#I have not gotten out of bed all day aside from getting coffee and packing for my trip lmao

[derelictdumbass]

I wish everyone a very cozy sleep like cats do

[carriedawatermelon]

Ronancetober day five. Quick little semi-angsty thing, Nancy-centric.

Prompt: Blood

They’re on patrol in the woods, Robin and Nancy and Lucas and Max, when Nancy gives the signal, two flashes with her light. The others stop and circle up, all signaling back with a single flash, waiting quietly and readying their weapons.

There’s a pack of dogs stalking them. Nancy hears them, hears the weird clicking that means they’re talking to each other, knows they’re going to do their best to trap them before they attack.

Nancy doesn’t like being boxed in, and she’s gotten good at this. They all have, though she has particular skill with a gun, is the only one who carries one on patrol. It’s one deep breath, letting all the noise aside from her own body fade until she can focus on the sounds she wants. The sound of movement, clicks and shuffling leaves and a high-pitched buzzing whine, almost like a light bulb not screwed all the way in. She’s got them. Three to the back, two branching at the sides.

Or they’re starting to. Nancy takes two rapid shots with her rifle, a gift from Hopper that holds a magazine big enough that Nancy doesn’t have to worry about a reload every minute. The familiar, desperate whining snarl lets her know she hit what she wanted to, and the rest of them snarl too, trading stealth for a full charge.

She hits three and then four, and five is in her sights when she hears it, that clicking sound, that awful buzzing, coming from the wrong direction. Her heart, which so far had barely pinged with now-familiar warning, begins to thunder, and she takes the shot at five and whirls as fast as she can.

It’s too late.

Robin goes down, hard, a dog’s body atop hers as she shields Max and Lucas, who are charging with their bats and chains.

“Stay back,” Nancy yells, because she needs a clear line, and they listen, thank god, habit and trust overcoming the panicked desire to save Robin as fast as they can. The dog is dead immediately, three viciously accurate shots dropping him. Three viciously accurate shots Nancy can make because Robin hadn’t been moving. Robin hadn’t been moving. Robin hadn’t been moving.

Nancy’s on her as fast as she can be, Max and Lucas not far behind, and she cries, not bothering to try to hide it, when she finds Robin’s dazed blue eyes open and looking at her, a wobbly smile on her face.

“Knew you couldn’t take the shot if I was squirming,” she says, breath uneven and blood seeping at an alarming rate from her shirt and her pants, and then her eyes close, and Nancy nearly loses her mind.

-

“It’s not your fault,” Steve says lowly from the chair on the opposite side of Robin’s hospital bed.

“Sure,” Nancy says, because she doesn’t want to argue, Robin’s clammy hand in hers, her already pale skin gone totally pallid, freckles washed out from blood loss.

“She’d tell you the same thing. She will tell you the same thing, when she wakes up.”

“I know.” And she does, but that doesn’t mean Robin will be right either.

Steve doesn’t say anything else, gets up and comes back with coffee for them both a few hours later, and they wait and wait and watch.

-

“Nance,” Robin says, so gently, like Nancy is the one coming home after a week-long stay in the government-run, we-don’t-talk-about-it hospital located, of course, in fucking Hawkins Lab. “I’m okay.”

“I know,” Nancy says, less gently, because she’s not as good as Robin, not at things like this. She can patch a wound. She can plan through a crisis. The after part? Well.

Her hands are gripped tightly on the wheel, car parked in the driveway of Steve’s house, which is Robin’s house, too, now. Her parents had left more than a year ago, accepting I’m eighteen as a good enough reason to let their only child stay in a literal hellhole while they drove somewhere not full of demons and cracks bleeding poison into the air. Nancy is, selfishly, happy that she’s here. Isn’t sure what she’d do without her. She also wants to throttle her parents.

A hand comes to rest over hers, fingers rubbing soothingly at her knuckles until she lets go, turns her hand until their fingers lace. She lets Robin bring their joined hands over, feels her whole body relax despite herself at the warm press of Robin’s lips to the back of it, the fond, tilted smile waiting for her when she lets herself look, blue eyes far too knowing.

“C’mon, baby. Take a nap with me.”

She nods, and Robin kisses her hand again, the inside of her wrist, and then squeezes before letting go, opening the car door even as Nancy says, “Hold on, hold on, hold on.”

She does, amused when Nancy gets to her side of the car, and it feels like a grate against Nancy’s guilty, worried chest. Because she is who she is, it shows as anger, which she knows because Robin’s face shifts to contrition.

“Sorry,” she offers, with a small smile, and god, Nancy’s a bitch.

She gets down on her knees, concrete damp through her jeans, and puts her palms over Robin’s thighs, callouses against the soft cotton of Steve’s stolen sweats.

“I love you,” Nancy says, looking into inexplicably soft eyes, and means I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. She can’t always say it, her pride blocking her airways even though she hates it, wants to claw it out and throw it away because Robin deserves a real apology, so many real apologies.

“I know,” Robin says, and cups Nancy’s cheek, leaning down to kiss her. “We’re gonna have to talk about it at some point,” she whispers as she pulls away. “But first we need a nap.”

“Okay,” Nancy says, the way she only really says it for Robin, the way that means I love you and I’m sorry both. Robin knows her well enough to understand.

[osakunt]

Hello! Just found your post where you ask for stuff and now I'm here to ask for the stuff! Can I have something about Atsumu getting angry during a friendly volleyball game because his girlfriend sucks as a spiker and then he try to make it up? Thank you!

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➟ 𝗔𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗺𝘂 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 [𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗽]

➟ 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗳𝗳 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗺 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗳𝗳 ‼️🕺🏻

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Atsumu wanting to get some more extra practice in he called you in as soon as practice with the team ended. Bokuto and Sakusa tried getting him to go home but he refused to do so - talking about how he felt like he wasn’t feeling the way he was setting.

This was now the fourth game you and Atsumu had started and he was starting to get aggravated at the way you spiked. Bokuto who decried to stay behind with Sakusa were the ones who you were up against. Even though they tried getting the blond to go home, they agreed to go a few round with y’all before calling quits.

Atsumu sets the ball your way and you miss it by a few centimeters because you didn’t get that elevation from you jump. your fingers only grazed the ball making it fall to your side with you. “Fuck” you whisper to yourself as you land back on the court. “That was so high !! That was a really nice jump y/n !” Bokuto complements you trying to make you feel better. Even though he was trying to uplift your spirit, he really meant his words. Sakusa nodding in approval he walks over to the middle where the net was to give you a low high five.

“What the fuck ?! Ya couldn’t easily gotten that !!” Atsumu’s words boom out of him louder than he wanted them to. “Tsumu it’s just -” “No y’just can’t spike for shit” he walks over to the ball and grabs it not realizing that you and the other two males were taken aback by him being this way.

“Well shit - my bad !! It ain’t my fault that I suck so damn bad !! You know ‘m not a volleyball player and reason why I took time outta my day to come help you, was because I love you and want to see you excel in your plays !!” His words shouldn’t have cut you that deep but you had agreed to his begging over the phone. You took time out of an important project that your job had going just to come all this way to gym and get yelled at in front of two close friends.

“It’s cool though, you can find a way back home by yourself” you grab your phone and car keys then hug the others goodbye before glancing at Atsumu with a expressionless face. Walking out you get in the car driving off with Atsumu’s words looping over and over in your head.

“Miya it’s just a fuckin’ game, calm down. Y/n pushed her work aside to come help you out and you go off on her knowing fully well that she isn’t a player” Sakusa folds his arms shaking his head and gathering his things to head home.

“Yea dude. it’s not all that deep. I honestly think we had good practice. You’re just having one of those days. It’s understandable but going off like that wasn’t your best move” Bokuto follows Sakusa out the gym leaving the blond pouting.

“Can y’all at least take me home……”

Sighing Sakusa silently curses nodding a yes. “You can ride in the back. Bokuto will sit in the front passenger seat”

“Ya hate me that much ?”

“Atsumu, for all you know y/n could be packing your shit in trash bags and probably has changed the door locks by now”

“Y/n do be petty though” Bokuto echoes snickering to himself texting you a small ‘Is his PS5 in the garbage yet?’ Mocking Atusmu.

Finally pulling to your shared home, Sakusa wishes Atsumu luck and Bokuto gives him a small laugh waving before the car pulls away.

Swallowing dryly, your boyfriend goes in feeling the cold air of the A/C. Hearing the click of the door lock you ignore the man walking in not even looking up from your laptop from the living room. Atsumu expected a welcome back hug -

Instead he was greeted with the tapping sounds of your keyboard and paper work being shuffled around. Going up to your shared room he takes a quick shower and quickly runs down to the kitchen thinking that his way his outburst would be something to forget about.

Pulling out a box of snacks for you - he goes your way to the living room. Getting to the living room he notices that you were no longer there. Going around from dining room to home office he starts to get worried thinking you left for the night.

Making his way back to the living room to loath in self pity, he passes the stair case where you were coming down with your laptop charger. “There ya are….uhm I got ya these” he extends his hand to you from the bottom of the stairs. “Thanks” you murmur grabbing the fruit snacks from his hold and taking your leave to finish up your work.

“I can make dinner if yer busy”

“Yea sure”

Your vague answers killed him but he knew all too well that your reaction wasn’t just because.

An hour later he grabs your laptop from your hands and sets a plate of spaghetti in them, smiling trying his best not to fold under your stern gaze.

Sitting next you on the couch, he tries making small talk but that didn’t work work all too well. You were far too concentrated with both your work and flashbacks of the embarrassing moment he had made you go through. “Y/n, baby I’m really sorry. I know y’aint a player but I simply thought ya could at least hit a ball ….wait no that came out wrong. It’s just …arrghh- I’m sorry for shouting at ya. ‘M just so frustrated with how I’ve been playing that I felt the need to try harder and I guess that frustration got a hold of me and lashed out on ya” he looks down at his plate waiting for you to respond.

“You know I was only trying to help with whatever knowledge I have of the spiking position. Don’t get me wrong I know how it works. Thing is my legs didn’t cooperate with the height you tossed the ball. It’s fine,really” with a shrug you continue to eat not looking at him.

“No it’s not okay. It’s cause of me that yer mad. Ya won’t even look at me” the blond whines

Rolling your eyes you look up at him still with a straight face not really wanting to talk anymore of the matter. “Tsumu, it’s really fine” “no it ain’t. Yer only sayin’ that cause ya want me to leave ya alone”

After dinner he stayed with you until the unheavenly hours of morning, trying to keep you company  as you made the finishing touches of your project. This was his way of making it up to you - Snacks, dinner and staying by your side.

When you finally did get finished up you, feel a weight to your shoulder that was starting to ache. Turning your neck you see Atsumu asleep snuggling against your arm - you can’t look away from how squishy he looked. Pinching his cheek lightly, he stirs awake blinking a few times.

“Let’s go to bed,baby” you save your work then close your laptop sitting it in the coffee table to help him up. “Ya ain’t mad ?” “I was but it’s fine now. Let’s go to bed”

“Baby, I truly am sorry” “I know,my love. I know” your soft smile indicates to the twin that he was no longer on thin ice.

[rogue-durin-16]

SMILE FOR ME (II/III)

Summary: a young promising war photographer is sent to document the Airborne's first missions on french soil, where she inevitably meets Easy Company, and Don Malarkey becomes immediately smitten by her. Lucky him, France wouldn't be the only place in which their paths would cross.

Pairing: Don Malarkey x photographer!Reader

Genre: angst fluff

Tags:

Band Of Brothers: @sparkyluz @chubbypotatoepie

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: language and some innuendos

A/N: I had to make this one a three part instead of a two part for obvious reasons I don't want it to be packed, so enjoy this one my lovelies, third one will come after the Liebgott x reader fic <3

Part I

Part III

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"This coffee is terrible." I commented, my face constricting in disgust at the hot concoction Doc had just handed us.

"That's 'cause it's not coffee, Malark." Penkala scrunched his nose after smelling the liquidish content. "This is dirty water."

"We're fighting day and night at the front fuckin' lines," Muck complained, taking a chug of the drink. "and they can't even get us proper coffee?"

"I'll have yours if you don't want it." I spoke, raising my hand to grab my friends cup, only to have it being slapped away.

"Why'd you want it, anyway?" Penkala asked, leaning back into the gravel he was sitting against.

"To stay awake."

"Just go to sleep, Don." Skip suggested. "We'll wake you up whenever we gotta get going."

I pondered the idea for a second. "Tell you what," I left my cup aside and followed Penkala's example, resting on the rocks behind me. "I think I might listen to you for once."

It took me no time to start drifting off, but as my body and mind entered a state of doze, I started to hear laughs around me, which wouldn't have bothered me at all in any other situation, but it was accompanied by an odd sound, like a click of a—

"Shit he's awake." Penkala announced between laughs, gently kicking my shoulder.

Startled, I propped myself up, looking behind me at my two best friends, then to the front, where my glance had to go all the way up to meet Y/n's eyes.

A warm smile made its way to my face; what a wonderful way of waking up.

Y/N had been showing up on and off after our jump in Holland. Sometimes, she would come after the action had passed; more often than not, she came before the conflict, and therefore got caught on it a few times.

Our favorite war photographer would normally stay for a couple of hours, then she would either move to another company or head back to wherever Nixon took her, so we hadn't really gotten any time alone at all.

It's not like I was losing hope on making an actual move on her, but at this point, that idea had been stored in the back of my mind. I was content with seeing her from time to time, making sure she was alive, and maybe talk to her for a little, something that would actively keep her in my thoughts for the next few days.

"Good mornin', Sargeant." She greeted me with a grin.

"Good morning indeed, huh, Malarkey?" Nixon teased, passing by us. Due to Y/n moving with her almost every time they came to Easy, the intelligence officer had been having a tremendous good time while observing us. "Don't take too long, Y/l/n."

"Yes, sir."

I took the opportunity to dust off my uniform and while Y/n's upper torso was turned to Nixon.

"Long night?" She inquired, looking down at me with squinted eyes due to the sunlight.

"You bet." Penkala responded in an exhausted tone.

"Can I get you guys anything?"

"You got proper coffee and beds there?" I joked, pointing at her backpack.

"As a matter of fact, yes." She kneeled in front of me, leaving the bag open on the ground for her to dig into it. "There you go," she handed me a canteen with hot liquid, which turned out to be a way more acceptable coffee. "and about the beds," Looking left and right, she hesitated before speaking as low as possible. "I told you nothin' but you're being pulled back to Mourmelon."

"Really?" She hummed affirmatively; the three of us shared a weary, yet hopeful look. "When?"

"Dunno, but it won't take longer than a week." Y/n closed her bag and pulled herself back up with it. "They said it'd be good for the, quote unquote, 'company's morale'." We all scoffed at that. "Either way, seems like you'll be getting a well deserved rest."

"Y/n?" I got up too, shaking the dirt off my pants and pulling her a couple of steps away from my friends. "Will you be moving between companies still?" She shrugged halfheartedly. " 'cause I was thinking—"

"There's a couple of decent bars at Mourmelon." She stated, toying with the leather strap of her camera.

I stared at the girl, perplexed. "You still want to...?"

"Of course." She confirmed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Y/N c'mon! get to work!" Nixon's calls for the photographer always seemed to come in the wrong time for us.

"Coming, sir!" She gifted me one last smile "See you in Mourmelon, Don." As she moved to walk away, her fingertips ghosted over my hand, drawing a line all the way up my forearm.

I had to restrain myself from holding her back and pulling her to me.

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

Y/N was right.

We were pulled back to rest at Mourmelon, which was a more than welcomed change for Easy.

However, there was a negative point to it; I had been in hopes to find the photographer already in the camp, but five days in, there was no luck with that.

Either way, I didn't dare to complain; we had hot showers, hot food, beds, a roof over our heads, and even fun pastimes, such as the one we were enjoying for the first time since we left Aldbourne —films.

I was genuinely invested in the movie, so I failed to notice —as always— the girl entering the improvised cinema, and whispering to switch seats with Perconte, who had no problem with that.

"Good movie, isn't it?" My head snapped at her voice, eyes wide at the way she sported that beautiful beam of hers that seemed to shine in the dark room. "I didn't wanna interrupt." She leaned closer so I could hear her whispers without bothering the audience. "Just letting you know that I'm here." She retreated to sit upright, still smiling —though her smile hid something more in it, something dangerous and alluring that I found myself craving.

"For how long?" This time it was me who was leaning on her, my hand unconsciously laid on her knee.

"I'm stayin' the night." She responded, her hand landing over mine, making me aware of where I had positioned it, before moving it up to her thigh. "Leavin' tomorrow evening."

"Really?" I groaned, letting my forehead fall on her shoulder for an instant.

"What is it?" Her hand abandoned mine over the woolen fabric of her skirt. "You really like the movie, dontcha?" She laughed it off.

"No funny business, Malarkey, I see ya." Joe Toye warned us, as he was sitting by my side, eyes staring straight into the movie. "I'm tryna watch this."

"It's not the movie." I explained, ignoring Toye. "I'm on duty tonight." I turned to watch the movie, defeated.

"Time's not on our side, huh?" She whispered, placing her palm on top of mine once more, just this time she picked it up and interlaced our fingers, which made my gaze return to hers. She looked just as tired, but her joyful smile persisted. "It's alright, I'll be back in a couple of days."

But I don't know if I will be, I thought to myself, but I refused to say it out loud because there was enough negativity floating in the air.

"Where're you going?" I questioned, a bit too loud.

"Malarkey, shut your mouth! Christ." Lipton hissed, looking over his shoulder to shoot me a glare.

"Can't tell you." Y/n replied, lowering her voice. The girl's statement made me narrow my brows her. "Won't be there for long, though."

"I'll hold you on to that one." Her eyes roamed my gaze, my thumb caressing the back of her hand.

"Jesus, just get a room!" Perconte whined.

The photographer muttered an apology before cutting the space between us one last time. "I'll let you watch the movie."

Her lips brushed my neck, very much purposefully before she pulled back, causing me to tighten the grip on her hand.

That seemed to amuse her, given the risqué, quieted laugh she left on my ear. "See you soon, Don."

And with that, she was gone.

I watched her go, gaping, with her laugh resonating on my ears.

"Y'know," Toye leaned over to talk to me. "I'd have offered to exchange turns so you could have a fun time." I turned to Joe with hopeful eyes, but he then added, "I won't do it 'cause you can't shut your goddamn mouth."

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

It was not a couple of days. In fact, it had been almost two weeks, and Y/n had yet to show up back at Mourmelon, which had started to bug me.

I had even headed to see Nixon and asked him if they had any news from the war photographer, but the only thing I got was that she was working in the Ardennes with the VIII Corps —which was odd enough—, and that she was alive.

Since fate seemed to enjoy messing with the both of us, Y/n, unbeknownst to me, had arrived at the camp one of the nights I had gone out for a drink with my friends, celebrating Bill Guarnere's return.

"—and then I see this stupid sonofabitch jumping the fence yelling he found a Luger." Guarnere explained to the replacements, a smug smirk on his face as he patted my back. "Where's the Luger, Malarkey?"

"Y'know, Bill," I started speaking with a grin of my own decorating my face. "you're a—"

"Don!" I turned to Skip, who breathlessly struggled to make his way to us. "How drunk are you?" The question sounded hilarious, but Skip's face had a worried frown on it.

"Uh... Not much?"

"He's just starting." Garcia explained.

"Good— listen, Y/n's here," my heart started to pound with excitement, the men I was drinking with giving me words of encouragement as I fixed muy uniform.

My proud smile, however, slowly faded, clearing the path for a worried frown when Penkala walked in with Y/n— a very, very dulled, visibly worn out Y/n who still seemed to keep up the smile.

"Hello boys." Penkala's hand on her back, rubbing it caringly over the layers of ragged winter clothing while Y/n's fingers fidgeted with the camera strap.

"Jesus, kid." Guarnere looked her up and down with a grimace. "You alright?" Y/n gave him a quick nod, her eyes briefly meeting mines to confirm that affirmative gesture had a blatant lie. "Hey buddy!" Bill called for the bartender, pointing at Y/n. "Fix her a drink!"

"Thanks, but I gotta go see Nixon." Penkala's hand fell from her figure as she patted his shoulder, letting him know she was heading out.

"Hold up," I took a swig of my beer before climbing off the stool, planting the jar on the bar counter. "I'll walk you." My friends moved aside so I could move out with Y/n, who muttered a quiet 'thank you' as I did so.

I didn't know what the photographer had seen, but I know Muck and Penkala's concerned faces weren't exactly good omens.

"What happened out there?" I asked tentatively once we were away from the pub, my hand ghosting over Y/n's back in our way out.

"War's hell." She limited herself to answer. "Better not talk about it."

"I'm here if you need to." She shook her head no, bracing herself; I could only imagine what she had seen in the Ardennes.

She was a war photographer, she had seen action with and without Easy, but we had never seen her so down and worked up.

Y/n's pace slowed and so did mine, as I was following her lead, until we came to a halt. "You got a 48 hour pass?"

I frowned at her out of the blue inquiry. "Yeah, why?"

"Malark!" We turned our heads to Luz and Perconte, who happened to be strolling down the street. "We're headin' to the cinema! Care to join us?!"

"Go on without me!" I shouted back, motioning them to keep going.

"Is that Y/n?! Hey Y/n!" Y/n, whose back was turned to the cheery boys, rotated to wave at them. "Glad to see ya back! Have fun Malarkey!" They both whistled at me, walking away amused.

"I was thinking, uh..." Y/n resumed her talk, clearing her throat; her gaze was casted down and her tone softened. "Well, have you ever gone to Paris?"

"No, but I wanted to."

"I thought we could... Go together?"

"Yeah!" I agreed, a bit too excited. I knew I had just made a fool of myself, but it was worth it, judging by the genuine smile tugging on Y/n's lips, triggering a laugh out of her. "That's— that's a great idea, actually."

The photographer's look raised from the ground to meet mine; we stood so close, facing each other, our eyes jumping from one another's lips to their gaze.

'Kiss her, you fool', a voice in the back of my head that sounded oddly similar to Muck's urged me, but I didn't listen. Somehow, it didn't feel like the right moment, with the girl in front of me all ragged and the liquor I had just drunk running through my veins.

"Alright well, I think" she sighed, taking a step back. "I'm gonna take a little walk before talking to Nixon."

"I'll head with the fellas." I responded, mimicking her movements in the opposite direction. "See ya tomorrow?"

"You can bet on it." She assured me, her spirits going visibly higher. "Enjoy the movie!"

"Enjoy the walk, Y/n!" Giving her one last smile, I pivoted, turning to stalk into the building where the cinema had been running for the past few weeks, with Paris and Y/n in my mind.

Not even twenty minutes into the cinema, we received the news we should have been used to by then; all passes were revoked— we were moving out.

During the impromptu preparations, I caught a glimpse or two of Y/n. She, as always, was either by Nixon's or Winters's side. We made eye contact once before they packed us in the trucks; she was livid, and something in her eyes screamed an apology that I failed to understand.

Until we made the final stop and hopped off the trucks and Y/n came to find me.

"I'm really sorry." She whispered, her eyes staring into my soul, full of regret. "I didn't know they'd send Easy."

My cold hands traveled to her arms, rubbing them in a reassuring way to try and calm the girl down.

I was about to ask what she was talking about, but before any word left my mouth Guarnere, who stood on the opposite side of the vehicle, demanded my attention, prompting me to observe what was happening across the road.

It all clicked then.

We were being sent to The Ardennes.

Needless to say, we didn't get to go to Paris.

[spenciebabie]

This is a request from @mggbler! Thanks for asking, I loved writing this, I hope you like it!

The blurb was written for this gif.

The Girl Next Door

Spencer and his neighbor have been friends since he moved in. Just friends, so why was he feeling so jealous?

A/N: I got super carried away with this one, I really don’t think I’m capable of writing something under 1000 words. But I was inspired so what are you gonna do

Warnings: smut, nothing too explicit, masturbation (male and female), implied sex, kissing

Words: 1.6k

They’d been friends since the day Spencer moved into the building. She knew the place next door had been on the market for a while and was beyond excited to find out it was another person her own age moving in. Their building was packed with people who’d lived there since the place was built. Not that she hadn’t made friends with them too, it was just nice to have some fresh blood.

She’d brought over a bottle of wine and baked a plate of cookies to welcome him to the building. And his heart instantly swelled with gratitude. They became fast friends, Spencer had never had many of those, and he certainly hadn’t had many outside of work, so he welcomed the connection with open arms.

She was so easy to talk to that it never felt like a burden, or even effort to hang out with her. It always felt simple, and it always felt good.

Until about a year ago. Something shifted and he couldn’t really pinpoint when exactly it happened but I did. Spencer knew she was pretty, she had been from that first day she popped into his doorframe. But Spencer didn’t only care about pretty, he wasn’t the type of person to fall in love with the way someone looked, he fell in love with personality first.

He thinks it might’ve been last November, when he came home from a particularly bad case at 3am and she was outside his door at 3:05. Sleep in her eyes still in her pajamas, when she heard sounds coming from the hall she knew it was him, and something in her knew he needed company. And he realized that he needed her, that he loved her. But that love complicated things.

——

Their apartments are mirror images of each other, which was jarring at first, to walk into a backwards version of your own apartment, but the decorations are all a little different. It was just funny at first but since November it had become a problem.

Because of the layout, their bedrooms backed onto one another, worse still, the headboards of each of their beds were right up against the same paper thin wall.

This hadn’t been a real problem before but since he’d realized his feelings, and since she’d started going on more dates, it was starting to grate on Spencer.

Every time she left for a date he’d have a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t sleep because he’d sit up waiting, listening intently for the sound of her coming in from the date, hoping desperately that she was alone.

And on the occasions that she was he’d feel relief, and then he’d feel horrible for feeling relieved that she’d had a bad time. But on the occasions that she wasn’t alone he’d feel even worse.

He hated the way he could hear her gentle moans, the way she’d cry out a muffled name as her headboard rocked against their shared wall. He loved the noises she made, more than anything, but he hated the noises that came from the other person in there with her. The person that was making her feel that way.

Sometimes he’d get lucky and it would be over quickly. Other times he’d get unlucky and he’d wake up to the same perfect moans the following morning.

Most of the time if he heard it starting he’d just get up and sleep on the couch.

Those paper thin walls could be a blessing at other times. On the occasions that he knew she didn’t have a date, that she was alone in her room. And he’d hear those same beautiful, filthy sounds. Sometimes he could hear the gentle hum of her vibrator, other times he wouldn’t, but the outcome would be the same. She’d moan and cry and if he was lucky, and she was particularly loud, he could sometimes hear her heavy panting.

On those occasions he’d let his own hand drift under the covers and into his boxers. He’d touch himself, stroking along his hard length while he listened. Screwing his eyes shut so that he could picture what might be happening on the other side of the wall, what was she wearing, or not wearing, what position was she lying in, how many fingers was she using, or did she have other toys. And more than anything, he wondered what she was picturing herself.

But when that happened he’d feel terrible almost immediately afterwards. It felt like an invasion of privacy but he really couldn’t help himself any more.

— —

When he arrives home that evening he’s barely got time to leave his satchel down before there’s a knock at his door. He knows who it is, it couldn’t be anyone else.

When he opens it she’s not dressed like she usually is. She’s in a little red dress. The kind with the tiny little straps that held it up, and the tie that wraps it snug around her waist. It cuts off at the mid thigh and he has to force himself to stop looking.

That’s when his eyes land on the bottle of wine in her hand and for a second he feels excited. She was coming over here dressed like that to see him!

“Have you got an corkscrew?” is the first thing she says, “I can’t find mine?”

He nods and steps aside to let her in, while he goes to rummage in the kitchen for his opener. She follows him to the kitchen and leans herself against the countertop.

When he finds it he hands it to her and she pops open the cork.

“Thanks Spence, you’re a lifesaver” she hands it back to him, and he roots through the cupboard for some glasses.

“You want a glass?” She asks, pouring her own and he nods, so she fills one up for him too.

Before he can ask what the occasion is she volunteers the information herself.

“I’ve got a date in like 20 minutes and I’m too nervous, I thought I’d have a drink to calm down but then I couldn’t find my corkscrew and I just made myself more nervous looking for it” she rushes out with a light laugh.

“Oh, cool” he says, and he tries desperately to keep his emotions under control but his heart felt like it was physically aching.

“I should actually head back in there and get ready, I gotta leave soon. You can keep the rest of that bottle, I’ll return the glass later!” She calls out as she wanders back towards his door. “Bye Spence”

“Good luck” he calls down the hall after her, and he wishes he meant it.

— —

Two hours go by and he’s mentally preparing himself for a night spent on the couch when there’s a light knock at his door.

It’s Y/N, and she looks as perfect as she did earlier, and something in him notices that her lipstick is still completely intact. She’s holding his wine glass from earlier and she hands it out to him.

“Here, thanks, but it didn’t do me much good” she frowns a little, and he yet again feels awful that it brings him so much relief.

“Do you wanna come in?” He asks, and he knows he shouldn’t.

“Yeah okay, another glass might help me now” she chuckles and she takes the wine glass back from him.

They sit next to each other on the couch and finish off the bottle together. She always feels so at ease in Spencer’s apartment. Maybe it’s because it was just like her own. But really she knew it was because he lived there, he just made her feel so comfortable, so happy, so loved.

And she also knew that’s why none of her dates had ever gotten a second, and why her date this evening had gone so badly.

None of them made her feel the way that Spencer did. None of them looked at her the way his eyes were looking at her now. And she knew she wouldn’t feel anything close to the love she felt for Spencer for anyone else.

“Spence?” She asks, placing her glass back on the coffee table, “do you ever think about us?”

“Us?” He asks, unsure

“Yeah” she pauses and takes in a deep breath, “Like how we get on so well, and how long we’ve known each other?”

“I mean— I guess so? Why?” He doesn’t want to presume anything about the direction of her train of thought but his heart is absolutely pounding.

“Well, I think what I’m getting at is, why haven’t you done this yet?”

“Done wh—” before he can finish the question her lips are on his. Soft and sweet, and they they taste like red wine, and it’s more perfect than he ever could’ve imagined.

When she pulls back she’s terrified that she’s misread the situation and ruined their friendship forever.

But he’s just staring at her with nothing but pure adoration.

“I didn’t know— I didn’t think— you like me?” He asks, his voice is so soft and sweet.

“I love you Spence” she says it with such conviction and his heart almost bursts in his chest.

“I love you too” he rushes out and then his mouth is on hers again.

This time it’s more feverish, hungry and excited to make up for lost time.

She leans over closer to him and he pulls her tighter against him, placing his hand on the underside of her bare thigh. He can’t believe this is really happening.

Moving against him, her hands splayed out against his chest she pulls back for a moment and looks down at him with half lidded eyes.

“Bedroom?”

[seijorhi]

A Thousand Words

as promised, a Valentine’s Day fic 💕 

Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader

TW implied dub/non-con, cheating, minor choking/abuse, nsfw(ish)

You break up with Iwaizumi two weeks before Valentine’s Day, standing in the doorway of the apartment you share with him.

And you hate that it still hurts, still tugs at the wretched, broken strings of your heart to watch that rare, beautiful smile of his fracture like glass, confusion giving way to disbelief and then finally anguish.

Iwa’s never been the best with his words, but it seems that you’ve robbed him of those too as you tell him that your relationship’s over. He just stands there, wide eyed, agonised as you shove your phone – the proof – into his face, a hoarse, strangled whisper of ‘why’ leaves his lips. 

It seems that it’s all that he’s capable of.

There’s nothing for him to say anyway. You don’t want his apologies or his excuses. The pictures are evidence enough. 

A boys weekend, he’d told you, and you’d trusted him. You loved him. He wasn’t like your ex, Iwa would never deliberately do anything to hurt you. 

He knew what fidelity meant to you.

You’d thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with him, but those pictures are enough to show you what a fool’s dream that was. Iwa, naked in bed, wrapped around some other woman.

Sleeping so peacefully, curled up by her side, like he’d done with you a thousand times.

And it doesn’t matter whether he was drunk or not. It doesn’t matter if he knew her or paid for her or found her at some fancy fucking bar downtown. He cheated on you, he broke your heart and he doesn’t get to watch you fall apart in front of him.

You save your tears until the door swings shut, collapsing onto the floor with a heartbroken wail as the man you love walks away.

—

Iwaizumi doesn’t remember much of that night. He’s never been a lightweight, but the drinks they were knocking back would’ve been enough to take out the best of them. And Iwa didn’t have to worry, not when he was out with friends. 

God knows they’d gotten him into so much shit when they were younger and stupider, but between the four of them they’ll stop each other from doing anything too damaging. They have careers now (most of them, anyway) and reputations to protect. And Iwa had you.

Out of everything; his career, his reputation, his livelihood, you were the one thing Iwa wouldn’t risk fucking up.

The night itself is a hazy, incomprehensible blur, but he does remember the girl. Not her name or where she came from, but he remembers her. A pretty face with a sultry smile, wearing some short, tight, shimmering dress. He remembers her sitting on Oikawa’s lap, fingers carding through his hair, red lips kissing at his jaw.

And he remembers Oikawa lounging back in his seat, barely paying the poor girl an ounce of attention, even when her hand started to run teasingly up his thigh, those same sinful lips whispering into his ear.

How the girl managed to find her way from Oikawa’s lap to his hotel bedroom is beyond him, but the pictures don’t lie. It’s his arm wrapped around her waist, her skin littered with love bites and fingerprint shaped bruises.

It was her mouth he’d woken up to, trailing a slow, teasing path up along his chest. He’d shoved her aside, snapped and snarled until the pretty thing welled up with tears and all but fled, leaving him to fall back into the sheets full of self loathing and disgust, wondering how he could possibly have fucked up this badly.

And when he threw up later, hurling until there was nothing left in his stomach, he knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol he’d drunk.

Iwa hadn’t known that anybody knew, hadn’t thought that there was proof – not until you were shoving it in his face, your bottom lip trembling as you tried to keep your tears at bay. And what could he say? 

It was a mistake?

He was drunk?

Iwa doesn’t make excuses, you deserve more than that. You deserve more than him.

He should’ve fallen to his knees and begged – begged you through tears if he had to – for you to give him a second chance. But the words stuck in his throat, because the look of absolute, utter heartbreak on your face felt like a fist driving into his gut, and he wasn’t sure if he even deserved it.

You break up with him two weeks before Valentine’s Day, entirely unaware of the ring he’s been carrying around in his pocket for almost a month now, and Iwaizumi doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

So he does the only thing he can, and calls Oikawa.

—

Moving your things out of the apartment you’d spent the last year and a half sharing with your boyfriend – your ex-boyfriend – takes less time than you think. The life you’d started to build with him, packed up in nice neat little boxes in only a few hours.  

And you’re grateful that he’s not there. He’d messaged you to tell you that he wouldn’t be, the only contact you’d had with him since breaking up. 

It’s not the pictures on the nightstand, Iwa’s strong arms wrapped around you, a dopey little grin on his face that gets to you – it’s the World’s Best Boyfriend mug he’d bought you as a joke one day, the old hoodie of yours that was actually his, the one you’d worn half to death because it was warm and smelled like him. 

It’s hard enough to do this without him hovering over you, but stupidly you’d forgotten that while Iwa had promised not to be there, he wasn’t the only one with a key to your shared apartment.

The lock clicks and the door swings open just as you’re finishing up in the bedroom and for one single, split second, your heart jumps into your throat.

But the brunette that saunters in isn’t the one you’re still in love with, and you’re quick to brush away the tears on your face before he can see.

Before he can mock you for it.

Oikawa, ever the charmer, merely grins when he catches sight of you. 

“Did Iwa send you to supervise?” you say in lieu of a proper greeting, the words slightly more bitter than you intend – even for him. 

He isn’t bothered by it, his grin widening just a fraction as he turns and settles down on the bed, long legs stretched out, ankles casually crossed over. He looks entirely too comfortable there and it’s an effort not to bristle.

“Well hello to you too,” he says, his voice a teasing lilt. “Are you always this fun in the mornings?”

Your brows draw together in a frown, but just as you open your mouth to snap a retort, his palms come up in a gesture of mock surrender. “No, Iwa did not send me to supervise you. He doesn’t know I’m here, actually.”

“Then why are you here? To gloat?” you spit.

Oikawa’s eyes glitter, amusement tugging at his lips. You love Iwaizumi, and for his sake you’ve spent the past few years tolerating the constant, overbearing presence of his best and oldest friend. Oikawa, on the other hand has never made all that much of an effort to hide the fact that he doesn’t exactly approve of your relationship with his friend.

Oh, he’s never outwardly rude or hurtful. He doesn’t sit there and spew abuse at you, and as far as you know he hasn’t tried to sway Iwa into leaving you since the very early days of your relationship, but Oikawa doesn’t need to be overt to make his feelings clear.

He treats you like a one night stand that hasn’t quite gotten the hint that it’s time to fix your dress and move right along. 

You still haven’t forgotten the night you all went out to celebrate your boyfriend’s birthday, how he’d slid into Iwa’s empty seat the moment he’d slipped out to get another round of drinks and spoken so casually, as if it was nothing but a friendly conversation. Small talk. 

“You know it won’t last; you and Iwa.”

And you hadn’t said a word, not wanting to be baited into fighting – into ruining Iwa’s night. You hadn’t even scowled at him, just sat there, pretending that he didn’t exist as you waited for your boyfriend to come back to you. 

“You’re cute together, I’ll give you that much,” he’d mused, swallowing the last mouthful of his beer. He’d studied you from beneath long lashes for a moment; a sharp, lingering look entirely at odds with the easy, relaxed tone of his voice. “But you two aren’t a good match. You don’t belong with him.”

You never did figure out exactly what you’d done to make him dislike you so much, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. 

Not when he’s finally proven himself to be right. 

“Please,” he says with a scoff, rolling those pretty eyes of his, “as if I’d be so immature. I’m just here to make sure you don’t steal the coffee machine – it’s so much better than the one I have at home.”

He spends the next half hour trailing you from room to room, looking entirely too delighted at your misery. It’s almost a relief when you slip into the bathroom just for a moment’s fucking peace, brushing angrily away at the tears that still haven’t left you.

You almost – almost – reach for your phone to message Iwa and tell him to call off his stupid, infuriating friend, except you’d left it lying on the kitchen bench.

—

His head hurts. An incessant pounding, throbbing ache that makes him want to hurl.

Rationally, he’d known that the cure for the monstrous hangover he’d given himself wasn’t going out for a run at five in the morning, but he didn’t know what else to do. It was either that or keep drinking, and considering it was the alcohol that had gotten him into this fucking mess in the first place…

“I need to fix this,” he groans, dropping his head into his hands, letting his fingers roughly run through the tangles of his hair. “I need to fucking fix this.”

He looks like shit, feels like shit, but he can’t bring himself to care, not even as a solid weight drops itself onto the couch beside him. 

“You need to give her space, Iwa,” Oikawa comments with a sigh, passing him a glass of water that he gratefully chugs. “Give her time to figure things out. She’s hurting, and you constantly harassing her won’t do you any favours in trying to win her back.”

He wants to see the truth in his friend’s wisdom. He knows he hurt you, he knows he fucked up, but–

You’d already moved your things out.

He’d known that, of course he had, but coming home to see every trace of you just gone was like a gut punch. He was gonna marry you, get down on one fucking knee in front of everybody and– and now you’re gone and he’s crashing in his best friend’s spare bedroom because the thought of going home without you there is too fucking painful for him to bare.

And he only has himself to blame for it. 

But you’re his future, the only one he really gives a damn about, and he’s not one to just give up and walk away. Iwa doesn’t care if it takes weeks or months, he doesn’t care if he has to spend the rest of his life making this up to you; he will. 

He can’t just let you go. 

Oikawa continues to try and talk sense beside him, but he’s barely paying attention, only offering a small grunt of acknowledgement when he feels the brunette’s eyes studying him. He knows that he’s only trying to help, but he can’t honestly remember the last time Oikawa bothered to introduce him to one of the girls hanging off his arm. He knew as well as his friend did that there wasn’t much point – they wouldn’t be sticking around for long. Fuck, he doesn’t think that Oikawa’s ever had a serious relationship in his life, so excuse him if he’s a little hesitant to take his advice as gospel.

And Oikawa doesn’t know you like Iwaizumi does. He doesn’t understand you, doesn’t see what Iwa does when he looks at you. You’re like… sunlight. There’s no other way he can describe it. It’s cheesy and stupidly sappy, he’d rather be shot than admit it out loud, but he’s never met another person so–so… radiant. You burn bright, and Iwaizumi can’t help but be drawn to you – your warmth and your softness and everything about you. You’re beautiful and caring and you’re home and he’s terrified that if he waits too long, somebody else is gonna see that and snatch you up for themselves and he won’t even be able to blame them for it.

He knows he fucked up, knows that you probably (rightfully) hate him, but he has to try. 

So he ignores the way that Oikawa huffs and rolls his eyes when he reaches for his phone, opening up your last conversation.

Please, can we talk? I know you don’t want anything to do with me right now but I’m begging you. Just ten minutes?

And his heart pounds against his ribcage so violently that he thinks he might be sick as he waits for it to send. Waits for the little ‘Read’ notification to pop up.

And waits.

And waits.

Error. Message failed to send.

He tries again, distinctly aware of the Oikawa’s watchful, curious gaze peering over his shoulder.

Error. Message failed to send.

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut and in his panic, he presses the call button, bringing the phone to his ear with a sick feeling in his stomach.

It doesn’t even ring, there’s just three beeps and the line disconnects.

You’ve blocked his number.

—

You second guess yourself with every step, but you don’t stop and you don’t turn around. 

The radio silence from your ex had been a little unexpected, but you’d been the one to tell him in no uncertain terms that the two of you were done.

You were the one to make a point of moving out, keeping the few messages you’d exchanged short and to the point. Were you expecting him to fight you on it? Blow up your phone with messages and voicemails begging you to come back? Maybe show up at your door demanding that you hear him out and give him another chance. 

Were you maybe just the tiniest bit disappointed that he hadn’t? 

It wasn’t remotely fair to expect that of him, you know that, but you couldn’t help the way your heart had leapt into your throat the moment his message had come through after days of nothing.

Can we talk face to face? I need to see you. 

Two sentences, that was it. And you’d spent the better part of an hour debating whether or not you should reply.

Because you love him still, despite it all. 

The last person you’d given a second chance to had used that chance to walk all over you. He’d broken your heart, your trust, and any semblance of self worth you’d had. Iwaizumi had been the one to build you back up afterwards. 

And now he’d done the same thing. Knowing what you’d gone through before, and it gutted you.

The date on the calendar hasn’t slipped your attention. It’s Valentine’s Day, and you’d spent all morning trying to forget that if things were different, you would have spent the day with Iwa. He’d been secretive about his plans, tight lipped for once in his life, and there’d been some part of you that had wondered, hoped even… but instead you’re sitting alone in a hotel room, feeling miserable for yourself. 

If you were stronger, maybe, and if today were any other day, you might have ignored the message, the way those two brief sentences made your pathetic heart ache, but–

But… perhaps you had been a little too hasty when you’d broken it off. Iwa hadn’t said a word to defend himself, but you hadn’t really given him the option, had you?

Agreeing to meet with him wasn’t agreeing to brush it all under the rug. It wasn’t a promise of forgiveness, or even really an olive branch. It just meant that you would go to hear him out, that’s all.

Just to hear him out.

Yet your stomach’s twisting into knots as you walk up the familiar steps, your heart beating out an unsteady rhythm. You love him, despite it all.

You love him, but that doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you raise a fist to knock.

The smiling face that greets you when that door swings open, however, is not the one you’re expecting.

“Hey there, cutie. You’re early.”

Oikawa.

For one single, floundering heartbeat, confusion grips you. Why was he– was Iwaizumi not coming? Had you misunderstood the message, or… or had he changed his mind, backed down at the last second and sent his friend to hammer the final nail into the coffin of your failed relationship.

You didn’t think Iwaizumi would be the type, though. He’d never been cruel, he’d never been cowardly, either.

“I don’t… understand,” you breathe, wide eyes darting around as if you’re expecting your ex to suddenly pop up behind his shoulder and shove him aside with a growl, telling him to butt out of your relationship the way he had countless times before.

Yet Oikawa offers no explanation, that same stupid, infuriating grin widening as he steps back to let you in, and you, somewhat robotically, follow him inside. Your eyes flicker from his back to the apartment around you – it’s exactly how you left it last week, not a single thing out of place. 

“Iwa said–” but your voice falls silent as you realise that no, that’s not true. 

The door to your bedroom is ajar, soft, flickering light spilling out from the crack, but that’s not what catches your attention. It’s the rose petals on the floor, the dulcet music playing so quietly you’d missed it entirely. 

Your brow furrows, breath catching in your throat as you stare at the scene before you, utterly frozen. You don’t register Oikawa stepping closer, nor the dark hunger brewing in his eyes. None of this makes any sense, you don’t understand–

“Iwa’s not coming.” Long, delicate fingers grip your chin, tilting your face and before you can even draw breath his lips are pressing against yours. It only lasts a second, long enough for your lagging brain to register that Oikawa is kissing you, here, in the middle of the apartment you’d shared with his best friend.

Oikawa, who hates you. Who’s cupping your cheek, gazing at you with an expression so eager and wanting, so unnervingly wrong that it makes your heart clench in fear and your blood run cold.

His thumb brushes along the curve of your cheekbone,  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And then he’s grabbing at your hand, fingers entwining with yours as he tugs you towards the bedroom, and finally the shock wears off enough for reality to kick in.

“What the fu– Oikawa, get the hell off of me!” you snap, trying to wrench yourself free. But he’s stronger than he looks, and his grip merely tightens.

“Tooru,” he calls back, glancing over his shoulder with that impish, wicked little smirk. “I want you to moan it for me tonight. You can do that for me, right cutie?”

You’re not a violent person, you’ve never been the type to lash out with fists and blows, but something inside of you just snaps at his words, and before you can stop yourself, your open palm flies towards his face. 

Quick as lightning, Oikawa spins, catching at your wrist and slamming you up against the living room wall. A small burst of pain radiates through your skull from the impact, your breath forced from your lungs in a pathetic squeak as he boxes you in. There’s not a moment for you to catch your breath, though, not with his forearm pressing down on your throat just hard enough so that you can feel it. He’s always been taller than you, but you’d never considered him to be intimidating – not until he’s looming over you, teeth bared in that feral smirk.

“Oh, baby. If you’re not going to play nice, I won’t either.” His fingers tighten on your wrist, squeezing until a choked whimper slips out and he kisses you once more. Not soft or sweet, but bruising, teeth clacking, nipping and biting and harshly sucking at your bottom lip until you return it.

And when he pulls away, there’s blood on his lips – yours – and he licks it away with a satisfied little hum. “I put effort into this, you know,” he says, his tone almost conversational if not for the slight pant, the shivering undercurrent that laces every word. Oikawa leans closer, and you can feel the outline of his cock, hardening already as he presses it against you, rutting his hips ever so slightly. “Set the bedroom up nice and romantic for our first time together.”

He kisses you again, a sweet, tender peck, smiling when you part.

“But if you want me to fuck you here first, up against the wall, all you had to do was say so.”

—

The girl had been easy enough to convince to play along, which probably should have disgusted him. 

She looked like you; a cheap imitation, of course, but close enough. Oikawa could kid himself that it was for Iwaizumi’s sake, to sow the seeds of doubt in his head, but he knows as he forces her face down into the pillow, slamming his hips against her ass like a man possessed, that that’s not the whole truth.

But she served her purpose well enough, letting him fuck her, mark up that pristine skin with the same kind he’d seen littered across your neck and collarbones, your thighs–

And she’d still tried to kiss him the moment before slipping out of her robe and climbing into his best friend’s bed. Given him that playful wink, biting her bottom lip seductively as if she were anything but a means to an end for him. 

As if he hadn’t forgotten her name the moment he’d gotten those pictures.

Oikawa knows all about your ex and how that asshole treated you, out of all the possible scenarios he could have engineered, this would be the one that’d hurt you the most. He’d thought that you would fly off the handle, kick Iwa out for a few days and leave the door open just wide enough for him to weasel his way in, but you’d gone one step further. 

You’d left him.

Broken his heart completely, the way he’d broken yours. Oikawa couldn’t have planned it better himself, and oh what he would have killed to have been there to see it. 

And it’s not that he enjoys his best friend’s pain – truly, he wants Iwa to be happy, he does.

Just not with you. Not when you’re his.

It was easy enough to bully Iwa into revealing when you’d be coming over to pick up your things. Easy enough to rile you up to the point you’d run and hide just so he wouldn’t see you shed all those pretty tears.

Leaving your phone unattended. And really, it’s your own fault for choosing such an obvious passcode – how could he possibly resist?

You were none the wiser, his poor, unsuspecting little idiot. 

Yet for all your posturing and your badly concealed hurt, he’d known that you’d show up today. You’re a romantic at heart, and you’d let yourself be walked all over again if you thought it meant that somebody loved you, wouldn’t you?

You would’ve said yes when he’d gotten down on one knee, and when he’d come back to you with tears in his eyes, drowning in regret and you saw what a mess Iwaizumi was without you, you would have forgiven him – even if it meant giving him the power to break you all over again.

Oikawa honestly doesn’t know whether he should admire or pity you for it.

It hardly matters now, he supposes. Not when you’re so beautifully wrecked, lying nestled against his bare chest with those tears he adores spilling down your flushed cheeks. Every thump of your heart echoing his. 

He wonders if he should send Iwaizumi a picture. 

[jukyuu]

[18:18]

pairing: best friend! changmin x reader

genre: fluff, hurt comfort, slight angst, slight bff2l!AU

warnings: stress, overworking?

word count: 606 words

a/n: yes i have a thing for bff2l AUs square up (ง •̀_•́)ง

Maybe it was the harshness of the week, or the way you were packed with so many assignments and exams that were making you extremely exhausted. No, it was most likely those.

Because of your assignments, you've become so sleep deprived, you almost forgot what your bed feels like. Because of exams, you know nothing but coffee, and you're starting to grow sick of that, which says a lot, because you usually love coffee.

Maybe its for the good, you've alwyas needed oxygen more than coffee.

Oxygen, as in Ji Changmin, of course.

What would you do without him? If he didn't come into your room with the spare key you gave him, he wouldn't have saved you from the pile of assignments you had, if it weren't for him, you wouldn't have finally gotten a break from school.

What would you do without him? If he didn't come into your room with the spare key you gave him, he wouldn't have saved you from the pile of assignments you had, if it weren't for him, you wouldn't have finally gotten a break from school.

It's a bit ironic, really, how Changmin had a habit of overworking and burning himself out so often, and yet he stops you so fast. You were opposed to his proposal to rest, claiming you still had the energy to work, but the moment he had dragged you into an embrace, it's like all the cups of coffee had drained from your body.

"I told you not to work too much, Y/n,"

And just a few minutes later, you find yourself sprawled on your bed, along with Changmin, all work put aside. You both made a mutual agreement that you would do nothing but relax for the rest of the day. You finally remember what your bed feels like, for once. At least, with Changmin on it with you.

You had wanted to watch a few movies, but Changmin found the moment you held your laptop you went instantly to your essay that was due in 2 weeks and scolded you for breaking your promise.

So instead, you just stare up at your ceiling. It's not that boring, actually. Just as you stared at it you realized Eric had somehow managed to spell his name out with glow in the dark stickers, and there's a stain right next to it. How strange.

And it's definitely not as boring when you have Changmin next to you, mumbling softly about his past pets and animals he had raised. You've heard, and probably memorized, each pet, but you don't mind listening to it again.

In return of listening to his small rant, your best friend has your hand in his, gently fiddling with your fingers. It's oddly comforting and affectionate, it makes you sleepy.

Changmin's sudden chuckle wakes you before you completely fall asleep, and you turn your head to see his eyes already on you, smile bright, "Am I boring you that much?"

You shake your head with a small smile, and know he gets it instantly. It was all the assignments you were so worked up about before causing you to grow sleepy.

"Thank you," you suddenly say, "for taking care of me."

Changmin brings your hands into a lock with his, rubbing his tumb over the back of your hand softly, "I'd do anything for you."

His voice drips of nothing but the truth, and you know that too. His eyes sparkle with honesty you don't see too often, holding a certain gloss that draws you in. And in his eyes, you see you, your own eyes that say nothing but the truth as well.

You realize, that you would to anything for him too. No matter how hard the task, you will do it, for him. Simply because you love him.

[mystic-sky]

A fan fic of Gojo Satoru inspired by the song Heaven by Julia Michaels 😭 I enjoyed your writings 🥰🥰🥰

The moment you met him was ingrained into your brain, even years after you both parted. It had been raining that day, possibly 7:30pm, and you were held up in a cafe for shelter. You had been dosing off a bit after your classmates left you an hour or so prior. You regretted staying up so late to watch that sit-com the night before. But it was a Friday, and you didn’t have class the next day. The paper was finally finished and you proudly packed your things together. You kept fantasizing about how your efforts during the week were soon to be rewarded by slumber. 

The sound of thunder brought you back to reality within the quiet coffee space. 

“I guess I should sit back down,” you said to yourself. You were standing by the glass doors and ready to leave, bag over your shoulder. You held your book in one arm before fisting the sleeves of your sweater. The one time I forget my umbrella, you thought.

There was something soothing about watching the busy streets of Tokyo while rain hit the window screen. You felt yourself unwinding, relaxing in place. Sometimes your school and work life felt so hectic. It was nice to slow down  from time to time and breathe. 

“Man, you don’t have an umbrella? That sucks.” An incredibly tall, white haired male spoke beside you, snapping you out of your zen moment. 

You turned your head towards him, and he wasn’t even looking at you. He wore a thick black sweatshirt,  black jeans and dark boots. He had thick black shades on, and surely an umbrella in his hands. He had a gorgeous profile, and his jawline was extremely defined. Was he some sort of supermodel, you thought.

“Yeah, I know.” You say, sighing to yourself. You were partially offended, but mostly tired. He was handsome, but you didn’t have time for flirting. You just wanted to go home and run a hot bath. He looked like he was going to break your heart anyways.

“It says the rain is going to stop within the hour on the weather app.” He said, scrolling and tapping away at his phone. “You goin’ to the train station?”

“Oh, yeah.” You say shyly. You nervously tucked some hair behind your ears before looking straight ahead. Why the fuck was this supermodel speaking to you?

Granted, it was hard for you to stop looking at him every so often.

“Like what you see?”

You blinked at him repeatedly, earning a cocky chuckle from him.

“Wanna walk with me?” He asked, peering down at you. You looked at him, pondering if he was seriously trying to hit on you right now. Surely if you had known him, maybe walking to the station with him solely for the use of his umbrella would’ve been fine. You don’t know if it was the sleep deprivation or the fact that he truly did seem a little arrogant that stemmed your next response as you spoke.

“I don’t even know you.” You said bluntly, and you meant it disrespectfully.

“Not yet.” He said slyly. “But I’ve seen you around campus a lot.”

You stood still, pondering again if you had actually seen him before. Wait- wasn’t he in your political science class? You put a finger to your chin before finally igniting the imaginary, anxious little light bulb above your head.

“Professor Edamura’s class right?” You were such a lecture worm in that class, and the professor had yet to start group assignments. You had absolutely no need to befriend anyone  in that class yet. Nonetheless, it was your largest lecture class this semester, and you only met once a week. 

“Bingo.” He grinned.

“There’s like 120 people in that lecture.”

“Yeah. But I think you’re the cutest.” You stared at him, dumbfounded and blush stuck on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing your arms around your book and pressing it towards your chest. 

“Oh look, the rain is stopping.” He says, leaning forward and intently staring out the window.

“Well, see you Wednesday.” He smiled a cheeky smile.

You felt like a child, blushing foolishly whilst you watched him walk out and down the street. 

You almost wish you hadn’t met him.

Days would go by until you saw him again. He made his appearance on Wednesday, at 2pm in Professor Edamura’s class. He sat beside you, offering you a wink before taking out his own computer beside you and your own. Aside from a greeting, he didn’t say a word until the lecture ended. You really had spoken too soon about not befriending anyone, because you had gotten slurped up into a group project with  4 other people.

“So, Friday night, we could all go to my place.  I don’t live too far from here.” You wanted to meet at the library instead. Why did he want to go to his house? However, it seemed he was a rather popular guy and everyone loved him. You learned his name was Gojo Satoru. And then you lost the vote 4 to 1. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as the women in your group swooned at him as he talked. This sucks.

All of you created a group chat in which you sparked ideas for the project’s format. You honestly think the other girls in your group were just more excited they had his number. 

Thursday night came, and you were in your robe and face mask when your phone went off. You blinked repeatedly, realizing Satoru had texted you directly and not the group chat.

Heyy

Hey, Is everything okay?

Yeah, I honestly just can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

You stared at the message, absolutely not having time for his shit. You didn’t respond. Rather, you went in your settings and purposely turned on read receipts and went to bed. 

You wished you could’ve left him on read in real life too as you sat on the floor pillow in his living room the next evening. The other three group mates bailed, texting the chat just 20 minutes after you got there.

“Guess it’s just the two of us,” he chuckled. 

“Don’t look so happy about it.” You rolled your eyes. This project was 30 percent of your grade, you wanted to punch someone.

“I can’t help it,” he says, sitting across from you on a different floor pillow. “I won’t lie. I had been thinking of asking you on a date. I didn’t think I’d get so lucky.”

“And did you text the other girls in our group the same thing the night before?” You say, nonchalantly opening your book. You didn’t even look his way.

“No, they’re incredibly annoying.” He sighed genuinely. You finally looked at him. They were pretty annoying. Because of them, you were sitting across from him with nothing separating you but an extremely expensive coffee table. The library would’ve been better.

“You’re pretty cool though. Kind of bummed you didn’t text me back.” 

“Because I know what you’re up to.” You say, scribbling away in your notes.

“And what might that be?” He takes off his shades, putting them on the glass coffee table. You’d never forget the way he stared at you with his mesmerizing blue shells.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you. I don’t have time for that.” You firmly set your pencil down, looking at him. 

“I don’t exactly want you to.” He chuckled. You looked at him before speaking again.

“So what do you want from me?” You say, placing your face in your palm and leaning forward a bit to look at him directly. The intense stare you had was sure to ring out the truth from his lips.

“I said I wanted to take you on a date.” He laughs. “Get to know you a bit, but ultimately take you to bed at the end of the night, if you don’t mind. You can decline, I just wanted to show you a good time.”

He just blatantly asked you to sleep with him. Somehow, you admired that. You hated people that wasted your time. At least this way, you felt like you had some power in the situation. You could decline him or not, and you knew exactly what would become of your situation-ship if you started something.

“Sure,” you say calmly, to his surprise. You shift yourself around the table, right beside his body.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you took hold of his jaw, delicately planting a kiss. He had no idea you were so confident. He only had a girl initiate the kiss once before. Your lips were incredibly soft and pillowy. He was already hard, wondering just what your sex was like if you kissed him like this. The semester’s stress had gotten to you. You were only hoping he could help you unwind.

You shifted over his body, straddling him against the bottom of the sofa. You’d give him exactly what he wanted.

“You better be good at this, or don’t even bother looking at me after we finish this project.” You break from his lips. 

“Oh princess, I don’t ever disappoint.” He smirked. You were alarmed at his strength when he lifted both your bodies off the ground. He sucked in your lips, kissing you firmly as he brought you to his bedroom. 

That night, he gave you the best sex of your entire life. He wasn’t lying about not disappointing you.

You remember the day you guys finally had to present your project, which didn’t come out too bad. Satoru had seduced the girls who didn’t show up on Friday into doing majority of the work. You remember him telling you that they deserved it after you attempted to nag him for messing with them like that.

“You and me worked hard last Friday night, right princess? So what’s the big deal?” He whispered into your ear while you all gathered in front of the lecture. You presented your part that you did on your own with constant red hues plaguing your face. You wish he waited to say that after the presentation. Now, you were worked up again. The events of skin touching skin had been stuck in your mind. 

You couldn’t get his extremely large hands and hot body out of your head. For something that was supposed to be a stress reliever, the thought of his sex lived on within you and it was getting annoying. He caught up with you after you rushed out the room as soon as class ended.

“You have time before your next class?” He peered down at you, grinning a sexy and devilish smile.

“Why?” You ask. 

“Let’s go grab a bite to eat, on me. I promise really do work harder than I like to show off. The thing I did for the project isn’t really my character. I just didn’t like how the other girls were going to push all the work on you.” 

He sounded genuinely sorry for the situation.

“It’s fine. They deserved it anyway. They never replied to me when I texted them. If it wasn’t for you using your ‘sexiness’ to make them get busy, we would’ve gotten a shitty grade for sure.” You used air quotes around the word ‘sexiness’.

“You think I’m sexy?” He said smugly.

“Of course that’s all you picked up from the entirety of what I said.” You rolled your eyes, and he laughed a hearty laugh.

“Obviously,” you say quietly, he almost didn’t hear you. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” he said, laughter dying down. You had this annoyed blush on your face as the both of you walked. You did end up going out to eat with him. But somehow, you also ended up fucking him in the restaurant bathroom right after.

His hands squeezed your hips as you pressed you ass closer against him. You never realized you could feel so full. He slammed his length into you, while you shamelessly watched yourself pant beneath him in front of the mirror.

“You’re such a pretty girl, look how pretty you are. I wanna see your face again when you cum.” He coaxed you whilst gripping your neck. 

“Don’t be so loud though, then we’ll get caught. You don’t want this to end do you?”

Your juices were running down your weak legs, and you were holding back pleasure filled squeals while he rammed himself into you. It had been a while since you had been fucked so well aside from last Friday. And something about the thrill of someone knocking on the door, which wasn’t even locked, helped you find your climax during that 10 minute session.

You called out his name as you clenched around his length, causing him to throw his hand over your hot mouth.

“Shhh,” he shushed you as he lifted your body towards his own. 

“We won’t be able to do stuff like this in the future if you’re so loud.” His hot breath poured into your ear. Your knees were burning, but the pleasure in your core was enough to over shadow it. You were ashamed to admit it, but you were cumming again onto his dick.

“Satoru, my legs...” you muffled against his hand.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, don’t worry.” His thrusts were quickening and you felt him twitch inside you. He released himself into the rubber he wore before removing his member from you. You collapsed your upper body onto the sink for support.

He was incredibly sweet somehow, sliding your jeans and panties up for you. 

“Can you walk?” He asked.

“I can manage.” You say, stumbling back against his chest. He caught you whilst you buttoned your jeans. 

“The look on your face is priceless.” He said, looking at you in the mirror. You were a disheveled blushing mess, but somehow you were scowling at him for making you cum in such a short time.

“You can hold my arm for support,” he watched as you fixed what you could of your top and hair. 

“Shut up.” You said, wrapping yourself onto his arm and exiting the bathroom.

Sex with him was filled with plentiful moments like this. He would spontaneously show up around you, asking to hang out. It helped out a lot, considering you were less stressed and chirpier, your friends noticed. A little bit of dick does everyone good sometimes. 

You did your best to keep it strictly sex related, and you felt like he was casually following whatever you wanted to do. He was a decent friend, listening to your qualms about school and your other friendships. He took in a lot of stories and life situations from you, but he rarely ever talked about himself. You had slept with him countless times by then, but you really knew nothing about him. The thing that made it worse is that he started to sex you more passionately, stirring your feelings in a bunch.

He towered above your body in the dark moonlit room. It was another Friday, and you were lost in his sex yet again. He was so close, kissing and sucking your lips til they were sore and bruised. He dragged his mouth against your neck and down to your chest. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, but he was keen to keep the space between you as close as possible. You hadn’t see him all week, and you both didn’t have any classes together this season. The spontaneous adventures became more planned due to your busy schedules.

He inserted himself into your warmth, making you arch your back and press your breasts to his chest. 

“Fuck, I missed you.”

Your entire head was hot from the whisper he made into your ear. You wished he wouldn’t say things like that. It was starting to fuck with you. You let out a moan as he filled you up completely, grinding your sex towards him from underneath.

“It looks like you missed me too,” he chuckled. Your sex was loud and wet. You couldn’t lie to him even if you tried— your body wouldn’t let you.

You found yourself moaning how much you missed him as he rolled into you endlessly throughout the evening. 

“I know baby,” he placed sweet kisses against your face and neck, “I know.”

You chose to block this specific memory out whenever you told your friends this story. He had sexed you like he loved you that night and you had too many orgasms to count.

You awoke in the morning with him clinging to your naked body. It really wasn’t the first time something romantic like this had happened but it was the first time you felt provoked to say something.

“Satoru...” You said against his hair. He grumbled a groggy hum into your neck. You didn’t know if this was the right time to say it, but you were tired of the subtle hints of affection he had been mixing in with all the lust. 

“It’s getting hard for me to keep this relationship strictly sex based,” you begin.

“I really do want to get to know you more. But sometimes you throw me these mixed signals and I get confused.” 

He sat up, bringing his blue gaze towards yours.

“Then we should stop.” He said bluntly. He wasn’t asking you either. 

“We should,” you sort of agree, confusedly.

“I had a feeling this was going to happen.” He said, tearing himself from you. 

“But it’s cool. I’ve got somewhere to be. You need a ride home?” He asked. You nodded. That morning for the first time in a long time, you both got dressed together in solitude. There was no banter, no joking around and none of the occasional compliment or kiss.

He drove you home, in comfortable silence on his part. When you both of reached in front of your house he finally spoke.

“Don’t look so down, honey. At the end of the day, you were just a warm body to me. Cheer up though, you served your purpose.”

You could’ve cried but you knew exactly what this was from the beginning. Was it possible he was starting to feel something? And this was his way of running from it? You stared at your lap. There was no point of trying to read too hard into it now.

“Thanks for the ride.” You say, shutting the door. He watched you walk into your house. He hadn’t known you were so sensitive considering the persona you’d been giving him since the very beginning. He would never be able to apologize to you for it either— he had too much pride.

He never texted or called you after that. Not that you were surprised, you knew he wasn’t the one for you. He was too secretive despite his outgoing nature. An experience it was, you thought it was fun. You did your best to look at the situation as optimistically as possible.

Whenever you saw him on campus, you didn’t even bother looking at him. You walked right by him. He knew better than to speak to you. One day you were sitting in the cafe you first met him in. It was raining just like it was last year. You knew he saw you scribbling away through the glass window. He entered anyway, with a brunette attached to his arm. She laughed loudly as she pressed her breasts to his bicep. You casually sipped your iced coffee, eying him briefly before returning to your work.

He was pretty ballsy.

“You okay babe?” Suguru slid his large hand over yours, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

You hummed in delight, watching him take hold of your hand and press your knuckles to his lips. 

“When you’re done, how about we go to that Hibachi place you like?”

You held back an excited squeal at the dark haired male in front of you.

“I’d like that a lot.”

part 2

[slowpoke-fics]

Hidden Hunter

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Summary: Crowley is your best friend, has been for years and taught you a lot of what you know. However, you aren't associated with the boys.

Warnings: mention of injury and stitches, slow burn, hint at death, I could be missing some, I am not perfect please read at your own risk

A/N: I loved this fic, I hope you guys do too! Oh! And a favor I ask of you. The more I write the more I worry about warnings. If you ever see anything I write not have a warning it should, please tell me.

You pulled into your motel, harshly parking your car and storming into your room. Muttering to yourself as you slid your shirt off, door barely slamming shut, "Stupid motherfuckers couldn't just listen. Couldn't just-" you let out a guttural scream, "I tried. I tried." You shook your head, unbuttoning your pants as you heard Crowley behind you, "Hello, Mouse." You slipped your pants off, turning to look at Crowley, not missing the way his eyes studied the curves of your body. "Hey, Crowley."

Crowley took in your ragged and bloody appearance. Dried blood scattered throughout your hair, on your arms, tiny nicks and cuts over your body with a nasty gash on your torso. Crowley's eyebrows raised and he spoke as you went into the bathroom turning on the shower, "I guess they didn't take the deal?" You poked your head out of the bathroom, glaring at him, "No, they didn't captain obvious." Crowley laughed, sitting on the bed as you took a quick shower.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to get the blood out without stretching too far so you didn't irritate the gash on your stomach. You stepped out of the shower, washing all of the grime off of you made you feel a little better. "I hate hunting," you muttered to Crowley as you walked out of the bathroom, hair draped over your neck and a towel wrapped tightly around you. "Would you please get me a pair of shorts, a tank top and a pair of underwear out of my bag?" Crowley smiled at you, already on his way to your bag, "Of course, love."

You stood there looking at Crowley as he ruffled through your bag. His suit clinging to all the right spots, curling around his biceps, tight around his thighs, unfortunately his ass covered by the length of his jacket, shoes nicely completing his look.

You'd met Crowley a few years back, when he was a lowly cross roads demon. You went to make a deal, planning to exchange your soul for the ability to track supernatural creatures so you could save them. Crowley took an interest in why you wanted to do such things. Realizing that you were a hunter that wanted to stop the deaths before they happen was important to you. Stop the needless death of humans and monsters alike.

You'd become close to him, allowing him to teach you the ways of the natural witch. After about a year you had learned enough that Crowley needed to come up with some other reason to stick around. So he started to offer his help with no strings attached as he took a liking to his little mouse. The hunter who only hunted those who hunt.

Crowley handed you the clothing, politely turning around before you dropped your towel. You slid your underwear on, groaning as you did so, causing Crowley too start to turn around. He stopped himself, asking permission first, "Let me help, yeah mouse?" You giggled, covering your boobs and huffing, "Yeah okay."

Crowley turned around, helping you step into the shorts and pulling them up, he handed you the towel to properly cover yourself on his way up. What a gentleman, you thought as he went over to your bag, digging out the emergency kit. "Lay, you need stitches," Crowley pointed to bed. You grumbled, he knew you didn't like stitches, "It's not even that bad, it's fine." Crowley glared at you, "Love, if you don't stitch that it's gonna take months to heal and likely get infected."

You laughed, laying down, "I could always just use a spell." Crowley shook his head, his playfulness with his best friend suddenly gone, "We've discussed that Y/n, it's not the kind of magic you want too mess around with." You put his hand on his arm, as he wet the rag he had with alcohol, in an attempt to comfort him, "I was just kidding, I know."

Crowley started cleaning the gash, making sure that you had gotten all the debris out. You hissed at him, you could see how curious he was, but you'd made a rule that he doesn't press hard unless it's bad. "So," you croaked out as he started stitching you, "what'd you do today?" Crowley smiled at you, secretly bashing you because if you'd just listen to him and find partners it wouldn't be like this.

"Well, I saw moose and squirrel-" You lifted your head, excited, "Sam and Dean?" He nodded, "Yes the royal pains in my ass. They were having trouble tracking some witch-" You giggled, "I could've helped them instead." Crowley tries to hide his genuine concern by joking, "Oh no doll, I don't think we'll be doing that." You furrowed your brows, "I still think we'd make a good team."

"Mouse, I don't ask for much," Crowley sighed, "if you want partners, I can find plenty of hunters that are not Winchesters." Crowley put gauze over your stitches, carefully pressing tape to hold them in place. You sat up, Crowley turning around to let you slip your tank top on, "Decent," he turned back around, "what is your problem? I never like other people enough to let them join me, but when I hear about someone you say no?"

Crowley sighed, "They're dangerous people, Y/n. I've told you I don't want you near them." You stared at him, "I just don't understand, you always tell me they're dangerous and I can't go near them but nothing else!" You stood up, starting to pace. "They're-huff-" Crowley looked away from you, closing his eyes tightly as they flashed with anger, "they'll do nothing but destroy you." With that Crowley was gone. You were used to your arguments ending like that, even your conversations. He would get called away and come back when he wasn't busy and that was fine, but you were going to look into the Winchesters while you had the chance.

You pulled out a map of the United States, channeling through your pendulum Crowley had hand made for you. You smiled, looking at the chain on one end a sharp pointed crystal rested, on the there a tiny little metal mouse, identifying it as yours, the only one on the planet like it. You took a deep breath, circling the crystal over the map focusing your energy on the image of the Winchester brothers. After a few minutes of scrying and finding nothing you decided to leave it for now, starting to pack up your things you began thinking about what was so bad about the Winchester brothers. Why did Crowley want you to stay away?

You didn't really know much about them aside from the little Crowley'd told you because you didn't really associate with other hunters. At the end of the day, you hated most of them. Hunters in general were crass, and you hated that. You are a ray of sunshine trying to preserve life and most hunters see something not human and kill it. That didn't sit right with you.

You thought about the things you did know about the brothers. They had been in this life their whole life. Had lost both parents, almost ended the world a couples times, saved it just as much if not more. Only really had each other, but Crowley had mentioned an angel on their shoulder-Castiel I believe? What did you even know about him?

"I don't believe I know you?" Your entire body went cold, turning as fast as you can to aim a gun in between his eyes. "That will do little damage to me," he spoke flatly. "I beg to differ, these here special made bullets to put your ass in back in hell, so tell me? What're you doing here?" The man is staring at you, confusion in his brows, arms by the edges of his trench coat, pants and shirt tidy, but not perfect, "I am Castiel, an angel of the lord. You called to me." Before you could even think of a response, Crowley was standing next to you. Eyes holding fear, not ager, he speaks lowly, a whisper under his breath.

"What have you done little mouse?"

You lowered your gun, not sure if it was because it wouldn't do damage or because you felt safe with Crowley there. "I didn't call to anybody," you stare at Castiel, eyes boring into his as he speaks. "I beg to differ, I felt you, heard you, you seem to also need dealings with the Winchesters?" He looked to Crowley who he'd just seen not hours ago, "I am slightly concerned with Crowley being here." Crowley scoffed, "I haven't tried anything on the musketeers in years, I've been nothing but a friend and Y/n here was too curious for her own good." He growled out the end looking directly towards you, causing a rush guilt for going behind Crowleys back.

"I didn't mean to take you away from the Winchesters-" "You did not. I am a man of many abilities, helping people is one of them. At least allow me to heal you." You backed away as he stepped forward, "I am not going to hurt you." Crowley put his hand on your arm, trying to reassure you, "Well do it then Feathers, but uh-" Castiel healed you, you felt warmth, pain dissolving from your body, "can we keep her to ourselves?" Your eyes raised at Crowley, appalled by his gumption to hide you.

"Excuse me?" You jerked away from Crowley, Castiel raising his eyebrows at you. "Is that what you would like Y/n?" You looked at Crowley, his face a mix of anger and concern. "Can we? I promise I won't bother you." Castiel smiles at you, secretly reading you, "You wouldn't be a bother but I understand. I am happy to have healed you." Castiel was gone, Crowley already starting to pick your bags up. "We're gone now mouse."

He grabbed you, whisking you away. You looked around, taking in the room you were standing in. It was clearly an apartment, a nicer than you'd ever known anyone to have. You looked around, a sleek kitchen area, the bathroom door opened from the living room, the couch took up most of the living room, a nice coffee table in front of it but pressed to the wall.

"Crowley where are we?" He was glaring at you, a sour look on his face, "A safe house, I hoped we'd never have to use it." You shook your head, "Okay, but where? What about my car?" He shuffled on his feet, "In a few days when I know Castiel didn't spill the beans about you I will take you back to it." Crowley chuckled a little, but not answering as he reached out your bags for you to take. You huffed, taking your bags from him, and then he disappeared.

You walked over to the refrigerator, to your surprise it was stocked. Demons don't need to eat, you thought to yourself, a little confused and trying to figure out where you were, you moved to the window. You looked out and you couldn't have been but three stories up, but no markers as to your city or state. The bathroom was also stocked shampoo, conditioner, soap, toilet paper, toothbrush and toothpaste?

Crowley reappeared, holding the rest of your things and your gun. You took it from him, anger over your features. "Crowley, are we in someone's apartment right now? You know how I feel about how you taking over peoples lives!" Crowley scoffed at you, "You know I respect you too much to violate your beliefs like that!" You rolled your eyes, tucking your gun behind your waistband, "Then who's apartment is this?"

Crowley made his was over to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of liquor he conveniently knew where to find, "Technically yours. Like I said it's a safe house." You tapped the counter, letting him know you wanted a glass as you sat down, "Gonna have to do better than that." He poured your glass first, shrugging he started, "I pay for it, it's under a fake name, it's warded so you can't be found, do we need to get into logistics?" You downed your glass, picking up the bottle and filling up again, "You brought me here after I met Castiel, that's not exactly safe house worthy." Crowley shook his head, sipping on his own glass, "Yes it is cricket, yet it is." Your blood started to boil, you stood from your chair, seething with anger, you spit, "Crowley, if you don't stop acting like-"

"Like what? Like someone who wants to keep you alive?" You flinched at Crowleys words, waiting for him to continue, "Everyone that they're around dies, Y/n, dies. Hunter funeral, pile of ash, dies. Everyone but them; they will destroy you." You scoffed, "I'm pretty good at keeping myself alive thank you." He raises his eyebrows, smirking a bit, "Do you forget how we met mouse?" Your eyes connected with his, glaring, still seething with anger, "I was desperate not dead, there's a difference. Crowley, they can't be doing more damage than me hunting on my own. Maybe I could be a voice of reason-" Crowley slammed his glass down, grabbing the counter with both hands, "No! I don't know why you even want to know them!"

You studied Crowley, jealousy now seeping from him. Then it clicked. It clicked that you two were a bunch of shy kids. Bouncing around each other like you were fifteen for years now. Each thinking the other was uninterested, each thinking that you didn't deserve one another. Crowley rightfully so for a while, the things he did outside of you could be classified as horrendous, but your ray of sunshine had spread to him. Bringing out all of the good parts that once was Fergus Roderick MacLeod, reminding him of who he could be. You reminded him how to love, how to hold someone higher than yourself. Reminded him of what it's like to protect someone other than yourself, to need to.

"Crowley," you walked around the table and placed your hand on his, "please just tell me what's going on." Crowley didn't hesitate, he turned to you pressing his lips into yours. It took you a second to realize what was happening, and then you melted. You moved your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, his stubble tickling you. Crowley tangled his fingers in your hair, taking a deep breath as he readjusted to meet your lips, tongue skirting your bottom lip before nibbling on it. You gasped at the action, the sound taking Crowley by surprise as he continued to glide across your lips, not missing the warm blush on your face.

Crowley was first to pull away, sliding his hand out of your hair and tucking it behind your ear, resting his hand there, he whispered, "I can't lose you." You planted a chaste kiss on his lips, smiling at him reassuringly, "You won't." He softened a little bit, sighing heavily before returning his lips to yours. Soft and gentle, savoring the moment as he tugged you closer to him with his arm around your waist. You pulled just an inch away, Crowleys eyes opening and making contact with yours, "Does this mean I get to meet the Winchesters?" Crowley growled at you, quickly lifting you by your thighs causing your to wrap your legs around him, "Absolutely not."

[watchmegetobsessed]

Update - Harry Styles

i’ve been deep inmy harry feels and this thought just wouldn’t leave me alone so i had to write it. im thinking about starting a taglist for harry, i think i’ll write more about him in the future. let me know if you’d be interested in the taglist!

word count: ~5.9k

masterlist

Sequel: The best present

Harry is not that into YouTube videos, has never really been, which is kind of ironic seeing the number of videos on the internet that is about him. The man himself who makes everyone talk online feels weird seeing someone talking on his screen, looking into his soul as if they were right there with him. But today he felt the sudden urge to be like his peers and get lost in random rambling videos from strangers, who felt the need to put themselves out there.

He has made a mean cup of tea for himself, made himself comfortable on his couch with his laptop balancing on his thighs and now is opening up his browser to unwind in an unusual way. As YouTube opens in front of his tired eyes, he stops when he tries to type in the keywords he is searching for. What is he looking for really? He thinks to himself trying to remember what he heard from his friends when they talked about funny or interesting videos. One thing is for sure, he is trying to avoid watching videos of himself in any content. He has had enough of him for the day, it’s time to focus on someone else, even if he doesn’t know the person.

He scrolls through several pages of many different keywords until he settles for a video where a girl talks about how her latest moving day went. Starting off Harry feels weird listening to her talk about such personal things as where her bed went in her room, how she packed all her stuff to fit them in the boxes, but soon enough this feeling settles and he starts to realize it’s kind of relaxing.

It doesn’t take too long for him to fall down a rabbit hole and by the time his tea empties out from his cup he is intensely watching a guy rant about his boss at Subway while doing a mukbang. The latter is a new discovery for Harry, he has never heard of it before, but he can see why some people find it satisfying.

The video ends, Harry checks the time and sees that it’s already after midnight and he hasn’t even realized how fast time flew by.

“Alright, just one more,” he mumbles to himself scrolling down the column of the recommended videos until his eyes stop at one particular upload at the very bottom.

July update for my Sammy, ready the title and an eye-catchingly beautiful girl is smiling from the thumbnail. He finds her breathtaking, the lack of makeup, the worn out hoodie she is wearing and the many various plants in the background makes it appear she is sitting in the middle of the forest.

Harry finds himself clicking on the video before he could even decide consciously to watch it. The screen loads and the girl appears in front of him, this time in a much larger size.

“Hi Sammy, welcome back to our channel,” she starts with an angelic little laugh as she pulls her shoulders up to her ears as if the camera is making her shy. She has no reason to be shy, Harry thinks to himself. His second thought is about Sammy, he is one lucky guy to know this angel and have her think about him. “It’s Y/N here, your one and only sister,” she adds.

Sister. The word brings Harry relief and he is surprised to feel this way, but he has no time to think anything of it because she starts talking again.

“Here is my July update, I’m sorry I’m a little late, but we got back from Oregon yesterday. Aunt Ella is sending you kisses and hugs, she missed you at the barbeque, or maybe it was just your helping hand at the grill,” she chuckles to herself, probably recalling the memory.

Harry has no idea who Aunt Ella is or where she lives in Oregon, but the way she talks about it makes him feel like he is part of the family a little.

Y/N carries on and starts talking about everything that has happened in July. Painting the shed at her parents’ home, buying a new armchair, one her cat absolutely adores and refuses to sleep anywhere else now, she went to the hairdresser to get a trim, but not too much. She tells about her plans for August, how she is thinking about going to the farmers’ market more often, and she has been playing with the idea of adopting another cat.

“I think Henry has been feeling a little lonely lately. He could use a buddy,” she tells the camera, her eyes moving to the side from where a weak but moody meow can be heard as an answer. “Yeah, I think he agrees,” she chuckles and Harry finds himself smiling at the screen.

At the end of the video she asks a few questions from Sammy, how he has been doing, if his wrist feels any better, even asks about a friend called Matthew. Harry wonders if she has ever gotten the answers to her questions and where Sammy saw this video. What is he doing that made her want to do an update on YouTube?

When the video ends Harry clicks on her profile faster than he would willingly admit to anyone and it’s like he opened the gate to paradise. Tens and maybe hundreds of videos are queuing on her page, monthly updates, birthday wishes, short story times about family gatherings, news and happenings in her life.

Harry gets lost in her tales. He watches video after video, noticing the smallest details about her, almost mentally taking notes about her updates, finding anything and everything she talks about so interesting as if he knew those people and places she mentions. He comes to realization that Sammy is her older brother who is serving somewhere in the military. Y/N is making the videos to update him about her life even if she knows most of them doesn’t get to him until weeks later, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He also learns that Sammy sends them back lengthy emails once a month and always ends them with a joke they made up with his mates at the army. Y/N loves them even when they're not even funny, she never fails to mention that she smiled reading them.

Hours pass by and the rising Sun peeks inside the window pulling Harry back to his own reality, shocked that he just spent the whole night watching her videos and didn’t even realize how deep he has gotten in her life. Lucky for him he has nothing planned until the afternoon, so shutting his laptop he sets it aside and heads straight to bed, but lying between his silky sheets he catches himself staring out the window, wondering what Y/N might be doing right now. From what he collected she lives somewhere in Spokane and has family in Seattle and Portland, which puts her quite a few time zones behind him. He finds the thought of them going to bed at the same time despite the distance a little funny. He lies in bed for quite some time before he finally drifts off to sleep with a particular girl on his mind, who doesn’t even know he is thinking about her.

 “Do you think you can fall for someone you have never met?”

Harry’s question catches Mitch a little off-guard, but he is kind of used to his random bits of thoughts. Pouring some sugar into his coffee he follows the wondering singer to a free table in the corner.

“Isn’t it what all your fans feel?” he answers with a question, earning a surprised look from Harry. He hasn’t thought about this side, now the situation is kind of ironic, he supposes.

“Y’re right,” he nods stirring his coffee around in the small cup.

“Want to let me in on your thoughts?”

Harry feels a little shy to admit how he has watched all of her videos in the past few days, 207 to be exact and now he feels an oddly deep connection to this girl he has never even seen outside of a screen. Last night he dug up her Instagam profile, and even though she is not posting as frequently as she does on her channel, it was a refreshing change to see her in different settings. Chilling at a lake, having drinks with her friends, playing with her parents’ puppy, it amazed him that she has a whole life outside that small portion she lets him see in her videos.

Hesitantly, but he tells his friend about his latest hobby, if it’s not too weird to call it that, while his friend patiently listens and nods along his words while sipping on his morning coffee.

“D’you think I’m crazy?” Harry sighs leaning back in his seat, looking at his friend and colleague for validation that he hasn’t lost his mind entirely.

“Definitely not,” he chuckles shaking his head. “It’s like falling for that girl in school you know so much about but never really met.”

“Only that I’m stalkin’ this poor girl.”

“This is not stalking. We both know it’s far from that.” Harry nods with slight relief that his situation doesn’t seem as bad as he has been feeling lately. “Have you gotten in touch with her?”

“And what am I supposed to do? Comment on her video that I think her cat’s a cutie and I watched all her videos in three days ‘cuz I think she’s beautiful and I find her voice soothing?”

Mitch lets out a soft chuckle at the oddly specific answer he just gave and finds it amusing how interested his friend has grown about someone in such a short time.

“Maybe phrase it a little different.”

“So you do think I should reach out?”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t. Use your personal YouTube, leave her a nice comment. Maybe she’ll reply.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” he chuckles. “Just go with it and you’ll see. You are obviously interested in her, it’s better than just sit and watch her videos.”

Harry agrees. It wouldn’t hurt to try to reach out to her, possibly in a not too creepy way. Maybe just a sweet comment on one of her videos and if she replies… Well, he doesn’t know what comes after, but he’ll figure it out.

 Y/N updates regularly. Usually once a week and mostly it’s Sunday when a new video gets uploaded. This next Sunday Harry finds himself checking her page occasionally through the day to see if there’s a new update, but it seems like she is missing today. Right until he is driving home and gets a notification from the app.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video! It reads and Harry’s heart beats a tad bit faster. He thinks about pulling over to see it right away, but he tells himself that would be a bit too much, so he is forced to wait until he is in the comfort of his home.

Finally sitting on his couch he opens up his laptop and clicks on the video that has the title: September update.

Y/N sits in her usual spot, Henry in her arms as she is gently stroking his head with a warm smile on her face.

“Hi Sammy! Welcome back to our channel,” she greets him with her usual words and Harry loves how she calls the channel theirs. “This is my September update, even though not much has happened,” she breathes out, eyes wandering to the window besides her and Harry wonders what she sees from her window every day. Does she live in the city? Is it an apartment or a house with a backyard? Are there any trees or does her room have a terrible view, maybe just another house next to hers?

She starts her talk about the month, which she spent mostly with working, a little shopping and meeting her friends. She tells him about her planned trip to the local shelter to see possible new kittens to add to her household and Harry feels himself growing excited about it. He even thinks about what kind of cat he can see get along well with Henry even though he has never even met him.

“Anyway, mom and dad miss you, I miss you too. I loved your joke about ducks in your latest email,” she chuckles sweetly, bringing a smile to Harry’s face as well. “Mom is excited to see you at Christmas, our cousins will come to Portland as well. Maya can’t wait to play Jenga with you, she said she’s been practicing.”

The video soon ends as Y/N tells Sammy how much she loves him and eventually turns the camera off.

He straight away moves the cursor to the beginning of the video and as she starts talking again he scrolls down to the comment section that’s entirely empty. There are only two views on her video, usually a hundred is the max, but she doesn’t seem to care about the views, it’s more about the message.

He clicks to type a comment, but his hands stop above the keyboard as he tries to think of what to write. Mitch was right about taking a chance at reaching out, but what is he supposed to write exactly? Everything that comes to his mind sounds so creepy and scary, and he knows it’s weird that he formed such a deep connection to an unknown girl online. At last he starts typing.

“Hi Y/N! I’ve stumbled across your videos the other day. Love how you keep your brother updated, it’s such a nice gesture. I hope life treats you and Sammy well, you truly deserve it. Good luck with finding a buddy for Henry! Love, an admirer of yours, H.”

He reads it back several times, deleting then retyping it again until he decides to just go with it. A rush of adrenaline washes over his body when he sends the comment and it’s officially out there. Secretly he wishes she would reply right away, but moments pass by, then moments turn into minutes and nothing happens. His comment stands there alone and he has to realize that maybe she will never even reply or even see it.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself as he shuts the laptop down and goes on to do his things, but he finds his thoughts wander over to her from time to time.

He has a busy day ahead of him the next day, quite a few meetings and a fitting. He checks back for a reply in the morning, but it slips his mind the moment he leaves from home and his phone rings right away. Throughout the day he basically barely has time to check his emails, his other notifications are just sitting patiently on the bar, waiting for him to acknowledge them. It’s way past five in the afternoon when he finally have some time for himself after his fitting. He is sitting in his car, people walk past him without even realizing who is sitting behind the tinted windows. Scrolling down he gets rid of everything that doesn’t seem urgent until his eyes stop at one particular notification.

“Y/N replied to your comment,” he reads it out loud, just to make it real, as if he is seeing it wrong and saying it with his own mouth brings it to life. He quickly taps on it and the familiar video opens up and while Y/N starts talking again the screen jumps down to the comments where, in fact, there is a reply from her.

“Dear H! Thank you for your heartfelt comment! I always forget it’s not just my family who sees these videos, but I’m happy you found them interesting enough to watch a few of them.”

“A few?” Harry huffs to himself feeling a little ridiculous he has watched all of them.

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much. Thank you for the well wishes for me, my brother and Henry too. He is sending his love to you. Y/N xx”

The comment was posted three hours ago. The thought that she has acknowledged his existence with not only reading but also replying to his comment brings him extreme joy. He reads her words over and over again, looking for any clue that would give away that she found his comment weird, but it seems like she was more surprised and happy that someone else saw her video besides her brother. Harry starts to type his reply without hesitation.

“Bore me? You saved me from watching another “what’s in my bag” video the other day. It was a pleasant change. I love your plants, by the way. Your room always gives off the most relaxed vibes. It reminded me I should have more of them in my home. H”

Harry smiles to himself posting his comment, the fear of appearing like a stalker long gone from him, the interaction is making his inside blossom from joy. For his biggest surprise a reply appears just a few minutes away and Harry reads Y/N’s new lines with deep hunger.

“Those videos suck the life out of me every time! I might be having a problem with buying too many plants, but I can’t help myself. They truly bring peace to me just by looking at them. I’m glad you are planning on buying some more, you won’t regret it!”

Harry is dying to reply, but he doesn’t want to look too eager and needy, so he opts for just liking her comment to let her know he read it and agrees. He locks his phone and puts it aside with the widest smile on his face as he starts his car and leaves his parking spot.

Two weeks pass by. In those two weeks Y/N uploads two more videos, one about her time with her grandparents, for a change it was filmed at their home and they even said hello in it. Harry feels wholesome seeing her with her granny and grandpa, it’s clear she cares a lot about them. The other video is just a short one where she has met some of Sammy’s old high school friends and she had a check in from them, sending a sweet message to him through the video. Harry doesn’t doubt how much these little things mean to Sammy, even if he doesn’t get to see them right away. Seeing Y/N alone boosts his mood every time she uploads a new video, he can only imagine how they make Sammy feel.

He leaves comments on her videos without a second thought and she replies to all of them, a lot of the time almost immediately. These are the highlights of his days without exception. Knowing that she has anything to do with him just fascinates him and he is starting to realize what his fans feel towards him on a different level. Whenever he sees the notification that she has replied to what he wrote or that she uploaded a new video he flies right to her page to check it, no matter what he is doing. Some of their comment threads turn out pretty lengthy, almost like a chat conversation and it has Harry wonder how they could maybe move it to somewhere else from the comment section.

He wants to ask for her number, but figures it wouldn’t be the best idea. Regardless of how much he enjoys their short little conversations, the situation is still weird and complicated and he doesn’t want to forget that.

But he is pleasantly surprised when she brings it up herself, to move the conversation to somewhere else.

“Would love to discuss that more with you. Up for exchanging IG names?” her question reads and he blinks a few before he fully comprehends that she wants to talk to him more in private. However there’s no way he can send her his real Instagram profile and making a fake one would be way too suspicious. Opening up the private messages he sends her a short, but informative message.

“I don’t use Instagram, but feel free to text me,” and then his phone number.

He sits at the dinner table anxiously, waiting for his phone to light up from a new text, and just a few minutes later it finally comes.

“Hi! It’s Y/N,” he reads from the notification and he saves the number right away.

“Hello! Save me as Harry. I haven’t even told you my name yet, how rude of me!” he replies chuckling to himself.

“Will let it slip this time. Harry. What a nice name!”

“Is it what you thought about from the H?”

“It was one of my theories. The other one was Hayes, but Harry fits you better.”

“You haven’t even seen me, how do you know what name fits me?”

“I don’t know. You had a vibe. There are many great Harries in the world, you seemed to fit between them!”

Harry wonders if she is thinking about him without even knowing that… it is him. He wants to ask her, but decides not to. Instead, he is enjoying that he can now reach her immediately and not through a comment section. He never thought this would actually happen.

 The texts never stop. They have so much to talk about! Their entire life to share, millions of thoughts and so much to discuss! Harry is not proud of the time he has spent with his eyes glued to his phone, but he wouldn’t miss a chance to talk to her for anything. Their friends are not blind to the change in him, but Mitch is the only one with a guess about why he has gotten so addicted to his phone.

“Is it the girl from the videos?” he asks Harry one time when they are at the studio, having lunch break. Different food boxes are scattered around them, on the table and the couch. Harry’s phone just light up from a text and he immediately dropped his lunch to type a response.

He glances up at his friend with a shy smile nodding his head. He hasn’t talked about his newly funded friendship with Y/N yet, it feels like as if he tells it to anyone it might evaporate into just a dream.

“So you reached out, huh?”

“I did,” he nods returning to his food once his message is sent. “She’s great.”

“Does she know who she is talking to?” Harry’s lack of answer tells enough about the truth to Mitch. “You can’t hide forever, especially if you are planning on meeting her.”

“I know,” he answers shortly. “But I just don’t know how I could even bring it up to her without sounding like a mad man.”

“She’ll need proof.”

“M’not ready to show m’self to her. What if it changes everything?”

“Then it wasn’t worth it,” he simply tells him.

Deep down Harry knows it’s the truth, but he is not ready to be robbed from the joy she is bringing him. He has never felt such a deep connection to anyone before and they haven’t even met. It’s just a version of her he is seeing on the screen, not her real self. But it feels real to him and he wants to keep this reality to himself for just a little longer.

 “I wish I could hear your voice, Harry. You are one big mystery to me, you know that?”

He forgets to breathe for a moment as he reads her message, lying in bed one evening, getting ready to sleep, but he wanted to check in with her before ending the day.

“You know so much about me already,” he types back.

“Not enough, I feel like. Sometimes I’m afraid Nev and Max are about to show up at my door and tell me that I’ve been catfished.”

He chuckles at her words, though he completely understands her fear.

“What do you want from me then?”

“Send me a voice message so I know you are real. That would put my suspicion to sleep. For a while…”

Harry hesitates for a long time until he decides just one voice message couldn’t hurt. Just a short one where his voice is not that recognizable so his cover won’t be over immediately.

“Good night, Y/N,” he tells into his phone and then send the recording to her.

He watches the status change from delivered to read and a couple of minutes go by before she finally responds.

“Thank you. Now I know that you are real. I hope I’ll hear your voice in real life one day.”

“I hope that too.”

 His time spent undercover is coming to an end and he knows it’ll happen soon. It’s been weeks since they started chatting, almost an entire month and she’s been hinting her will to see his face and though he has been putting it off, he knows it has to happen.

Fate is playing under his hands, because he is traveling to Seattle for a few days, exactly when Y/N is traveling there to visit her parents.

“I hope you know you can’t leave without meeting finally,” she wrote when she found out they are going to be in the same city.

“It never even crossed my mind!” he wrote back chuckling to himself, however it brought him extreme anxiety that he is now going to be forced to come clean about who he really is.

He spends his whole flight to Seattle making up possible outcomes for their first official meeting. Not all of them end well and it’s just fueling his fear that he might lose her for not telling her the entire truth.

But she is a smart girl, she’ll see your reasoning, he tells himself, however he can’t entirely convince himself that it will be the case.

In hopes of squeezing in more than just one meeting into the weekend they agreed to meet almost first thing after he lands. So after checking into his hotel he heads into the city to finally meet her in real life in a local café she suggested for the occasion. Arriving to the place he is running a little late and she already texted him she’ll be waiting for him inside. Harry is wearing a beanie with shades to try to keep up his cover and it seems to be working, no one has approached him yet.

Stepping inside the cozy looking place his eyes roam around and immediately finds her sitting in the corner, pouring sugar into her coffee, not even paying attention to the door at the moment, but truth is she’s been intensely staring at it in the past ten minutes she has been there.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods to himself before heading in her way, hands shaking nervously as he stops at her table.

She glances up at him with innocent eyes, a smile spreads across her face as she sees that her mysterious Harry has arrived and she doesn’t recognize her until he finally takes his sunglasses off.

Harry watches her face turn from happiness to surprise then utter shock as she realizes who is standing in front of him.

“You are… my Harry?” she asks, confusion laced through her voice and Harry can’t ignore how she called him her Harry. He likes the ring of it.

“M’orry if it’s a little too much f’you, I really didn’t know how to tell ya.”

Keeping his eyes on her he pulls out the other chair at the table and takes a seat across her while she is still staring at him with a shocked and puzzled expression sitting on her face. Then she looks around in suspicion as he wiggles his coat off his arms, before her eyes settle on him once again.

“It’s not an episode of Catfish, right?” she asks making him chuckle.

“It is not, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but this was literally the last thing I was expecting,” she admits leaning back in her seat. “I believed things like this only happen in movies.”

“Not just there,” he smiles, slowly relieving that she is still sitting there and hasn’t ran out. It’s going way better than he expected.

She needs a little time to put the whole picture together and befriend the thought that she indeed just developed a friendship with Harry Styles through her videos for her brother. The absurdity is still shocking to her, but the more time passes by with him still sitting there, the more she finds peace with it.

Once the shock and surprise is gone they slowly realize they are seeing each other in real life finally. Harry feels overwhelmed, she is even more breathtaking than in her videos and through texts. He is mesmerized by her whole being and could listen to her talk in person forever, he wouldn’t get bored of her.

Time stops existing as they sit at the little café, talking for hours even though that’s all they’ve been doing through texts, but they just can’t get enough of hearing each other, seeing each other’s reaction and be able to see each other and not stare at a screen while talking.

Unfortunately, time never stopped just for the two of them and soon she realizes she needs to head back home. Harry doesn’t want to let go of her just yet so he offers to give her a ride, thanking himself for getting a rental for himself upon arriving. Y/N accepts the offer so the two of them head back to her parents’ home, soaking up the last minutes of their precious time spent together.

“Thank you for today, I really loved meeting you finally,” she smiles at him once they are parked on the driveway.

“I hope I didn’t shock you too much,” he chuckles scratching his chin.

“Just a little,” she admits before they both get out of the car and walking around it she stops in front of him, after a moment of hesitation she opts for a hug that he returns more than happily.

It feels as if her frame was perfectly sculpted to fit in his embrace and Harry can’t imagine how he could go this long without even seeing her in person. He knows it’s gonna be utter misery to be away from her after they leave the city.

“Will I see you before you take off?” she asks letting go of him. Harry looks down at her, the urge to kiss her growing bigger with each passing moment, but he is not sure if it would be appropriate to give it a try on their first time meeting.

“I’m free tomorrow for a lunch,” he tells her and she nods smiling.

“Then I’m free too,” she chuckles.

There’s an awkward moment where they are not sure what else should be done or said and the more they wait the weirder it’s getting so Harry clears his throat as he takes a step back, sad that he has to leave without feeling her lips on his, but he is not trying to be too greedy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles walking back to his car. Y/N waves after him and sitting back to behind the wheel he takes a moment to himself to collect himself after everything that has happened today. His hands curl around the wheel and he is about to start the car when someone knocks on the window. Y/N is smiling at him through the glass and he rolls it down curiously.

“I just…” she starts hesitantly, her eyes wander down to his lips and Harry knows what’s about to happen, but it still catches him by surprise.

Y/N leans in through the window and presses her lips to Harry’s, capturing them in a sweet, long awaited first kiss they both have been dreaming of for quite a while. Harry smiles into the kiss, bringing his right hand up to cup her cheeks as they stretch the moment for as long as possible. Whenever one pulls back the other brings them back for just one more kiss that turns into two more, then three… It takes a long time for them to finally let go of each other.

“See you later, H,” she smiles backing out of the car and running up to the front door, smiling wildly as she waves in his way one last time before disappearing in the house.

 Lying in bed that evening Harry is scrolling through his Instagram feed when he finally realizes he can now follow her without a worry. He is quick to find her profile again and hit that follow button. He is happy to see she was already following him.

He is just about to put his phone aside and go to bed after such a busy but exciting day when a notification pops up on the screen.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video!

He taps on it quickly and her smiling face greets him from his phone’s screen.

“Hi Sammy! It’s me again. Welcome back to our channel,” she starts with a shy smile. The setting is new this time, he supposes it’s her parents’ home this time. “This is going to be a short video, but I wanted to tell you about something. Or someone.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about where it’s heading. He listens to her voice holding his breath.

“I met someone today. We’ve been talking for a while, but I could finally hug him today. His name is Harry, and he is a wonderful man. I think you two would get along well,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I love spending time with him and I hope he feels the same way. Actually…” Her eyes move up straight to the camera, something she doesn’t do often. She usually stares out the window or plays with Henry while talking. “I think he is watching it right now. Hi Harry!”

“Hello, Beautiful,” he greets her back with a smile as if she could hear him.

“I wanted to tell you how amazing you are making me feel. I hope I didn’t disappoint. I was so nervous to meet you today, I hope I lived up to what you imagined me to be.”

“You were so much better than that,” he answers again.

“Anyway… I hope you feel the same way. You are the first guy I’m talking about in an update, so appreciate it!” she tells him and he chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you soon, H. But until then… Know that I’m thinking about you.”

“M’thinking about you too, Angel.”

“Sammy, I miss you as always. I hope everything is well, can’t wait for your next email. I love you,” she smiles before the video ends.

Harry heads straight to the comments. This time he doesn’t leave a lengthy one, just a short line, but it has everything he wanted to tell her.

“I feel the same way.” The comment reads. Just a few seconds later comes the notification and he smiles sweetly at his phone.

Y/N liked the comment.

[haik-choo]

what the holidays look like with the haikyuu boys

oikawa.

they look like sandy beaches, late sunsets, and tanned skin. festive red and green lights illuminate the bar you sit at with oikawa, the colors bouncing off his face as he looks at the menu. his skin is warm, heated from the setting sun; his arms and shoulders are tan, his pale chest peaking through his loose sleeveless shirt. “it’s strange for december to be so warm,” he murmurs as your finger traces circles on his open palm. “only to you. for everyone else here it’s just another day.” he makes a face and nods, flipping to the next page of the menu. “don’t you miss your home, tooru? japan must be nice and chilly outside right now.” he laughs, finally closing the menu and looking up at you, eyes shimmering. “it’s more than chilly. the roads must have iced over by now. but...” you lean in, anticipating his next words, “but...?” “...but, I am home. I’m here with you.” shy, you scoff, brushing his hand away and rolling your eyes. “oh, shut up.” you look at the beach in front of the restaurant for a while, heart pounding too hard to look back at your grinning boyfriend. from outside your peripheral vision his hand reaches to grab yours again and brings it up to his lips, gently kissing the back of your palm. “I mean it, though,” he whispers, “you really are my home.” the words tickle the hairs on your hand, heating up your ears and cheeks. you look back at him, taking in his glowing demeanor and loving touch, eyes soft. “I know. and you’re mine, tooru.” 

tsukishima.

they look like messy hair even in the evening, neither one of you bothering to comb it when you woke up. there’s no fireplace, instead, there’s kei’s laptop on the coffee table, a video of fire playing, gentle wooden crackles filling the warm silence. the lights are off, save for the lamp that barely glows bright enough to be able to read under it. but, it still works. kei’s long legs are outstretched towards the coffee table, feet clad in red fuzzy socks you got him last year. in his left hand is a small book, some stupid small-font history book he’s reading for work; in his right hand a cup of hot chocolate made with hot water, marshmallows floating on top. you sit next to him, hands in lap, legs outstretched across the rest of the couch, eyes closed, only listening to the faux fire sizzling in front of you. “look at you, Mr. Studious Nerd,” you impishly joke, eyes opening to turn and look at his reaction. “shut up or you’ll get coal for christmas.” you pout, “I thought I got a promise ring?” a resolute sigh leaves his lips, eye closing for just a second, “I knew you’d sneak a look at your gift early.” you smile widely, shrugging. smugly, tsukshima goes back to reading, “good thing I got you something else to actually surprise you.” gasping, you latch onto his shoulder, eyes wide. “what?! really? I thought I checked all of the gift-hiding spots, though?” the sound of a page turning followed by a sigh and the closing of a leather-backed book resonates throughout the room. suddenly, you become warmer when a pair of lips brushes against your forehead. an arm wraps around your shoulder to pull you in, closer. a soft, “I love you so much, you dweeb,” rings like merry bells in your ear. under your breath, shy yet curious, you grumble, smile creeping on your face, “you dodged my question, idiot.” 

kageyama.

they look like his toned legs extended out on the green couch you bought together, ice packs on each of his thighs and around his shoulders. his sniffle can be heard across the living room, red nose under attack from his cold. you smile, porridge in hand in a little festive bowl that has menorahs painted on the sides. “happy holidays, tobio. hope this helps you feel better.” the black-haired setter scoffs, “the only thing that would make me feel better is for this stupid cold to go away.” “I told you not to practice outside with wet hair. now your muscles hurt and you’re sick. you are simply reaping your consequences,” you reason, snobbish look on your face before it breaks with the roll of his eyes. laughing, you move his legs and sit next to him, spoon in hand. you raise your brows when he pouts and looks away, brows drawn close together. “I know you aren’t acting like a literal toddler right now.” “I don’t need you to feed me!” rolling your eyes, you sigh and place the porridge across the coffee table and stand up. “fine. feed yourself you nimrod.” not even two steps out the room you hear a low grumble come from the couch. turning around, you see kageyama with his head low, mouth barely moving. “can you feed me?” you give him a look, “...please?” smiling, you walk back over. his deep navy blue eyes contrast with the light red of his nose and around his eyes; your heart jumps as you feed him, his eyes trained on you. moments pass, silence covers the room in a safe, secure blanket. when he’s done eating, you place the bowl on the table before shoving kageyama aside to lay next to him. “you’ll get sick,” he says, but his arm is already wrapped around you, “maybe.” another second passes before he speaks again, “I really appreciate you, ya know.” you smile, turning on the tv to the sports channel, “yeah, I know.” 

akaashi.

they look like batter-splattered countertops, green and red sprinkles dusting the floor and dangerously close to the stovetop. a warm vanilla scent exudes from the oven, the timer counting down from twelve minutes. akaashi is bent over the burners, stirring beige eggnog with a wooden spoon. unfortunately, it looks lumpy and burned on the edges, somehow. with a sigh of defeat, the wavy-haired man puts a lid on the pot and moves across the galley-way kitchen, leaning on the white counters. you look over from the fridge, amused. “chef’s special doing downhill?” he chuckles weakly, nodding, “you have no idea. I think I burnt it...somehow.” you laugh, closing the refrigerator door with your hip, two glasses of eggnog in your hand, “that’s why I bought these, big man.” he takes the glasses, quirking a brow, “good thinking.” it’s quiet as you lean next to him, both watching the clock tick down closer and closer to zero. in this time you decide to stare at the love of your life, his nose with a slight bump in the middle, his eyelashes grow outward like grass, his tired yet loving eyes, staring straight at you. oh. you blink, turning away. “sorry. got caught in the moment.” akaashi hums from beside you, not missing a beat as his hand comes up, picking something from your hair. he rolls it in his fingers, “looks like dandruff,” he jokes, making you groan and push him away. “I’m just kidding,” you can hear the grin in his voice, you can see it too once he moves to the front line of your sight, forehead coming to rest against yours. gently, he brushes his nose with your own, eyes open only a sliver. “I am so in love with you.” he whispers, voice fragile and warm. heart swelling, you gaze up at him, “I love you, too, keiji.” in the background, the timer beeps thrice, but neither of you really rush to take them out of the oven, you bought extra cookies just in case, anyway. 

kenma.

they look like warm fuzzy blankets layered on his full sized bed, the low glow of the led lights on his ceiling shining down on you both. the sound of clicking buttons and occasional ending screen of a failed level play behind you; your own nose buried in your phone, scrolling past posts of friends out and about. kenma’s sock-clad feet rub against each other in lieu of more warmth as his head shrinks back under the protection of the white blanket on top of him. “I’m still cold,” he mutters before scoffing as he fails the same level again for what must be the thousandth time. he tosses the nintendo aside, shifting closer to you. “get another blanket then,” you muse, eyes still trained on your phone. “hmm, don’t wanna,” you feel his cold nose dig into the back of your neck, his arms encircling your waist; a warm breath fans across your nape, and you twitch. laughing, you try to elbow him away, but he whines at your resistance and holds onto you tighter. amused, you click off your phone and shove it under your pillow, turning towards him. you’re met with glowing 24 karat-gold-eyes and messy hair. he stares unblinking at you, and shyness overcomes you as he shamelessly lands his gaze at your lips. nothing can compare to the image of kenma slowly leaning towards you, sunny eyes closing in anticipation of a sweet kiss. a few beats pass with his lips on yours, and he’s in no rush when he pulls away, still staring at you. “you taste like apple fritter.” shy, you place a hand on his chest, “don’t you have a stream in like an hour or something?” “that can wait,” he whispers, body snuggling into yours. 

sugawara.

they look like ribbon and tissue paper strewn across the floor of a shared apartment. glitter spilled on the table, scissors open wide in an unsafe position peaking out from under the couch (that has an obscene amount of pillows with different holidays listed on them), tubes of wrapping paper scattered in random corners. you sit opposite of the gray-haired beauty, sticking labels on newly-wrapped presents, each of them addressed to a kid at the orphanage down the street. sugawara’s tongue pokes out of his mouth, nimble thumbs placing tape of the edges of the festive wrapping paper. “you know, koushi, not all of the kids celebrate christmas,” the former setter looks at you quickly, shrugging, “I know! I just wanted to get each of them a gift anyway! wouldn’t you be bummed if I got light up cinderella shoes but you got nothing?” you laugh, shaking your head. it’s silent for a few minutes more, the last few wraps being the most complicated ones, spheres and cylinders. you sit, waiting, gazing at the ugly sweater his kindergarten kids had gotten him (they all chipped in a few dollars (or their parents did)) that was a size too small and incredibly itchy, but he still wore anyway. “hmm, whatcha starin’ at?” his voice broke you from your trance. you stay quiet a few seconds more muttering, “you’ve got such a beautiful heart, koushi.” a blush erupts on your boyfriend’s face, his hands stilling before he smiles softly and continues his job. “only because you’re here by my side. you make me a better person each day.” you bite your lip and play with the nametags in your hand, feeling bad because you know you have the best gift out of all of the kids, and he’s sitting right across from you, failing at wrapping a soccer ball. 

tendou. 

they look like empty streets in the earliest hours of the morning, a time so early yet late that the birds are asleep, yet twitching in anticipation to be awake. the snow falls gently on the salted sidewalk, fresh and fluffy. a loud laugh breaks through the silence of the neighborhood street, the crunching of snow following suit. red hair dashes from piles of snow to behind lampposts, garbage cans, mailboxes. you wind your arm up, a heftily packed ball of (almost) ice ready in your palm for ammunition. a giggle leaves your lips as tendou grabs his own ball of snow, cheeks bitten pink by the harsh cold. ‘he’s fast, but not fast enough’ you think as you launch the snowball. it flies through the air, hitting the lanky chocolatier in the face with a satisfying crunch. tendou stills, nose red and wet from melted snow as you laugh so hard you almost fall over. a smile slowly climbs his now-numbing face and he walks towards you. your laughter only stops when he’s right in front of you, gazing down at your gleeful figure with love swimming in his eyes like marshmallows in gourmet hot chocolate. the snow rests on top of his buzzed red hair like white icing to red velvet cake. warmth radiates off him, penetrating deep in your heart. “you’re so beautiful,” he mutters, embracing you. you melt in his arms, but the feeling of wet coldness slapping into your back and the sound of crunching snow tell you of his crime. you can only laugh and call his name, “tendou satori, get back here!” and chase his nimble figure down the road back home, where he’ll hug you -- for real, this time. 

[cuddlepilefics]

Hug me again, I don't feel good

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Prompt: Fever @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids members always tended to drown their maknae in affection and although he always pretended to hate it, Jeongin secretly liked it. As long as the didn’t undermine his independence that is. Him pretending to hate their hugs, led to the members toning it down a bit, only going full out when they were in a teasing mood and felt like going on their youngest’s nerves. Today they had had to get up early, having a packed schedule ahead of them and not having slept much, the mood ranged from sleepy to grumpy. Jeongin certainly fell into the latter category. He wasn’t usually moody when he was tired but when he was woken up this morning, he felt more exhausted than he had when going to bed the previous night. As soon as they were in the car, he leaned his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, dozing off again. Considering it was a rather long drive, most of them were trying to get a few more moments of shut eye. Their day would start with a photo shoot, followed by an interview and an afternoon of dance practice. To say Jeongin wasn’t looking forward to it would have been an understatement. He didn’t mind the photo shoot, which was comparably the least tiring activity of the day. The interview wasn’t too bad either but he really dreaded their dance practice, feeling too tired to move. Maybe he’d just need to wake up properly and he’d feel more energized over the course of the day.

While they took turns getting their make-up done, the group slowly started to come to life more. Chan had had his second coffee of the day, making the mistake of getting Felix one too, who was now going through a variety of fortnite dances and hyping Jisung up. The rapper didn’t even need coffee to go crazy, merely someone else he was sharing a braincell with. Together the two tried their hardest to get a reaction from Changbin by annoying him but the older kept a straight face, simply ignoring the pair. At some point, even Chan joined them. Minho and Hyunjin had originally started planning their dance practice but had soon gone over to teasing each other, which escalated to Minho threatening his dongsaeng. Seungmin and Jeongin really seemed like the most normal ones in the group. On other days, Jeongin might have joined his hyungs, having fun and fooling around but today he just couldn’t seem to shake his sleepy haze. Maybe he should get himself a coffee too, since it seemed to have worked wonders on Chan and Felix. Unfortunately, the photo shoot started before Jeongin had the chance to get coffee but the boy pushed the thought away. Busying himself would certainly do the trick too.

The photo shoot didn’t go as well as Jeongin would have liked. Usually, he had no issues with the bright lights surrounding him but they sure made the temperature on set toasty. The maknae was sweating much more than he was used to during photo shoots, even having to get his make-up retouched multiple times. This wasn’t like him and it was humiliating. The staff already clicking their tongues at the boy constantly needing his make-up fixed. Aside from the humiliation, Jeongin felt plainly disgusting with his clothes sticking to him. As his mood was dwindling, his discomfort became more apparent to himself and to the photographer, who kept reminding him to smile authentically. How could he smile authentically right now? He was sore from exercising the previous day, he was burning in his skin, his clothes stuck to him and pretty much everyone on set was annoyed with him. No, smiling seemed like the least thing he wanted to do right now, yet Jeongin always smiled. Maybe not as convincingly as usual but he smiled.

The more time passed, the more the hectic surroundings were getting to him. He was pretty much melting in the thick clothes and was slowly developing a headache, with how bright everything was. The flashing lights were worse though, leaving him feeling disoriented as he tried to follow the instructions given to him as fast as possible in hopes of getting things over with. Sweat was beading his forehead but instead of sending him to get his make up retouched once again, the photographer decided to take a few last pictures, which he’d edit later on, before releasing the boy back to the waiting area. A few of the members still needed to get their individual shots taken, so it was rather quiet back there. Jeongin debated removing his make-up completely but he didn’t want to bother anyone to put another full make-up on him for their interview later. This wasn’t his first photo shoot, so why had he been struggling so badly? In a matter of minutes, the smile he had plastered on, faltered and a single tear trailed down his cheek. Then another. Pursing his lips, Jeongin tried his hardest to calm down and hold the tears back. He didn’t want to mess up his make-up even more. The harder he tried though, the harder it got to keep it together. Yet he only allowed himself tiny, quiet sniffles after already being a burden to so many people so early in the day. He just wanted to be professional.

His efforts were in vain though, when Chan entered the waiting area after finishing his shots. He knew his dongsaeng well enough and calmly went over hugging the younger. “What’s up?”, the leader hummed, taking a step back when Jeongin tensed in his arms. The maknae was already sweating and he didn’t want to be touched, feeling as disgusting as he felt at the moment. “Frustrated”, Jeongin muttered, avoiding eye contact with his hyung, “was holding everyone back with how often I needed to get my make-up fixed.” – “It’s alright. Don’t worry, everyone who’s stood under those floodlights will understand. It does get toasty there sometimes”, Chan assured. He knew he’d probably feel the same if he was in Jeongin’s position, so he made a mental note to make sure the boy wouldn’t get teased for it. The maknae had already accepted that crying had ruined his make-up beyond what could be fixed and accepted the make-up wipe his hyung handed him. Still sniffling quietly, he scrubbed at his face to get it all off. He already contemplated what to tell the staff, who’d need to reapply everything for their interview earlier. At some point, he had managed to pull himself together but still looked a bit gloomy, besides, his face had taken a flushed pink shade, probably from how roughly he had rubbed it. Handing him a bottle of water, Chan sighed: “You feeling better now?” Jeongin shrugged. Did he? He was still just as hot as he had been previously and his head still hurt, through he wasn’t as disoriented. It was nice and quiet now, there were less people and it was less bright, so he had probably just gotten overwhelmed earlier. “I think today’s just not really my day”, he pouted, “I feel like I still haven’t managed to wake myself up and my head hurts from all the chaos.” – “Should we go and get you some coffee? Might at least help for the interview”, Chan offered, “Come on, let’s get out of here for a bit.”

Chan took his dongsaeng to a coffee shop nearby. They could have gotten coffee somewhere closer but he wanted to give the younger some space from their work environment. Jeongin however shuddered the moment he stepped foot outside the building. It wasn’t cold outside but the temperature change messed with his body. The maknae didn’t even notice how he started to walk progressively closer to Chan till the older wrapped an arm around his shoulders, asking: “Are you cold?” Jeongin shook his head but was betrayed by another shiver running down his spine. ‘That’s odd’, Chan noted but decided not to point it out. Instead, he just let the younger stay as close as he wanted. That proved to be of great help when Jeongin stumbled, tripping himself and only being saved the fall by the leader’s arms around his middle. “S-Sorry”, he laughed shakily, already tearing up again. “No, it’s okay”, Chan assured, moving away when the younger regained his balance. That resulted in a whine from Jeongin, who moved along, leaning against the Aussie. “Innie, what’s going on?”, the leader frowned worriedly, confused by the maknae’s behavior. Realizing his actions, Jeongin straightened up and mumbled: “Dizzy.” Why couldn’t the other hug him again? It was exactly what he needed right now, with how upset and cold he felt.

From that moment on, Chan kept a very close eye on Jeongin. He really didn’t seem to be himself today. After they had gotten coffee and returned to the venue, the youngest had gotten comfortable against Felix’ side, who absentmindedly ran a hand up and down the younger’s back. Felix noticed how damp and sticky Jeongin’s shirt still was and offered him to get changed into a fresh one. “No, don’t want to take it off. I’m cold”, the maknae protested, catching most of the members’ attention. Shaking his head, Felix sighed: “Yeah, no wonder you are cold. Your shirt is wet. You’ll feel warmer in a dry one.” – “Hyung, can I have your hoodie?”, Jeongin pouted, giving Hyunjin puppy eyes, who was quick to give it to him. By now, all of them had caught on to their youngest acting weird but could they blame him? They had slept so little, none of them could possibly be in their right mind. At least Jeongin seemed satisfied, pulling the long sleeves of the dancer’s hoodie over his palms. Knowing they’d have the interview next, they all filed into the van.

As soon as they were settled, Jeongin cuddled into Minho’s side, the dancer sitting next to him taken a back. It wasn’t usually Jeongin initiating the skinship but that didn’t mean he minded it. Smiling softly, Minho played with the maknae’s hair and studied the younger’s face. His closed eyes seemed a bit puffy, brows furrowed while sweat beaded his forehead and a small droplet dripped down his temple. Not knowing whether the boy was awake, Minho didn’t dare ask Chan if anything had happened while they were gone. Instead he just decided to let the boy rest on him. Looking up, he met eyes with Jisung, who seemed to think the same. Something wasn’t right. When they arrived, Minho went ahead to talk to Chan, leaving a sleepy Jeongin in his seat. Jisung had stayed behind to wait for the younger, linking their arms but still lagging behind. “Is everything okay, Innie? You seem off”, the rapper asked quietly. At this point, the maknae didn’t feel like keeping up appearances anymore and hesitantly admitted: “I kinda feel off.” – “Are you sick? You know we could let you sit out if you’re sick”, Jisung frowned but his dongsaeng was quick to shake his head, muttering: “I don’t think I am. Probably just slept too little and don’t feel like myself.” The older nodded thoughtfully as he guided Jeongin to get his make-up done again.

Jeongin was the only one needing his make-up done, which gave the rest of the group some time to talk. “He isn’t usually that clingy and he just admitted to feeling off”, Jisung informed and Chan nodded, sighing: “He was really emotional earlier and after almost falling over, he said he was dizzy.” – “Don’t you think he might just be tired? He does tend to get more affectionate when he’s tired”, Hyunjin mused looking at Jisung who had talked to their youngest mere minutes before. Nodding, Jisung pointed out: “He doesn’t think he’s sick and told me he slept to little but I need, who hasn’t? Yet he is the only one that out of it.” – “He seemed to be in pain when we drove here”, Minho disagreed, looking at Chan worriedly. The leader shook his head and sighed: “Let’s just wait, I’m sure Innie would talk to us if something was badly wrong.” Not feeling satisfied with that, Seungmin slipped out of the room, to check on his only dongsaeng privately. He quietly stood in the doorway, watching the younger doze off in the chair. “Do you feel alright, Jeongin-ah? Your face feels really warm”, their make-up noona asked, carefully applying a thick layer of concealer under his eyes to cover the lack of sleep. Jeongin smiled a bit and hummed: “I think the bright lights at the photo shoot heated my skin up a bit. I’m okay.” Seungmin however was only more convinced that the younger was not. Especially now that somebody else was sensing something off as well.

When his make-up was done, the make-up noona glanced at Seungmin and smiled before leaving the two boys alone to talk. “Hey”, Seungmin hummed, sitting down next to Jeongin, “How do you really feel? Something’s not right.” That was enough to bring the younger to tears again and he chewed on his lip, desperately trying to not ruin his make-up again. “H-hyung, I -I don’t know”, he breathed. He cursed himself, why did he have to be so emotional today? When he didn’t elaborate further, Seungmin got up and pulled Jeongin into a hug. He too noticed the heat radiating off the maknae and gently brushed his hand against the boy’s forehead, calmly asking: “Can you describe what you feel? Maybe we can make sense of it.” Jeongin nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “I-I just feel really out of it, like I still haven’t woken up since this morning although I’ve been up for hours and even had coffee with Channie-hyung. My head hurts since the photo shoot and I keep sweating although I’m not hot at all anymore. I’m pretty cold actually”, he admitted with shaky hands, “For some reason I don’t feel really steady on my feet and kinda dizzy and I’m really sore from exercising yesterday. Could – could you hug me again? I don’t feel good.” Seungmin complied instantly, hugging the younger tightly and whispering: “I think you’re sick, Innie. To me it feels like you’re sporting quite a fever, which would explain why you feel the way you feel.” – “I can’t – I can’t be sick. My stomach feels perfectly fine, so it couldn’t be a stomach bug but my nose and throat are perfectly fine too, so it couldn’t be a cold either. None of this makes sense, why does nothing make sense?”, Jeongin whimpered, getting worked up again. “Shh, some bugs come only with a fever but that doesn’t make you any less sick. Does that make sense?”, Seungmin soothed, running his hand up and down the younger’s back. Sniffling quietly, the maknae nodded. Unwrapping himself from his dongsaeng, Seungmin smiled: “Alright, let’s go to the others and see what we’ll do about it, yeah?”

He pulled Jeongin to his feet too but the boy stumbled as soon as he was upright, crashing into Seungmin’s chest. Luckily, the older was quick to react and tightened his arms around the maknae, holding him steady while they waited for the dizzy spell to pass. Then they walked back to the room where the rest of the group was waiting. “Hyung, Innie’s sick and running a fever”, Seungmin announced as they walked up to Chan. Pressing the backs of his fingers against Jeongin’s forehead, the leader frowned: “You’re burning. Why didn’t you say anything?” – “I-I …” – “Hyung, we pieced it all together just now. He wasn’t aware”, Seungmin explained, reassuringly holding the younger’s hand. Jeongin nodded, face crumpling as Chan pulled him into a hug. “Do you want to wait here for us to finish the interview?” – “N-no, I can do it. They don’t have many questions for me anyway”, the youngest insisted. Minho joined them, agreeing: “We can cover for him, he just has to sit and look pretty. It’d be more frustrating to be dragged here for nothing. Afterwards we’ll take you home, yeah Innie?” – “No, I want to go with you”, Jeongin whined, always hating to be alone when he was feeling poorly. “We’ll see about that, let’s just get this interview over with”, Chan settled, seeing that it was their time to go on stage.

It went quite well with Jeongin just sitting there in silence. When they walked off the stage though, the maknae broke down, the tears he had held back, now spilling over. Felix was quick to pull him to a quiet corner of the room, cooing: “What’s wrong?” – “Do-Don’t know”, the younger choked out, his voice cracking pitifully. “Just really emotional, huh?”, Jisung hummed, running his hand through Jeongin’s hair. He had followed them worriedly, only getting more worried when the maknae desperately tried to pull himself together but failed. Watching him struggle like this really broke their hearts. Holding his dongsaeng tight, Felix whispered lowly: “You can cry, Innie. Don’t suppress and bottle it up. If you feel like crying, that’s alright, we don’t judge.” The younger nodded, hiding his face against the dancer’s shoulder. Giving them some privacy, Jisung went to get changed. When he was done, Hyunjin had already taken a bunch of make-up wipes and traded places with Felix, so the Aussie could get changed too. “Come on, let’s get your make-up off, so you can sleep. I bet you’re tired”, Hyunjin hummed, gently removing his dongsaeng’s make-up. He did his best to make the younger boy comfortable and couldn’t help but coo at how adorable Jeongin looked in his hoodie.

They got back into the car, where Jeongin settled against Seungmin, shivering slightly. Chan carefully hung his jacket around his youngest dongsaeng’s shoulders and smiled when the boy’s eyes closed. With how exhausted Jeongin was, it came as a surprise to none when the calm movement of the car lulled him to sleep. Not having the heart to wake him, Chan ended up carrying the maknae up to their dorm and to his bed. Minho soon followed them with a bottle of water and fever-reducers, which he placed on Jeongin’s nightstand, along with a note to take them later, when he woke up. When the two oldest members were satisfied their dongaseng was settled, they left the room and got ready for dance practice. Jisung plugged the maknae’s phone in to charge before leaving his roommate to get some rest. While Minho and Hyunjin discussed their dance practice, Felix grabbed a few plushies and took them to Jeongin’s room, so he wouldn’t feel too lonely while they were gone. They were almost ready to leave, originally scheduled to head straight to the company building from the venue of their interview, so they were running a little late. Changbin decided to make one last trip to the bathroom, running a washcloth under cold water and taking it to the maknae’s room. When he gently brushed Jeongin’s hair out of his face, the boy’s eyes fluttered open, disorientedly blinking up at the rapper. “Shh, go back to sleep”, he shushed, carefully spreading the cold compress on his dongsaeng’s burning forehead. He didn’t want to mention the medicine because that would’ve probably woken the younger up completely and they had agreed to let him sleep at all costs. Jeongin would find the medicine when he woke up. Hoping he’d sleep through most of their dance practice, so he wouldn’t feel lonely, Changbin promised: “We’ll be back before you know it.” Then he snuck out of the room and joined the others, eager to get their practice over with and back to the dorm as soon as possible.

[ynscrazylife]

Hey?? I Recently found you and I most say that I adore your page, I saw that you write for Lena do you think that your write a request for her?. My idea is that Reader and Lena are in a relationship, but Lena has feeling for Kara so Reader decided to leave her, you decided if they go back together or not.

I Wasn’t Enough | l.l angst fic

Summary: Y/N and Lena are in love. However, when Y/N recognizes that Lena has feelings for Kara, their relationship gets put in jeopardy.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting! I never understand the want for angst

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Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here!

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PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/ikromanoff

Y/N hadn’t been able to contain her excitement when she was approved to work on an article on L-Corp and the woman behind it, Lena Luthor. She had found the woman’s story fascinating and wanted to shine some light on the shift from Luthor Corp to L-Corp, and this was her time to do so. 

The moment she set foot in Lena’s office, though, she knew she was screwed. 

She had seen the woman in pictures and watched her press conferences on T.V, but seeing the magnicant lady in person was a surreal experience, mostly because of how gorgeous she was. Y/N found herself instantly distracted, unable to keep from feeling dazed as she saw the brunette so graciously finish up typing whatever she was typing on her computer, stand up, and offer her the biggest, most charming smile Y/N had ever seen. 

“Hello! My friend, Kara Danvers, told me you were coming. I’m Lena Luthor, nice to meet you,” Lena’s voice which almost made Y/N swoon pulled her from her thoughts and she blinked, suddenly remembering what she was here for. 

(She couldn’t help but be in awe, though, because of how down to earth Lena was. She still introduced herself like a normal human even though of course, Y/N knew who she was!) 

“I’m, uh, Y/N Y/L/N! It’s nice to meet you, too, Ms Luthor - I, uh, apologize, I’m not usually this nervous,” she forced herself to say, lightly chuckling off the awkwardness. Crap, what was she doing?!

She shook Lena’s hand (and nearly fainted right then and there). “Oh, don’t apologize! No need to be nervous, darling - oh and you can just call me Lena,” Lena said, smiling and waving off Y/N’s concerns as she sat back at her desk.

Y/N had no clue what was going on. Lena seemed to have put a spell on her because the moment she said that, Y/N felt better about the interview, having been reassured, but then a whole new worry racked her body: Lena Luthor had just called her “darling”!!! The up and down of emotions was making her stomach do somersaults. 

The reporter took a couple deep breaths and cleared her throat so she wouldn’t vomit from being overwhelmed before sitting down in the chair across from Lena, beginning the interview. 

The rest was history and, seeing as they were both good friends of Kara’s, it wasn't long before she spilled the beans on her secret identity as Supergirl and the couple became unofficial members of the unofficial group, the Superfriends.

They were having their weekly game night, Lena sitting in an armchair with Y/N on her lap, Kara, James, and Alex on the couch, Winn on the floor, and J’onn in another armchair. Laugher and skies filled the room, accompanied with the faint smell of wine and the lipstick stains on the discarded glasses. 

“Damn, Luthor, you’re sneaky,” Kara grumbled as she fished in her pile of Monopoly money to get the correct amount she needed to pay Lena for landing on her property. 

Lena chuckled as Y/N took the fake money from Kara and handed it to her. “All apart of business, baby,” she commented. 

Everyone laughed it off, but Y/N tensed up. Was Lena flirting with Kara? She looked over her shoulder at her girlfriend and Lena furrowed her eyebrows before a look of realization washed over her face. She quickly shook her head, indicating that the nickname was harmless, and kissed Y/N’s cheek.

Y/N brushed it aside. It was just a meaningless comment. She slumped her tense shoulders, forcing her mind not to wander to the many “What If’s” that could possibly happen. What if it wasn't just a comment? What if-?

“Your turn, Y/N!” 

Y/N blinked, taking a second to realize what Alex said, and jumped up to grab the dice (she would have fallen off Lena’s lap had the brunette not wrapped her arms around her, and Y/N relaxed at her touch. 

She rolled it around in her hands before dropping it and moving her piece to her own property which she had landed on. As the game continued on, everything was normal. However, it was impossible for Y/N to miss the small talk Lena would occasionally make with Kara and how her comments were just on the line between cautious and flirtatious. She also noticed every time Lena would practically be giving the blonde heart eyes, but just tried to ignore it, telling herself that she’d talk to Lena later and everything would turn out fine. 

. . .  . . .  . . .   

“Lena, can I talk to you?” Y/N asked as they sat down for breakfast, both drinking coffee on the late Saturday morning. 

Lena glanced up from the newspaper she was reading and hummed an enthusiastic nod before taking a sip from her mug. 

Y/N nodded, eyes falling onto the table as she thought for a moment to sort out her thoughts. Taking a couple steady breaths, she asked, “Please don't take this the wrong way . . . Are you attracted to Kara?” 

Lena blinked, staring at her for a second before realizing she was serious. The CEO shook her head, forcing out a chuckle. “What? No. What makes you think that?” She said. 

Y/N couldn’t decide whether or not to be relived. She sighed. “Just some things you were saying and looks you were giving her last night,” she muttered. 

Lena scoffed, biting her lip before shaking her head more decidedly. “Do you really not trust me?” She spat out in a hiss, making Y/N recoil from the sudden harshness.

“What?” Was the only thing Y/N could say as she was dumbfounded.

Lena nodded slowly. “Why did I actually think that you’d be any different from everyone else in my life? You don’t trust me! You think I like Kara!” She said, on the verge of anger overtaking her. She pushed her chair back and stood up.

Y/N shook her head, needing a minute to process what was happening. “I didn’t mean it like that-” she began to say.

“Uh-huh,” Lena retorted mockingly. “I wasn’t planning on going into L-Corp today but I need to cool off.”

Before Y/N had even gotten out of the kitchen to follow her, she was met with the slam of the door bouncing off her walls. She stood, stunned.

What the hell had happened?

She spent the rest of the day in distress, replaying the argument over and over again in her head and each time it got worse. Each time in her mind Lena glared a little harder, was even more ruthless in her tone, or the door slamming was louder. Lena also let her phone calls go to voicemail, leaving Y/N in her thoughts. Was Lena right? Did she not trust her girlfriend? Or did she catch something that Lena didn’t even know about herself?

Did Lena like Kara?

She couldn’t decide.

When the keys were finally jingling in the door, Y/N jumped up from their bed and ran out to meet her girlfriend, her cheeks stained with tear streaks.

Lena didn’t look to happy, either. Her eyes were a little red and puffy and she was frowning.

“I did a lot of thinking today . . . And I talked to Kara,” Lena said, cutting immediately to the point. Her words, combined with her low and defeated tone, gave Y/N a sinking feeling in her stomach. “I’ve suppressed these feelings for a while, I realized, but . . . You were right. I like Kara. And . . . She likes me, too.”

Y/N felt like she was just hit with a truck. “What are you saying?” She asked, voice cracking from emotion as she sniffed and could feel big tears bubbling. “Are you planning to leave me for her?”

Lena didn’t look at her. She kept her gaze on the floor and opened her mouth to say something, which gave Y/N the slightest amount of hope, before it was ripped away from her when Lena stifled a sigh and shut her mouth.

There were a couple moments of silence that just pounded against Y/N’s head. “I should have know that I wasn’t enough for the CEO of L-Corp. That you’d want Supergirl,” she finally settled on saying. It was just filled with disappointment, sadness, and anger, lacking in bitterness or pity, as she realized that the fear she had ignored that Lena would fall for Kara was now painfully coming to life.

“I guess I’ll go pack my things,” Y/N continued, feeling lost and without any hope at all when Lena didn’t say anything, didn’t even try and tell her she was wrong. She sniffed and stomped her foot when her girlfriend was just content for her to walk away. “It’s good I didn’t sell my apartment yet. We’re done.”

With a glare, she turned around and angrily threw all her belongings into suitcases while Lena stood in the same exact spot, looking at the floor.

[after-witch]

Yandere Ransom Imagine

“That's some heavy-duty conjecture.”

Word Count: 2700ish

notes: unhealthy relationships, emotional and physical abuse, financial abuse, yandere

Imagine being a struggling adult working a full time job plus freelancing gigs just to get by in your one-bedroom apartment where the ceiling always leaks when it rains and you have to perform a complicated maneuver to make sure the door doesn’t jam up on you and you’re constantly worried about your landlord raising the rent.

Maybe a well-meaning friend gets you a gift card to an upscale bookstore because they know you haven’t had a new book on your shelves in years, or maybe you find $20 on the street like a veritable Charlie Bucket but instead of buying a Wonka Bar you head into a this fantastic artisan coffee shop on the rich side of town, a place that everyone always raves about on Instagram, just so you can try an expensive latte with hand-ground beans and flavors you’ve never heard of before--because don’t you deserve a treat, for once?

Whatever it is, wherever it is, Hugh Ransom Drysdale is waiting inside and sees you there.

And oh my God is it obvious that you’re out of place right off the bat. I mean, what the hell is someone like you doing in this part of town?

With your worn out clothes that are worn from necessity and not from being fashionably thrifted and your ratty purse stuffed with papers and candy wrappers that spill out when you dig in for your card or cash and your winter boots that you’ve probably worn 5 years in a row, ripped in the hell and patched with black tape that you hope people don’t notice.

It becomes even more obvious that you’re out of your element when something goes wrong. The gift card isn’t activated. The $20? A fake, probably a movie prop that blew in the wind. Whatever goes wrong, it means that you’re suddenly at the register, impatient people with real money tapping their expensive shoes behind you, unable to pay. You’re left standing there like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do or say.

Normally he might just roll his eyes and remind himself that people like you ought to stick to your own shops, your own place. But something about the way your eyes go all downcast and you seem to shrink down in embarrassment makes him take pity on you. Like a stray cat in the alley hoping someone will toss it some scraps.

So he strides up and flicks out a card and hands it to the cashier, dropping a friendly greeting to them because he spends like crazy and they probably know him by name at this place, and he’s the one who hands you your coffee or your bag and your hands touch ever so briefly during the exchange.

He leads you away from the register--don’t want to piss off the spoiled debutantes and assistants on lunchtime coffee runs--and you stammer out a thank-you-thank-you and you promise you’ll pay him back as soon as you can and Jesus Christ, isn’t that just adorable? Someone like you, some lost kicked puppy who can’t even afford new boots, promising to pay him back?

He doesn’t care if you pay him back, but he finds that he would like something out of this exchange, so he says that instead of paying him back you can do him the honor of going to lunch with him. His treat. 

He insists. And you can’t really say no, can you? You are hungry and he did just pay for your things and it’s the least you can do to oblige his request.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t take you to some razzle dazzle fancy restaurant where you’ll feel embarrassed and out of place. Instead he takes you to a quiet diner, classy not greasy, where you can have an easy conversation and tell him all about yourself.

It’s funny. Normally he brings up his family name, his grandfather’s books, to women he picks up, to get them impressed and hooked and pliable. Something about you, though. Something about you is making him want to turn this into more than a lunch date and pressure for a quickie in the car to repay him. 

So he holds back to see what he can do with you on his own. No quickie in the car, but instead before he drops you off--at a bus station, you insisted--he brushes his hand over yours. Can he get your number? He swears he can feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you fumble for your phone and let him put his number in your contacts.

He waits a day, then asks you out again. Dinner, this time. He asks you if you know any good places and you recommend a dive bar that you can go to after work (because 1) schedule and 2) cheap) and shit, he’s all for it. There will be time in the future to impress you with restaurants that have dress codes instead of sticky floors. You sit close on the stools and you buy him a drink (real cute, real real cute) and just for you he keeps the baggie in his pocket there all night instead of heading to the bathroom to liven things up.

Your relationship develops with an almost shocking speed. He knows just how to reel you in. I mean--look at you. Working your ass off at some dead end job, living in an apartment so shitty it takes you almost a month before you reluctantly agree to let him see it.

He can understand, though. Because you’re not that stupid and you know he’s wealthy, even before he casually brings up his family in a “it’s no big deal but I don’t want to keep things from you because we’re getting serious” sort of way. 

You pretend to be casual about it all, but he can tell you’re suddenly wondering: why the hell would someone from this wealthy family want anything to do with me?

It’s a question Ransom asks himself a lot. He asks himself this when he’s snorting coke off another woman’s stomach (hey, you’re dating, but he’s got needs and they aren’t met with hand-holding) or when he’s eating another greasy burger at a shitty bar because you refuse to let him buy you a nice dress to wear so he can take you out somewhere fancy.

You’re not the type of person he normally goes for, not at all. He has strings of girlfriends and flings, but they all tend to fit that same cookie cutter mold: wealthy do-nothings with their parent’s credit card who want someone else to spoil them for a while, without caring who it is or what they’re like. They’re easy pickings that Ransom can burn through and then toss aside when he’s bored of them. Some of them cry but a few days later he’ll see them on someone else’s arm, it’s the circle of life.

With you, though, there’s more. You don’t expect him to pay for dates or anything at all (even when he wants to spoil you a bit) and you have actual conversations and you seem to actually give a shit about what he says and does. You argue with him, too, when he wants you to do something (just let him take you shopping, for Christ’s sake!) or he asks you to move in (again) and you say no (again). I mean, you really fight with him, spitting words and all.

And unlike his previous girlfriends, you don’t come crawling back a few hours later because you want to buy a new purse with his shiny credit card. Instead, you make him apologize first. Fuck, that’s hot. It’s also something he tucks away in the back of his mind to work on later--but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he sometimes has the overwhelming urge to push you against the wall and fuck you for the first time right after a good argument. 

But he knows that would destroy your image of him entirely, so he holds back. He’s good at crafting a version of himself that appeals to others when he has to, and you’re maybe the first person that’s been worth all the effort he’s put into you so far.

But you need a push, a push that makes it so you can’t go running back to your shithole apartment when you fight or when you question whether or no you two have a future. You do, you’re just too naive--too inexperienced with money, to say it charitably--to realize it.

So he tips off the fire marshal about your apartment building’s shoddy fire escapes and well, damn, in the process of the investigation all the little corners that your landlord has cut come crashing down. At least they were discovered before it was the building that came crashing down.

But the evacuation of the building leaves you--and countless others--high and dry. You don’t have any family in the area, and your only half ass-decent friend in the city lives in the same building but her parent’s aren’t going to let a stranger move in.

When you finally realize you have no options and call him, voice tentative and embarrassed, he knows just what to say to get you to pack your meager belongings and wait for him to pick you up. He’s no-nonsense about it. 

He knows how to avoid deflating your pride, how to keep you from deciding you’d rather stay in a shelter than take his charity. You’ll pay him back, he says, you’ll figure out a rental plan or whatever. He even teases--he’s not the best landlord, but he won’t take 2 weeks to change the toilet if you submit a maintenance request. It makes you crack a smile and bam, just like that, he knows he’s gotten in.

That night, after takeout and wine and a Netflix movie neither of you paid attention to, you fuck for the first time on his expensive sheets on his expensive bed and afterwards, when you’re both sweating and cuddling and reveling in the afterglow, he makes a note to buy you some new lingerie. 

It’s all very homey, for a while. He could do without you leaving for work and working your ass off, with your freelance shit, sometimes staying on the computer until two, three in the morning. But it’s nice to have you close all the time, available to him whenever (almost whenever) he wants. He brings home takeout and you snuggle on the couch and he finally even convinces you to go out with him to a nice restaurant wearing something he’s bought and hot damn, do you look good, head-to-toe in the clothing he’s chosen for you. Especially, later that night, in private, in the lingerie. 

Does he love you? The word hasn’t left his lips yet, hasn’t crossed yours either, but he can feel it underneath the surface. No. It’s more than love. He wants you. He wants to have you. And not just for the afternoon or the summer, but forever. 

He spins daydreams about how he’ll clean you up nice and introduce you to the family. Probably to Harlan, first, because everyone knows that’s whose opinion really matters. Harlan will like you--he would probably like you without any primping or fixing, actually, which is more than he could say for his parents or anyone else in the family. Then once you’re in, you’re in--you’ll come to family dinners and vacation retreats where people always end up in ridiculous arguments, and you two can exchange snarky comments about the family on the ride home.

And yeah, sure. You fight sometimes.

He throws out your old clothes and buys you a wardrobe befitting someone he wants to integrate into his family. You fight about that.

He makes comments about you how you should quit your job or at least try to get a degree--he’ll pay, as long as you agree to go to a university within driving distance--to work somewhere more respectable than a chain restaurant. You fight about that.

He gets pissed when you want to meet some “friends” at a bar without him, because why would you need to go anywhere without your loving boyfriend in tow, unless you were trying to flirt with someone else? You definitely fight about that.

And, okay. Maybe he’s hypocritical.

Maybe he goes out late at night when you’re stuck doing your “freelancing work” and he’s in a rotten mood about it, and he ends up on the floor of a swanky club with drugs in his system and lipstick on his neck. He doesn’t come home until the next morning and you’re pissed and red-eyed and arguing with him, accusing him even, but you have no shitty apartment to stomp back to anymore so you’re stuck. 

Until you’re not stuck. Until he casually snoops through your phone and sees that you’re looking up cheap-ass apartments and hey, you’ve already booked a few interviews already. The thought of you slipping through his fingers makes him more sober than he’s been in a while. He’s got to do something. Not to himself, of course. But to you. To keep you with him.

It’s easy enough to get you fired. He’s a ‘Thrombey’ after all, and some nice crisp bills anonymously sent to the right hands is all it takes for you to come home one night, cheap mascara (he notes: buy you some better quality makeup soon) running down your cheeks. Your freelancing isn’t nearly enough to get you into an apartment.

He assumes that you’ll give up on the idea after losing your job, but you’re nothing if not stubborn (one of the reasons why he likes you) so you start the job hunt the next morning, fresh mascara in place. 

Damn, do you keep him busy. Anonymous calls. Cash in nice white envelopes. Rejection after rejection. You get so sad, so depressed. You don’t even want to go out to restaurants, so he orders in and you snuggle in his lap while he feeds you bites of orange chicken and rubs your back. It almost brings you two closer again, starts to mend the rifts that began when you refused to get over his occasional late night out.

But then you break the uneasy mending by snooping and woah, you don’t like what you find on his phone. 

You fight. 

Damn, do you fight. This time there’s no pretense of potential forgiveness as you begin wildly throwing your clothes into your ratty duffel bag from the back of the closet, telling him to fuck off fuck off fuck off, telling him he’s crazy, telling him that what he’s doing is fucking illegal and--

It’s the shock that hurts you the most.

The shock you feel when he grips your wrist hard and pushes back on your shoulder when you try to yank away, pushing you against the wall with a hard thud. It’s like having a rug pulled out from underneath your feet when you feel a slight ache in your back, on your shoulders, when you tell him to Let go, goddamn it and he only pushes back harder to keep you in place. It’s Ransom. It’s Ransom who’s doing this.

His voice feels unrecognizably cold when he leans in and hisses in your ear.

“You think you can just leave me? After all I’ve done for you? Let me tell you something--you won’t get another job within one hundred miles of here, within one thousand miles of here, unless I say you can. So just put your clothes back in the closet, chill the fuck out, and stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

It’s the shock that makes you numbly hang your clothes back up in the closet, fold them again with shaking hands, and sit on the bed until the dam breaks and you cry.

And oh fuck, he’s sorry. Really. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and then he’s the one who’s crying and confessing that he didn’t want you leave him because yeah, he knows he’s a fuck up, he knows he’s got a drug problem, but he loves you. 

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He loves you. “I love you,” he says, again and again, half-laughing.  And he tells you you’re the only person he’s ever dated that made him want to be a better person but he doesn’t know how.

You don’t know what to say because maybe you do love him--but he hurt you and got you fired, but the tears on his face seem so genuine and he tells you he’ll never, ever hurt you like that again and fuck, he says, if you want to go get a job he’ll drive you to the interview right now just-let-him-blow-his-nose-first-please.

You make him sit down and then you’re the one apologizing and the rest of the afternoon is a shaky truce between you two as you drink hot chocolate and order in takeout and watch a movie together.

It’s not until you’re both under the sheets, satisfied and then showered, that you think about what he did to you in a clearer light. The thoughts weigh heavy on your mind, pulling and tugging. You think you might love him. He hurt you. He took care of you when no one else would. He cheated on you. 

I love you, he tells you, when your mind is starting to tug itself into sleep.

He hit you. He said he was sorry.

He hit you.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Moment In Time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Just when you've gotten out, you’re given a reason to come back.

Warnings: Mild Language

Chapter 7

* * * * * * *

One thousand one hundred eighty eight. 

One thousand one hundred eighty nine.

One thousand one hundred ninety.

One thousand one hundred ninety one.

One thousand one hundred ninety two.

One thousand one hundred - 

You shoot up from the bed, the counting of the passing seconds erased from your mind instantly as you throw the sheets off and get up. 

The sound of your front door opening and closing rouses you from your restless lounging and at first you thought it might be an intruder. Until you realize the very reason for your restlessness.

Apparently you couldn't go a week without Natasha. 

The first morning without her persuading you to give her cuddles, you knew you were screwed. You immediately hated the silence of your apartment, something you once were thankful for. Even making just one cup of coffee with breakfast felt weird. 

By the third day you were hoping you’d see her when you went to the compound. Hoping her mission was completed early and she’d come home with you after you trained Wanda. That didn’t happen though.

Worse than all that was that, since the first night she was gone, you couldn’t sleep. On the off chance you did manage to fall asleep it lasted a few hours and it left you feeling worse when you woke up. It became a recurring problem the nights that followed. 

Tonight was no different. You tossed and turned, tried cuddling a pillow, even resorted to counting the seconds that passed by. That is until you heard the door. 

Knowing only Natasha has a key to your apartment makes you get up in a second and leave the bedroom, quickly going down the stairs to the dimly lit first floor of your apartment. The lamp you left on in the living room gave you a fairly clear view of the redhead who slightly stumbles as she walks. 

A smile almost pulls at the corners of your lips at the at the sight of her. Seven days apart had been too long. But your happiness doesn’t stick as you register that she’s still stumbling on her way to the couch. 

You frown, flicking the closest switch to you, that turns the living room lights on.“ Glad I wasn’t sleeping. You’re losing your sneaky touch Romanoff.” You joke, knowing her reaction will confirm or deny your thoughts.

Instead of a laugh, Natasha lets out a huff as she leans back into the couch. It’s right then you know she’s hurt. You take a step closer, the new angle gives view to her bruised and definitely bleeding body.

A frown forms on your face and you lean forward a bit to get a better look at her. It seems the new angle reveals a few more bruises and the worry quickly sets in causing you to rush to the bathroom for the first aid kit. When you get back Natasha’s eyes are drooping and even though you can see she hasn’t lost much blood, you still call her name louder than needed.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, not while you’re losin blood.” You tell her, sitting on the coffee table in front of her.“ Now, lift the shirt so I can see what I’m working with.”

She smirks a little, glad the dim lighting doesn’t allow you to see her blush. You simply roll your eyes at her and focus on her wound.

Admittedly it’s not much. The blood is coming from her side where a bullet grazed her, plus a few other scrapes and scratches on her arms and neck. The bruises would heal but until then they were in places that could be hidden with the proper clothing. 

When you’re done patching her up and throwing away the bloodied cotton balls, you return to your spot on the coffee table with an ice pack in hand. Reaching forward, you gently press the ice pack to her side where the majority of the bruising is. 

She looks down at your hand and despite the cold of the pack, she feels herself heat up from the mere idea of your touch.

“Hey,” you curl a finger of your free hand under her chin and gingerly lift her head to look into her eyes.“ Gonna need you to start being more careful.”

She cracks a little smile.“ What? You worried about me Y/ln?” 

You nod,“ of course I am. Don’t know what I’d do without you Romanoff.” A small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips.

Despite the slight playfulness of your tone and the almost teasing smirk on your lips, your words are dripping with sincerity. It was clear when you were patching her up that you cared, that you were a little worried, but not knowing what to do without her? 

She could’ve brushed it aside, played it off as a joke on your part. But she didn’t want to. 

Almost two weeks away from home, alongside completing her mission, Natasha was missing you. She couldn’t sleep because the bed felt too cold without you beside her. The coffee she drank didn’t taste right cause you didn’t make it. Everything was wrong, because she didn’t have you.

When Natasha finally pulls herself from her thoughts, she’s suddenly hyper focused on how closer you are. The cold ice pack on her side seems to warm at the mere thought of your hand so close to her body. 

Glancing down at the ice pack and your hand, she looks back up into your eyes.

She wants to take a chance. It could absolutely, without a doubt, ruin everything that’s been built between you. But she wants to kiss you. She wants you to kiss her back, to feel for her what she feels for you.

Another thought passes, you softly call her name, and she abandons all thoughts of doubt and fear. 

With the pain in her body diminished to nothing but a quiet hum due to the intensity of her emotions, she surges forward and crashes her lips against yours. The force of her action nearly sends you tumbling back but you’re able to catch yourself. 

Natasha holds her breath as her lips press to yours, heart hammering in her chest as she waits for a response. She’s ready to pull away, ready to run away the second she does so. But she isn’t given the chance to. 

Setting the ice pack aside, you place your hand on her hip and attempt to pull her closer despite the gap of space between the couch and coffee table. 

She takes the initiative, driven by the pure euphoria that shoots through her heart at the returned pressure of your lips on her, and gets up to straddle you. Her hands cup your face as the kiss intensifies. She notes the warmth that radiates from your skin, a near complete opposite of the cold that seems to naturally come from her. 

You can’t say you agree though, not right now at least. While you have been on the end of her cold touch, right now it’s like you’re on fire. Burning from a passion that only she could pull from you. The fire starts at your lips, seemingly getting hotter every time hers press against yours again. It spreads down your body, the feeling not as hot everywhere else, instead it’s more like an inner warmth. 

Comparing it to the feeling of being outside on a cold day and taking a sip of hot chocolate is the most accurate. It’s a warmth that spreads all over, makes you shiver as it fights the cold. All the while it’s accompanied by the sweet taste of chocolate. It’s an addictive feeling, makes you want to keep sipping and sipping.

Kissing Natasha is the exact same. 

So much so that the both of you seem to forget you have to breathe until your lungs start burning. Even then you kiss her for a moment longer.

Pulling away leaves Natasha’s mind hazy as she tries to float back to reality, aided by the subtle touch of your thumbs on her waist. 

“Now I’m really glad I wasn’t sleeping.” You joke, voice still a little breathy. 

A quiet laugh leaves Natasha’s mouth, a puff of air ghosting over yours, reminding both of you how close you are still. 

It’s then that Natasha gets up, her hands gripping your shoulders as she does. You feel when she shivers a little as your hands slide down to her hips and off her body, but you don’t say anything. The small smirk on your face makes it clear though. 

Suddenly her face becomes unreadable.“ Um, I’m gonna go have a shower.” She says, a slightly nervous tone curving her words.

You do your best to hide your frown, simply nodding in reply and watching her walk away. Once she’s up the stairs and out of sight your mask slips and your frown shows.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out in a huff and push yourself up off the coffee table. Her shift in mood immediately after getting up worries you. It was like you were in a bubble and the second she got up it popped.

Did she instantly regret the kiss? Get up, realize what she’d just done and then use the need of a shower as an excuse to get away?

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you fall back to sit on the couch. 

You can’t bring yourself to admit you regret it. After months of having these romantic feelings for Natasha, regret is the furthest thing from your mind after finally being able to act on it. 

With the intention to talk to her about it after her shower, you wait for her. But that’s an exercise in stupidity. She doesn’t come back down and when you go upstairs, you find her curled up in your bed. 

Sighing, your eyes find the clock. It’s the early hours of the morning, a little past five. 

If Natasha is going to sleep her regret off, you’re going to run your disappointment off. 

~~ ~ ~ ~

“Come on Wan let’s go.” You clap your hands, a bit of force in your voice as you watch the young brunette.

After running for hours, you thought you were okay, that your thoughts and feelings about earlier today had been sorted and dealt with. 

It became abundantly clear as you trained Wanda that that wasn’t the case. 

While you’d figured out your disappointment, you also realized it was dumb of you to just jump to a conclusion just because Natasha needed some time to think. You needed to do the same, granted it only came after Natasha walked away.

Still though, you grew frustrated because well, she could’ve just said that. You know that communication, feelings wise, was still pretty new to Natasha but you wouldn’t have asked many questions. A simple “I need a minute to think” would have sufficed. 

Your frustration grew the more you were able to think about it and sadly Wanda ended up on the other end of that. 

She huffs with each step on the treadmill. You’d gone from mental exercises, her using her powers to do things, to physical exercises. She’s only been on the treadmill for fifteen minutes. But she’d been training with you for almost two hours. 

“Give the girl a break, Y/ln.” A familiarly sultry voice meets your ears.“ Not everyone has super soldier serum running through their veins.”

Breathing softly, you look back at Wanda.“ Alright, we’re done for the day. Good job.” She accepts your high five, giving you a tired but glad grin. You watch her leave with proud eyes, your vision of the door obscured by the redhead who now stands in front of you. 

Her head tilts a little as she looks into your eyes.“ Usually I have to beg you to stay in bed with me. When I woke up it looked like you weren’t there at all.”

Running your tongue over your teeth, you huff and nod.“ I didn’t go to bed. Went for a run instead.” You do your best to keep your tone level, not giving your feelings away. 

Not that it does much since Natasha asks,“ is everything okay?” Her brows pinch together as you walk away. Moving quickly, she catches your arm and turns you around to face her.“ What’s wrong?”

“Noth-” She doesn’t want to hear that, which is made clear by her expression. It’s one of brief annoyance, quickly shifting to a sadness you’ve never seen from her before.

“Do you-” her hand drops from your arm and she takes a step back.“ Do you regret kissing me last night?” 

A mix between a chuckle and scoff falls from your lips and Natasha gaze snaps from the floor up into your eyes.“ I’m sorry but you- you think I’m the one that regrets it?”

“Well I don’t regret it.” She says with her eyebrows raised.“ I initiated it. I wanted to kiss you.” 

You breathe in deeply and slowly exhale, mentally cursing yourself.“ Why didn’t you say anything afterwards? You just went to sleep.” 

“I know. The shower felt so good. I was so tired, the second I sat down I started to fall asleep.” 

Natasha jumps slightly at the sound of your hand smacking your forehead. She watches you shake your head and quietly mumble to yourself. 

“I’m an idiot.” You finally speak up, running your hand down your face and looking into Natasha’s eyes.“ I thought- I assumed that you not saying anything and going to sleep meant you regretted it and didn’t want to talk.”

“Yeah,” she nods and purses her lips,“ you are an idiot.” A little laugh leaves her lips and you’re glad she isn’t upset at you for assuming.“ Why would I regret it when I’ve been waiting so long to kiss you?”

Her words make your eyebrows raise. A quiet, slightly disbelieving chuckle leaves your lips as you subconsciously take a step closer.“ You’ve been waiting to kiss me?” She nods, taking a step forward as well.“ How long?”

“Long enough that one kiss last night isn’t nearly enough.” Natasha raises her hand and runs her fingers down the muscle of your arm.

“Y-you wanna kiss me again?” Mentally you curse yourself for stuttering but the thought is long gone when she smirks and nods. 

When your hand reaches up to cup Natasha’s cheek, both of you instantly feel the difference in this kiss and last night’s. It’s a slow, anticipation building, lean in before your lips meet. 

That same warmth you felt the first time feels amplified. 

Natasha’s hands cup your face and you both move closer, pressed up against each other as you share in this very clearly passionate moment. 

You part a moment after, a smile breaking out on the redhead’s lips. Just seeing her smile as you open your eyes, and knowing she doesn’t regret kissing you makes you lean in again, this time pressing multiple light kisses on her lips. 

She giggles quietly, a sound you hadn’t heard from her before, and squeezes your arms. Ducking your last kiss, she turns her head and pulls you into her arms, wrapping hers around your lower back. 

You chuckle softly and return the hug, resting your chin on top of her head as you squeeze her gently. 

While there will inevitably be a discussion about this, for now that’s not important. 

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @yumusak-yastik @b-5by5 @fayhar @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout @ecruzsalaz

[wonlouvre]

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 5.2k!! WARNINGS: is an awful lot of fluff a warning?

author’s note: FINALLY!!! AGAIN!!! i can’t believe we have reached part 5, you guys ;_; i never imagined this fic would even be liked by so many of you. i am so grateful to even receive notes from the first part up to the latest. i appreciate all of you! please let me know what you think. this is the part i have been excited for, so i hope you are excited too! enjoy!!!

five: the one | masterlist

What happened at the hospital made you cling to Wonwoo in the most subtle way possible. You wouldn’t even consider messaging his phone clingy. But yes, you have finally taken a hold of his phone number. Back then, Jeongyeon was the one who contacts him about your joint schedules. And now, it’s you that personally calls or messages him. Mostly messages. Aside from talking about the official duties you have been assigned together, one of the main reasons why you took the initiative is you just want to hear about whatever from him firsthand. You did notice, however, during the first time you sent a hello, it surprised the Prince a little but he just shrugged it off. You’re embarrassed but you brave through it because it’s only normal to communicate with your future husband.

You try to start and hold conversations with him from time to time but it doesn’t last long. It’s alright though. It’s not like you want to talk about his childhood through message bubbles. You’re also aware that a buzzing phone is the most unwanted item when he’s on duty unless it’s an emergency call. It’s also the same for your job. Staring at your phone while waiting for his reply has caught Jeongyeon’s attention already and she has not hesitated to reprimand you. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Jeongyeon asks and drops two lunchboxes on the center table of your office. “Are you still sick?”

You purse your lips and shake your head no, eyes not leaving the bright screen of the small device.

“Come on,” she calls and steals the phone from your hand. “It’s time to eat. I prepared this especially for you.”

You scoff in disbelief, but the smile on your face says otherwise. You stand from your chair and follow her to where the mouthwatering food is at. 

“I didn’t hire you to cook for me though,” you say, reminding her how she doesn’t have to do this. 

“Ey,” she dismisses your words and hands you the spoon to start eating. “I’m just helping His Highness out.”

Your ear perks up at the mention of the Prince. “What?” 

“He didn’t tell me to cook for you, don’t worry,” she quickly informs, noticing your face forming a frown. Then, she smiles. “He just wanted to make sure you’re eating right and well. And, it just so happened I had the time earlier to prepare this. Ta-dah!”

She opens the lid of the first food container and your stomach growls in hunger at the sight. A set of colorful vegetables, fully cooked meat and warm rice were presented before you. By the looks of it, she really did have the time earlier.

“Should I thank you or the Prince?” You ask in jest.

“Of course you should thank me!” She holds her chin up and points to her chest proudly. “I’ve been taking care of you for the longest time while His Majesty just started. He can actually learn 

a thing or two from me, you know?”

He’s taking care of me, your thoughts echo, making you smile. 

You’re definitely calling him later. 

The wedding planning resumes in no less than two weeks after navigating back to your usual routine. And on this one fine Saturday afternoon, Wonwoo decided to drive his own car and have you with him to go to your wedding planner’s office together. He messaged you and you welcomed the thoughtful gesture. He picked you up from your apartment, much to both of your security details’ dismay. Jeongyeon sent you a bunch of heart gifs afterwards and you can picture her screaming (silently) at the top of her lungs. 

This is the first time you’ve seen Wonwoo in the two weeks that passed and it’s kind of awkward to be alone with him in one small space. This is also the first time you have witnessed him driving. Security is tailing behind though. They are really not fond of letting the two of you out of their sight. 

This car ride is quiet aside from the radio playing some mellow music. Wonwoo has his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road. Which is good because as much as you want to stare at his handsome face, you need to hold yourself back. You let your eyes wander to the view outside the window instead.

Wonwoo doesn’t seem to notice your shyness and that eases your worry because you really don’t want him to think you’re shying away from him. You actually want to talk. Talk about anything and even everything. But, how? 

After you called him that one time, you’ve started speaking to him by call here and there. Before his shift starts, after his shift ends, before he goes home or when he’s at home and even before he goes to bed. They’re just casual calls that didn’t even last longer than ten minutes. That’s about it. Phone calls. But now, you are face to face and you don’t seem to know how to form words anymore.

Unbeknownst to you, Wonwoo noticed your dilemma and spoke up first.

“Do you want to grab something to eat after?” 

“Huh?” You ask, snapping yourself out from the thoughts occupying your mind.

“I figured it would be nice to catch up and all,” he explains, sparing you a small glance before quickly bringing his eyes back on the road. “Coffee or tea will do if you’re not that hungry.”

Warmth surged to your face. What kind of question was that? Of course you’d love to! You’re just holding yourself from shouting a loud YES! with a bite of your lip because you don’t want to sound overexcited. 

After a beat of silence, you boldly answer, “I’d like that.”

Wonwoo smiles and reaches his hand out to yours, squeezing them not only once but twice. His touch reminds you of how he held and kissed your hand that one time he accompanied you back to your apartment. Your breath hitches and you hide your surprise with a small smile. He lets go after a few seconds but those few seconds almost made you faint. 

You gulp, heart attack is inevitable with this man.

The meeting was short so you and Wonwoo decided to drive to the nearby coffee shop you passed by earlier. The place wasn’t packed and the facility was notified by security to make sure that distance and privacy from the public is observed. Such protocol is not enacted all the time and you are free to go out and about together or individually but sometimes these measures are taken into consideration to make sure that your safety is not compromised. Especially if there are topics or discussions that should be reserved only for the parties involved. 

Such as now when Wonwoo just casually dropped an engagement party bombshell to you like it’s the morning paper.

“An engagement party?” 

“Yes,” Wonwoo confirms, a nervous smile drawn on his face. “My mother, in her own words, thought it would be lovely to hold an intimate and simple party back home.”

“Oh,” you mutter and place the cup of coffee back on the table.

“Do you mind leaving us for a moment? I’d like to speak about this with the Princess alone,” Wonwoo politely dismisses the security detail and they obeyed with no protest. 

Once they’re gone, Wonwoo stands from the chair he sat on when you arrived and takes the space on the loveseat you chose. He takes hold of your hand, an action you noticed he’s been confidently doing lately. You opened your palm for him because you don’t mind. But a little warning next time is much appreciated because your heart can’t take any more of his surprises.

“I didn’t know we had to hold an engagement party,” you start and he agrees in a heartbeat. “I thought after going public, that would do it.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” he apologizes in a pout and that gave you the strong urge to squeeze his cheeks. Which you actually did. Your urges are becoming stronger than your own will whenever you’re with him.

He smiles at your touch and you roll your eyes when he winks at you. You guess it’s not only the hand holding that Wonwoo has been confident of lately. He has started to always search and meet your eyes and stay as close as possible to you.  Earlier after locking the door of his car, he  held your hand and the wedding planner couldn’t hide her pleased grin when she opened the doors of her office.

He also has the same confidence to escape from trouble, just like now. Although, of course, you’re not saying Her Majesty is causing trouble. It’s just nerve wracking to go to your future in-laws house for the first time. You’re sure any soon-to-be wife would feel the same way. 

But then again, you’re not just any ordinary soon-to-be wife.

“I heard the beaches there are lovely,” you mention to lighten the mood.

“Yes, they are,” Wonwoo guarantees, his arm now completely around your shoulders, fingers grazing the skin of your shoulder every once in a while. He’s completely warm and you wonder if he’s warmer when you finally get to see him in his hometown. 

You exhale and reach for a napkin to wipe the remnants of the cupcake he took a bite of off the corner of his lips. “Well, I guess I’m gonna have to file for a vacation leave then.”

Wonwoo’s eyes light up, an excited smile forming on his lips. No words were needed to describe how ecstatic he is to visit home. 

With you.

A week went by and you are now officially invited by the neighboring kingdom for a two-week stay at their Royal Residences. Your parents, the King and Queen, have received the official invitation and they have given orders for you to travel at the convenience of your time. They wish to come along but they do respect the Prince’s parents wishes to spend time with their future daughter-in-law. 

This is your last day of packing and preparing before the long car trip tomorrow and Jeongyeon is all smiles while helping you. She had mentioned before that when she was younger, her family annually travels to the beach there because of how breathtaking and relaxing they were. You can tell she’s very excited through her humming as she zipped the last of your bags.

Jeongyeon placed everything you’ll be bringing near the door of your bedroom to not miss out on anything when you depart tomorrow. She then leaves after resting for a few minutes, bidding you an excited goodbye and see you tomorrow. 

A while later, after scanning your whole room with hands on your hips, you let yourself breathe out and plop down on your bed. The week that went by was oddly busy and tiring. It scared you for a moment because you thought this might hinder you from leaving. But thankfully, after meeting your deadlines and satisfying clients that asked for your legal counsel, the two weeks to come is all yours and Wonwoo’s for the taking. 

You draw your phone from your pocket, thinking of ringing Wonwoo to check on him. But the sound of your doorbell distracted you from doing so. Your brows knit in confusion. You’re not expecting anyone other than Jeongyeon today. Well, you don’t expect anyone other than Jeongyeon ever. 

Nevertheless, you stand up and walk outside the comforts of your bedroom. 

You peek at the monitor near your door and your eyes widened like saucers when you saw the person waiting on the other side.

Wonwoo.

It didn’t take your fingers long to punch your code and unlock the door. You didn’t even bother checking if you completely unlocked the door because your feet sped to open it yourself. 

“Hey,” you greet and finally get a good look at his form. He’s wearing an oversized grey hoodie and black jeans outlining his long legs. It won’t take a minute to guess he just finished his shift. 

“Hi. Sorry. Did I come at the wrong time?” 

“Did you drive here?” You ask instead of answering. Exhaustion can be clearly heard from his voice and it makes you frown in worry. 

“No, no,” he assures, giving you a tired smile. “I am way too exhausted to drive.”

You didn’t need words to let him in. You just opened your door wider and turned around to walk back inside, certain he’d follow.

You can’t see it, but Wonwoo’s tired smile brightens when he sees you comfortable around him. The first time he stepped foot here was brief and today he’s hoping it lasts a little longer.  The moving car earlier almost lulled him to sleep, but he resisted to not miss telling the driver where to drop him off. “I’m sorry again. You were probably busy.”

“Don’t be,” you say and sit on your couch. You then give him a smile and pat the space next to you. “Now sit.”

Wonwoo returns your smile and takes a seat, dropping his small backpack beside the couch in the process. He lets his head rest sideways and closes his eyes briefly to regain some energy. 

You pout and reach out to remove the fringe blocking his eyes. “Have you eaten?”

He gives you a quiet nod before snuggling closer to the couch. “I just wanted to see you before we leave tomorrow.”

You’re rendered speechless with his words, heart definitely swooning. Without thinking twice, you pulled him close to your body by his arm before securing his head to your chest. His eyes blinked in surprise, but he welcomed the affection anyway. He closes his eyes again and nuzzles his nose to the crook of your neck. Soon, his arms are wrapped around your waist and your legs are over his lap, almost sitting on them. A cozy silence is shared between the two of you. 

“You have two weeks to see my face uninterrupted,” you whisper while running your fingers through his soft locks. 

Wonwoo’s lips stretched to a blissful smile and you can feel it against your skin. “Can’t wait Princess.”

Your first day at Wonwoo’s kingdom has you booked. Similar to the act of kindness their Majesties extended to your kingdom, your parents returned their generosity by donating for the construction and development of a public hospital. 

Although a courtesy call to their Majesties should have been your first agenda, their Majesties granted you permission to attend the ceremony commemorating the official start of the project. 

Wonwoo’s arm served as your anchor as the two of you stand before a cheering crowd. You make sure to keep a genuine smile and give enthusiastic waves whenever they shout for you. But, you are aware that they are much more excited to finally see their Prince back on their soil. You smile and give Wonwoo a glance who does the same. He holds the hand that’s snaked around his arm, a comforting touch to help keep you calm. 

After the Secretary of Health gave his closing remarks, the ceremony ended. The two of you bid farewell but not before you have extended your greetings to everyone present and wave one last time to the persevering crowd. 

The climate here is no different from your home. However, you must say that there are still some distinctions after seeing the port and the view of the sea. Even though you have been here before, this trip is a whole new experience because you’re about to be wedded to someone who belongs here. 

“Y/N, my dear.” The Queen joyfully opens her arms after you formally greeted their Majesties with a curtsy. You gladly reciprocate the gesture and hug her back. 

Wonwoo greets his father on the other side with a bow, but His Majesty wanted to envelope him in a hug instead. His embrace definitely says how much he missed his son after a long while. 

“I am so delighted to have you here,” the Queen says, rubbing both of your arms to warmth. “I hope the car ride wasn’t exhausting.”

You shake your head while smiling. “It was alright, Your Majesty.”

Her smile grows bigger. “We’ll let you settle down first before we proceed. We have prepared a room for you and the rest of your staff. But, I’m sure Wonwoo wouldn’t mind sharing his with you.”

You blush at her cheeky wink and you can see Wonwoo grimace from your peripheral. His Majesty just laughs at his beloved’s antics. 

“Your mother is joking,” the King assures and gives his son a pat on the shoulder. He then moves to your direction to finally give you  a hug.

Wonwoo steals you away from the loving couple, afraid of what else his mother will blurt out. He holds your hand again and you just giggle when you see him narrowing his eyes at them. 

“We’ll be taking our leave then, Your Majesties,” you say and bow once again. 

Their Majesties nod and wave goodbye. “See you later!”

There are still some instances where your home is called The Palace, however as times have changed, the Royal Family has opened its doors to modernity. It’s now usually referred to as the Royal Residences. Wonwoo’s home had done the same and you’re a little relieved that their customs are not that different from your homeland. 

Jeongyeon follows behind as Wonwoo gives you a brief tour to help you navigate around necessary rooms you’d be going to such as the kitchen, library, entrances and exits. All the while, his hand remained clasped with yours. 

The Jeon’s have made their mark on their residence and it’s not that hard to see. It’s too early to say but you can see how it is originally them. From the wallpapers, flooring, artworks, furniture and more. It’s nothing uncomfortable. It’s actually exciting and you’re looking forward to the days to come. 

Shortly after Wonwoo’s tour, you have arrived at the door of your designated room. 

“If you need me…” Wonwoo says, then pauses, hesitating. 

You tilt your head to the side, trying to decipher where the sudden shyness is coming from. You try to hide your grin. This is one of the rare times you see Wonwoo not making eye contact. 

“Your room is at the end of the hall, I know.” you finish his sentence for him and his eyes widen in surprise. Now, you are laughing indeed. “Her Majesty might have shared the information when she hugged me earlier.”

Wonwoo groans and palms his face, embarrassed. He loves his mother, a hundred percent. But, she’s testing it by how much she’s teasing him. 

You squeeze his hand. “You should get some rest. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” he answers, face still red. “I just hope she doesn’t rub herself on you.”

You shake your head at his remark and let go of his hand, reluctantly. 

“See you later, Princess.”

You adore the emerald dress that your mother had personally designed for you to wear on this special night. She actually surprised you three days before you left, presenting a huge box and smile when you arrived at the Royal Residences. She even told you how long she had this in store and she can’t believe that such a day she’d see you wear it would come. 

It’s a long-sleeve and backless dress with intricate patterns you believe only your mother would ever come up to. Looking at yourself through the mirror clothed with such a dress makes you confident and strong, reminded by the Queen who’s much more than you already are. 

Once zipped up, Jeongyeon helps put your official crown on the top of your head. The last time you’ve worn this was when your parents celebrated their wedding anniversary. And tonight it carries a different meaning and duty because you’re wearing it for the first time in a while, at your engagement to Wonwoo. You really wish your parents could be here. You’ll have to make sure to take and send a lot of pictures.  

“You really look beautiful, Your Highness,” Jeongyeon praises, looking from behind you as she does some finishing touches for the last time. 

You smile and thank her. 

A knock on the wooden door has your breath hitching. This is it. You release the breath you briefly held before turning away from the mirror to walk towards the door. Jeongyeon helps you with the train of your dress then holds the doorknob, waiting for your signal.

“Whenever you’re ready, Your Highness,” she whispers. 

You nod and hold your head high. “Let’s go.”

Wonwoo is no stranger to wearing formal clothes such as black suits with either a bow tie or necktie. Although he’s more accustomed to wearing scrubs and his white coat ever since he started working, he still remembers how his mother used to scold him whenever he arrives at events with a disheveled or mismatched tie. All the while, his father just laughs and fixes it for him, without fail. 

But this time, he promised to do things right out of respect to the woman of dignity that you are. Well, he’s of age to know how to do such simple tasks anyway so he really does not have any excuses. 

He humors himself and dust the invisible dust on his shoulders. 

It’s been a long while since you and Wonwoo have been engaged and yet his thoughts and heart are still all over the place. It’s nothing bad to worry about. In fact, he has grown fond of your company already and he won’t deny that the affectionate moments you have shared are more than enough to leave butterflies flying in his stomach. 

He then checks the time on the watch his parents gifted him on his graduation. He better get going if he’s to meet you at the banquet hall. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting like the day you asked him if he really wants to marry you. 

He wouldn’t be late at all because he does want to marry you. 

There. He finally said it and tonight will officially seal that with his parents, the King and Queen, and his people as witnesses. 

He gives himself a last look in the mirror and then takes his leave before a knock on the door is even heard.

It came as a surprise when you saw the color of Wonwoo’s necktie that is visibly similar to the color of your dress. It may sound unbelievable and a tad bit cringey, but your heart can’t help but flutter when it catches your attention. 

Wonwoo was already standing at the entrance of the banquet hall with his hands behind his back, eyes down on what seems like his brand new shoes and heart and mind patiently waiting for you, when you appeared before him. 

When he looks up and sees you at last, his big smile welcomes you. You can see his eyes brighten up when he sees the color of your dress and your nerves are a little bit relieved. 

“I didn’t get the memo, but I’m glad we’re matching nonetheless,” he says when he takes your hand to wrap around his arm. 

“Are you saying that this is a remarkable coincidence, Your Highness?” You teasingly reply as the two of you face the closed doors, awaiting to be opened. 

“Hmm. I think it’s our mothers,” he deducts, making you laugh. “But I’d like to call it meant to be.”

Your ears heat up at his last statement and you have to bite your lip to avoid smiling too wide. 

After a few seconds and static exchange from walkie talkies, a loud voice announces your attendance followed by opening the huge doors of the banquet hall. Inside, a number of guests not exceeding a hundred and fifty are standing from their tables, clapping as you and Wonwoo enter. 

You feel like the two of you started everything right from the very beginning until now. Your only hope is that it lasts, even just for tonight. 

Wonwoo’s family was nothing but all smiles when you met them. Brief yet sincere greetings and hugs were exchanged when your fiancé introduced you to them, the family that you’re soon-to-be part of. 

Wonwoo’s hand remained on the small of your back as you moved around the hall to meet every guest. You only got separated when his parents had to take you to different groups of people to engage and socialize. But still, from time to time, you and Wonwoo would meet eyes. 

The dance floor was opened after dinner was served. You couldn’t eat much as your nerves hindered you from doing so. It concerned Wonwoo, afraid you could be sick or not enjoying it. But you dismissed all his worries. Telling him you’re more than okay, just nervous. You finally convinced him when you held his hand. 

A little while later, Wonwoo excused himself to go to the restroom. He squeezes your shoulder and mutters a quick, “I’ll be back.” You were left to watch the King and Queen’s turn to dance their number and you cheered along with everyone watching the sweet exchange. 

So far, you are enjoying the night and as the party is nearing its end, you feel grand. 

What could possibly go wrong, right?

The presence of an ex-lover. 

Okay, that sounded spiteful, even for you. But seeing them standing from the distance and chatting had your heart dropping a little. You turn your eyes away and remind yourself that a minimal change of your expression can be noticed by the hundreds of people present at this party and you can’t let your jealousy be the trending news for tomorrow. 

You swallow the lump on your throat and plaster a smile on your face. You can’t and won’t let this get to your head. There’s nothing bad about catching up. Who knows, they may have chosen to remain friends. Even though you really don’t know how things ended between them. 

Your knuckles turn white from tightly gripping the napkin placed on your lap and your cheeks hurt from how fake you are smiling now. 

But then you ask yourself, why are you restraining yourself from going there and introducing yourself? Introduce yourself to the girl he once considered marrying. Introduce yourself as the one he’s marrying now. 

The jealous side of you is screaming for you to stand up but the lawyer side of you is telling you to stay composed and-

The lawyer in you doesn’t win tonight because before you know it, you have already stood up with feet taking you to where your fiancé is. 

Wonwoo’s back was facing you when you see and hear her giggle as you near them. You sneak behind Wonwoo, almost making his soul jump out of his body, startled by you. But when he realizes that it’s you, his tensed shoulders visibly relax.

You smile and hold his hand, purposely ignoring the other girl. “Can we dance?”

WHAT? 

Your head grows dumbfounded at your question. You can’t believe yourself.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend introduces herself with a curtsy before he could answer your question.

You just nod, showing no interest at all. You could feel Wonwoo growing tense again as he grips your hand tighter. 

You don’t have any intentions of staying and holding a conversation with her so you return your eyes immediately back to Wonwoo and repeat your question. “Let’s dance?”

Wonwoo didn’t hesitate to give in to your wishes, pulling you to the dance floor without looking back. 

He smiles at you and you smile at him too, the other girl long forgotten. 

Later in the night when the music died down and the crowd has dispersed, you find yourself growing guilty by your harsh and curt actions towards Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend earlier. It was so wrong of you and the need to apologize is imperative. 

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” you say while looking down on the floor. You and Wonwoo just arrived in front of your room and you have to do this before the night completely ends. “It was childish of me and I… I’m really sorry.”

Silence. 

You brows furrow when you don’t hear Wonwoo reply or mutter at least anything. You’re about to raise your head but Wonwoo’s warm hands beat you to it when he holds it gently and lands a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“She’s married,” he finally says something and that something makes you look up. “But I guess you didn’t notice because you only had your eyes on me.”

You punch his chest when he laughs, definitely not appreciating his teasing tone. “I can’t believe you.”

He’s still laughing when you pull away from him. You roll your eyes before turning to your door, ready to go inside and save yourself from further embarrassment. 

Wonwoo doesn’t fail to notice and immediately takes hold of your hand, tugging you back to his arms. You avoid his eyes when leans down and tries to get you to look back at him. He smiles and sneaks a kiss on your cheek. 

“Stop it!” You warn and push him away, but it was futile. “Are you drunk?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No.”

“Then leave.”

“But I don’t want to,” he whines and sways your bodies from side to side.

Wonwoo is now full on hugging your whole body to his and when you return his hug, he hugs you tighter and closer. He cradles your head with one hand while the other soothingly rubs your back. 

“We were young and wanted different things back then,” he suddenly tells. “We were committed to each other but it wasn’t meant to last and as time went by, we realized we were better off as acquaintances rather than as a couple.”

You sigh and snuggle closer to his chest as you listen to his story. “What about now?”

“Hmm?” He hums as he breathes in your scent. 

“Would you still want different things, even with me?”

Wonwoo backs off a little with his arms still around yours when he heard your question. That got him thinking. But it didn’t take him long to give you a sure answer. 

“I would still, yes.” He smiles and presses his forehead against yours. “But regardless, I’d still marry you.”

Your face blushes at his confession and you try to hide away by diving back to his chest. 

Wonwoo chuckles and finds your chin to lift your head up. “I hope it’s not too late, but you really look beautiful, Princess.” 

You don’t know what has gotten to you but once you lock eyes with Wonwoo, you hold the back of his neck and gently pull him down to meet your height. You push yourself up to give him a kiss on his lips. He freezes, but quickly melts right after and captures your lips to fully kiss you. It was only supposed to be a peck, but Wonwoo had other things in mind. 

A whimper can be heard from you when he deepened the kiss and you can only wish for this night to never end.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

Wonwoo didn’t have to answer. He just holds your hand and runs.