be in the adjacent rooms.

"I know," Seb simply said, "but I’ve won in life, and I don't apologize for winning."

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girlgenius1111 · 6 months

Text

no one should be alone on christmas

barca femeni x reader

changed from the request slightly because i've read a couple fics where r tries to hide that she's gonna be alone for the holidays, and thought i'd take a slightly different approach, so as not to copy anyone :) but pinky promise there is tons of angst and fluff!

cw; mention of bad relationship with parents... implied homophobia i guess? not really discussed much though. angst, fluff, :)

The look on your teammates face when you told them you didn't have any plans for the holiday were almost comical; every one of them looked completely horrified. Sure, they knew your relationship with your parents was rocky, but they hadn't realized you didn't speak, didn't see them at all. What was almost worse was that you didn't even seem to understand why they were so appalled by you spending Christmas alone.

You knew, as soon as you left the locker room after your declaration and the room erupted into loud conversations, that your teammates would begin scheming.

Your problem was that you didn't really want to celebrate Christmas. Obviously, it was a big deal back home in England, and you'd grown up celebrating it, but those weren't the happiest of memories. For the first years of your life, Christmas had been fun. As you aged, and your parents started fighting, it didn't stay fun. Your parents had gone off the rails when you were a teenager; they were incredibly religious people, and when they felt you slipping away from this, they tightened their grasp, until it was suffocating.

Maybe the holidays wouldn't be so awful if they weren't such a stark reminder of what you no longer had, of the rift between you and your parents. Christmas 2 years ago had been the worst of your life. You'd fought with your parents all day, until a screaming match left you packing your bags. They'd had too much to drink, said things about you it was clear they were always thinking, but never vocalized. When you confirmed their suspicions in a fit of anger, they became more aggravated than you'd ever seen them.

You lived with friends for a while, once being at home became unbearable, until finally you got your first contract. You lived with teammates, then, and managed to avoid all conversations about the holidays. Since the Christmas fight, you'd sworn off the day, preferring to hibernate in your house, and actively try not to think about your parents. You missed who they were, and hated who they'd become, which made for a very confusing breakdown every year.

This was your first year at Barcelona, though, and your new team was not content to let you sit alone as you normally did. Especially not when you were only 19, and especially not when a lot of them had taken to acting like concerned mothers with you.

You didn't want to celebrate though, you couldn't. In the days following your locker room chat, you noticed your teammates being slightly odd around you; they weren't very subtle, and they were clearly planning something. Whether it was a Christmas kidnapping or a team party, you weren't sure. All you knew was that you wanted no part of it.

Telling the entire team this, though, didn't seem like something you wanted to do. So instead, you went to the only people you knew had the power to stop whatever horrifying red and green themed atrocity was being planned.

You weren't used to this, really, needing to talk to your captains about anything serious. You'd decided to pull Alexia aside after practice, and tried to be as normal as possible so as not to worry anyone. It didn't seem to work.

"What's up, y/n?" Alexia asked, once you were alone in the hall.

"Could we talk once everyone's gone? I just... there's something I need to talk to you about." You internally winced at how poorly you'd phrased that. Alexia's previously relaxed face was now one of worry as she scrutinized you.

"Of course. Just me?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically warm. She'd clearly picked up on the anxiety oozing off your body.

"Um... maybe Mapi too?" you asked. Again, your teammates weren't subtle individuals, Mapi least of all. It had become obvious that she was the instigator of whatever plan was in motion.

"Si, I'll tell her." Alexia stated, before giving you a reassuring smile and leading you into the locker room.

-----

Alexia had directed you to an empty office, shuffling in with Mapi behind you. You sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, as they both perched on the edge of the desk. You felt ridiculously like a kid in trouble at school, as your leg tapped nervously, and the girls both looked down at you. They weren't angry, though, and you weren't in trouble.

"I know you guys are planning to do something with me for Christmas," you blurted, not really sure where to start. Mapi got a sky grin on her face, but Alexia's expression remained unchanged, the unease on your face making her heart clench.

"No, what would give you that idea, pequeña?" Mapi questioned teasingly.

"Please don't. I don't like Christmas, I don't want to celebrate. I know you guys feel bad, but I really, really just prefer doing my own thing." You responded, going with the sentences you'd practiced in your head on the way to practice this morning.

Mapi's face had fallen, and you felt guilty despite knowing that you were just doing what you needed to do.

"Why don't you like Christmas?" Alexia asked, brow furrowed.

"I just don't," you replied, biting tone making Alexia and Mapi exchange looks. You weren't normally so serious, or so defensive. You were staring hard at the ground, as though you wished it would swallow you up.

Mapi extended her foot, poking it against yours softly until you rolled your eyes and looked up at her.

"Why don't you like Christmas?" They weren't letting you out of this one easily. You took a big breath, fixing your gaze back down at your feet, before you spoke.

"My parents were really difficult. Not always, but for a while. I left home on Christmas 2 years ago. I haven't seen them since. It's not a very fun day for me," you explained, working hard to keep your voice from shaking.

Alexia and Mapi were silent, and you chanced a look up at them. Both were deep in thought, frowns etched across their faces.

"It's really not a big deal. I just don't do Christmas, I don't want to do Christmas. So whatever you're plotting, please don't," you said, desperate for them to understand.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude," you started, suddenly alarmed that you'd seem ungrateful, but you were interrupted.

"No, don't apologize. Never apologize for telling us when you don't like something we're doing," Alexia said firmly, seeming to know what to say for the first time in minutes. "If you don't want to do Christmas, we don't make you." Mapi nodded her head rapidly in agreement.

"You were supposed to spend Christmas Eve with Marta and Caro, Christmas with me, and then go to Mapi's for a couple days, but we don't have to do any of that," Alexia continued, and you felt a wave of an unknown emotion wash over you.

You'd expected they'd been planning something, but not that they'd had you delegated somewhere every day of the break. It wasn't an overall bad feeling, just one you weren't used to.

"Thank you," you stated quietly, not really sure what else to say.

"The offers stand, though, pequeña. If you change your mind," Mapi insisted. "Also, ... it's possible that I rigged the secret santa and multiple people have you, and there isn't really anything I can do about that. So you'll get your gifts but you can be alone," she continued, biting her lip. She looked worried, as if you would be mad. Alexia looked slightly annoyed that Mapi had rigged the gift exchange, but much too preoccupied with you to yell at her then.

"Mapi," you groaned, allowing a small smile to form on your face, assuring her that you weren't mad. The gifts, you didn't mind. You could pretend they weren't Christmas related, and they'd be a good distraction.

Mapi launched into an animated story of how she managed to rig the exchange, [she'd just ended up giving more people presents to make up for all the people getting you things,]. The tricky part was, apparently, doing it behind Ingrid's back; this, you didn't doubt.

They walked you to your car, sensing that you didn't really want to talk any more about it, but leaving you with unusually tight hugs. You appreciated them a lot, even if they were too overbearing sometimes.

-----

When Mapi told you she'd messed with the Secret Santa, you assumed she meant that 2 people had you. Maybe 3. You were wrong.

First up at your apartment the first day of break, before everyone departed for their respective homes, was Ona. She'd managed to get you your favorite sweets from England, an entire box full. She stayed and chatted with you for a while, insisting that she didn't have anywhere to be until later. She was quite successful at getting your mind off things, and had you laughing with her after a bit. When she left, you made sure to tell her to thank Lucy for helping her with the gift, and she stammered out an agreement, a deep blush coating her cheeks.

Aitana showed up next, her gift amusedly from both her and Keira, as the ginger had helped her pick it out. It was a new washbag, not unlike Alexia's. They must have noticed you eyeing it appreciatively. Aitana also brought a mass amount of Christmas cookies, making you eat three before she left.

Patri and Claudia showed up next, pushing past you into your apartment as soon as you opened the door. They'd gotten you approximately 8 new games for your switch, and insisted on trying all of them with you. It left you wondering who the gift was really for, considering they often came over to play on the switch with you. Regardless, they stayed late into the evening, despite both having to get up early to head home the next morning.

Mapi and Ingrid arrived, bringing chaos with them. More Mapi than Ingrid. The Norwegian had gotten you a set of light blue ceramic mugs that matched your kitchen perfectly. You'd barely had time to admire them before Mapi was taking them out of your hands, and dragging you over to her absurdly large present. It was perfectly wrapped, like Ingrid's had been, and her cheeky smile told you that she wasn't as innocent as she'd like you to believe. You opened the box, finding it weirdly light. The inside was completely empty, and you looked at the girls in confusion. The doorbell rang then, and your confusion only grew, as Mapi had said she'd be the last to stop by.

You opened the door to reveal Alexia, holding a squirming puppy in her arms, with a bow haphazardly placed on it's head. Your jaw dropped. You'd mentioned wanting a dog a few times, but you'd wanted to wait until you settled in more.

"Is that... mine?" you asked, and all 3 girls laughed at your astonishment.

"Si!!" Mapi shouted, so overcome with excitement that she was practically bouncing up and down next to you. Alexia handed you the dog, and you noted that she was smiling wider than you'd ever seen her. Alexia and dogs.

He was a little thing, a mini long haired dachshund, light brown in color. His tail was wagging furiously, and he snuggled up to you right away, licking your face eagerly. You were completely speechless, almost moved to tears.

"Thank you," you said looking around at your teammates. You really didn't know what else to say; they'd gone so above and beyond, so out of their way to make these days slightly easier for you, to make sure you weren't alone, even if you wouldn't let them be there with you.

You handed the dog to Ingrid, before all but tackling Mapi in a hug.

"Te gusta?" she asked triumphantly, already knowing the answer. You nodded into her embrace, taking a second to pull yourself together, before hugging Alexia and Ingrid in turn. You hoped the hugs would convey what words could not.

They stayed for a bit, helping you get the dog settled, and watching him when you ran to the store to get puppy supplies. When they left, you could tell they seemed slightly sad; everything they'd done, and they still didn't feel like it was enough.

As Alexia hugged you goodbye, she spoke softly into the top of your head. "I'm around, y/n, if you're having a rough time, or you need someone to talk to. Call me, text me. Anytime. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, I don't care."

You nodded in response, entirely sure that you wouldn't take her up on that; she'd done enough already.

-----

The days leading up were fine, fun even, especially with a puppy to take care of. You didn't think the day would hit you as hard this year, which maybe was naive. It hid you harder than it ever had. For the first time in a while, you were experiencing love and care in the way you used to from your parents. It made you miss the old versions of them. This, in turn, had you furious at them for becoming the people they'd become, so vile, so cruel. It was like there were two versions of them in your head; the smiling, blurry figures from your childhood. The angry, mean, much more vivid memories from your teenage years.

You wished that they hadn't hate a part of to the point that they might as well have just hated you as a whole. You were poisoned to them, for something you couldn't control.

You were in the midst of what was becoming your annual breakdown, this time trying to keep your sobs quiet as your puppy was passed out on the couch next to you, when your phone rang. It was Mapi calling. You picked up before you could stop yourself, desperate to hear a kind voice.

"Hola pequeña! Just wanted to check in," Mapi sang over the phone.

"Hola Mapi," you responded softly, not really sure how to disguise how upset you were, now that you'd picked up.

"Are you okay y/n?" she asked, her voice much quieter.

"Yeah. Today just isn't very much fun."

"I'm sorry, pequeña. Is there anything I can do?" she asked, and this was what broke you. She'd done so much, yet she was still so desperate to make it better. It didn't make sense to you, why this person cared more about you and your happiness than your parents had.

You tried to keep your sobs muffled, not wanting to alarm Mapi, but she could tell what was going on. She didn't seem to know what to say or what to do, and you felt embarrassment flood your body at the fact that you were openly sobbing on the phone to your older teammate. You bit your lip, hard, forcing yourself to steady your breaths so you could speak.

"Fuck, I'm sorry Mapi. I'm fine, don't worry. Enjoy your Christmas.

"No, y/n, wait,"

You hung up. You fell apart again, burying your face in the soft couch cushions. Your phone buzzed under you again and again, no doubt Mapi calling you back. Time was a blur as you cried, and you really couldn't have said how much time passed before there was a frantic knock at your door. Your puppy barked, launching himself across the room towards the door.

You knew who it was before you even got up, cursing yourself for not answering one of Mapi's calls to assure her you were really fine. You should have known she'd call Alexia panicking.

Sure enough, when you opened your door, you got a quick glimpse of her face, outfit, hair, all telling you she had left some celebration to come to you, before she was smashing into you, pulling you into her arms. You were crying again, or maybe you'd never stopped, and Alexia pulled back to look down at your face, frantically checking to see if you were physically okay. Mapi's call must have been really panicked, then, if she hadn't explained well enough what had happened on your own phone call.

"What happened?" Alexia asked. You shrugged through your tears, which seemed to be enough to convince Alexia that you hadn't broken any bones. She led you back to your couch, tucking you into her side as she called Mapi back. She spoke quietly to her teammate, letting you feel what you needed to feel, and assuring Mapi that she had you, and that you'd be alright. It was reassuring to you, too, really.

Alexia's presence was unwavering, arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, every so often wiping tears off your face. When you were done crying, finally, she handed you your water, instructing you to drink. You did, placing the water back down on the table, and scooping up your puppy back onto your lap.

"Sorry you had to come," You rasped eventually, running your fingers through the dogs fur, soothing him as well as yourself.

"Don't be. I'm glad Mapi called me. I'm glad she called you, you shouldn't have to be alone when you're upset."

"Your family-"

"-all understood that I needed to be here," she finished, gaze fixed steadily on you.

"Thank you for coming," you said, pausing. "I'm not really used to this. All these people caring."

"Well, you better get used to it, because we all care about you, a lot. And we're always going to make sure you're okay, even when you tell us you are. You're not always very believable when you say you're fine."

Her words hit hard, and you sat in silence for a bit, until your puppy got bored, and attempted to gnaw on Alexia's hand. You both laughed, watching as he got distracted again, this time by your foot sticking out of a blanket.

"Come on, get dressed. We'll take him to go meet my family. Get some of that energy out."

Alexia presented this as a statement, but her face held a question, and you knew she would stay here with you, if that's what you wanted. You were surprised to find that it wasn't. You took her outstretched hand, and she smiled triumphantly. You smiled too. When you'd moved here, you hadn't smiled much. You found yourself smiling a lot more now; because of your teammates mostly. They had changed your life, when you hadn't realized you'd needed it to be changed. It was really amazing, what a little love could do for someone who was hurting.

-----

that was so much longer than i intended!!!! got a tad carried away. also mapi didn't tear her meniscus in this because i said so.

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #mapi leon #alexia putellas #ona batlle #aitana bonmati #patri guijarro #claudia pina

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risuola · 7 months

Text

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU — F. READER x GETO SUGURU, who agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend for the Christmas party with your family

Every single year your family tries to peak into your privacy, showering you with judgmental stares and questions about your love life. Why are you still single? You were sick and tired of it, so when your best friend, Suguru, told you that he’ll be staying at dorms during the Christmas, you asked him a favor.

cw: college!au, smut, fluffy, best friends to lovers, idiots in love — 3,1k words

kissmas masterlist

You had enough. Every year during Holidays, all of your family, no matter if it was your mom or the aunt that you had no idea existed up until the official dinner, pried into your business, asking countless questions about your love life. Why are you still single? Isn’t that a shame that such a pretty girl doesn’t have a boyfriend? Aaah, you’re gonna be too old to find a man if you’ll be so picky! All of which, of course, with ‘good intentions’. Totally not because they enjoyed picking at your life.

It escalated to the point that when the celebrative season began, your anxiety reached its peak. You had problems with sleeping, you were distant, you couldn’t focus and it was only a matter of time since you crumble.

“What’s going on, sweets?” Suguru, your best friend, asked. It wasn’t hard for him to notice how your behaviors changed lately, you were sharing a dorm for college and he knew you more than anyone else. For a week he wasn’t bringing up the topic, hoping you’ll tell him yourself but it got to the point that you were completely out of his reach, even though you were sitting right next to him.

“Sugu…” you whined, pulling yourself from your bed and dragging your feet towards his. “I don’t want to go for holidays to my home. They’re gonna ask me those stupid questions why I’m still single and pseudo-politely assault me any given minute for aiming to die alone…”

“Ah, right, your family can be intense,” the boy chuckled softly, putting down the gaming pad and wrapping his arms around your deflated form. “I’ll be staying here this year, so if you sneak out of your dinner, you can always find me in dorms.”

“You’re staying here? All alone?”

“Yeah, it’s better than riding back and forth to the other half of Japan,” he shrugged, smoothing your arm gently as if he’s trying to soothe your nerves along with the delicate touch of his palm. And it worked, Suguru has the incredible ability to make your heart warm. It flutters in your chest every time he’s close to you, and part of it is that you love him secretly for years now but it’s way safer to hide it than to make your relationship with him awkward.

“Maybe you’ll go with me? You could pretend to be my boyfriend,” you muttered against his shoulder. It came out quicker than you could think about it.

“Hmm, you want me to deal with your family?” You could feel his body gently vibrating as he chuckled softly.

“I mean, I know you love the dumplings my grandma makes and also you won’t be alone in here? Please, I can pay you even. My family loves you more than they love me,” you looked up at him.

“You don’t have to pay me, sweets,” he said after a moment. “I can go with you if that’s gonna save you the prying. And also for the dumplings of course.”

“I love you, Sugu,” you hugged him tightly.

I love you. These words falling from your lips were a dream to Geto and as much as he would love you to mean it the way he means it, he knows that you are not exactly thinking of him that way. You’re friends, just that, he always reminds himself, and yet sometimes he hopes, because if everything you feel towards him is just friendship, why would you look so deeply into his eyes from time to time, as if you were trying to find something in his very soul? Why would your lips press so tenderly to his cheek? And now, as he’s stuck with you in your family home, pretending to be your boyfriend, why does it feel so natural to him? Why does it come with such ease, to caress your hands, to kiss your temple and hold you so close to his chest that he can swear his own heart matched the rhythm of yours?

And what Suguru could also swear, is that every food taste much better when you feed it to him. He doesn’t exactly know what was the reason, but it was just a fact in his book. He felt himself melting underneath your touch every time your thumb would swipe against the corner of his mouth because the piece you wanted to give him was just too big and made a mess.

“Aww, aren’t you two just so adorable?” One of your aunts fake-gasped, watching you intensively as if she was suspecting something. From the moment you and Suguru stepped into your family home, everyone was just too attentive. Especially your parents, they knew how close you are with Geto and maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bring him as your boyfriend but you wouldn’t change it for anything. There was no one else you’d want to share the holiday spirit with and you were just happy to have him as your partner, even if only for few days. He was so sweet to you and deep inside you felt your heart breaking from despair that it could never be real.

“I know, right?” You replied, keeping Suguru’s hand in yours, stealing its warmth and you were yet to notice the absentminded shapes you were brushing onto his skin for the time being. “I told you all these years that I’m waiting for the right man, and it paid off to wait so long.”

“I’m honestly surprised, for some time we were all worried about you for staying alone forever. Who would give you a glass of water when you’re old and all by yourself?” The very same words you hear every time there’s any family gathering rang in your head a little louder that evening. It was all pretended, it was all fake. Suguru was your friend, you were still single. You were still lonely.

“Luckily, she doesn’t have to worry about it anymore,” Suguru spoke before you were able to gather the courage to reply. He could easily sense the tension that stiffened your shoulders, he could tell by the way your jaw flexed just slightly that what you were experiencing was making you uneasy. Sometimes you felt like he was able to read your mind but that was impossible. If he could peak inside your thoughts, he would know how special he is to your heart. How you’d give everything to be allowed to love him openly, to call him yours.

“We’re all so happy for you two,” the aunt clapped, like a monkey would in the circus and sometimes you felt like that was exactly what you were surrounded with. Just monkeys that repeat the same sentences over and over again, that routinely copy the same patterns and though the idea left a sour taste in your mouth, you were determined to push though the performance. At that moment, you were far from thinking what to tell your family later, when the show is over. That you broke up? Or maybe you’ll keep them believing that you and your best friend are indeed in love with each other? From your perspective, it wouldn’t be hard, because you are. Oh, you’re so in love, it hurt you to remember that he’s not.

It took few hours of torture, as you called it, before you were officially permitted to leave the gathering and go to your room to rest and sleep before the madness continues in the morning. Relieved that the day is finally over, you took Suguru upstairs and when the doors closed behind you, you exhaled deeply. You felt as if the weight that was sitting heavy on your shoulders for the entire duration of the day was just now dropping.

“Tired?” He asked, taking his hands off your back where he was keeping it on the way up and immediately you felt incomplete without the support of his warm palm on your body. The empty spot now felt cold. “You look quite distressed.”

“Sorry, Sugu,” you mumbled, wiping the corner of your eye. You wanted to cry, to burst out in tears. “I hated that day. Even more than usually.”

“Hey, sweets, what’s going on?” Geto was quick to cup your pretty face and make you look up to him. “Is it my fault?”

“Yeah. It kinda is,” you wept, as his thumbs smoothed the dampened skin underneath your eyes. Suguru couldn’t help but admire the way they sparkled underneath the harsh light of the led lamps in your room, but at the same time, it broke his heart to know it was his fault you were shedding tears. “But you didn’t do nothing wrong.”

“Then what is the reason?”

“I just…” you stopped yourself. You couldn’t tell him, it would mess up the friendship you spent so many years to build. You couldn’t tell him. “It’s just—”

“You can tell me everything, you know that, right?”

He meant it. As Suguru was looking into your eyes, he tried to search for an answer, for any hint that could help him understand what made you so sad. He hated to see you cry, it was what made his throat clench and if it was only possible, he would reach up and give you a star from heavens above, just to see you smile, to see your eyes sparkle so beautifully with happiness that he oh so loved on you. If he could, he would kiss the tears away, take all of your burdens onto his own shoulders. Ah, how much he would love to just kiss you.

“I just… I just wish that it could be real. That we could be real,” you said finally, so quietly it could be a whisper and your lids fell shut, covering the eyes that were too afraid to witness his reaction. Suguru was too shocked to react at first, and it’s the subtlest touch of your fingertips on top of his hands that brought him back to reality. The lack of response, the fear and shame pushed your head lower. “I’m sorry, I—”

What cut your words short was Geto’s lips that landed on yours and made the world stop. The kiss started off slow and gentle, in a way your lips were gently touching it bore the innocence of being the first. You leaned into him, desperate to not let it end, wrapping your arms around his neck as the passion was taking hold. You began to make your ways deeper as the kiss escalated, the tongues danced and swirled together and the breaths grew heavier. Suguru pulled you closer, pushing up against you, savoring the oh so sweet release of emotions that accumulated over the years. It was consuming both of you, for that very moment you didn’t care about anything else in the world, lost in the moment together with lips locked and hearts beating.

“I love you too,” he murmured against your lips, resting his forehead against yours. He was out of breath, already flushed with the blissful euphoria. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Why you never told me?” Your question fell out quieter than you intended to, all the voice got caught in your throat. It was overwhelming, the kiss still lingered over your mouth, the feelings washing over your body like a tidal wave.

“I was scared. I thought you see me as a friend and nothing more,” Suguru confessed.

“I love you for so long already,” you chuckled, pecking his lips again and again. “God, we’re idiots.”

“At least we’re a perfect match.”

“Bet we are,” it made you happy. You could feel all the tension coming off your shoulders. “The holidays aren’t so bad with you around. And I still have a gift for you.”

“You are the only gift I’d love to unwrap,” he joked, lowering his lips to spread few nips along the curve of your neck. “All I want for Christmas is you.”

“You can unwrap me, though I’m not sure how secure is the lock in these doors,” you purred, your lids closing just barely at the feeling of his breath across your skin. You felt him chuckling softly as he swooped you up and carried onto the bed.

“Let’s check.”

The single sized mattress was nearly too small for the two of you, but it turned out there was a lot of convenience in Suguru being above you. In the privacy of your covers, he was quick to take off your holiday sweater and the cute skirt you wore and you got rid of his shirt and pants – all of which you kicked off the bed, too busy with exploring his skin to even consider getting up and folding it neatly. His kisses burned, the traces of his fingers were set alight with lust and desire, you felt like if you wait any longer, you’re gonna explode.

“I dreamt about it for so long,” he murmured against your collarbone, pushing the strap of your bra off your shoulder gently, as if he was silently asking for permission, still scared to rush you into intimacy. You, on the other hand, wished for nothing more than his touch on you, you wanted to be held, to be caressed and kissed, you wanted his body and mind and soul.

“I dreamt of you,” you whispered, arching your back and undoing the bra. “You are everything I want, Suguru.”

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whimpered, lowering his head to caress the delicate skin of your chest. His touch was gentle and yet lined with intensity and passion, the desire he felt for you was palpable and the more you felt him, the more undone you became.

And then, the rest of fabric got lost underneath the sheets as his body settled between your legs. You felt his length running up and down between your folds, the slick covering him to ease his way into you. His name slipped over your tongue once he was fully in and your arms reached around his shoulders to keep him as close as possible. Suguru felt lightheaded, completely drunk in the feeling of you as he dragged his hips back only to thrust them forward again. And again. More and more, and more.

The two of you were lost in the moment, completely and so entirely lost. You were in your own world, your own space and nothing around you mattered. There was only him and you, only this feeling and you wanted nothing else, just him. He made your heartbeat rush, your legs tremble and your breath catch up in your throat as you tried to suppress the sounds by kissing his lips, his shoulders and neck. Suguru was making everything inside you come alive, as if your entire world was made of him and only him. Oh, you were so in love with him.

The cheap lights you had hanging on the wall reflected its lights in Geto’s eyes and you swore you could get lost in the golden hues of it, the cold glow of leds somehow did nothing to the warmth you felt from the boy above you. You allowed your hand to cup his cheek, exploring the ups and downs of his beautiful face, your thumb smoothing over the flushed cheeks and swollen lips. His long, luscious hair were tickling the side of your neck whenever he dived down to kiss your skin.

It was so quiet, so hushed and though you wished to scream his name out loud, you opted for whispers that carried on top of your breath were only for his ears to hear. Each time he moved, the wet sound escaped the covers, along with muffled whimpers and gasped out love confessions and praises.

“I’m so close,” Suguru breathed out, the feeling of your velvety walls tightening around him made him lose his mind, it felt divine and yet he knew he should pull out.

“Me too,” you whimpered against his throat, kissing and nipping on his skin, not at all bothered about the marks you’re gonna leave on him. Your breaths became faster, shallow as you struggled to stay present in the moment. Your mind was long gone in the land of pleasure, the sway of Suguru’s hips rid you completely of any coherence, the intensity of him twitching and flexing inside of you, time after time abusing the sweetest of spots within you. It was all too much and yet too little, you wished for this to never end.

“Let go, sweets, don’t hold it,” he purred near your ear, biting on it just slightly before his lips pressed to the side of your temple and down your face. “Cum for me and I’m gonna pull ou—”

“No, no¸ please,” you pleaded. “I’m on the pill, don’t pull out.”

“You sure?”

The nod of your head was all he needed as he picked up the pace just sweetly enough. He brought you to the edge and pushed you over it in a matter of few breaths, you were becoming undone underneath him, holding tightly onto his muscled shoulders and digging your nails into the skin there. Suguru felt himself lost in the moment, he let the hot feelings wash over him as he continued to thrust into you with yet a little more strength. The soft squeaks of your bed joined the melody of love that you played he could tell the heat in the room rose almost unbearably but that only seemed to stoke the fire within him. A smile crept onto his lips to the sight of your body squirming with pleasure as his fingers roamed along it, exploring and discovering the sensitive spots. And then, his high kicked in.

Geto never felt anything like this, the act of fucking his own hand, hidden in the bathroom he shares with you in the dorms could never compare to what he was experiencing right now. With you. It was hot, it was so overwhelmingly hot he felt that inside his veins now there was lava rushing instead of blood. His breath was coming fast as his body was getting beyond its breaking point. His mind and flesh got consumed with the passion you just shared.

Your back arched, your chest pressed against his own as the second wave of pleasure washed over you. You threw your head back, crying out his name dangerously loud, making him cover your lips with his large palm. It felt so right, so warm, so blissful.

“I love you,” Suguru whispered, dragging his hips back and forth sloppily few more times, riding the highs out slowly and once he took the hand off your lips, you breathed out the same, wrapping yourself around him, savoring the intimacy.

I love you, are the words Geto wished for many years to mean the same thing to you that they mean to him. Now they were and finally, he felt like he can breathe freely.

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unholyhelbig · 6 months

Note

the oversight part 5? i love that series!

Title: The Oversight [Part 5/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7589

Warnings: Blood, guns, general violence, empty threats, angst, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: Listen, I straight up just finished watching 'The Iron Claw' and if you value your ability to hold it together, I suggest not seeing it. But also... go see it because it's phenomenal. Oh, and Happy Holidays!, like with most things, I regret my direction on this.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Softly, you denied the small wooden bowl that was passed person to person, filled with numbers scribbled haplessly on strips of paper. There was a pit of guilt in your stomach for not bringing a white elephant gift- but as the honorary plus one of Darcy Lewis you succumbed to your fate. She’d drawn a middle grade number and sidled up next to you with her third vodka tonic.

You took a swallow of your own cranberry flavored drink, something that masked the sharp taste of alcohol. You were feeling fuzzy, but in the light way that would assure you’d get through the rest of party and the competitive game of gift swapping.

“Thanks for doing this,” Darcy said to you, nudging your shoulder “it was a little too fancy for my liking.”

She had stressed that she needed your presence to get through all the small talk about science. Darcy was an expert engineer but she could only go so far when it came to awkward co-workers murmuring amongst the twinkling Christmas lights and pre-paid meals. She got along well with most, but you could sense her anxiety well.

“Of course, you know I’d never turn down smoked salmon.”

Truthfully, it sounded a lot better than what your own work was planning. It took some quiet background checks and calling babysitting references, but you eventually conceded to a teenage girl that was certified in CPR and didn’t charge interest.

Your own holiday celebration at the Diner had been lackluster and consisted of much more alcohol. This was quiet and subdued, and a welcome break from the usual chaos that surrounded your life. You were more than happy to watch people tear paper from candles and blankets and ornaments.

“How much money do you want to put on Jimmy bringing some sort of magic kit?”

You hadn’t noticed the girl that hugged the side of the bar, waving down the bartender wordlessly. She was drinking something sweet and garnished with orange. She had a beautiful smile and the clearest eyes you had ever seen. Darcy smiled at her with familiarity and it eased you.

“I don’t bet on things I’m going to lose.” Darcy said with finality. “Y/n, this is Monica Rambeau.”

“It’s nice to meet you,”

Her grip was firm, and you squeezed her hand back with the same amount of pressure. Her smile widened at that before the bartender returned with a fresh drink garnished with another twirled orange peel. The two of you separated.

“So, Monica, what do you do?”

Something in science, the answer was obvious if she was at this holiday party. But she humored you all the same, turning her back to the counter and leaning close to you. There was pride in her answer, and it bloomed in her chest.

“I’m a mechanical engineer, specializing in astrophysics and astrobiology.”

“Don’t’ sell yourself short.” Darcy interjected with a watery laugh “She’s the head of our S.W.O.R.D division.”

Darcy had spoken about this before and the name rang familiar. Her company was looking at alternative fuel sources that could supply space exploration. All the while, they focused on vertical growing and bettering the community. From what you understood, this was a big deal. She was a big deal.

“Wow, that’s very impressive Ms. Rambeau”

Your voice was filled with genuine awe, but your conversation was cut short when the number sixteen was called out. Monica sheepishly pulled herself away from the bar and held her strip of paper up before approaching the table filled with wrapped gifts. She went for a medium-sized one adorned in reindeer.

“Oh wow!” She forced a smile, voice sweet like honey “A magic kit!”

The air in your room was stale and fought you as you pulled it into your lungs. You’d, at some point, kicked off your comforter and were splayed out on your sheets in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. Sweat hat soaked through both and the fabric clung to your skin.

On a blind instinct you grabbed at the gun under your nightstand, fastened by nothing more than duct tape. You could feel your heart in your throat and struggled to swallow it down again. You weren’t sure when this became second nature for you, something within the last two months of accompanying Natasha to the gun range for hours a time.

All the same, you held the tip of the weapon to the ground and rounded the corner of your bedroom into the dark hallway. You were unsettled from the dream you’d just had. The memory. Your subconscious had finally connected the woman who stood at Carol’s side. Her familiarity.

Monica Rambeau.

It was true, there was a stark coldness to her when you’d met at a Christmas party just the year before. It was only in passing and there were moments, like at the fair, when Darcy would mention her co-worker.

This changed things. Anxiety spiked haplessly, even as you diligently searched and cleared each room the way you had been taught. Keep your gun down, keep your eyes on the darkest corners of the room, ready to fire your weapon at any point. Especially if it was aimed at Natasha.

There was the slight movement of a shadow to your left and you quickly raised the gun, aiming it directly at the disturbance. Veronica stood on a chair in the kitchen, struggling to fill a glass with warm water, the only temperature that the faucet would allow.

You let out a quiet, mortified sigh before tucking the weapon into the waistband of your shorts. Your daughter blinked with wide eyes and that same guilty feeling flooded you at once, overtaking the anxiety.

“Baby,” You breathed, closing the distance between you and flicking on the overhead lights. You both flinched at their harshness but eventually blinked the shock away. “What are you doing up?”

You didn’t expect an answer, nor did you get one. Instead, you scooped her up under her arms and set her gently on the linoleum. There was water in the fridge, but she always had issues pouring it from the large jug. Ronnie was stubborn and shot you a frown at your intrusion.

“Don’t give me that look, kid.”

Her expression eased and you dumped the water down the drain before refilling the glass with something colder and more refreshing. Ronnie gulped it down eagerly, soaking the collar of her shirt with the liquid. She let out an appeased noise and wiped the rest of the water away from her mouth. She stood on her tip-toes and placed the glass in the sink.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh? Me either.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked tiredly at you, your heart melting at the sight. It was easy to remember the words Natasha had trusted you with on the Ferris Wheel. Veronica would talk when she wanted to, but you had become quite good at reading her expressions and movements. Within the last month, you had stopped the long drives and the specialists. It eased you both.

“How about a sleepover?”

The exhaustion turned into joy and then combined within her look. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you scooped her up. She was getting too big for this, but you didn’t much care. You’d gotten stronger in the last few months and even if you hadn’t, you’d do the same.

With a show of dramatics you tossed her onto the bed and replaced the duvet that you’d flung off. Carefully, as Ronnie’s stare averted, you placed the gun in the drawer next to your bed. The last thing you did was prop the window open, letting out the flat air and letting in the sound of the city.

Ronnie was pulled flush against your chest in a matter of moments, though you had suddenly lost all exhaustion. You listened to the sirens, to the calls of people just ending their nights. If you listened hard enough, you could hear the horns of the boats that settled into the harbor.

“I love you so much.” You whispered into the small of her neck, “One day I’m going to get us out of here.”

Veronica didn’t respond, but the squeeze her little hand gave yours was all the reassurance that you needed.

Clint swallowed down steaming black coffee without blowing on it to cool it down. The nutty scent filled the cab of the car and warmed your nerves. He drank like your daughter did, but with the purpose of waking himself up before the sun. You never did get back to sleep and were wired enough to refuse the cup he offered you this morning.

He’d knocked on your door as the orange sun moved over the horizon. You were to accompany him to the docks to check on business. This somehow seemed less intimidating than the dinner you’d attended with Natasha.

“It’ll be easy. We have a chokehold on the harbor, we just have to check with a few of the vendors to collect their dock rent and call it a day. Everything else is done under the table. People aren’t too happy because at the end of the day, we’re the ones that take money from them. But it’s a necessary evil.”

You nodded and watched as the city went by. It was peaceful, quiet. There had been a single foster home that you stayed in that had a view of the entire skyline. You were too far away to see the bustling people and the everyday chaos that accompanied it.

There were, of course, moments of calm when you would work the early morning shift at the diner. But that would always shatter by the time you made the two minute walk from your apartment to the back door that was choked with the scent of garbage and cheap cigarettes.

“We have some invitations to hand out too. In the glovebox.”

You furrowed your brow and popped it open. His weapon (or his second, or third) sat upon a stack of manilla cards with elegant writing on them that had to be done by hand. You inspected them but didn’t’ dare separate the paper.

“What are these for?”

“Nat throws a party for her benefactors every single year. It’s real fancy, a suit and tie thing. Her renters are invited too and if they have the balls to show up, they always have a good time. She makes sure of it.”

“We’re expected to attend?”

He nodded, “It’s a requirement, really. As Natasha’s right hand. You go where she goes and once your probationary period is over, you’ll be on her like glue. Though, I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.”

You frowned at his statement, his insinuation. Sure, you had gotten close to Natasha, had even grown to like her. She had a way of getting under your skin until it felt like she lived in it. Otherwise, you would have cut your losses long ago and let her slit your throat the first moment she met you.

There was a feeling of devotion that you felt the need to uphold. She had spared your life, after all. You’d spent the last two and a half months with her guiding you, teaching you how to obey her every word. Without fault, you would. Clint knew it, Kate and Yelena knew it. You knew it.

Instead of admitting it, you frowned and slumped further in your seat, struggling to ignore Clint’s own shit-eating expression. By the time he pulled to a stop, it had started to drizzle enough for him to flick his wipers on. The sound of them scraping against the window filled the silence.

You took careful attention to stay quiet and observe. Your gun was strapped carefully to your side and the invitations rested in your side pocket. You didn’t dare get them wet and let the ink run in a soupy mess. It had been years since you’d been out here and part of you was unsteady on the aged and slick wood.

“Sam is a cool guy. His family has hold on a good portion of the harbor. He likes to joke, so don’t pay him any mind.” Clint jabbed you with his elbow. “And loosen up a little bit, would you?”

You glowered at him and rubbed the stiff spot on your ribs but felt your shoulders lower a bit. There was a lot of weight behind this, that had been made clear to you the second you were inducted into this system.

Instead of heading directly down the long stretches of worn dock, Clint took a turn just before the asphalt ended. A small structure that looked less weathered than the rest of your surroundings rested at the lots end. The windows were thick enough to withstand the watery winds.

Clint stilled his large hand shooting out across your chest. It took you a few seconds to clock the shattered glass on the front door. Small smears of crimson pocked the shards that remained. Much like the evening before, you drew your gun on instinct, and Clint did the same.

He didn’t take care to hide your presence. Instead, he took the brunt of his large boot and cracked through the doorframe with the force of one kick. Wood splintered, raining down on linoleum and a desk that was easily from the 70’s.

You could smell the blood before you saw it, nearly sliding on the flooring. You caught yourself before that happened, heart pounding in your ears. “Fuck!”

“Jesus Christ,” Clint mirrored your sentiments.

Whoever had been here was long gone, but they’d left quite the mess. They’d torn through the filing cabinets, leaving legal papers and folders scattered against the desk and the expanse of cabin space.

You tracked the source of the pooling blood with little difficulty. A man- one that you had rightly never seen before- was laying on his back, facing the ceiling. From edge to edge of his throat was a long cut leaking an ugly red color. His stare was frosty, soaked into his sweatshirt.

It was like a car crash, something that you struggled to avert your eyes from until Clint physically grasped your chin and turned your attention to him. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, yes. Good.” You answered cooly, swallowing whatever dryness was in your throat. “Who would do something like this?”

“Carol… one of her lackeys. This is an eye for an eye thing.”

Even if it was an act of revenge, this was extensive. It sent a clear message even if you didn’t’ exactly know all the specifics of the feud. Of course, you’d seen Yelena at work and even that was mild compared to the brutality of this.

The thought of Monica, if it even had been her, completing a task as unfeeling as this filled your veins with ice. You felt your nails dig into your palms, soft and stinging. There was a surge of anger, and sadness that mixed into resolution. Natasha was right to despise the Danver’s family. Any family that treated the world with this much cruelty.

Natasha was in the gym on the second floor. Large windows overlooked the backyard, and a prolonged view of the harbor. There were blue mats adorning the floor, and a few wracks meant for weightlifting.

You had never seen this part of the house before. Usually the weather permitted sparring outside, but the late summer rain had made that impossible. Sheets of water obscured your usual view, though, it wasn’t exactly trained on the windows.

Natasha had her back facing you, her breathing timed evenly with each punch she threw at an 80-pound bag filled with sand. She wore tight-fitting shorts and a sports bra that left little to the imagination. Not that you had imagined her in that situation before.

Her muscles tightened and relaxed with each movement. They were scarred in a deep orchid pink, long ago healed. At one point, she was lashed. You recognized the damage done by a leather belt and shivered at the memory of it.

Natasha was fit, she was coated in a layer of sweat that dripped across her strength. You had to be clear minded for this and the state of her wasn’t making it easy on you. Her knuckles were wrapped, and she would grunt with each thrust of her fist. For just a moment, you wished you were under her mercy instead of the punching bag.

That broke when she panted against the bag, stopping its swinging with a firm grasp on either side. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”

Natasha had focused her green eyes on you through the reflection of the window. Of course, you hadn’t intended to gawk as long as you had. But you were leaning against the doorframe of the gym, practically drooling. You had forgotten yourself and you wouldn’t’ put it past Natasha to notice.

She turned to you, a wolfish smile on her face. “Take your jacket off. Holster too.”

You struggled to ignore the haughty expression on her face when you did exactly what she said without question, almost too eagerly, depositing them on the edge of the mat. You pushed your shoes off too, knowing not to track mud on any of Natasha’s carpets.

Her eyebrow lifted at the action. She’d moved closer during your actions, and you’d nearly run into her before noticing. Her presence was intoxicating. All-consuming.

“You’re here to tell me something,” She proclaimed “you’ve got that adorable look on your face. It’s good to know someone in this house still fears me.”

She was joking and it tugged at your heart to send that mood down to the ground before lighting it on fire. You’d expected her to be in poorer spirits after Clint had called her and let her know what had happened at the harbor. Instead, she responded in her same calculated coolness that she regarded you with now.

There was nothing about her demeanor that eased you, and suddenly, it felt like you were being scolded for a decision you had made. Even more so when she grasped your chin and forced you to look at her.

“That woman with Carol from the other night. I know her. Briefly.”

“Briefly?”

“As in, I met her at a Christmas party a few years back and… left with her.”

Natasha’s grip tightened against your chin, her thumb digging into your jaw. There was too much alcohol flowing that night and after making stinted conversation about how to disconnect two metal rings smoothly, the two of you went back to her apartment.

Before the sun came up, you left. There was shame in it, and the walk back to your own apartment punctuated with Darcy’s scolding was enough to make you forget the encounter altogether. It was one night- a fun night, but singular all the same.

Natasha let out a small noise of disapproval that sunk straight to your core. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does she remember you?”

“It… didn’t seem like it.”

Her eyes narrowed, nose a short distance from your own. You could feel the hotness of her breath against your throat. How you had disappointed her. That much was clear from the lack of tenderness in her grasp. She eventually released you, trailing her fingers down the expanse of your neck.

She played with the small charm of your necklace, nothing more than a dainty gold chain with the tiniest whisper of a diamond in the center. Your skin prickled at the sensation, breath audibly catching as she worked her fingers over the length of chain.

“Well, I suppose this could be a problem. Especially with Carols violent behavior lately.”

Natasha sighed dramatically, and within an instant her nimble hand had tightened around your throat. She walked you the three steps backwards to the nearest wall. The small of your back landed with a heady thud and you used the last of your available breath to grunt out in protest.

Of course, you had seen her angry before, but it was never directed at you. Not like this. She wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure you, not really. But the shock of the movement had made you think she would end you all the same.

“You should have come to me right away, pet.” Her grasp tightened; words growled. “And here I thought you were such a good, obedient, girl.”

Her words filled you with an immense shame for letting her down. Over the past few months, it had become impossible to be anything but perfect for Natasha Romanoff. The fact that you hadn’t connected the dots sooner was disillusioning.

The grip against your throat loosened ever so slightly as she leaned closer, her lips nearly ghosting your own. You could barely taste her, a strangled whimper escaping you. She pressed her body close. It was warm and overwhelming.

“I expect you to handle this on your own if it becomes a problem, darling.”

Before you could close the distance, Natasha pulled away from you entirely. It left you panting against the wall, wanting for something more. She knew exactly what she was doing. You craved her more than anything, and she had brought you so close to something you both wanted before denying it altogether.

Natasha sauntered, actually sauntered, across the gym and grabbed a towel from a nearby bench. She regarded you with flushed cheeks, her eyebrow raised as if nothing had just happened and you supposed that nothing did.

“Clint has told you about the party?” It took a few seconds before you found your voice, after her gentle urgings “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am. He did.”

She reached for a water bottle, exchanging it’s spot on the bench for the towel. She takes three hungry swallows, and you watched the way her throat moved in response to the water. Each of her movements seemed deliberate, nearly calculated to get a reaction out of you.

“Perfect. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about what to wear. I’ll lay a dress out in your room.”

“My room?” Your words were squeaked.

There was a short hum in response as she gulped down another helping of water before setting it down entirely. That anger had ebbed away from her almost entirely. The fire that had been within her eyes excited you, and despite yourself, so did her demands.

“You’re so skittish. Come here. We need to work on your lead hook.”

Natasha didn’t offer to wrap your knuckles, nor did you ask. Instead, you leaned into the bag, letting the course material cut into your knuckles with a welcoming sting.

There was great thought put into any Romanoff party that was thrown. Lights were wrapped around the banister, and caterers walked through the teems of people with unwavering silver trays of finger food that cost more than your old salary for a number of months.

Back storm doors were opened to the pool, lit up and buzzing with an equal amount of people. Natasha had hired a piano player who haplessly pressed down on keys and drew a small crowd with each song that would crescendo into the dining room.

The overlapping theme was a dark forest green that reminded you much of the paint color slathered on Natasha’s bedroom walls. Something you hadn’t seen in months, but remembered so fondly. It was clear that she wanted to present a united force, something strong and unwavering in their power.

Clint was dawned with a finely pressed suit and a deep green tie that matched the shade of Kate’s dress to the very hue. She wore something silk and modest, reaching down to her heeled feet but leaving her muscular arms entirely bare.

Yelena stunned in a dress of her own, a crushed sage velvet that had a dipping neckline and sleeves that met at her wrist. By the confidence of her stride, you had no trouble believing she had chosen the outfit with the thought of how many weapons she could conceal. Her devilish smile only confirmed your thoughts.

As of you, Natasha had picked out something a little more revealing. Much like the maroon number she wore to dinner the other night, the dress she chose for you hugged every inch of your body. Its fern color complimented your complexion, bringing out the redness of your cheeks.

A slit moved from the base of your dress to the middle of your thigh. A halter neckline clung to your breasts, nearly pushing them up and out. It had been years, high school prom, since you’d worn something even close to this. You felt your shoulders flush red when you descended the stairs and struggled to blend in.

Natasha was sidled up by the mantel in deep conversation with someone who was a stranger to you. Most of the people here were. Though, their hands gave way to their high-ranking positions in the city. Few had callouses or oil stains.

She was in a three-piece suit that was color matched to your own outfit down to the shade. There were gold accents on her jewelry and the neckline of her waistcoat dipped down the tanned expanse of her skin.

Kate let out a low whistle in response to your entrance as she offered you a hand at the base of the stairs. You’d almost missed the last one due to your shameless gawking at the woman of the party. “Quite the looker, y/n. Natasha chose this?”

“Naturally,”

She chuckled softly, a small sound “Nothing if not calculating. Do you know how to socialize at one of these things?”

“Mm, as the caterer, yes.”

This seemed to amuse her more than you’d like. Katherine Elizabeth Bishop was a name that you had reluctantly googled early on in your employment. She had grown up wealthy and well acquainted with gatherings such as these. Of course, that was before her mother wound up incarcerated for white-collar crimes. The skills seemed to benefit her here, however.

Kate did everything with practiced fluidity that you envied. She plucked two champagne glasses from a nearby tray. “Only one of these, nurse it like your life depends on it. That way they won’t keep trying to shove alcohol into your hands. This is work, after all.”

You followed her lead and took a small sip of the bubbling, sour liquid. It was more expensive than anything you had ever had before and far-from-palatable. It wouldn’t be had to keep the drinking at bay.

“The man that Yelena is schmoozing over there is Billy Russo. Jigsaw. He’s in charge of the lower quarter. The Romanoff’s and the Russo’s have a cordial relationship and Yelena is much more feared than him.”

“Why do they call him jigsaw?” You whispered.

“He tends to chop people into pieces until they’re impossible to put back together. And that’s if you find all the missing parts. He has a very nice summer home up in the Poconos, so don’t get on his bad side.”

Suddenly the drink in your hand didn’t look too bad, but you held it right where it was. Clint was laughing by the window, obviously pushing his charm on a woman that you had never clocked before. She was running her fingers up his tie, tightening it before letting her hands drop.

“Barton is with Ophelia Sarkissian, the Viper. She is known for her cunning leadership. She’s got a huge organization in Hell’s Kitchen. Something called Hydra. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though because Natasha is keeping a tight eye on it.”

“Mm, cut one head off, two more grow back.”

“What?”

“Greek mythology. Hydra is a big water snake that has nine heads. Each time one was cut off two more would grow back in its place. It was practically unkillable until Hercules came through the marshes with his nephew. Hercules would slice each head off while Iolaus cauterized the wounds so the heads couldn’t grow back.”

Kate blinked at you with shock in her eyes. You simply gave her a shrug in return. People constantly underestimated you and your intelligence. Besides, when you were a child, you had a morbid fascination with Greek mythology as a whole.

She stared beyond your shoulder, lilting her head to the side.

“I didn’t realize that Natasha’s new plaything was so knowledgeable.”

Ice ran thorough your veins. Your eyes darted to the window where Clint and Mrs. Sarkissian had once been. It was vacant now, and an expertly painted hand drummed past your arm. They were sharp and sent chills down your spine as she rounded you, sidling up next to Kate.

“Trust fund kid, leave us.”

Kate drew in a sharp breath, straightening her shoulders. She nearly opened her mouth to stay something but thought better of it before shooting you a look of apology and vanishing into the crowd in the dining room.

Ophelia was intoxicating in her presence. She towered over you and wore snakeskin heels to widen the distance. She wore a tight-fitted black dress that had cuts on either side, exposing her toned stomach to the world. What she wanted with you wasn’t clear, but her hand toyed coyly with the neckline of your own dress, adjusting it.

“Word travels fast in this city. I just couldn’t wait to see it myself. Hearing that Natasha Romanoff of all people expelled her Winter soldier for a… Summer Sentient. All seasons are temporary, I suppose.”

“Expelled?”

The word had slipped from your tongue, and you quickly thought better of it when she settled her splayed hand against your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. It was cold, unfeeling. Unlike the fire that Natasha had instilled in you earlier.

There was a demonic smile that spread across her face, both of her eyebrows lifting as she let out an exaggerated grasp. It was clear that this woman, this leader, couldn’t keep her hands to herself in any manner, including the internal affairs that she dangled in front of you like a prize.

“Oh, did Natty not tell you? She had Bucky under her thumb for years, nearly a decade. A few months back, he was just gone. There’s a lot of gossip in these streets and not much of it is plausible, but I’d put money on this one.”

Again, her fingers danced over your collarbone. “Miss Romanoff is not known for her mercy, but after beating the Winter Soldier within an inch of his life, she let him go. He ran like any sensible man would, of course. But he left a trail of blood behind him. I’m quite sure he’s somewhere out west struggling to move in an upper body brace.”

She laughed cruelly at the look on your face. There was no use in masking it. You knew that Bucky had been absent, but through your own turmoil you had forgotten all about it. Your stomach twisted in unease. What if Natasha grew tired of you? It was inevitable, really. You’ only prolonged your fate by bending to her whim.

“Ophelia,” Natasha’s voice drew your attention first, and then the heat of her touch on the small of your back. “Have you tried the lamb?”

The woman faltered, gritting her teeth “I was about to.”

“Oh, you must.” Yelena seemed to materialize out of nowhere, looping her arm around Madame Hydra herself. She pulled with intent. “I haven’t seen you since Moscow. We need to catch up!”

“I was never in Moscow.”

“That’s a shame. I can paint you a brilliant picture.”

Their voices faded away into the rest of the party. It was then that you noticed Clint by the door, his stance stiffened. Kate glowered next to him, not following her own rule and downing the rest of her drink before plucking another off the passing tray.

You stepped out of Natasha’s grasp, not wanting to be anywhere near her at the moment. Her perfume was intoxicating. Its floral scent made you dizzy and took away your ability to think straight. It was part of the reason you had been lulled this far into complicity. It scared you that you were willing to do anything for her.

“y/n,” she urged.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s stare hardened. She gripped the back of your neck in a movement that would otherwise be familiar, sweet, even. However, the way she led you down the hallway made your stomach drop in a feeling of doom. “Not here, Malen'kiy krolik.”

Natasha’s office was strictly off limits, but you found yourself in the warmth of it in a matter of moments. There was no wall that wasn’t adorned with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a large cherrywood desk was at its head. It was kept neat like the rest of the house.

There was a PHD on the wall, and an associates under that. Each bore Natasha’s name. She closed the doors behind her. Without regarding you, she went to a shelf in the back of the room, pouring herself a glass of bourbon, much like the one she was drinking when you stirred in her bed.

She swallowed it back, before pouring another. This time she sipped it. Your own back was against the far wall, heart pounding mercilessly through you. Yelling at Natasha had a lot more weight behind it than you anticipated.

“You’re going to do the same to me.” You eventually whispered.

Her body stiffened, muscles tightening and then releasing before she turned to you, her eyes reddened. “What?”

“I’ve been entirely blind to my purpose here. I’ve never… I’ve never understood why you chose me. Why not go for someone who knows what they were doing? Who knew how to protect you and care for you? You had that with Bucky.”

Her eyes hardened. “Don’t you ever mention that name in this house.”

“It’s the truth, Natasha! You could have let me die, just like that, and you didn’t. Instead, you took me in and trained me, and for what? Just to throw me into the harbor with cement blocks chained to my ankles.”

“That is an entirely outdated practice and frankly, it’s insulting.” Her words were soul deep, but they barely broke your skin. “I would never do that.”

“A bullet through the head, then?”

“No.”

You were gaining traction enough to pull yourself from the wall and take heady steps towards her. If you didn’t do it now, you would never. Part of you was certain that you’d never see the outside of this room again. That she’d snap and do exactly what you were imploring her to.

“He served you for years and within a singular night you nearly kill him.” Your breath shook, you were so close to her now. “What is stopping you from doing the exact same to me?”

“No, no” She reached up and grasped both sides of your face. There were tears against your cheeks, something you hadn’t realized dripped from your chin. “Malyshka, no don’t cry.”

Everything had come to a head; the months of non-stop training, the pressure of keeping this side of your life away from your daughter, away from Darcy. A true friend that you had been lying to. And now, knowing that it could be all for nothing. It was easy to dispose of someone like you.

There was no reason to show weakness in front of the woman who was training you not to feel anything at all. Above everything, you found yourself ashamed. She still held your face within her grasp.

“He hurt you.” Her jaw clenched and unclenched, there was a fuzzy vulnerability in her green stare. “I can show mercy, y/n. But I’ve learned, not when it comes to you. Even before all of… this, there was something that I saw within you. Something that made what I did to Bucky all the more worth it.”

You breathed in a watery sniffing sound that was replaced by nothing but a whimper. Natasha softened even more, letting her shoulders fall. She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He was pulling back for months, and you were the final straw. I had never seen someone so resilient, someone who didn’t beg for their life but recounted it. In a moment of weakness, I let you go. I thought that training you, that making you mine, would absolve my sins but it’s only deepened them. My feelings for you have only deepened.”

Her forehead was pressed against yours, her ministrations, and God help you, her apologies were startling. Her lips were so close to yours; you could nearly taste the liquor on her breath “Natasha,”

Suddenly, she was all you could feel. Her hand was against you back, pulling you into her body to fit directly on hers. There was such a strong guiding power to her. Your shock was muffled by her mouth on yours, your whine swallowed in moments.

You melted into her, kissing back with enough fever to leave you both breathless. There were stars dancing in your vision, you lungs burning eventually pulling you both apart. She panted twice before pecking your lips once more, you nearly chased after her.

“Fuck,” she growled “you… are absolutely delicious.”

Your cheeks suddenly heated up and you hid your face in the small of her neck, letting out a small groan in embarrassment. You felt Natasha’s laugh rumble through her.

“No need to be timid, pet. There will be plenty of time for that later.” She raked her nails up your back, “Right now, I have a snake to behead.”

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#Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha romanov #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Marvel #Marvel Au #Mafia au #Kate Bishop #Yelena Belova #Clint Barton #bucky barnes

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gamergirl929 · 5 months

Text

Going Under the Knife (Emily Sonnett x Kelley O'Hara x Reader)

You knew surgery was a big deal, which is why you'd did your best to hide it from your teammates, particularly Emily Sonnett and Kelley O'Hara, two women who were currently dating and two women you were desperately in love with. However, a single phone call draws them to the hospital, and to your bedside, where everything changes.

Your heart clenched roughly in your chest, your anxiety spiking as the IV punctured your skin, resting within a vein that would be used to lull you to sleep so the surgery could begin.

You knew your teammates would be livid when they realized you’d hidden your injury from them, but if there was one thing you didn’t like, it was to be fussed over.

You’d assured them time and time again that the slight limp you developed after a rough tackle during the World Cup was nothing to worry about, that the grimace on your face when you walked was nothing, and that the groan when you pulled your cleat off was in relief and not excruciating pain.

You stare at the white ceiling above you, glancing at the empty seat resting at your bedside.

You knew you should’ve told someone, anyone, that you were about to face a four-hour surgery, but again, you didn’t want to be fretted over.

Despite that, you knew you should’ve told THEM specifically, knowing that once they found out you were in the hospital and hadn’t told them, they would be far from happy.

Kelley O’Hara and Emily Sonnett had been dating for well over a year and considering this had been the first actual holiday they had together, you didn’t want to intrude on that.

Your heart again clenches in your chest, the surgery the furthest thing from your mind when you think about the couple.

It didn’t take long for feelings to develop between you and the couple, the light caresses, and the flirty retorts making you fall harder and harder for the pair.

No matter how hard you fell, you knew that they would never be interested in you, how could they when they already had each other?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of a clearing throat, your eyes widening when you see your doctor standing before you, the man wearing blue scrubs.

“Are you ready Ms. Y/L/N?” He asks and you inhale deeply, your eyes fluttering shut as you nod reluctantly.

“I’m ready.”

************************************************************************

Alex Morgan rolled her eyes playfully as Servando chased her daughter around the living room, Charlie giggling wildly as he caught her, swinging her up into the air and kissing her face over and over again.

Alex’s brows furrow when her phone, which was resting on the counter begins to ring, the woman making her way across the room to pick it up.

She hums at the sight of the unknown number stretched across the screen, a number starting with, what she knew, was the area code for Seattle, Washington.

She clears her throat before answering, ducking into the kitchen to escape the noisy living room.

“Hello?” She asks.

“Is this Alex Morgan?” The woman on the other end of the phone clearing her throat.

“Ye-Yes, this is her.”

“Hello Ms. Morgan, this is UV Medical Center, calling in regards to a patient of ours, Y/N...”

***********************************************************************

Considering you spent your early years on the Orlando Pride alongside Alex Morgan, she almost immediately took you under her wing, the woman becoming not only a mentor to you, but something akin to an older sister.

It was soon after that, that she became your emergency contact, the woman the only one you trusted to handle an emergency.

Thankfully for her, she had yet to receive a call concerning your health, unfortunately, this was the day everything changed.

The second she’d hung up with the receptionist she immediately called the first woman who came to mind, her longtime friend and teammate Kelley O’Hara, who she knew was in Seattle with Emily Sonnett.

“Hey Al, what’s--”

“Did you know Y/N was in the hospital?” Alex cuts her off, noting the hitch in Kelley’s breath.

“N-N-no, what happened?!” She asks anxiously, her voice quivering, her distress alerting the blonde who’d just made her way back from the bedroom and into the living room.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, Kelley waving a dismissive hand in her direction, the defender listening intently to the woman on the other end of the phone.

Without warning, Kelley leaps to her feet before rushing towards the door, stuffing her feet in her shoes before grabbing her jacket, the anchor holding her into place being Emily Sonnett, the woman’s hands resting on her back.

“Kel, what’s wrong?” She asks nervously, the woman turning towards her, her brown orbs wide.

“Y/N’s in the hospital, we have to go.”

And with that Emily too begins rushing to grab her things, the pair slamming the apartment door shut behind them as they rush to UV Medical Center, and to your side.

************************************************************************

Despite the fact that UV Medical Center was MASSIVE it didn’t take them long at all to find where you were, Kelley rattling off what Alex had relayed to her on the car ride to the hospital.

You’d gone under the knife for ankle surgery over 5 hours ago, the extent of the injury you’d entered surgery for becoming much more prominent the deeper the doctor’s dug beneath your skin, which eventually resulted in a call to your emergency contact, that being, Alex Morgan.

“While we’re here, we’re getting added to the Emergency Contact list.” Kelley had mumbled as they rushed through the hospital towards the waiting area outside of the surgery suite you were currently located in.

Seemingly, the receptionist knew who they were, considering the second they spoke their names, she’d waved someone over, that someone leading them out of the waiting room towards a nearby elevator.

“The surgery went on longer than we expected, there was more damage to the ankle than we anticipated.” He explains as the elevator doors slide shut.

“Is she awake?” Emily asks, the man shaking his head.

“We had to increase the amount of anesthesia we used, so we’re having a hard time getting her to wake up.”

Kelley turns to Emily nervously; the nervousness Kelley is feeling conveyed right back at her from Emily’s hazel orbs.

“Do you know how long it’ll take for her to wake up?” Kelley asks, her fingers tangling with Emily’s, the blonde giving her hand a squeeze.

“We don’t know.”

The second the elevator door opens the man is leading them down the hall and into a nearby room, that turns out to be a secluded waiting room, offering the pair privacy.

“We’ll inform you immediately when she wakes up and leaves the recovery room.” He smiles softly, leaving the pair in the empty room, a TV hanging in the corner playing softly as the pair sit side by side on a small couch.

"Do you think she’ll be okay?” Emily whispers, resting her head on Kelley’s shoulder, the woman taking her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“She will be.” She whispers, unwilling to put her anxiety and worriedness into words, choosing to remain hopeful for the sake of the blonde beside her.

************************************************************************

As the time ticked away, the anxiety and fear within both women began to grow, and after an hour had passed, that anxiety was near teeming over, that was until the door clicked open softly, the man from earlier giving them a small smile.

“Ms. Y/L/N is in her room; I’ll take you to her.” He smiles, the pair jumping to their feet and rushing down the hall behind him.

“She may be in and out, she’ll DEFINITELY be groggy thanks to her pain medication, but she’ll be back to herself in no time.”

It doesn’t take long for the pair to be ushered into a room, the two immediately zeroing in on your ankle, which hangs well above you, your ankle wrapped tightly in bandages.

Kelley glances at Emily, seeing her own concern written on her face, the two slowly making their way hand in hand to your bedside.

A soft whine draws their attention to your face, your face which is currently scrunched up as you tiredly survey your surroundings before your eyes again flutter shut.

Silently, the doctor makes his way out of the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him, the three of you now left in complete silence.

You hum, turning towards the two, your eyes remaining shut before you peek between your eyelids.

“They must’ve really given me the good shit if I’m hallucinating.” Your tired eyes darting from Kelley to Emily and back.

“I’ll call and tell you guys later.” You whisper tiredly, your eyes fluttering back shut.

“You don’t have to tell us anything Y/N, we’re right here.” Emily says, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Alex called us.” Kelley says, shaking her head when you start to sit up.

“Well, I better call her back then.” You grumble, glancing around the room, your eyes still shut as you search for your phone.

“Sit still Y/N.” Kelley whispers, placing her hand on your shoulder to hold you in place.

“But I have to call Alex, she called me.” You mumble, completely unaware that the woman had indeed NOT called you.

“No Y/N, she called us.” Emily says, unable to bite back a smile when you turn to her in confusion.

“She called me, she didn’t call you, you’re not real.” You slur, the older defender on the opposite side of the bed cupping your cheek.

“But we are real.”

You shake your head.

“No, Kelley and Emily are on holiday together, because they love each other, not me, they wouldn’t come visit me.”

Kelley and Emily share a glance, Emily tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What do you mean Y/N?” She asks softly and you growl.

“Just what I said, they don’t love me, not like I love them.”

The pair stiffen, hearts stalling in their chests as the stare at one another in not only shock, but elation.

“What do--

Kelley’s cut off by a loud snore, the pair turning their attention back to you, realizing you’re again fast asleep.

Kelley gently caresses your cheek as Emily runs her fingers through your hair.

“Looks like we have a lot to talk about when you wake up, huh?” She whispers, ducking down to kiss your temple, Emily following suit moments later.

The blonde reaches across the bed, covering Kelley’s hand with her own, the pair sharing soft smiles before turning back to your sleeping form.

It didn’t take a genius to see that Kelley O’Hara and Emily Sonnett were absolutely smitten with Y/N Y/L/N, the moment they met.

The pair had been fearful when it came to their feelings for you, fearful it may end their relationship, but when they came to the realization that they both felt the same way about you, both had attempted to pursue you, something you were unfortunately not aware of.

However, with the sudden realization that you too felt the same, they knew everything was about to change.

“Do you think she meant it?” Emily whispers and Kelley smiles, glancing across the room at your sleeping form.

“I think she did, high mouths speak sober thoughts. I guess we’ll just have to ask her when she wakes up.” Kelley smiles, turning abruptly towards Emily when she sniffles.

“What if she didn’t mean it?” She asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Kelley cups her cheeks, resting for forehead against the younger woman’s before she presses a kiss to her lips.

“We’ll just cross that bridge if we come to it, okay?” She whispers, and Emily nods, the blonde unable to bite back a smile when Kelley kisses the tip of her nose.

“Okay.”

************************************************************************

It’s well into the afternoon that you begin to stir, pulling Kelley and Emily’s attention away from one another and onto you, the two leaning forwards in their seats, which they’d taken residence in beside your bed.

Your eyes crack open, your teeth clenching in pain, the overhead lights making your head throb.

Despite that, you keep them open, Y/E/C orbs darting from Kelley, to Emily and back.

“Wh-What are you guys doing here?” You ask, your voice rough and raw.

Kelley grabs a nearby cup and holds in to your lips, letting you take a greedy sip before she speaks.

“Alex called us.”

Your brows furrow.

“Alex?”

Kelley nods.

“The hospital called her, they found more damage to your ankle then they first thought, they wanted permission to continue the surgery.”

You hum, glancing sadly at your ankle, which is still hanging high off the bed.

“Looks like you’re going to have a lot of down time.” Emily smiles sadly, caressing the back of your hand, causing your cheeks to flush.

“Yeahhhh...” You sigh, leaning back, your eyes fluttering shut as your head rests against the pillow behind you.

“Why didn’t you tell us Y/N?” Kelley asks and you sigh.

“I didn’t want you guys to worry, I knew you planned on spending the holidays together, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Emily scoffs.

“You could NEVER ruin our holiday, honestly, we were going to come see you anyway.”

Kelley’s hand rests on top of yours and Emily’s.

“We really wanted you to be a part of it.”

Your eyes double in size, your heart skipping a beat in your chest as you glance down at your joined hands, your cheeks flushing.

“You had some things to say when we got here...” Kelley starts, and your brows furrow.

“I-I did?” You stammer and she nods.

“You did.”

You swallow roughly, your heart racing wildly in your chest, the thought you may have confessed your feelings making your palms go clammy.

“Wh-Wh-What did I say?” You stutter, eyeing your blankets nervously.

“Well, you didn’t think we were real.” Emily smiles and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“What else did I do?” You ask Emily and Kelley sharing a glance, which goes unnoticed by you.

Kelley clears her throat.

“You said we didn’t love you.” She whispers, your head snapping upwards, your eyes locking with her dark brown orbs.

“Wh-What...?” You stutter, sliding your hand out from beneath there’s only for Kelley to catch your hand before you can rest it in your lap.

“You said we didn’t love you, like you loved us.”

You mouth falls open, your eyes darting between the two women as your cheeks redden, the tips of your ears beginning to burn as your gaze falls to your lap, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“I-I-I'm so sorry... Y-You weren’t supposed to find out... I-I-I... I mean...” You mumble, unable to look at the two women.

Unbeknownst to you, Kelley glances at Emily, who nods, the woman cupping your cheek before turning you towards her, your eyes glassy as they meet her brown orbs.

“I don’t know where you got that idea.” She whispers, your eyes widening dramatically when Emily glances at Kelley.

“What idea?” You ask, your voice quivering, Kelley tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“The idea that we don’t love you like we love each other.”

Your heart stalls in your chest, your eyes darting from brown orbs, to hazel orbs and back, your breath hitching when Kelley’s brown orbs drop to your lips, her tongue running along her lips before she begins leaning in.

Your breath catches in your throat, the thought that this may still be a hallucination still prominent in your mind, that is until Kelley’s lips meet yours for the first time, her hands gently cupping your cheeks.

All thoughts of this being a hallucination leave your mind as the woman kisses you softly, your bottom lip trapped between hers as the two of you kiss, parting with much reluctance.

Kelley’s forehead rests against yours the woman smiling softly.

Moments later she’s pulling away, her forehead being replaced by Emily’s her hazel orbs locking with yours as she leans in, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips too, meet yours.

You cup her cheek boldly, your fingers tangling in her hair as you kiss, the woman sighing against your lips.

Again, you part, the blonde pulling back, only to turn your head, kissing your temple softly, the older of the pair resting her head against your own as well.

“So, what do you think now?” Kelley whispers and you chuckle.

“I’m thinking I REALLY hope I’m not still hallucinating.”

Kelley chuckles as Emily giggles, their laughter contagious despite the pain you’re currently feeling.

"How can we convince you that this is real?” Kelley asks and you grin.

“I mean, a few more kisses might help.” You shrug, unable to bite back a grin.

Kelley and Emily share a glance, the two grinning before Kelley leans back in.

“I think that can be arranged.”

#uswnt x reader #kelley o'hara x emily sonnett x reader #so'hara x reader #kelley o'hara x reader #emily sonnett x reader #id love to hear what you think!#ive never written for so'hara so be gentle. XD

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jostyriggslover96 · 5 months

Text

Holiday Traditions

Summary: Kira (OC) and Jack Hughes are hosting their first winter holiday together. Pressure is already on, but to top it off, it's the first time their families are meeting. Insert a winter storm that has other plans, what does this mean for the holidays? (Kira's thoughts are in italics). Part of the HEART FIRST Series, checkout Summer Rituals, Someone Unexpected, and Best Thing in My Life if you haven't already!

Note: Thank you for all the love this Jack Series has gotten! The plan was to have this out in December, but health issues had other plans. So here it is, I hope you enjoy! If anyone wants to be tagged in future Jack pieces, just let me know! Special thanks to @hockeyboysimagines @heavenlyhischier @grandprixbarzal for all their support with this fic!

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, holiday celebrations, sweet sweet fluff.

Word Count: 3.7k

Holiday Traditions

I was a bundle of nerves as I paced the perimeter of the living room in Jack’s apartment. Why was I a bundle of nerves? With exams over, holiday shopping done, Jack’s apartment decorated to the nines, and delicious Christmas and Hanukkah goodies flooding the kitchen counter…everything was in place. There would be no last minute shopping or last minute baking or even last minute gift wrapping. But still, I was more nervous than ever.

“Babe, it’s going to be fine,” Jack’s voice broke me from my trance. Glancing over my shoulder I noticed him standing at the edge of the hall, watching me. Watching me pace, shake my hands, and fiddle with my rings.

“How can you say that?” I asked, my voice shaking as I turned to face him fully. His expression was warm, comforting. He didn’t have a worry in the world right now. In fact…he was smiling.

“Well they’re our families, not total monsters,” he chuckled as he crossed the room and took a seat on the couch, legs spreading as he got comfortable.

“But this is the first time they’re meeting, it’s a big deal!” I exclaimed.

“They’ve met before,” Jack clarified.

“FaceTime doesn’t count,” I scoffed, arms crossing as I rolled my eyes. Jack let out a deep chuckle again. Sometimes I wish I was that laid back.

“Come here,” Jack commented as he patted the empty cushion beside him. Shuffling over to the couch and plopping down on the cushion, Jack didn’t give me much time to get comfortable as he pulled me into his lap. Shifting around slightly as his arms wrapped around my waist, I curled an arm under his shoulder before resting my head there too. “Are you nervous to see my family?”

Lifting my head, I gazed into his blue eyes, which were now drowning in concern. “No Jacky, I love your family! We had so much fun at thanksgiving, and Ellen has very good baby pictures of you,” I giggled. Jack let out a groan as he shook his head, clearly remembering his mom pulling out a photo album from her bag at thanksgiving to show his girlfriend.

“I’m going to have to check her bags when she gets here,” he mumbled distantly, causing me to let out another giggle.

“You were so cute Jacky! It’s not like my dad didn’t show you our family album when you came for my birthday,” I reminded him with a stern look.

“I could get used to two thanksgivings,” he proclaimed with a content sigh. We both sat in silence for a moment. Comfortable in each other’s arms. “Now tell me pretty girl, what are you nervous about?”

I had almost forgotten about the tension I was feeling minutes earlier, Jack always knew how to soothe me. “I just want everyone to click, it would be nice to have holidays together,” I sighed as I stared at my hands which were fiddling with the silver ring on my middle finger.

“Kira, our families already love each other. Our dad’s have plans to fish in the summer and our mom’s text all the time,” he reminds me, tilting my head back so I can see his reassuring smile.

“You’re right Jacky,” I nod, a smile slowly forming on my lips.

“Remind me why they’re all flying in together?” Jack questioned.

“It was cheaper for my family to fly in and spend the night with your parents than to come directly to New Jersey,” I explained as I rested my head on his shoulder once more.

“Oh right, and they land at 7:15?”

“Yeah, they should be boarding…now,” I commented as I checked the clock on my phone. Dropping my phone behind me, I nuzzled closer to Jack, cherishing his warmth.

“This will be a great holiday, and hey, we get to teach your family a little bit about Hanukkah too,” Jack whispered before pressing his lips gently to the top of my head. Just as Jack pulled you closer in his arms, giving my waist a squeeze, the perfect silence was broken between the two of us by a *ping* on Jack’s phone signaling that he just got a text.

I felt him reach into the pocket of his sweats for his phone, a moment passed before he let out a “shit!”.

“What?” I asked absentmindedly, eyes fluttering closed as I enjoyed his embrace.

“Text from my mom ‘we have a problem, a snow storm came in fast. Flights are being grounded’” he read to me.

My eyes flew open as I leaned back in his arms, “Well shit,” I exclaimed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack and I spent what felt like hours sitting in silence once we understood the gravity of the situation. We would be alone for Christmas. That message took a while to sink in for me. There hasn’t been a single Christmas in my life that I have been away from my family. I know that would change as I got older but this year was unexpected. We would be alone for Christmas.

It didn’t really sink in until a FaceTime call with my family who were cozy and settled in at the Hughes’ house. Of course my parents were disappointed about the circumstances but they seemed to be enjoying their time with Ellen and Jim. Even my brother was out playing hockey with Luke despite the treacherous snow storm. Hearing my dad discuss his blossoming friendship with Jim made my heart swell with joy. Dad friendships are the cutest.

As I hung up the call with my family, the joy that filled my heart dissipated as my heart sunk once more. I’m so happy that my family will enjoy their Christmas with the Hughes’ family and that everyone seems to be meshing well, but I wanted to be there so badly.

There would be no Christmas baking or decorating the tree or driving around to see the lights. There wouldn’t be any overly competitive card games or sneaking cookies while my mom isn’t looking, or Christmas movies by the fire. There wouldn’t be any traditions this year. Nothing felt lonelier than that.

~~~~~~~~

Wallowing in my despair, I buried myself further into Jack’s sheets as I stared blankly at the wall. My hope for the season of joy was fading quickly. Silence filled the room and my heart. Just as I was really about to spiral into the abyss of the holiday blues, the bedroom door flung open.

“Kira, I have a surprise for you in the kitchen,” Jack’s melodious voice filled my ears. Somebody still had the holiday spirit.

“No thank you,” I responded solemnly as I pulled the comforter up to my chin. With my back turned to Jack, I could still hear him shuffling around the room. He wasn’t exactly known for being quiet. Suddenly I felt the bed dip as Jack shifted his weight onto the mattress before a hand rested on my shoulder.

“Babe, I know this isn’t the Christmas you wanted and you’re probably devastated not having your parents here. I think you’ll really like this surprise though,” Jack whispered soothingly as he gently rubbed my back.

“I’ve never missed a Christmas with them Jack,” I whispered as hot tears stung my cheeks. Sniffling as I used the comforter to dry my eyes.

“I know my love, it’s absolutely awful and I’m not trying to erase how you’re feeling. I remember my first Christmas without my parents, I cried into my pillow on Christmas Eve.”

Glancing over my shoulder I looked at Jack, trying to gauge if he was being honest. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve never told anyone that. I just want you to know that you’re not alone,” he commented as he took the opportunity to pull me into his arms.

“Thank you Jacky, truly,” I smiled as I wrapped my arms around him, enjoying as his warmth enveloped me.

“I really think this surprise might help,” his breath danced across my skin as his lips pressed close to my ear.

“Gosh, you and this surprise,” I groaned dramatically. Secretly curious to see what he had planned. Throwing my arms up in mockery, I rolled out of the bed and slipped on my slippers. Jack chuckled while I acted like a total drama queen as my mom would say.

Shuffling out of the room, I let Jack lead me down the hall into the kitchen. Gasping as we turned the corner, I noticed all the baking ingredients were out on the counter paired with a rolling pin and cookie cutters.

“Are we making cookies?” I turned to Jack in shock as he smiled back at me. He simply nodded to confirm my suspicions before another voice rang through the room.

“You bet we are, can’t skip out on traditions,” I heard my mom’s voice. Glancing around the room, knowing she couldn’t be here, my eyes landed on the laptop on the counter. Making my way to the computer, I was overjoyed to see my mother’s smiling face on the screen. “I know we can’t be there sweetheart, but we can still be together.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I glanced back at Jack who was leaning against the wall, taking everything in. “You did all this?”

“He sure did, such a caring young man,” my dad chimed in from the laptop. Jack’s cheeks turned a flush shade of pink at the compliment from my dad.

Reaching out for Jack, I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug, signaling my gratitude. “Thank you Jacky,” I whispered in his ear.

“Anything for you,” he pressed his lips to my temple as we stood in each other's arms for a moment.

“Could we get started? I’m hungry,” I heard Luke groan from the computer.

“Lucas!” Ellen scoffed at her youngest son. Pulling back from Jack I saw the whole scene unfolding. I couldn’t help but giggle as the youngest Hughes’ boy was being scolded.

“Well are you going to stand there hugging each other or can we start?” My brother's voice questioned. I rolled my eyes as I pulled away from Jack, walking back to the counter to scold my brother.

“Don’t be jealous that you don’t have anyone to snuggle up with right now,” I gently teased. My brother's eyes widened as everyone’s attention turned to him.

“Whatever,” he scoffed as everyone let out a quiet snicker.

“Okay, keep it together kids.” My mom declared as she corralled all of us. “Now let’s get started by everyone washing their hands,” she instructed as Jack and I moved to the sink. I couldn’t control my beaming smile as we all got to work on sugar cookie dough. This is what I wanted. This is what I loved about the season. Time with my family, and my new family too.

~~~~~~~~

Everything went surprisingly smoothly as we all followed my mother’s careful instructions; although we did have a few burnt cookies. “It’s okay Jack, I always burn a few too,” my mom offered reassuringly.

It didn’t feel that weird spending time with them over FaceTime, Jack and I didn’t miss a thing. We got to witness Luke and my brother tossing flour at each other much to Ellen’s dismay. We saw our fathers look perplexed as my mom explained how the mixer would knead the cookie dough for us. My mom even corrected Jack’s flour measuring technique as we got our dough together. “Jack, stop eating the dough, we won’t have enough for all these shapes,” I warned as I smacked his hand away from the mixing bowl.

Jack never struck me as a baker, but he definitely held his own with me. We both seemed to enjoy the quality time together and with our families.

The quality time didn’t end there, once the cookies were out of the oven and were cooling Jim announced that we would be lighting another candle on the menorah. Jack snuck a cookie before we got settled, “for quality assurance reasons.” I rolled my eyes as we settled on the couch before getting started. Jack had already explained some of his family’s Hanukkah traditions to me but getting to participate in them was extra special.

As we all gathered around our Menorahs, Ellen took the time to share the story of Hanukkah with our family. Jack shared how the lighting of the Menorah works and why there were only a certain number of candles on the Menorah, as we weren’t on the 8th day of Hanukkah yet. My heart warmed as Jack, Ellen, Luke, and Jim said the blessing as we lit our candles.

“There, like this,” Jack whispered to me as his hand wrapped around mine to guide me in lighting the candles. Jack’s simple reassurance calmed any remaining nerves that I was feeling. In fact, I felt closer to Jack in a different way, learning more about him and what’s important to his family. Our connection feels more…intimate now. All the sorrow I felt earlier in the day has completely faded.

Once the menorah was lit, Ellen spoke a bit about what the meal they would traditionally share and how gifts were a part of the Hanukkah tradition. “Jack don’t worry, we’ll bring your gifts next time we’re in town,” Ellen reassured her son.

Ellen even brought out her dreidel to show us, as I was inspecting it while she held it up to the camera, Jack whispered in my ear, “at least you don’t have to play dreidel with Quinn, he gets way too competitive.” Despite Jack trying to be quiet, Ellen still laughed, confirming that the oldest Hughes’ boy did get very invested in winning games of dreidel with his brothers.

The whole experience of sharing Hanukkah with Jack’s family was beautiful, which I kept sharing with Ellen as I thanked her for including us while we decorated cookies. I could tell by Jack’s reactions that this was a really special experience for him too. While everyone was distracted, Ellen told me that Jack hasn’t ever brought someone over for Hanukkah. That alone made my feelings for Jack grow even more, if it were possible. Knowing that he cares about me, and hearing that validation for other people was everything. He is everything. Maybe it’s the season but I’m feeling stronger for Jack than ever…maybe even like I might be in love with him.

~~~~~~~~~

Later on as we were winding down from our sugar highs, my dad announced we would be doing our traditional tree topping ‘ceremony’.

“You have a whole ceremony?” Luke questioned as he was shoving another cookie in his mouth while my dad gathered the star for the tree.

“We use the term ceremony loosely, you’ll see,” I explained as Jack gathered the star that we had purposely left off the tree for this moment with my family.

Once everyone was ready my dad explained that our tradition was to discuss what brought us joy or hope in the holiday season before putting the star on the tree and ‘officially’ lighting it.

“Oh, like sharing what you’re thankful for at Thanksgiving,” Jack exclaimed.

“Exactly,” my dad smiled. We all went around sharing one by one something that brought us joy or hope during the holidays. It felt like it always did, just with more people to share it with. That brings me joy, I smiled to myself.

“Kira, it’s your turn to share,” my dad prompted.

“Okay,” I paused, noticing that everyone’s attention was on me. Slightly intimidating. “Well, to be honest, I was pretty upset this afternoon when I heard that you wouldn’t be coming. But,” I took a moment to breathe and gather my thoughts. My heart was overflowing with gratitude at this moment. Jack pulled me a little closer as he held onto the star, before giving my waist a reassuring squeeze. “All of you have brought me joy in this season. Especially carrying on our traditions in any way we can and sharing them with each other. I just feel so lucky to be a part of all your traditions.”

My breath caught in my throat as I felt a lump forming. Biting my lip to try to keep my composure, I almost lost it when Ellen said, “we are so happy to have you as part of our family Kira.”

“Me too,” I choked out before we moved on to someone else sharing their holiday joy. It was true, this was my holiday joy, spending this day together. That’s just a testament to how much Jack cares, noticing how upset I was and coming up with such a special way for our families to spend the holidays together. Jack, and his family, are truly something special.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After saying goodbye to our families, Jack and I sat cuddled on the couch as a random Christmas movie played in the background. Both of us were enjoying hot chocolate and each other, neither really focused on the movie.

“Thank you for today,” I said as I sipped my hot chocolate.

“You’re welcome babe,” Jack replied as he stared off at the TV.

“No seriously, thank you,” I leaned forward to set my hot chocolate down before gently turning his face so he was focused on me. “Thank you for taking care of me and for being so thoughtful in putting something like this together. Jacky, this meant so much to me.”

“Kira, it killed me to see you upset today. I care about you so much and I would do anything to make you happy,” Jack’s eyes locked on mine and in that moment, I knew. I knew this man would care for me the way I needed. I knew without a doubt that Jack was different from any of the men before him. I knew what he meant to me.

“Jacky, I know this is maybe too early for this,” I let out a shaky breath. Its now or never. “But I’m falling in love with you Jack,” I said before holding my breath, unsure of how he would react.

Jack paused for a moment, deep in thought. “I know I’m young and have a lot of life left to live, but I know I have never felt this way before. Kira, I know I’m falling in love with you. I just feel lucky everyday that I get to call you mine.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. Jack Hughes is falling in love with me! “Can I kiss you now?” I questioned.

“You know I’ll never say no to that,” Jack smirked as I practically pounced on him. Straddling his lap, my hands ghosted over his cheeks as I leaned in to capture his lips with my own. His soft lips floated over mine in perfect unison as all the feelings we’ve been holding in came out. Our lips engaged in a delicate dance as Jack’s hands burned on my skin as they ran down my back and cupped my butt. We were lost in each other, no sense of the world around us for what felt like forever, but in reality was probably a few minutes.

Pulling back for air, we both sent each other looks that conveyed everything we were feeling. I, for one, have never felt so loved. “You know what might be fun?” I pecked Jack’s lips while posing my question.

“What?” He chuckled at my giddy demeanor.

“Starting a tradition of our own for Christmas,” I suggested. “Something fun!”

“What about something adventurous?” Jack encouraged me. I nodded my head in agreement.

“Maybe something we wouldn’t normally do.”

“What about….sex on the balcony?” Jack proposed while sending a suggestive smirk my way.

“Seriously? It’s freezing,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him.

“I’m kidding,” he let out a laugh at my unimpressed response.

“Sure, you’re kidding. I’m not freezing my ass on the balcony for you,” my eyes narrowed as I sent a skeptical look his way.

“I am kidding, I swear,” he quickly stopped giggling. Clearing his throat and adjusting me in his lap, as if he is getting serious. “What about going to the beach? I know it’s cold but it would be a nice walk.”

“Oh I love that idea Jacky!” I said in awe, his brain could flip from sex to something sweet like that in a second. He was truly something else. “Ooh!” I gasped in excitement. “Now you might not be into this idea but just hear me out.”

“Go on,” he urged me, now sending me a skeptical look. Unsure of what I was going to suggest.

“What if we collected seashells and painted a few? We could create, like a jar and add to it every year,” I suggested hesitantly. I doubt Jack would be into painting seashells with me but it would be such a special memory.

“Sure, I think that’s a great idea,” he responded, squeezing my hips softly.

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed. “That would be a really special memory.” I let out a squeal of excitement before jumping off his lap and starting to create plans for our adventure tomorrow out loud.

“You know, you’ve set the bar for holidays very high Mr Hughes,” I commented as I paused my planning for a moment.

“Well I guess I better start planning for Valentine’s Day now,” Jack smirked from the couch.

“Just so you know, I really love chocolate and champagne,” I quipped.

“Just so you know, I’m a big fan of the color red…and lace,” Jack winked, his swagger sending shocks through my body.

“Well, I will keep that in mind,” I replied as my smile turned into that of a Cheshire Cat. I have just the outfit that will drive Jack wild. Valentine’s Day would surely be one for the books.

To think how quickly this day changed, how quickly it went from sorrow to joy. How quickly we went from no traditions to new traditions together. How we went from dating to falling in love. Really how quickly we went from strangers to more. Meeting Jack Hughes this summer changed my life in the best way. Now here we are, falling in love and starting new traditions together. My hope for the future is that these traditions and our love continues to grow.

#jack hughes #my writing #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey #hockey #nj devils #new jersey devils

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thesamoanqueen · 7 months

Text

Unholy

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut, angst, mental disorders, a bit of Stockholm syndrome.

A/N: It was born by chance, starting from a dirty prompt, passing through the hypercritical mental disorders of an OC who I don't know if will have another ff, with a healthy dose of angst, sins, smut for @alyyaanna and @harmshake

She heard a car and then another. It had become the routine since her dad had made those deals in the big city and his factory had started to finance the county election campaign. None of his business partners ever stopped by at their house, there were few voters there, but they were there. They were always there, day and night, on working days and on holidays, "to support him" dad said, Y/N knew why instead. They kept a close eye on him, they trusted no one, even her, that's why even when her dad wasn't around there was always one of them.

The car had arrived, the other had left, but she still hadn't heard from anyone. Must have been the youngest, he never spoke and when he did it, was almost worse. He made her anxious like almost everything, but if she knew he was there maybe she could do it, at least he was not… him.

Just thinking about him made her shake her head, trying to physically push away memories that were already making her eyes and something else sting. She didn't have to think about him. She left the clothes she was taking care of, hoping to see the now familiar blonde locks circling their property, but nothing. Maybe he was already inside.

- There’s something wrong? – a hoarse voice inquired from behind her and Y/N clung to the window with a yelp, throat suddenly dry and heart racing.

Why he was there? He came by a few times a month and it hadn't happened in a while, he had bigger issues than her dad, more powerful people to deal with directly in the big city and usually he never came without a specific reason, they usually warned when he was coming. Everything had to be perfect for him, in order, ready, just knowing he would be there made the air electric, heavy and when his big expensive suv finally took up the entire driveway, Y/N still crumbled asking herself if everything had been done.

- N-no, I heard the door... I wanted to know who was... - she spluttered quickly, with a faint voice, gaze unable to stay fixed on him, hands passing from the edge of the window to her horrible dress.

Her anxiety was already punching her and she felt like floor beneath her was shaking, trying to swallow her up and rip the air from her lungs. It wasn't going well, there was nothing ready for his arrival, house was a disaster, she had no idea what dad had done that time to make him come, what she had to be sorry for and now Roman was there, in front of her, who hadn't even had time to make herself presentable, decent.

- Were you expecting someone else – was that a question? An insinuation? A complaint, a reproach? She didn't know it, but she moved her head, saying no almost to the point of hurting herself, eyes still lowered.

-No, no, I didn't know you were coming...- she tried to explain, feeling overwhelmed by his presence, by the anxiety of having that brown eyes on her once again.

He always looked at her as if he knew where to dig, where to press to bring Y/N to her knees and shatter. Roman stared everyone with arrogance, pity at times, everything about him suggested that he didn't breathe the same air as anyone else, his attitude, his aura, the way he spoke, those eyes, those two brown pools, Y/N didn't know how it was possible but they were capable of such pressure that they could bend anyone and she had never been a strong person. With him less than with anyone else.

- I'm here sweetheart – he urged her, words like velvet as he advanced, blocking her where she was, without mercy.

She saw his shoes, yet another pair she had never seen, entering her vision and one of his fingers lift her chin, with an impossible delicacy for a man of that size, pushing her to raise it, high, so high, to look him straight in the face. The smell of him, that dark tattoo that stood out on his arm, dark beard, dark shirt painted on his huge shoulders, everything about him gave her shivers, shivers that she shouldn't have felt, that brought tears to her eyes and broke her breath.

From the height that separated them Roman stared at her for a long moment, stroking her full cheek with his thumb without speaking, forcing her to acknowledge his presence, that no one could run away from him, not even for an moment, not even to take a breath and try to keep emotions at bay. Y/N already knew it, she had tried to do it, staying away from her dad's business, barricading herself behind that silence, in household chores, among people even if she couldn't stand being in company, never as with him had she prayed to being able to disappear and not be found. And every single time Roman had trampled on her clumsy, desperate attempts, planting those eyes on her, holding her where he wanted, picking up piece after piece to shatter Y/N again as he wanted.

- Someone told me that you are spending a lot of time outside, you go to church almost every day. Your father is convinced it will help with elections... I wonder if it's not for another reason – he said, examining every inch of her face, giving her the attention she always tried to hide from.

It almost seemed like he was thinking out loud, like it was a thought like any other, but something inside her immediately clicked, like a switch being flipped.

- I would never do that! No! – she swore, finding strength to deny that allusion with chest threatening to explode and hands clinging to the window.

Roman moved his eyes on hers, staring again, dangerous, menacing.

- … I would never talk about family business with anyone…- she promised again, trying to have a firmer voice, to prove him that she wasn't that kind of woman and failing anyway.

She knew limits, she didn't go around chatting with anyone and she would never do it even if someone asked her to. Not about those business, not about what her dad did with Roman and his family. Never. She would never have done that. He had to believe her, she couldn't bear the idea that he didn't think she was loyal to… him.

- What about me? Did you tell the pastor about me?

That question caught her off guard, like a shot fired at an unaware animal. With no mercy.

He was talking about business… he had come because he didn't want problems… he wasn't there for her, right?

She gasped for any sign in his expression, praying to find it, to avoid that conversation, but nothing and a pang gripped her chest, hands trembling, face burning. She tried to move her eyes somewhere else uncomfortably, pressing herself against the window, while her mind brought those moments back to the surface. They had been the most beautiful moments she had ever had, the most beautiful she would ever have, but just thinking about them filled her eyes with tears. It had been too much, it was still too much, she couldn't handle the pressure, everyone said it, she wasn't able to bear emotions and Roman was too much for anyone, she was hopeless. Like wax in his hands, Y/N felt him lift her round face again, grip firm on her, gaze still locked.

- I asked you a question. I pretend answers when I ask you something – his voice was always so firm, imperative, dominant.

- I d-didn't… never… I-

- Though you was a good girl… taking care of your family, your dumb-ass father, accepting us in your house, but they said a good girl doesn't do those things and you did'em with me. More than once – he was pushing her over the edge, even though he knew what she had inside, he saw it, but he wouldn't stop, he didn't stop and Y/N knew she should have at least tried to run away and instead there she was.

She couldn't run away, she wasn't able to with him. His presence, Roman, was stronger than her anxiety problems and fears, stronger than any block common sense and her hypercritical mind had ever imposed. It was a pointless fight and Y/N had already fallen months ago when he had invaded her space for the first time and taken everything. Over and over again, yes. Everywhere, whenever, not caring who was around or not, breaking down any limits and inhibitions she had and then leaving her to pick up pieces with a caress and his own smell on her.

In those moments the walls she had built around herself all her life had fallen, opening doors she didn't even know had, making her want things that no, a good girl shouldn't have and that later made her feel like she had to clean her soul. And she had tried, really, seeking comfort and still failing, because she couldn't regret having been that kind of woman if she had been that kind of woman for him.

Remembering made her tremble and it was of no help not being able to blush, there was nothing in her that didn't betray the torment of that moment, feelings that took control again and made her a toy in his hands. She didn't even feel tears slide down her face until Roman wiped it away with his thumb, then passed it over her mouth to let her taste them.

- Did you tell him our secret? How did you take care of me too? – he inquired, placing a kiss on her red eyes and Y/N moved her head, slowly, slipping into the trap without looking back, silencing any teaching received.

She knew that it was wrong, that she really shouldn't have done certain things and it would be like that with anyone else. She would have locked herself in her own room, barricaded in the bathroom, sobbing until she was sick, mind full of thoughts that she shouldn't have had, but not with him. His temptation was too strong, hands so soft around her face, still on those round hips that she hated and he seemed to like.

- I swear… Roman please… - she begged, as if God was him, looking with heart in her throat and like a God who doesn't answer, his eyes kept to dig into her, without giving relief, tearing a sob from her when even his hands threatened to leave - I swear, I did nothing, believe me, I did nothing, ain't that kind of woman-

She fell to her knees, begging for forgiveness from him and not for what he might do to her family, to those people, destroyed by the weight of knowing that he was all that really mattered in her miserable life, more than herself, more than her conscience or soul.

Trembling at the idea that he might walk out of there and look at her with the same pity with which he looked at everyone else, the one with which everyone looked at her, begging to know peace, until his hand caressed her head with affection.

- Sshh breathe, it's okay… I'll not allow anyone to know but I need you to prove me you want it too – his condescending tone, gaze soft again, were all that mattered and enchanted she nodded, torturing with fingers the edge of his trainer to keep him from move away.

- Yes sir

Something in him seemed to light up with those two words and Y/N hid the joy of having made him satisfied, eager to give him more, everything, as she had never dared with anyone else before.

- Lets wash away those sins huh? – she heard him proposing, gently pushing her closer, stroking her messy hair and her hands moved without having to think too much.

With trembling fingers she slipped under his shirt, loosening the thin lace, looking at him in hope of receiving a nod, a reassurance, but she already knew that she wouldn't come, not at that moment at least. She felt a weight in her throat, heavy breathing and rigid body, while she, uncertain, lowered them along his muscular thigs and then freeing him. The sight of his half-hard member pushed her to swallow and squeeze her legs together, panties getting wet just at the idea of perhaps being able to welcome him inside her.

In silence, her eyes wandered from the piece of meat in front of her to Roman’s face, who with a patience unknown to her, was observing without moving, his full lips curved in a grimace that Y/N didn't know if it was of satisfaction or pity. Doubt made her hands reach out again, taking him in her palm and marveling as the first time at how heavy and warm he felt. She moved, remembering what he had taught her, rubbing up and down a few times, before placing it against her lips and taking a tentative taste. Only then she feel Roman tighten his grip on her hair, pull her closer with more force, and she opened her mouth, swallowing a good part of him.

- That's it… - he approved and Y/N bobbed her head, feeling him get more and more hard, her mouth more hot as she tried.

Y/N began to run her tongue around, first along the length and then over his head, feeling the pungent taste knead her throat and soften her tense body. Breathing in through her nose, she reached up to massage his balls, watching in awe as his brow furrowed in pleasure, tongue sliding across those lips she wanted to kiss more than anything. With more and more conviction, she traced the outline of raised veins, stroking the skin where it was softest, fingers running through the curls, shyly trying to touch more, to find the courage to do what she wanted. Without realizing it she lost herself in that sensation, in the heat he was giving her, feeling his body slide inside her even if not where she wanted most, Y/N moved her hips, pressing against what she could, seeking a relief that didn't was coming.

Roman's hoarse laugh at her movements brought her back to where they were without mercy and instinctively she tried to step away, ending up feeling only his fingers tightening in her hair, blocking and forcing her to recline the head.

- You like me right? Don't run away… not even try… stay and take it – he growled menacingly, letting go a moan of indecent pleasure, as he pushed himself down her throat.

She gagged but Roman flicked his tongue, a sharp reminder, which instantly set her straight, forcing Y/N to relax her throat and take him all. With red eyes, she watched him place a hand on the window behind them for support and even though anyone could see them from there, even though her center was begging to take that punishment, throbbing around nothing, Y/N kept to indulge him, to please him, even sucking.

- This pretty face deserves to be fucked… yes, keep going, mmh

Every growl, every obscene word and gesture from him should have made Y/N run away, yet she couldn't and wouldn't. Obedient, she began to follow the movement of his hips which were now pushing into her throat, causing the slimy mixture of her saliva and his juices to drip down her neck and lips. Y/N squeezed her legs, stifling the needy moans of her body, the discomfort of her panties, fighting the temptation to slide a hand between her thighs for relief. Refusing to lose that contact with him, she sought support on his legs even though she was now pressed between the wall and window, swallowing moans and tears, putting up Roman's increasingly unsteady run. Each time he seemed to slip deeper and deeper into her throat, soul, erasing every thought to reduce her to an empty shell that existed only to welcome him. She didn't even realize that she was shaking, that she had reached her climax undone, with nothing but his presence until she felt him tighten his grip again, head down, staring at her.

- Swallow – he ordered seriously, just before cumming inside her throat.

She felt all of his body heat flowing into her, salty, thick, and she closed her eyes, accepting it. In the grip of that trance she waited for Roman to finish emptying himself before moving to clean him devotedly with her tongue, prolonging a contact that she knew would end in a few moments.

In the silence of the room, his hand leaving the window and then her hair, to tidy up the misplaced shirt was like a countdown and fighting anxiety, Y/N tried the impossible, hesitantly stretching out her fingers to touch him again, to keep him with her, but stopped mid-air.

- You're smarter than your father… stay home tomorrow - she heard him warn from above his position, as he tidied his clothes and, uncertain, she too got back on her feet, returning to grab the window - you heard me? – he asked again, this time with more force, pushing her to nod.

She didn't know if it was true, but she wasn't so sure that that order was due to the too many walks she had done in that period. She had a bad feeling or maybe it was just the melancholy taking control of her again, because the countdown was over, the confession was over and he was already leaving the room again like he always did.

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goldengalore · 2 years

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Never Alone

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants to meet Y/N’s family, but she is hesitant to introduce him to them and he can’t figure out why. When he discovers the reason, he’s hurt that she felt the need to hide it from him. This makes Harry question Y/N’s feelings for him, while she thinks he’s doubting her anxiety issues.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: anxiety, toxic family, invalidation of mental health issues, angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut

A/N: Listened to Matilda and Renegade by Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift a ton while writing this. Also, to anyone reading this who has ever felt invalidated about their mental health issues, I see you and I hope you know you are never ever alone ❤️

***

Harry and Y/N hadn’t been dating for very long when he introduced her to his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma.

He knew that meeting them in person for the first time would be stressful for Y/N because of her social anxiety as well as her obsession with making an excellent impression on every single person in his life. So, he cleverly began easing her into it by having her pop in briefly during his usual FaceTime calls with Anne and Gemma.

It worked because when he asked her to come home with him for Christmas, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it though. Between her anxiety and his excitement, they were both a ball of jitters on the ten-hour flight from LA to London.

Harry’s family fell in love with Y/N. Once she conquered her initial timidness, she fit in perfectly with them. This didn’t come as a surprise to him at all, but Y/N was completely blown away by the love and warmth that his family showered her with. She was even brought to tears from it.

After a joyous holiday with his family, Harry found himself imagining what meeting Y/N’s family would be like. To him, that was the next logical step in their relationship, and he was eagerly anticipating it. So, when they’re a whole year into their relationship and she still hasn’t introduced him to her family or expressed any intention of doing so, he can’t help but wonder what might be holding her back.

She even had the opportunity to do so when she recently visited her family for a few days. She could have taken him with her. He even offered to tag along, but she refused, claiming that her mother had come down with some nasty stomach bug, so it wouldn’t be the best time.

He can’t lie. Her refusal hurt. Although he tries not to make a big deal out of it, it eats at him over the next couple weeks, so one day, he just decides to bring it up.

For most people, it’s a lazy Sunday—the perfect opportunity to sleep in and not get out of bed until noon. Not for Harry and Y/N though. No, the two creative souls got up bright and early to use this time to write and draw. Harry sits on one couch with his guitar in his lap and his songwriting notebook next to him along with his phone, which is recording everything he plays. On the other couch is Y/N, her sketchbook perched up against her bent legs, her pencil gripped between her skillful fingers as she works on a drawing.

Harry has been staring at her for some time now while mindlessly strumming his guitar. She’s too immersed in her task to sense his gaze on her.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” she responds without looking up from her sketchbook.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?”

He pauses the recording on his phone before asking, “Why don’t you want me to meet your family?”

The question pulls her attention away from her drawing to his face. The hand holding her pencil is frozen on the paper.

“I told you,” she says softly. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. I’m just... waiting for the right time.”

He cocks a brow. “The right time? Will there ever be a right time? We’ve been together for a year.” He really doesn’t want to sound pushy or demanding, but he also just wants her to know how he feels. “You and my mum are constantly sending each other cat videos. You and Gemma have inside jokes that I’m not even a part of. Meanwhile, I find myself wondering if your family even knows who I am.”

She gives him a small, slightly amused smirk. “H, they know who you are. Trust me.”

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, looking down at his guitar. Sure, they may know him as “Harry Styles the singer” or “Harry Styles the actor,” but that’s not what matters to him. He just wants them to know him as Y/N’s boyfriend, that’s all.

“They know that we’re in a relationship,” she confirms.

He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Okay... And? How do they feel about that? Do they ask about me? Do they even want to meet me?”

She averts her gaze, her pencil moving across the page again. “They ask about you every time I see them.”

“Then what’s holding you back?” he inquires gently.

Her response is so delayed that he wonders if he’s even going to get one. “I’ll talk to them,” she says after a minute. “We’ll arrange a time for you and me to go see them together.”

His eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. If you really want to meet them, I’ll try to make it happen.”

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He didn’t expect her to concede so quickly. “Thank you, lovie,” he says once the words finally come to him.

She just gives him a brief smile and returns to her drawing, making a few more pencil strokes before asking, “Wanna see what I drew?”

“Always.”

She tries to bite back an excited grin as she turns her sketchbook around to show him. He shifts the guitar in his lap and leans forward to take a look. He instantly recognizes himself in the sketch. It’s him sitting as he is now, on the couch with his guitar. Every detail of his facial features is intricately depicted from the focused furrow of his brow to the shape of his nose to the stubble on his jaw.

He stares at it in awe. “That looks amazing.”

“Thanks!”

He tears his gaze away from the sketch and looks at her. “You were drawing me this whole time? I thought you were brainstorming ideas for your next piece.”

“I was, but you just looked so cute sitting there with your guitar. I mean, you were practically begging to be drawn.” She shoots him a flirtatious grin.

“Mhm. Right.” He shakes his head at her, smiling. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course.” She carefully rips the page out of her book and hands it over to him.

“Another one for the collection,” he states happily, referring to his growing collection of sketches that she’s drawn of him over the past year. In the beginning, she used to hide them from him. Then one day, he stumbled upon her sketchbook sitting on the dining table, opened up to a page containing a flawless illustration of his Vogue magazine cover, and he was astounded. Y/N’s whole face flushed red when she found him staring at it, but he was quick to reassure her that he liked it and asked if he could keep it.

“I don’t mind, you know. That you like drawing me,” he told her that day. “It’s a compliment, if anything, and it’s no different than me writing songs about you.”

Her face brightened at his revelation. “You write songs about me?”

“All the time.”

Ever since that conversation, she no longer hesitates to show him these drawings and he makes sure to keep each one in a safe place.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been saving them all,” she says now. “You really haven’t thrown a single one away?”

“I could never.”

***

A whole week passes by, and it’s like their conversation about arranging a time to meet Y/N’s family never even happened because she doesn’t bring it up again. Harry starts to wonder if she only said that to appease him for a while and stop him from asking. That annoys him. It would be one thing to tell him that she doesn’t want him to meet her family; it’s another to make false promises just to shut him up.

He wishes he could drop it. But he can’t. Especially now that he is almost certain that she’s hiding something from him.

She has a meeting today with the owner of an esteemed art gallery in LA, who offered her the opportunity to hold her first solo art exhibition. She has spent the last couple months preparing for the exhibition, which is less than two weeks away. Her best friend and business partner, Rosie, will be accompanying her to the meeting. Rosie shows up at Harry’s house around 10:30 that morning.

“Y/N’s upstairs, still getting ready,” he tells her after inviting her in. “Should be down soon though.”

“I’m surprised I’m ready before her for once. That’s quite the accomplishment for me.”

“Yeah, I, um—” He releases a sheepish laugh, touching his fingers to his lips. “I may have made her a bit late getting out of bed this morning.”

Rosie opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. He raises his brows at her expectantly, but she waves a dismissive hand and says, “Oh, I was just going to ask what you two were up to, but then I answered my own question.”

A coy grin tugs at the corners of his lips, as the memories of his sensual morning with Y/N play back in his mind.

He and Rosie take a seat in the living room. He offers her something to eat or drink while they wait, but she politely declines. That’s when the thought occurs to him. If there is anyone who knows Y/N better than him, it would be her best friend, who has known her for the majority of her adult life. Surely, if Y/N is hiding something from him, Rosie could be the key to helping him figure out what and why.

“Hey, this might be a random question, but have you ever met Y/N’s family?” he asks.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“What are they like?”

Her hazel eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you ask?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Y/N and I have been together for a year and she still hasn’t introduced me to her family?”

Rosie hesitates. She glances over her shoulder at the stairs before answering quietly, “Look, let’s just say... Her family isn’t very supportive of her.”

His heart sinks. “Shit. Really?”

She nods. “They’re like the type of people who think mental health problems aren’t real problems or that tough love can fix everything, including anxiety.”

He winces.

“Yeah…”

“Well, that explains a lot,” he says, referring not only to Y/N’s reluctance to introduce him to her family but also her emotional reaction to his family accepting her with open arms. “Why didn’t she just tell me that? I would’ve understood.”

“You know how Y/N is. She keeps a lot to herself, and she doesn’t even do it on purpose most of the time.”

“I know, but...” He shrugs. “I just thought we’d reached that stage in our relationship where we could tell each other anything. At least that’s how I feel when I’m with her.”

She had so many chances to tell him the truth about her family. Even if she didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of it, all she had to do was tell him that they’re not nice people for him to drop the topic altogether. He feels guilty now for bringing up her family so much, but she never gave him any indication that they were bad people. Even when she went to visit them recently, it didn’t seem like she was dreading it. So, how was Harry supposed to know? How can he possibly know anything about her if she refuses to open up to him?

They hear her footsteps rapidly descending the stairs now.

“I’m ready!” she shouts.

Her outfit for the meeting is sleek and professional—a teal blouse loosely tucked into a pair of slim, high-waisted black trousers. Harry helped her pick it out this morning when she was struggling to decide between a few different options.

“How late are we?” she asks breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.

Rosie checks her phone. “Not that late. We can still get there with five minutes to spare.”

As Rosie heads to the door, Y/N walks over to Harry to kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later,” she says.

He squeezes her hand. “Best of luck with the meeting. Remember to breathe.”

“I’ll try!”

And then she’s off.

***

Sometimes, Y/N can’t tell if someone is actually behaving differently around her or if her anxiety is causing her to see things that aren’t there. There have been instances where she thought someone was acting off around her and became convinced that they were upset with her only to find out that they were just having a bad day and it had nothing to do with her at all.

She wonders if this might be the case with Harry. He has been acting strange the past few days. The shift in behaviour is subtle. A kiss that ends a moment too soon, a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, a laugh that feels just a little bit forced. Most people wouldn’t take notice. But the thing about anxiety is that it forces you to notice everything. It’s as if the brain is in a constant state of hypervigilance, scanning its environment for the slightest sign of a threat.

Harry has been at the studio all day. She saw him briefly around seven o’clock this morning when her eyes fluttered open to find him all showered and dressed for the day, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

“Heading to the studio. Love you,” he told her, planting a hasty kiss to her forehead before leaving.

She couldn’t fall back asleep after that, so she decided to start her day too and put some finishing touches on the drawings for her upcoming exhibit. However, her overthinking mind made it impossible to focus. She ultimately decided to take her drawings over to her apartment and work there instead.

Over the past six months, she has practically lived at Harry’s house with how much time she spends there. But her apartment has always been there in case she needs some time alone or, like today, she just needs a change of scenery to sharpen her focus.

It didn’t occur to her at any point to text Harry and let him know where he can find her after he finishes up at the studio. Or perhaps, her subconscious made her withhold that information on purpose to see if he would even notice or care for her absence.

Late that evening, she receives a call from him.

“Hey, where’d you go?” he asks when she picks up.

“Oh, I’m at my apartment. Couldn’t focus today, so I thought I’d try working here instead.”

“Hm. Wish you’d told me. I would’ve headed straight there from the studio.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles in response.

“It’s all right. Be there in a few.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

A nervousness seeps through her after their call. A kind of nervousness she hasn’t felt since the very early days of their relationship when she wasn’t quite comfortable around him yet. She doesn’t like this feeling and tries to distract herself by cleaning up the kitchen where she just finished having dinner not too long ago.

Harry has a spare key to her apartment, just like she has one to his house, so when she hears it turn in the lock, she knows it’s him. Her heart is in her throat.

She’s washing her hands in the kitchen sink when the door opens.

“Hi, my love,” he greets her. He’s wearing her merch today. Well, technically, it’s his merch that she helped design. Their merch, as he would call it.

“Hey,” she replies. As she wipes her hands on the towel by the sink, he walks up behind her and slides his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She turns around to face him. “How was your day?” For some reason, the question comes out sounding awkward, at least in her head, but Harry seems unfazed.

“Productive. We wrote so much today. Song after song. I couldn’t believe it. Tyler suggested we pull an all-nighter, but everyone was tired, so we decided to go home…” A dimpled smile emerges on his face as he adds, “And I wanted to see you, so…”

He plants a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. She should feel the stress dissipating from her body. She should feel a sense of calm washing over her like cool ocean waves on a hot summer day. But none of that happens.

His hand sneaks under her shirt, squeezing her bare waist before wandering upward to her breast.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling away suddenly. “I, um, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He blinks a few times, thrown for a moment. “Oh. Okay. No worries.” He takes a step back and scratches the back of his neck, eyes searching her face. “Everything okay?”

She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I think I’m just starting my period soon, so you know…”

“Ah. Well, maybe we can just cuddle then. If you’re in the mood for that.”

“Mhm.”

They lay on her plush black couch together, her head on his shoulder, his fingers running through the lengths of her hair. He’s humming some unknown melody—probably a new song he’s been working on. She feels her heartbeat slowing down, finally.

Then he says, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Her heart picks up again. This is it. This is what she’s been dreading. She has no idea what he’s about to say, but of course, her mind jumps to the worst case scenario.

“Yeah?” she says, trying to keep her voice level.

“It’s about something Rosie told me.”

She frowns. “Something Rosie told you? What would that be?”

“She told me about your family, how they… they’re not supportive of you and your struggles.”

Her frown deepens. “She told you that?” She sits up now. “Why would she do that? She has no right to be sharing that kind of information about me.”

He sits up too, confusion taking hold of his features. “It’s not like she shared it with some stranger, lovie. I’m your boyfriend. Why is it so bad that she told me?”

“Because I didn’t want…” She trails off.

“You didn’t want me to know?”

She wordlessly looks down in her lap.

“Why?” he asks, the hurt apparent in his voice.

Forcing herself to look at him, she answers, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You seemed so excited to meet them, and you bring them up all the time—”

“Yeah, that was when I knew nothing about them. If I’d known how they’d treated you, why the fuck would I want to meet them?” He runs a hand through his hair, clutching the ends briefly before letting go. “And I brought them up all the time because you were always so bloody vague about the topic. What was I— What was I meant to think? I’m not a mind-reader, Y/N.”

“I know. I know you’re not a mind-reader.” She tries to reach out to him, but he doesn’t seem to notice her outstretched hand as he turns away, so she lets it fall on the couch.

“Well, sometimes I feel like you expect me to be one because you never tell me how you really feel or what you’re really thinking, and I’m left to figure it out on my own.”

“Okay, that’s not true.” She shakes her head, growing a bit defensive now. “I know I used to be like that in the beginning, but you can’t tell me I haven’t gotten better since then because I have. You’re just angry right now and I—I can understa—”

“I’m not angry,” he insists, though he sounds pretty close to it, and it’s making her panic because although she has seen him get angry before, it’s never been at her.

His eyes fall shut for a moment. He seems to compose himself before continuing calmly, “I’m just frustrated because I feel like I’ve told you everything about me, I’ve bared my entire fucking soul to you, and I know it’s not as easy for you to do the same, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park for me either. You say that it’s your anxiety that keeps you from opening up to me, but at this point, I can’t help but wonder if you just don’t feel as strongly about me as I feel about you.”

She flinches at the last part, a sense of betrayal settling like rocks in her stomach. “Y—you think I use my anxiety as an excuse?”

“That is not what I said.”

“That’s what you implied.”

“No,” he stresses, clenching his jaw. “You’re purposely misunderstanding me.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

Puzzled green eyes stare back at her. “What?”

“This has clearly been on your mind for some time now. If you really think that I don’t feel strongly about you, that my anxiety is just some cover-up, then why are you still wasting your time with me?” Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as she spouts, “Is it just for the sex? Is that it? I mean, that’s why you came here tonight, right? Just for a quick fuck. And when you couldn’t have that, you decided to pick a fight with me.”

It was mean. Quite possibly—no, definitely—the meanest thing she has ever said to or about him. And it was undeserved. And she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

The expression on his face switches from disbelief to disgust to pure pain in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You’re right. That’s what I’m here for, Y/N. Just a quick fuck. Because I’m some lowlife prick that would use you for sex and get mad when I can’t have it. You figured it out. Amazing job.” He claps his hands and stands up, taking long strides to the door.

“Wh—where are you going?” she stammers.

He ignores her and shoves his socked feet into his Vans. On shaky legs, she hurries over to him.

“H, where are you going?”

As his left hand reaches for the doorknob, she grabs his other one.

“No, wait, don’t go.”

“No, you’ve made it clear to me the kind of person you think I am. Thanks for your honesty, Y/N.” He speaks without looking at her. She can only see his side profile, but it’s enough to catch the tears forming in his eyes.

He tries to pull his hand away, but she squeezes it tighter, pleading with him, “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Baby, please—”

“I’m tired, Y/N,” he sighs out, sounding utterly exhausted. “I just want to go home.”

He manages to yank his hand free from her grasp and leaves the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Y/N stands there, staring at it for the longest time, before making her way back to the couch in a daze.

She doesn’t know why she said it. He was just trying to explain his inner thoughts and feelings, not attacking her, but her brain latched onto that one comment about her anxiety and blew it way out of proportion. It struck a nerve somewhere inside her, reopening old wounds created by people in her past who invalidated her struggles.

But Harry is nothing like those people. No, he is a far cry from them. No one has shown her the level of kindness and understanding that he has, and she fears that no one else ever will, which makes the thought of losing him catastrophically more painful.

She lies down on her side on the couch, curling her legs into herself as the first sob of many escapes her body.

***

The big day has arrived.

Y/N’s very first solo art exhibition that she’s been working her ass off on for the past few months takes place tonight. The gallery that offered to display her work made an agreement with her to donate a portion of the profits to a local mental health charity—something that Y/N has always wanted to do. She’s always dreamed of using her art to give back to causes that matter to her, and she is finally at the stage where she can do that.

Her art career has taken off this past year. She was doing well before, but this year has catapulted her career to heights she couldn’t have imagined. She knows Harry has a lot to do with it, since the limited edition merch she designed for him attracted millions of new eyes to her work, not to mention the fact that she started dating him afterwards, which further piqued people’s curiosity about her as a person and an artist. But Harry, being the humble man he is, argues that it’s her talent that keeps bringing people back to her work, not him.

Whether he admits it or not, Harry has changed her life in more ways than one. Even if he never speaks to her again, she will be thanking him for the rest of her life.

Over the past week, she has typed a hundred different apologies to him, deleting each one without sending it, convincing herself that it’s not good enough, that he doesn’t want to hear from her, that he probably hates her guts.

She has missed him all week, but tonight, that feeling cements itself deep inside her chest, mixing perilously with the fear of having to talk about her art with strangers. It would’ve helped to have Rosie here at least, but her fiancé’s mother was in the hospital after a medical emergency and she needed to be there for them.

Y/N feels incredibly alone.

The people working at the gallery have been lovely. She hardly had to do anything at all because they took care of the entire setup. Now, they’re preparing the refreshments table, and just the mere sight of all that food is making her nauseous.

As hard as she tries to keep her shit together, she crumbles and bolts towards the exit. One of the gallery workers tries to inform her that the exhibit is about to start, but she barely hears him through her heart pounding in her ears. Once outside, she starts walking down the sidewalk in a random direction and finds an opening between two buildings where she can take a moment to herself, away from other people.

The fresh air entering her lungs is somewhat soothing, so she tries to focus on that, leaning a hand against one of the buildings.

“Y/N?” says a deep, familiar voice from behind her.

It can’t be, she thinks to herself, but when she turns around, there he is. Standing on the sidewalk. Dressed in dark, indiscriminate clothing and a hat, which casts a shadow over most of his handsome features. He’s wearing his Gucci square-framed glasses that make him look like a college student.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”

He steps towards her, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was sat in the cafe across the street, waiting for your exhibit to start. Saw you run out. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering his question, she asks in a weak voice, “You came to see my exhibit?”

“Of course I did,” he says, as if the concept of him missing it is unfathomable. He places his hands on his hips and adds with a faint smirk, “You think I, your number one fan, would miss out on your first solo exhibit? C’mon.”

Tears flood Y/N’s eyes, blurring her vision.

Harry’s face falls. “Oh no. Don’t cry, lovie.”

The tears streak down her cheeks now, ruining the makeup she spent so long on applying tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

He reaches towards her and delicately places his hands on her arms. “I could never hate you.”

“But you should! You should hate me because you’ve been nothing but patient and understanding with me and I treated you like shit in return and I hate myself for it and I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shh, come here.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, holding her there until she calms down. Then he draws back and lifts her chin to make her look at him. “Listen to me. I did not come here to make you cry and ruin your big night, okay? I came here to support you. Now you’re going to put on that beautiful smile of yours and you’re going to go back in there and you’re going to put on this wonderful exhibit—”

“I don’t think I can.” She shakes her head.

“Yes, you can. You’ve worked so hard for this, my love. You deserve this. Don’t let your fear tell you otherwise.”

She sniffles, thinking for a moment. “You’re going to be there?”

“Yes. The whole time,” he reassures her. “I promise to be discreet though. I’m not about to steal the spotlight from you.”

“I wouldn’t mind even if you did, to be honest.”

“See, that’s the fear talking.” He pokes her softly in the chest. “This is your night and your night only.”

A part of her wishes he would just pull her back into his arms and let her stay there forever, safe and warm and comfortable. But he’s right. She has worked too hard and come too far to allow fear to stifle her now.

“Okay,” she says finally. ��Okay, I’m going to go back in.”

He smiles widely. “That’s my girl.” He kisses her and sends her off with a few more encouraging words.

For the first fifteen minutes of the exhibit, as the first batch of visitors trickle into the gallery, the voice in Y/N’s head is screaming at her to run out the nearest exit and not look back. It takes everything in her to keep her feet planted where she is and withstand the racing heart and the churning stomach and the sweaty palms.

It isn’t until people start coming up to her to ask questions about her art that she begins to feel any semblance of calm, which is surprising, considering that this is the part she was most afraid of. Once she gets into artist mode, articulating her artistic ideas and techniques in front of these strangers comes naturally.

She spots Harry every now and then, wandering around the gallery with everyone else, blending in remarkably well in his dark clothes and hat and glasses. At one point, while she’s talking to someone, she sees Harry in the distance, holding up his phone with the camera aimed at her. He winks when he catches her eye.

By the last half hour of the exhibit, Y/N’s throat is dry and hoarse from talking so much. She can’t believe how many people were interested in discussing her work with her.

While she’s taking a break to have some water, she hears someone shout, “There she is!”

She turns to find Jeff and Glenne walking towards her, smiling and waving like proud parents.

“So sorry we’re late,” says Glenne. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Are you kidding?” says Jeff. “We’ve been looking forward to this.”

Y/N told them about the exhibit when she and Harry invited them over for dinner last month. She didn’t expect them to remember. The fact that they did means everything.

“We were going to buy something, but it looks like everything’s sold out, huh?” says Jeff, looking around.

“Oh, we’re so coming early for the next one,” says Glenne.

Y/N smiles at the determination in her voice. “Thank you for coming. You guys have no idea how much it means to me.”

Her heart is so full. Whereas the night started with her feeling petrified and alone, she now feels more loved and supported than ever. To say that the exhibit was a success is an understatement, and having Harry, Jeff, and Glenne all there for her was the cherry on top because success tastes so much sweeter when you have people to share it with.

***

Harry is bursting with pride. Watching Y/N put on this exhibit tonight has been quite a treat. She has blossomed from someone who used to not think very highly of her artistic capabilities into a self-assured artist right before his eyes, and he has loved being able to witness her growth.

Now they’re at his house, having Thai food, and Y/N, who hasn’t eaten all day due to nerves, is devouring everything so quickly that he worries he might not have ordered enough food for them. Luckily, that doesn’t end up being the case.

Afterwards, as they’re placing their dishes in the sink, Y/N tells him, “I saw you sneaking pictures of me at the exhibit. Like a little fanboy.”

He laughs. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so in your element.”

She bites her lip. “Can I see them?”

“Sure.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his camera roll. He places it on the counter so they can both look together.

Each photo shows Y/N talking to people who came to see her work, her hands poised in the air as she describes her creative process or her inspiration behind a specific piece.

“You look so confident,” he comments. “And happy.” He looks up at her from his phone and nudges her softly with his arm. “I’m proud of you.”

For a second, it seems like she’s about to break down into tears again but then contains herself.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she says.

He gives her a gentle look, knowing that she’s referring to the hurtful words she fired at him that night in her apartment. The words that burrowed deep under his skin for a few days until he gained some clarity and realized that she’d only said them because she felt attacked, that she didn’t actually believe them. Of course, that didn’t make it okay, but it did soften him towards her a little. And knowing Y/N, he could safely assume that she was far angrier at herself than he was at her.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t mean what you said. I mean, it still fucking hurt, but I know they were just words said in the heat of the moment… Right?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “And I’m so sorry, not just about what I said that night, but also what I didn’t say about my family, for hiding that from you.”

“No, I never should’ve pushed you to tell me in the first place.”

“But you never pushed me, Harry.” She turns her body towards him fully, leaning against the counter. “You just asked because you were curious about that part of my life, the same way I was curious about your family before I met them. It’s just that my family is… They’re nothing like yours. It’s not like they’re terrible people. They’re just not warm or affectionate, and they see any display of emotion as a sign of weakness.”

He quirks a brow. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, lovie, but they sound like robots.”

“You’re not far off,” she replies with a shrug. “They have this toughness, this stoic resolve that I used to envy when I was younger, until I realized that I didn’t want to be like that at all. As a child though, when your whole family is like that and you’re the anxious one who can’t get your emotions under control, it’s hard to feel normal. My parents didn’t know how to handle my anxiety, so they tried to mold me into them, and when that didn’t work, they just started denying my feelings altogether. Every time I would try to talk about my feelings, they would shut me down, tell me to suck it up and toughen up and stop being so goddamn sensitive.”

Hearing that makes Harry’s chest ache. Y/N is a sensitive person, sure, but he never viewed that as a shortcoming. In fact, it’s one of the many things that drew him to her because he is the same way. His sensitivity has allowed him to be more empathetic in his relationships and more vulnerable in his music—qualities that he also noticed in Y/N.

“I got tired of trying to explain it to them,” she continues, “so I left and tried to make something out of my art career. And God, my parents hated that. They were never the creative types; they thought anything related to art was a waste of time. They kept telling me I was wasting my potential to be something bigger, something better than an artist. And at one point, I started believing them, but then I met people like Rosie, who weren’t emotionless robots and who actually appreciated art for what it is.

“And I made a life for myself out here, pouring my heart and soul into my art, and I’ve tried so hard to keep this new, amazing part of my life separate from that part because I don’t want them to ruin this for me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to meet them?” he asks gently.

“Well, that and the fact that they’re convinced that you’re just some hotshot superstar stringing me along while sleeping with ten other girls at the same time because they don’t see how someone like you could ever fall in love with someone like me. And they make sure to remind me of that every time I go see them, which is just so fun,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Harry doesn’t really care that her parents see him as some pompous asshole obsessed with sex. What does bother him, however, is that they try to make Y/N feel like she somehow doesn’t meet his standards, that she isn’t good enough for him because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“How come you still visit them?” he asks. “Not judging, just curious.” If it were up to him, he would never let them see her again.

She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I always felt obligated to? I felt like they did care about me, even if they sucked at showing it. But the older I get and especially this past year, I feel less obligated to put up with their shit. I’ll probably keep visiting for now, just not as often anymore.”

“You don’t have to deal with them alone, you know.” He takes her hand in his. “I’m more than willing to go along for moral support.”

“That’s really sweet, but… It’s hard enough hearing them say disrespectful things about you when you’re not there. If you were there, I think I might start throwing hands.”

He chuckles. The idea of his dear sweet Y/N, who couldn’t hurt a fly, threatening to fight her family for disrespecting him makes him melt inside.

“Okay, well, I understand if you’d prefer to go on your own,” he says. “My offer still stands though, if you change your mind.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I promise to be more open and honest with you moving forward. I really am trying.”

“I know you are.” He looks down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. “Can’t be easy when you were told to bury your feelings down all through your childhood.”

“Yeah…”

When he looks up from their hands, he finds a peculiar look on her face, her eyes tender and almost hypnotic as they stare back at him.

He frowns slightly. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just feeling extra lucky tonight.”

“Oh.” He smiles, nearly blushing under her intense gaze. “Sooo, when’s the next exhibit? Because I have some suggestions.”

Her brows lift up curiously. “Suggestions?”

“Yeah, mostly for the refreshments table. I feel it was a bit lacking.”

She gasps. “Not the refreshments table! I worked so hard on that!”

“Hm, well, clearly not hard enough.”

She pouts. He chuckles and pinches her bottom lip before leaning in for a kiss, stopping just by her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“Love you more.” She completes the kiss.

***

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