#I’M TERRIFIED TO EAT /ANYTHING/ BECAUSE WHAT IF IT FUCKS THINGS UP FOR THURSDAY

[msfcatlover]

…Got there. Got told the (pre-approved!) apple juice I took my meds with was “too acidic” and they “couldn’t risk it right now.”

Went home.

Simmered in rage until I passed out.

Guess who has a ✨jaw infection✨

[caffeinatedbraincell]

So you asked about prompts? ;D What about Joe/Nicky + any team member cuddling for warmth? Or something about all of them sharing clothes? Huge bonus if Lykon is still part of the Guard ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you anon for the ask!! 💕 This took forever but here it is~

Read on AO3

“Whose idea was this, again?” Joe complained, readjusting the weight of the front half of the giant plastic evergreen. He was sweating and freezing at the same time, which was decidedly one of his least favorite feelings ever.

“Yeah, I wonder,” Quynh seconded from behind him, throwing Andy a dirty look.

Andy sauntered hands-free in front of them, talking animatedly with Nicky and Lykon as they walked. The three of them clearly loved the snow, though Joe doubted they would be having even half as much fun if they had to carry the tree.

Quynh spat out some plastic pine needles. “Andromache! It’s your turn to carry this, come here!”

“Pleeease babe, we’re almost home!”

“Yeah,” Nicky interjected. “Besides, we have to carry the presents!” He waved the small, sparkly gift bag at them before pointedly turning back around.

Joe muttered something in Arabic about lazy spouses with nice asses, and Quynh cackled.

“Alright, alright,” Lykon interjected, jumping in front to get everyone’s attention. “Booker just texted me that he’s managed to get Nile out of the house under the pretext of, and I quote, ‘the snowball duel of the century.’ They’re going to the mountain pass, so we have two hours to get set up.”

“Perfetto,” Nicky said. “It’ll take me about twenty minutes to get the cookies in the oven, and then I’ll help decorate the tree.”

“You better get out in less than twenty,” Quynh warned. “When am I supposed to work? Do you even know how long it takes to cook chicken?”

“He doesn’t,” Joe confirmed.

“Habibi, that’s not fair. What about that time I made-”

A long, ominous buzz innervated all of their phones simultaneously. It was an emergency weather alert.

“Blizzard warning until 2:15 AM. All inner city residents are encouraged to shelter in place until further notice. Sudden snowfall and landslides may prove deadly,” Nicky read.

“Lykon, text Booker,” Andy ordered.

“On it.”

“No use,” Nicky cut in. “They’re probably already at the mountain pass. They won’t make it back in time.”

Andy swore loudly. “Joe, get the car. We’re going after them.”

Quynh and Joe dropped the tree and ran towards the house. By the time Joe started the car, Quynh was climbing down the porch steps with an armful of towels. The five of them piled into the car and tore down the icy roads.

The storm picked up with terrifying haste. When they got to the bridge near the mountain pass, visibility was already nearing zero. Joe switched places with Andy, clambering into the passenger seat so she could take the wheel. If anything could help them now, it was Andy’s extensive experience with driving in extreme weather conditions.

As they traveled through the pass, everyone kept their eyes trained on the snowy slopes, looking for any signs of Nile and Booker.

Suddenly, Lykon cried out in horror. Only a few feet away from the road were two motionless bodies, almost fully buried in a snow drift.

“Cazzo!” Nicky yelled, leaping out of the car. “There must have been an avalanche!”

Andy shoved the gearshift into parking and followed, joining the others as they attempted to dig out their friends with their bare hands. About two minutes after the frostbite set in, they were able to pull Nile and Booker free of the drift.

“Why aren’t they waking up?” Lykon asked, a tinge of panic in his voice. Andy rubbed Nile’s wrist as she looked at her watch, attempting to measure a pulse. Nicky tried to do the same for Booker, unconsciously chanting a Hail Mary under his breath.

Quynh stepped forward. “We need to get them back to the car. The heater will warm them up and help dry them off. Come on.”

Joe picked up Nile in his arms, cradling her head. Quynh threw Booker over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. This time, they noticed neither the weight nor the cold. Their entire focus was on getting their friends home to warmth and safety.

“Joe, your coat,” Andy said as they got to the car. “It’s fleece. Take Nile’s ski jacket off and give her yours.”

Joe obeyed without hesitation, bundling her in his own winter gear and buckling her into the back seat. Meanwhile, Quynh and Nicky used the towels to dry off Booker’s snow coat as best as they could. Lykon climbed into the passenger seat, and Andy began to drive.

Thankfully, the storm didn’t get worse on their way back (though Joe seriously doubted it could get worse). By the time Andy pulled into their driveway, Nile and Booker were beginning to stir.

“Hey, easy now,” Lykon soothed, helping a dazed Booker out of the car. “Let’s get you inside. There we go, you’re okay. Just a little farther.”

Behind them, Nile leaned heavily on Quynh as she half-carried her up the porch steps. Joe paused, watching them enter.

“All okay?” Andy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as the wind whipped the snow around them.

“The tree…” Joe muttered, fazed. “I dropped it somewhere. We were going to surprise Nile, and I-”

Andy turned him gently to face her, pulling his woolen beanie down to cover his ears.

“It’s alright, love,” she said softly, switching to Arabic. “She needs a different kind of comfort from us now. She and Booker both. Let’s go take care of them, okay?”

Joe nodded, following her into the warmth of their home.

A fire blazed happily in the hearth. Someone had expanded their futon and pulled it closer to the fireplace. Nile and Booker were seated on it now, wearing large, clean sweatpants - Nicky’s sweatpants, Joe noticed - and fuzzy Christmas sweaters. Quynh and Lykon were snuggled up on either side of them, feeding them something from a thermos flask and adjusting the heated blankets.

“Room for two more?” Andy grinned, curling up next to Quynh and gesturing at Joe to sit. “What’s that?” Joe asked, sliding under Lykon’s side of the blanket and pointing at the steaming drink in the thermos.

“I made apple cider earlier and left it in the instant pot,” Lykon replied. “It was still hot.”

Lykon held the drink to Nile’s lips. She took a large sip, sighing happily. Joe made a mental note to pour himself some cider if he ever got out from under this heated blanket.

Just then, Nicky walked out of the kitchen, balancing a large tray in his hands. “Soup time! Everyone sit up, let’s eat.”

Joe blinked, wondering how his husband had had the presence of mind to immediately go into the kitchen and make soup, of all things. He himself was still recovering from the last hour’s ordeal.

Nicky tutted disapprovingly. “Boss, get changed. Joe, you too. Why would you think it’s a good idea to get under an electric blanket in wet clothes?”

Andy grimaced, throwing her jacket and t-shirt on the floor and snuggling up to Quynh in just her bra. Quynh tugged Andy closer.

Nicky turned to Joe, raising an eyebrow. “Habibi?”

Joe pulled a face. “Do you have any sweatpants left for me?”

“Always.” Nicky ruffled Joe’s curls. “My gray university ones are in the dryer. They’ll still be warm if you hurry.”

Joe got up, returning two minutes later in the gray sweatpants and a black tank top he stole off of Andy’s dresser. He hastily dove back under Lykon’s heated blanket.

In the middle of the couch, swaddled in blankets and eating soup, Nile and Booker were looking much more alive. The color returned to their cheeks, intensifying as Nicky began to scold them.

“Booker, what the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded.

“I don’t know! You said to distract Nile, and she wanted to have a snowball fight. So I said yes!”

“Why didn’t you just go to the park?”

“I thought driving out to the mountain pass would buy you guys more time. It was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

“You could have died, Book! Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we can play with our lives like that. Not to mention, you put Nile in danger!”

Quynh sat up, reaching for Nicky’s hands. She swiped her thumbs over his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “Hey, lay off him, would you? They’ve had a tough night.”

“But what if-”

“No what-ifs, Nicky. It’s alright. They’re safe. Now put the rest of that soup down and come here.”

Nicky sighed in secret gratitude. This was not a night he wanted to be left to follow his thoughts. “Fine.”

He squeezed onto the futon between Quynh and Nile, accepting the blanket Andy threw over him. He wrapped his arms around Nile, who snuggled closer.

“Nicky?” she mumbled after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“If you’re not still angry, can I ask you a question?”

Nicky pulled back to look at her. “Sorellina, I’m so sorry. I was never angry at you. Nor at Booker, really. Just a bit worried.”

“Yeah,” Joe piped up from the other end of the couch. “He gets mean when he’s scared.”

“I am not mean,” Nicky insisted. “Nile, what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Why did Booker say you wanted him to distract me? Distract me from what?”

Lykon laughed. “Should we tell her, Nicky, or do we plan to try again tomorrow?”

“We lost the tree, so I think we should just tell her,” Joe voted sleepily.

“You just don’t want to carry another tree,” Booker accused.

“Easy for you to say!” Quynh jumped in. “Next time, I’ll distract her, and you can walk a mile in the snow with plastic pine needles in your face.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Andy said, lips twitching. “No more attempts. Jesus wasn’t actually born on this day, anyway. I was there.”

Nicky blinked at her, and then rapidly shook his head to clear it. He looked at Nile. “We were trying to surprise you with a Christmas party. Remember last Thursday, when you were telling us how your family celebrated it back home?”

“Yeah.”

“We wanted to recreate all the same traditions. We got a tree, and some ornaments, and stockings with your initials on it, and, uh…”

“Presents! And that Christmas music you like,” Joe added.

“Yes, and Nicky was going to make cookies shaped like reindeer,” Quynh said.

“Also,” Lykon pointed to a folded-up tripod in the corner, “we were going to take family photos in our sweaters and put them on postcards. Copley said we can’t send them to anyone, but we could still make some.”

Booker sighed. “Sorry I ruined it, Nile. I thought- wait, are you crying?!”

Nile sniffled, turning away from Booker to tuck her face under the blanket. “No.”

“Oh, honey,” Quynh cooed. We can still do it all tomorrow, if you want…”

“It’s not that,” Nile croaked. “It’s just- You guys did all that just to surprise me?”

“It’s nothing,” Nicky assured. “Well, it’s really nothing now, but even if everything had gone according to plan, it still wouldn’t have been any trouble. It’s your first Christmas with us, and we wanted it to be memorable.”

“You’re the best,” Nile said, voice choked with emotions. “All of you. And this is the best Christmas Eve ever. Thank you.”

“Hush,” Andy smirked. “In this house, we show gratitude by not dying unnecessarily.”

“Oh, that was all Booker’s fault,” Nile countered smoothly. “I would have been content with a snowball fight in the park.”

“Really loving the underside of this bus,” Booker muttered as the others laughed.

Over the next hour, the lighthearted conversation drifted into sleepy silence. By the time Nicky thought to ask who would turn off the lights, Joe was only half-pretending to be fast asleep.

[bostongirl13]

Piano, Thanksgiving and heart attack

A/N: I wrote this with the intention of continuing this story ➡ New Dodger photo  , but it can safely be treated as a one shot.

Summary: I think the title explains it all 💙

Warnings: age gap, Scott and Chris are assholes, swearing, mistakes

Words: 1,5k +

TUESDAY 

You growled in frustration not being able to remember a single word and what was in the linguistic pragmatics tasks.

"Stupid subject" you muttered, throwing your pencil across the room and letting it hit the wall. Dodger, who was lying on the couch behind you and keeping you company, raised his ears to the sound.

You've been sitting in the living room with your back against the sofa for a good five hours because your lecturer thought up an exam the day before the long weekend. Because, of course, speech acts, language functions, the theory of speech acts, and the communicative intention are so damn important that they can't wait until next week.

"Fuck" you cursed under your breath and rubbed your tired eyes. You felt your head starting to ache. And tears fall from my eyes from staring at the laptop screen for a long time. You needed a break, but you knew that if you do it, there is no chance that you will go back to studying. Being stubborn and hard to give in by nature, you took a deep breath and started reading the definitions and tasks once again.

Chris, of course, knew how difficult and hard this item was for you, so he was always as quiet as possible, occasionally bringing you a bowl of fruit, coffee, or tea, and ordered take-out food. He was loved. Even though you didn't thank him and just nodded your head, or just said nothing and paid him no attention, he knew you appreciated his help anyway. But seeing you sitting another hour in front of the computer with red eyes and tired, broke his heart. He couldn't watch his love work to death, and he knew that if he asked you to take a break, you wouldn't. So he came up with an idea, the implementation of which would make you leave your studies.

So he went to the piano standing against the wall and after a few minutes of choosing what he wanted to play, he put his fingers on the keys and caused the first notes to come out of the instrument.

You stretched and flipped through the notes page when you heard like music fills the air without effort, the sound rushing in and around every person in the room. You smiled and closed your eyes, leaning your head against the couch behind you. You listened to the melodies played by your boyfriend, feeling it sweep your whole body. The best thing about music was that it gave you strength and motivation. The variety of music in the universe is so diverse that there is something for everyone to enjoy. Music doesn't worry about anything; that’s the beauty of music.

You turned to Dodger and stroked his head.

"Dad is probably giving us a sign that there is enough study for today"

Dodger licked your face. “Okay, okay, that's it. Come on "you got up and stretched again. The dog jumped off the couch and followed you into the room where Chris was playing.

Chris was sitting in sweatpants and a navy blue sweater. His long fingers moved over the keyboard of the instrument, pressing the keys in the correct order so that the emerging notes formed a melody.

You walked up to him and hugged him from behind. "Thank you," you whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek.

"I'm glad you finally got away from studying. Do you like what I play?

"Very" you sat down next to him and put your head on his shoulder "Can you play any more?" you asked.

Chris kissed your head and started playing again.

Now sitting close to him and the instrument, you could hear and feel the musician much more clearly than before. Dodger lay down on his bed near you and listened too. Your eyes immediately felt heavy. You closed them, but you tried to stay awake. He had time, music surrounded the space him. You had to admit that of the many talents Chris had, this one was one of your favorites.

"I think it's time to sleep, Princess" you nodded and you let him rise you from chair. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, holding tight. "I guess I should start talking to you Koala" he laughed and you pressed your face against the hollow of his neck.

After a warm shower and putting on something to sleep, you both cuddled into each other, or rather you into Chris not allowing a minimum of a gap between your bodies. Even though you had an important exam tomorrow, you felt calm and knew that you would do well tomorrow.

THURSDAY

Quick update: there was no exam because it turned out that the lecturer did not have time to prepare the questions. You were relieved, but you were also furious because you could spend this time with your beloved men. However, you will not turn back the time, and what was now mattered. 

You sat snuggled up to Chris on the couch in his mom's living room and watched as two pupies and Dodger attacked Scott on the floor. You tried not to laugh because you knew the video would end up on Instagram, but you really couldn't help but see this scene. Even Stella giggled and watched the whole thing happen. You put your cheek to Chris's shoulder when he finished recording.

"All right?" he whispered to you, seeing your eyes freeze at one point, you were thinking something

"Yes. I'm just happy. Thank you for taking me with you to your mother's Thanksgiving. Maybe I shouldn't, but I feel like I'm surrounded by my family."

"How could I not take you with me," he said in an offended tone. The invitation was obvious to him and he saw no other scenario for the day. "Honey, you shouldn't feel bad about being comfortable with my family. On the contrary, I'm glad you feel that way. It means a lot to me. And I can assure you that they also treat you like a family member." he kissed you on the lips to which you heard "ugh!" and laughed seeing Stelle covering her eyes.

 Later that same day

You, Chris, Scott, and Dodger came back to Chris's house. All the way you couldn't stop laughing at the guys whining about eating too much.

As soon as you entered the house, the three men took their place on the couch in front of the TV. You rolled your eyes and being a good girlfriend, you went to the fridge for a beer.

"What have I done to deserve you," Chris said, taking a cold bottle of amber drink from you.

"Don't get used to it too much" you kissed him, "I'm going to take a shower" you add and disappeared down the hall.

"Don't you dare to let her go," said Scott, being sure you couldn't hear "If you do, I’m gonna kick your American ass." he took a sip.

"Funny." Chris laughed, "Don't worry, I'm not going to let her go."

Getting more comfortable after showering, you put on leggings and Chris's hoodie. Completely unaware that a trap awaits you as soon as you exit the master bedroom. 

You've been moving around Chris's house by heart. So instead of looking straight ahead, you looked at the phone. Chris and Scott were standing behind the wall so that you couldn't see them and both of them, with video recording, waiting for you. After a while, they heard your footsteps and they both looked at each other. Chris showed three fingers as he counted. 3... 2 ... 1 ...

"Y / N !!!" they both shouted giving you a heart attack.

"Aaaaaaaaaa ... !!!" you screamed, terrified, and you jumped up and you slipped and fell. Chris grabbed you at the last minute and pulled you close. "Are you crazy ?!" you snarled.

Your heart was beating dangerously fast in your chest, your breathing couldn't slow down. Both guys were laughing when you thought you were having a heart attack.

"I'm sorry, Princess, but you were the only one I hadn't scared off yet." 

"Be careful I don't scare you, you asshole," you threatened by hitting him on the chest. "How old are you? 5?"

"Oh, don't say you haven't got used to our childish behavior yet." Scott smiled at which you rolled your eyes. 

"Sorry," Chris repeated and kissed the top of your head.

"You guys are so cute," commented Scott.

"That goes for you, Scott too. You both are on my blacklist," you narrowed your eyes.

Chris hugged you tighter, feeling your heart beating fast. You hugged him, cuddling up to him and trying to calm down.

About an hour later you managed to play on them and scare them. In both cases you recorded everything and with a smile on your face, pleased with yourself, sent them the video, which they both later uploaded to Instagram. 

[russian-romanova]

the one that got away

title: the one that got away

pairing: joe goldberg

warnings: adult language, spoilers for season two of ‘you’, very brief mentions of violence 

notes:  joe’s pov. i haven’t gotten anything out there in a while, so here’s this. 

summary: it’s been years since you ran out on your high school boyfriend joe goldberg. now that he’s seen you again, maybe it’s time to find out if your instincts were right. 

+      +      +

There was a part of me that had forgotten about you. I would go months without thinking about you, but then the strangest things would conjure up an image of you or your name would ring in my ears for a moment or two before passing out again. So don’t make the mistake of thinking I forgot about you, Y/N. I never forgot. Not really. 

We dated in high school, which doesn’t mean much at face value. High School relationships are the ones that are the most fragile when boys can’t control their own body parts and girls don’t seem to know the word ‘boundary’. The teen couples that come into Mooney’s are the worst relationships, where they hold hands and kiss every time they turn a corner. It takes all I have not to turn them away.

But we were… different. We were good, and we took it slow. I was quiet and you were sweet, and God, I don’t think I could ever recreate that high I would get when I walked into school and would see you waiting at my locker, reading some book I had given you or eating some breakfast dessert. We didn’t rush anything, we were slow and steady friends more than anything, at least before we kissed. And when we did kiss, it wasn’t bumbling or awkward like teenage kisses should be. It was perfect, Y/N. Like it was meant to be.  

You know why I’m bringing this up. I saw you at some supermarket the other day, in LA. It wasn’t Anavrin or any of those frighteningly strict healthy eating markets. It was just some supermarket I went to in search of some food I had been thinking about, and I saw you in the cereal aisle. You didn’t see me, Y/N, although I wasn’t sure if you would have even recognized me. You had a box of ‘Cinnamon Toast Crunch’ in one hand and a box of whatever the generic brand was in the other. I watched you for a moment, turn the first box over, then the second, before sighing and adding the generic one to your cart. I turned my body so you couldn’t see my face as I waited, only turning once I was sure you had left the aisle the opposite way of me. 

Trust me, Y/N, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I had to double-take to even think it was you, and then I ended up staring at you for a full five seconds before I remembered where I even was. A supermarket. In LA. 

Really, the strangest part was that I had been in LA for around a month and hadn’t somehow caught wind of you. Sure, LA’s a big city, perfect for disappearing -- I should know -- but I have a sixth sense for these sorts of things. It helps that I’ve been trying to stay away from you, really, I stopped searching your name on the internet long ago and I’ve been trying to push you out of my mind. 

Still --  I see in you in all of their eyes. Candace. Beck. Love. 

Then you pushed your cart away from me and left behind the corner. I trailed behind you for a while, because how are you supposed to see your high school sweetheart and just forget about it? You picked out black beans and condiments, grabbed crackers and milk. Then you were gone. 

But I knew you were in LA, and that got me through a while. I was distracted at work, distracted with Love. Even Ellie knew something was off, and of course, I couldn’t tell any of them about you, Y/N. I made up some lie about work or the news, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wondered if you shopped every Tuesday afternoon if I would have a chance of seeing you again if I waited there next week. If you saw me first, would you interact? Would you know what I was doing and confront me or would you leave and hope that I didn’t see you? Would you see me at all?

No, I knew that I had to find you before then, preferably someplace where I wouldn’t look like some random creep approaching a pretty girl. I had to do my research. 

I didn’t know whether to be impressed or disappointed when I discovered both an Instagram and a Facebook account that were both private. You were aware of security, at least a little. You had a public twitter account, but nothing you posted on there really pertained to you on a personal level, mostly retweets about characters or politics. 

Roughly three weeks ago, you had retweeted some comedic tweet about the benefits of being single. This was a good sign, Y/N. My expectations were set low, but the more I learned about you, the higher they became. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about our high school years, and how happy we both were. We could be like that again. 

I was about to give up on the social media scour when I saw an Instagram account linked to your twitter account, completely different from the one I had already stumbled upon. This one was a much vaguer account, with some photos you must have taken, mostly of other people or of aesthetically pleasing nature views or buildings. The photographs that caught my eye the most -- and I’m sure you understand why, Y/N -- were the ones of Farmington Park and the one of a house front. The house numbers were blurred out, but it wasn’t that hard to trace around on Google Earth. I extended the view and followed the roads surrounding Farmington Park, making the assumption that you were near to it judging by the amount of photots you had posted of it, until I found the house that seemed the most familiar, the one that matched up perectly with the photograph. Bingo.

You should be more careful, Y/N. 

✾ ✾ ✾

And so I wait. I see you again, but no longer by accident. I don my jacket and cap, and I wait at the bench near your house -- just a man reading a book, nothing anyone will pay too much attention to. I see you leave your house, which I’m relieved to see you walk out of. I’ve been wrong in the past, and it’s the worst possible feeling I could imagine. But you looked right at me, Y/N. The second day, you walked out of your bright red door and made direct eye contact with me. I have sunglasses on, so I don’t know if you can tell I’m looking back, but you stare at me for a few seconds, and then you move on. I worried you had maybe seen me, but the next day I returned and you didn’t think much of it. 

Tuesdays and Thursdays is when you went to the park. As the sunsets, to get those stereotypical sunset photos, I presume, and you stay until late on Tuesday nights because you have Wednesdays off. It’s abandoned by the time it’s nine pm, the perk of small parks in big cities. So I waited until I was ready, until I thought you would be ready, and then I decided it was time to meet you. 

8:42 on a Tuesday night, and I’ve never been more terrified before. I sit in the grass and watch you as the people slowly go home, watching you on your phone and messing with your camera. I notice for the first time, the green bracelet on your arm, which I recognize instantly, because I gave you that bracelet, Y/N. In high school, for your birthday. I gave it to you years ago, and you still wear it. 

That almost gives me hope.

I had a plan. Once it was empty enough, I took off my hat and sunglasses, and I just sat there. You needed to come to me, to feel comfortable enough to do so. It was going to be an accident that I was here, nothing creepy. Nothing to feed your worries or stresses. I wasn’t a worry, I was a comfort that was reappearing after years and years. 

When you saw me, your froze. You just stood there, unmoving and possibly unbreathing, frozen in a moment either now or in the past, mind racing and heart too fast. I waited for you, patiently. It was hard to not run up to you, to talk to you unprompted. But I had waited this long, I could wait a few minutes more.

Finally, you spoke. “What are you doing here?” 

I looked up, feigning surprise. “Oh my God, Y/N,” I closed my book and stood up, smiling as if I had no idea you still existed. “What are you doing in LA?”

“Cut the bullshit. I saw you the other day. At least, I thought I saw someone that looked just like you, and now I’m pretty fucking sure that was you, Joe. This can’t be happening. This isn’t-” You trailed off, mumbling to yourself. Your were suspitious, but I could work with suspicious. 

“You saw me? Seriously? Where was it?” I laugh as if I’m more confused than you are, still confused and surprised. Keep it up, Joe. Patience. “Why didn’t you-”

“Stop it. You were-” You stopped talking, your eyes widening a little at the absurdity of the situation. “You looked at me, Joe. I know you’re lying, so cut the bullshit. Be honest.”

I think it over for a minute. “I didn’t know if it was actually you or not.” I say, a little bit quieter. I feel like a kid again, and we haven’t even been talking for a minute. 

“Honest,” You repeated. “I’m not new to your games, Joe. Where did you see me first?”

“The bus stop,” I say, maintaining eye contact. You give me your ‘bullshit’ look, and I realize nothing has changed. I almost smile before I remember what’s happening, that I need to work fast and convince you. I can’t lose you again, not now that I’ve found you. “The bus stop,” I reaffirm, before adding. “Nice bracelet.” 

And I’ve changed the subject. 

“I need to go home,” You say, sounding tired and frantic. 

I take a step forward. “Let me walk you,”

“No, Joe.” You say loudly at first, and then repeat it a little softer. 

“Please, Y/N,” I say in a tone that we both know is close to a beg. You look at me with those big fucking eyes and I hope I’m making the same expression back. The puppy dog eyes are something we’ve both mastered. 

“Joe, I don’t love you anymore.” You say suddenly, and you throw your hands out to either side as if that’s it. As if that’s enough to satisfy me and it answers all my questions. 

“Then why are you still wearing the bracelet?” I’m begging you now, pleading with you and I hate my own tone of voice. 

You glance down at it as if you’ve forgotten about it. There’s a pause as you think for a moment, searching for words or for a lie. I’m frozen when I stand. “It’s not because I love you. It’s to remember.” You look up at me again, and your eyes aren’t just big anymore, they’re teary now. A part of me still wants to run to you, to tell you that it’s okay, but I know I can’t. “You killed me, Joe. Or you might as well have. I’m mourning her. I can’t forget her.”

Any act is long gone. We both know what you’re talking about, about all the conversations we had where you had tried to break up with me and I convinced you, about all the looks your had given me when I did something that would send off a red flag. “I didn’t, Y/N. I wouldn’t have. I was so careful with you.” 

You look at me in a way I’ve never seen before. “I hid. I shouldn’t have had to hide. I changed so much about me, about who I was because I was scared you would find me somehow, I don’t know.” You run a distressed hand through your hair.

“Why? Why were you so scared of me, Y/N? I was just some kid in love. I loved you so much. I love you so much.” I take a step towards you.

You match it with one back, putting up a distressed hand. “Stop, Joe. Stop. I’m not doing this, okay? All of these things about you pointed to terror for me and I went with my gut because you hear all of these horror stories about girls and their boyfriends and it was better safe than sorry and-“ You sniff, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. You’re crying and I didn’t even realize it. “And I am sorry, Joe. I really am, but we both know that’s what I needed to do.” And you’re right, Y/N, and it would be a lie to deny it. I didn’t have to do anything to you and you knew who I was. No one has ever understood as well as you. 

I am hurt as you look at me, somehow pained yet strong. “I’m sorry,” Is all I can manage out, and you don’t respond. 

“I need to go home,” You say finally. “You do too, Joe. This is out there now, and we can move on. Okay? Don’t try to find me again.”

“But I can’t forget about you.” I don’t know if I’m making excuses or being honest anymore. For a split second, I think about lunging at you, grabbing you or striking you or something -- but then I remember that this isn’t just anyone. This is you. Candace, Beck, Love, they’re all modelled after you. I think that’s all I’m working for, is you again. Yet I respect you too much to treat you like them, and I love you too much to really let you go. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. 

“Then don’t,” You look at me with calm eyes. “Then don’t forget about me. It’s better to remember, but to keep it somewhere just out of reach. It’s not like I could forget you, Joe. You were a part of my life,” You admit. “No matter how bad, you can’t forget something like that.” 

And that’s all you need to say. No goodbye, no farewell greeting. You turn and walk away.

And I let you, Y/N. 

For the first time in my life, I watch someone walk away from me, and that’s it. Out of everyone, I hate that it’s you leaving yet I’m happy that we ended it like this. I watch your wrist swing slightly as you walk, the stringy ends of the bracelet swinging along with it. I think of what you said, about remembering, and I know there’s some truth there. I’ve felt it before, the need to remember Candace and Beck long after I had thought they were gone. For them -- and for me.

But as you turned the corner for the final time, something in me pulls at my senses, telling me what I already know is true.  Your words ring in my mind one final time, but I know you’re wrong this once. 

Sometimes, Y/N, it’s better not to remember, but to forget.  

[bobbystompy]

65 Quotes I Enjoyed From 2021

Below are my favorite quotes from 2021. Though most occurred throughout the year, some took place before but were encountered during.

1) “I try not to say never or always” - Julie Emery

2) “My phone eats last” - Brian Bedford

3) “I may be old, but I’m still a baby” - Brendan Kelly

4)

5) 

6) “There will always be villains. There will always be heroes.” - @RaeMargaret61

7) “Yesterday was horseshit for what happened and today will be horseshit for what will not.” - Drew Magary, on the January 6th capitol insurrection

8) “I love that which doesn’t exist.” - Pharrell Williams, on creating

9) “So Trump has access to the nuclear codes but he can't Tweet or post to Facebook.” - Andrew Ross Sorkin

10) “To not even wear a mask when it would protect your identity while committing crimes is so fucking funny” - @metalgearobama

11) “Sweet can be had anywhere” - The Night Of, on finding enjoyment in prison

12) “There's literally nothing wrong with just showing up, doing the absolute bare minimum of your job, and leaving.” - @butsh_feygele

13) “I answer the phone, but I don’t dial.” - Brian Bedford

14)

15) “Most of what America is now is just boxes going back and forth.” - Family Guy

16) “I've spent at least 12% of my day deciding whether it's Wednesday or Thursday.” - Jason Benetti

17) “You clean your room and suddenly anything is possible” - @manlikerex

18) “I love the stock market because when it goes up we get nothing, but when it goes down, we all lose our jobs. Except during a pandemic, when it goes up and we still lose our jobs” - @yeoldedad

19) “If you’re the most interesting person in the room, there’s no reason to shut up.” - Brendan Kelly

20) "There are no atheists in foxholes” - Unknown (via Greg Barnett’s journal)

21) 

22) “"Legacy’ is the most misused word in sports. Legacy is what you leave behind, not what you achieve. Serena's legacy isn't 23 Grand Slam titles, it's Naomi Osaka.” - J.A. Adande

23) “It gets late early out there” - Yogi Berra

24) “The last generation of Americans that will be remotely secure in their retirement, who enjoyed prosperity their grandkids won’t, have decided they’d rather spend their last years seething and terrified about cable news bullshit.” - David Roth

25) “Maybe death has a way of darkening a room before it leads you away.” - Aaron Gilbreath

26) 

27) “You can’t muck when you’re getting bucked” - Tate Frazier

28) “Only thoughts reached by walking have value.” - Frederich Nietzsche

29) 

30) “If you’re late to the game, goodbye” - Tracy Cunningham, on being late to the game

31) “When you find gold, you don’t go looking for silver.”

32) “A bad quality is not a quality.” - Eddie Lichstein

33) “I don’t die on oddly chosen hills so much as I live alone on them.” - Drew Magary

34) “I’m a gulper, not a sipper” - Anthony Bourdain, on fancy coffee

35) “Don't forget that most men with nothing would rather protect the possibility of becoming rich than face the reality of being poor” - 1776

36) “Writing a novel is most like writing lyrics, as far as music goes. When I write lyrics, I sit down and start throwing out abstract ideas. Then they slowly form into something coherent after lots of things have been discarded. Writing a book is like that. A series of failures molded into a narrative made out of the dross that floats on top of all the crap. Salinger said something (vaguely) like, ‘You have to be really tortured to write a book, because it is so hard.’ Meaning, you have to have something driving you. It's a long, problem-laden marathon, where a set of lyrics is more of a run around Lake Merritt. However, the actual tussling is more or less the same.

I don’t know if my musical background helped me. I have always made some kind of art and in a way it always seems like the same thing. You just make it because you’re an alien and that’s what you are good at. I am wired for this activity. I say that without any pretensions of being ‘special’ or anything. More like being sort of fucked, as far as the world’s priorities are concerned.” - Jesse Michaels, on writing his first book

37) "Don't spend a lot of time imagining the worst-case scenario. It rarely goes down as you imagine it will, and if by some fluke it does, you will have lived it twice." - Michael J. Fox

38) “This thing, on this scale, with this level of visibility and prestige, is simply not something that anything but a terminal culture would produce.” - Chris Thompson, on Space Jam: A New Legacy

39) “I’m not a crier, I am moved easily” - Julie Emery

40) “I never have, and never will, say no to brunch” - Dave Rokos

41) “We may have whiffed it pretty hard on the pandemic when it was very clear what to do, but now that there are a bunch of nuances and caveats, I think we’re gonna crush it” - Sarah Lazarus

42) “We came to El Bulli without a spirit, and we left with a soul” - No Reservations

43) “As long as I have lived, any coach who has used the phrase ‘disrespect the game’ have NEVER been worth a shit.” - Drew Magary

44) “The job of the newspaper is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.”

45) "I believe I read somewhere in a Chinese proverb 'Whenever you have the chance to watch the sunset, take it. It might be your last'. I do this because it reminds me how fast time goes. If you don’t believe me, just watch the last 60 seconds of one. I'm tired of wasting time worrying about what people think of me, self doubt, and fear. I’d rather trade all that in for a purpose driven life." - Michael K. Williams

46) “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

47) 

48) “Everything we say at funerals we should say at birthday parties instead.

We leave so much love unspoken.”

49) “Gambling is a disease, but it's the only disease where you can win a bunch of money.” - Norm Macdonald

50) “I’m pretty sure, I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure if you die, the cancer dies at the same time. That’s not a loss. That’s a draw.” - Norm Macdonald

51) “One day, I was high on mushrooms, and I convinced myself I was the Internet” - Vic Mensa

52) “Words are the first step on the road to deeds” - Liz Lemon, 30 Rock

53) “Joy is so rarely untainted by other emotions” - Catherine Whitaker, on Emma Raducanu’s U.S. Open title

54) “There are no rules when you’re flying this high” - RossWB, on undefeated Iowa (before the wheels very much fell off)

55) “To be interesting, you have to be interested.”

56) “Damage is quick, recovery is long.” - Brian Cook

57) 

58) “Don’t accept criticism from someone you wouldn’t accept advice from.”

59) “Every writer either quits drinking or dies from it.” - Drew Magary

60) “Most rappers die in their own city” - Lil Boosie

61) "You invite more love into your world, you're bound to invite more loss at some point." - Drew Magary

62) “Finally dad, finally!” - Nicolle Oldenburg, on Michigan football’s victory over Ohio State after a 10 year drought

63) I’m glad somebody understands marriage.

“I understand it because I know how to ruin it.” - Z.W. Martin

64) “The hottest places in Hell are reserved for those who in time of moral crisis preserve their neutrality.” - Dante

65) “If you're just operating by habit, then you’re not really living” - Andre, My Dinner With Andre

[mvnvgedmischief]

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter:  4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster. 

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings. 

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and  then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky,  no  one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place. 

He didn’t have time to think about  the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the  pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort  of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to  put  all of that out  of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the  time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time. 

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company  rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack. 

“Sirius–” 

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection. 

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.” 

“Remus was saying that some of  the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.” 

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked. 

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?” 

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he  needed to start acting like it. 

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground. 

 “Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–” 

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you  get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded. 

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future.  We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.” 

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned. 

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation. 

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite.  Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time. 

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can. 

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change. 

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.” 

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus. 

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad. 

“No, I would suggest you start over.” 

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior. 

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [02]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 3.5k a/n; i know it feels like a lot of bg and internal conflict but y/n!! our girl is struggling! she’s processing and is going through some times BUT things will spice up soon so thank you for all the love +notes, see you again thursday! 

[01] [02] [03]-> masterpost

The two most frequent contacts in your phone (you hope it’s your phone? It’s the same edition and everything) are Jimin and Taehyung. 

Jungkook (or not-Jungkook) high-tailed it out of there as soon as he deemed your reactions unfit for basic human society. He muttered that you were crazy and probably under something, and sped off in his motorcycle just like that. Like you were a stranger. 

It's not easy to ignore the aftermath of your heart after taking yet another rejection, but you're independent and you must stride forward in this strange situation. Taking a cautionary look around the area, you clutch your phone like a lifeline, tethering you together in this unfamiliar place. There's not many people around, but you spot a large library and a playground. Professionals are mulling from building to building, zombies in wrinkled suits and dripping iced coffees. Your phone displays an innocent 7:51, revealing how early it is. Toggling between the two friends in your contacts you take your chances and start with Jimin. The phone rings once, twice, before his dulcet voice chimes in your ear. 

“Babe?” he croons, and your heart drops at the sickly warm tone, “you can’t get enough of me after what we did last night?” 

You’re going to throw up. Scratch that, acid is already bubbling through your throat and you force yourself to tamp it down. There is no, no way in hell could you have hooked up with Park Jimin in your lifetime. 

Unless this is hell. 

“Jimin,” you steel your voice, hoping he can’t hear how absolutely mortified you are. You can picture this version of Park Jimin now, laying around in bed with crossed legs and casually enjoying how much you’re squirming on the other line, “I just need you to tell me where I live so we can move on with our lives.” 

He laughs, giggles bubbling like soft pink champagne. “Wow, I really must’ve fucked your brains out if you can’t even remember where you live.” God, in what life would Park Jimin be “fucking your brains out”? Maybe you should find a trashcan just in case you do puke on the sidewalk. “Y’know, you signed your lease with Taehyung a month ago? You just moved in last week?”

“T-Taehyung?” you stutter, trying to imagine the notion, “I live with Taehyung?” 

A beat passes, and you realize that just like you scared not-Jungkook away, you could be doing the same to Jimin. 

He says your name softly, gone the cocky tone you were initially bombarded with. “Are you okay? You could’ve waited for me to wake up, y’know. We had a lot to drink last night.” he mumbles, almost cutely if it weren’t for the fact the he was insinuating sex two seconds ago, “Did you eat?” 

“‘M fine,” you mumble, trying to chalk up your previous question with inhiberation. “Just loopy, I guess. I almost got hit by a motorbike, so my brain is probably just catching up.” 

“You got hit? Did you call a hospital?” great, now Jimin’s panicked. “Where are you? I’m gonna go get you. Drop your location, I’m leaving now!” 

“I’m fine!” you snip, and you feel bad for nearly screaming on the line. “I’m almost home, I’m just gonna lay in bed and sleep it off. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

You don’t bother hearing his response, and you hang up. You then start to furiously scroll Taehyung’s chat wall, noting that he’s on an academic trip with his students until next week and you have the apartment to yourself. After a good ten minutes of scrolling and reading conversations that you can’t recollect you finally catch the address to your shared apartment. 

The city is the same, fortunately. So are the bus stops, and you’re thankful that your bus pass has some fare money. Turns out you’re starting your journey at the University of Seoul. The bus routes are the same as well, and you manage to take a tour of your side of the city, noting the tiny differences in the town. 

For example, there’s no BigHit Entertainment in its usual spot. Instead it’s an additional practice  space for Cube Entertainment. 

There’s no fanfare to your city tour, and it almost feels like you’re just a normal woman taking a ride home. There’s still the same trees and squirrels, familiar odeng stands and ice cream shops. It feels like you’ve been cut and pasted into this world with no rhyme or reason, a fever dream. 

The bus circles around the usual route once more until you’re in front of your supposed home, only a twenty minute bus ride from where Jungkook almost ran you over. 

It’s a lot, and you realize on the drive over that you’re probably in deeper shit than you could ever imagine. You pull out your keys, and instead of seeing the ramen keychain Jungkook got you when he went to Tokyo Disney, instead it’s replaced by a university ID labeled Assistant Professor under your full name. 

You pin that new fact for later and focus on getting inside.

Your apartment is nice, you muse. Simple black and white furniture, but there’s a definitive home-ness to it. There’s a moss green afghan folded up on the couch, presumably made by the artist himself. You’re glad Taehyung’s appeal for the arts hasn’t been lost, as revealed by the frames on the walls detailing pictures of you and Taehyung’s families, and some of Jimin and Taehyung. 

Deeper into the apartment you find your room. You choke back a sob at the familiar bedsheets your parents bought you at Target, and you even notice some familiar clothing pieces folded haphazardly in the corner. Instead of your bed being filled with shameless BT21 PR however, your RJ and Mang are replaced with simple panda and cat plushies. 

Finally letting your tears fall, you sob loudly into your pillows, hugging and grappling at anything to comfort you. You feel achy and tired, as if your heart has fallen out of your body and nothing can fill the void. As much as your bed sheets feel the same, as genuine as those pictures are in your shared living room, this isn’t your home. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━•

Between your bouts of crying and forcing yourself to stomach cheap ramen, you find out a couple of things. 

You’re an assistant professor at Seoul University. At least this version of you is. A little part of you is pleased by this, you have always wanted to teach at the university level before settling with BigHit. To your chagrin however, you’re not a language professor. 

To your horror, you’re a pre-medical student teaching two “History of Neuroscience” classes. It’s only two classes because according to your Google calendar, you’re also balancing the completion of  your final thesis on muscular dystropathy among low-income neighborhoods. 

Dear god, if your parents ever found out you could’ve been a doctor in another life, they’d be surely choking on their own spit. In this world, you probably weren’t lazy and wholly capable of achieving the impossible. 

You don’t know why you spend the next two hours sending emails to your students about cancelling the next week of classes. Fortunately all your lessons are neatly packaged in your drive, and you send out an email with said lessons citing your mental health and how you’ll resume direct instruction the following week. 

From time to time, your eyes can’t help but travel to the frames and polaroids that decorate your walls. Some of the memories are vaguely similar, a house in the suburbs, an annoying cousin who can’t stop and won’t stop pulling at your pigtails, a movie night with unlimited pizza and breadsticks. 

Some of them are far and beyond your state of recognition. Jimin and you playing hopscotch by the river, Taehyung stuffing his face with fried potato skins in a cheap hole-in-the-wall, you winning the blue ribbon at your high school’s science fair. 

You could very well walk out of this life and just focus on going back home, but something tells you that you need to continue on with this life, at least for now. 

It feels too real to be a dream. When you tug at your hair tie, it’s painful when it snaps across your wrist. Your skin blooms with color upon impact. Could you die in this world? If Jungkook had not skidded in time, would you have survived a motorcycle accident? 

Three days pass like that. You’re contemplating, absorbing information. In-between pints of ice cream and crying your ducts out, you’re drawing conclusions. Could you be in a coma? A very realistic, painful coma? But Jimin and Taehyung are still sending you texts and the day turns to night as painfully slow as it always has. A coma can’t fake a forty person class, all of them vying for your attention through various emails and Zoom calls. It can’t be it. 

And as you rummage through your drawers, check every bit of social media and even your yearbook photos, you also confirm that Jeon Jungkook has no place in this version of your life. It saddens you greatly, and reminds you eerily about the heated conversation you had before all of this. The Jungkook from days ago, the one who looked terrified when you tried to touch him, only met you through happenstance. 

By day four, you get a phone call. There’s no picture next to the contact, only named Biggie Mentor. After a few rings, you finally get the courage to answer the call. 

A deep timbre seeps its way through the line, and you almost whine at how much you missed him. “y/n,” Namjoon says, but he doesn’t sound happy, “tell me why our students said you cancelled all of your classes this week due to mental health?” 

If Namjoon’s your mentor, that means you’re probably in deep shit for cancelling all your classes without his consent. 

“Uh, exactly that,” you say, and it hurts how much you have to strain your voice, trying not to pour any type of affection into this version of Namjoon. You’ve always had a soft spot for his gummy smile. “I’m sorry for not telling you beforehand. Something really traumatic just happened and,” you choke back a sob, trying to cover the microphone, “and I really needed some space.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” his voice is like melted honey, and you close your eyes and picture yourself back at BigHit, Namjoon’s happy smile whenever he tries to cheer you up. It only makes you even more upset, and your mind is all shadowed and filled with fuzzies as you attempt to picture Namjoon as your boss, “I was just shocked, that’s all. Is everything alright?” 

“No,” you reply truthfully, “and I don’t know if it will be.” 

There’s a terse silence, both your breaths hanging on the line with no move to continue the conversation. If your personality here is similar to your true world, you would understand why Namjoon would have a hard time formulating a reply. You don’t even know how close you are with him here. What remains is that you’re the type to keep your secrets to yourself, and if they truly felt hindering, you’d tell somebody. Not to say you’re the suffer in silence type of person, but you weren’t one to immediately dump your feelings on someone. 

Finally, Namjoon musters a reply, “I have a break at two. Why don’t you swing by our usual lunch spot and we can talk? Their sandwiches always cheer you up. ”

“Joonie,” your voice cracks, and you shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you. A slip of the nickname comes out before you can help it, and you hope this Namjoon is fond of the manner. “I don’t know where that is. Or what our ‘usual’ spot is. I don’t know what sandwiches you’re talking about either.” 

“Okay,” and you relax at the calmness in his tone, “I’ll swing by after my 5PM then. Set the table for us, yeah?” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Namjoon smells of dry-erase marker and antiseptic. 

He’s bounding into your apartment like it’s his own home, carrying two paper bags and a stack of leather bound books. The items fly across your coffee table, and you two work together to organize both your dinner and the books. Namjoon looks like a textbook nerd, wearing shades of burgundy and burnt orange as he breaks into your front door. Gone are the boots and sleek outfits that trim his figure, and you can’t help but go a little anti-starstruck at how normal this moment is.

But what remains is the bumbly stance as he makes his way through your tiny space, long limbs and all flailing to help you place his work in a safe space. The curve of his nose and dimples so deep you could fill a lake in them, you can’t help but muster a shy smile as he takes notice that you’re staring at him a little too much for comfort.

The two of you eat in relative silence, and you gratefully accept the bag he pushes in your direction. To your surprise the sandwich inside is a favorite combination of yours, and you wonder if this restaurant exists in your world. 

Your world. 

“Namjoon,” you place your sandwich down, despite the fact that your stomach is protesting for you to finish the first real meal you’ve had in days, “you know that movie, Avengers?” 

Namjoon’s face is puffed with bread, and you hand him a water bottle to chug it down. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “Marvel isn’t a popular franchise, so even if I had I wouldn’t remember.” 

“Marvel isn’t popular—” what kind of fucked up world is this? Your Jungkook would have a field day if he was in your shoes. “Anyway. There’s a concept from Marvel that there’s multiple Earths. Like you can create a rip in space and land yourself in another dimension if you’re not too careful. Do you think it’s possible?” 

Your tall mentor pushes his charcoal hair back, exasperated. “Is this why you’re taking off? Because you believe in some silly comic book series?” 

You feel your heart cracking, desperately trying to keep itself together. In your haste you grip Namjoon’s arm, desperate. “Please, just hear me out.” you warble, “a few days ago I was out drinking with a friend. Next thing I know, I’m in another world where I run into a boy. That boy is my friend, but he says he doesn’t recognize me! But I don’t recognize this life. Namjoon I can’t even imagine you wanting to be a doctor!” 

Namjoon is looking at you funny, and you know he’s really trying to believe you. Instead of the reassuring words you hope for, he instead says, “this isn’t even pseudoscience, y/n. This is supernatural! How could you possibly think you’re from another dimension? I just saw you last week and everything was fine!” 

“I saw you last week too!” you exclaim, clutching your chest, “and you cried again for the umpteenth time because you lost another pair of custom Airpods.” 

A pause. “That does sound like me.” 

Hope blooms in your stomach. “Doesn’t it?”

“Well, in this supposed other life. What is my profession?”

Your face falls. “Uh, you’re in a worldwide K-pop band. You’re making millions and producing beautiful music.” 

That sounded way better in your head. Out loud it sounded absolutely bonkers. You don’t even blame Namjoon when he bursts out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. You let him, sinking further into your seat and hugging your knees. You really hoped Namjoon would’ve come through for you. 

However you’re not laughing along with him, and he immediately stops at your teary expression. He pushes himself over to you with his long legs, quickly moving to prevent yourself from tucking into your shell. He sees how small your form becomes and he reaches over to place a hand over your hair. “You’re really upset over this, aren’t you?” he questions aloud, and he can’t piece it together, “did you hit your head or something?” 

Defeated, you explain, “I may have gotten hit by a motorcycle the other day.” 

“What?” he squeezes your shoulder, “well, that explains a lot! What if you’re hallucinating? What if you have a concussion? You could be suffering from short-term memory loss!” 

You’re sure it’s none of those things, but you let him ramble. The explanation is clear-cut and so painfully normal that it’s the only conclusion that Namjoon will cling to. Your mentor insists you take a medical leave, and says he’ll take over your classes in the meantime. He gives you a number to call, explains there one of the best doctors for trauma and motor incidents. You don’t say anything to that, but you accept the number and lie when you say you’ll call them in the morning. Namjoon still treats you like a friend however, despite your fruitless confession, and you concede that his comfort is more than enough after such a rough week. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━••

It’s been nearly two weeks since you’ve contacted Jimin. 

Sure, Jimin’s contacted you. A couple flirty texts here, some low-key sexy selfies there. Usually, you’d eat that up like honey and butter. Now, there’s only one-word replies and half-hearted attempts at continuing a conversation. He loosens his tie, thankful he’s working out of the office today. He can look at his phone all he wants, and no one will judge him. 

Jimin finally looks up at the photographer his marketing company contracted, who’s still mulling over the contract. “We’re not trying to jip you, promise.” Jimin assures, and he almost laughs at the comical way the young man’s large eyes catch his concern. “You’ll get all that money, and then some if you need to work overtime. It’s a sweet gig.” 

“Yeah,” the young man nods, and grabs the pen to sign at the bottom. “Looking forward to working with you.” 

“Same to you, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin grins, meeting him halfway across the table, “I’ve seen your work, I’m sure the commercial will be beautiful.” 

“You can call me Jungkook,” the new employee flashes him a quick grin, taking his palm in his. Jimin tries not to twitch at this cute kid, who is both devastatingly handsome and cute at the same time. He’s a little jealous, a little attracted. 

“Great, because Mr. Park is my dad. Jimin’s fine.” 

It’s then that Jimin’s phone lights up, both pairs of eyes darting to the picture of you decorating the wallpaper. 

While it’s not a completely flattering picture (you’re asleep with your wire-rimmed glasses half-off and there’s drool dribbling down your chin.) However it’s definitely you, the person Jungkook nearly killed a couple days ago.

Jungkook’s mouth goes dry, and he lets go of Jimin’s hand like it’s fire. Jimin hardly notices, grabbing his phone in hope that you replied to his text. To his despair, it’s just Taehyung. He ruffles his hair in frustration, letting the slick ebony strands fall out of his hairstyle.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses, shoving his phone in his blazer. 

“Everything alright?” Jungkook asks, trying to be polite. On the other hand, he’s rather curious about the girl from weeks ago, who still hasn’t left his mind. 

In the heat of the moment, Jungkook left the scene with you blubbering on the road. How wide your eyes were with recognition, and almost mother-like as you coddled him like someone to protect. He’s felt bad about it since, but he had an interview with Jimin’s boss and he couldn’t blow a job opportunity. It couldn’t be helped that your sad expression has been his midnight fixation when he can’t sleep or has a creative block. He should’ve at least called a cab to take you to the hospital or something, you were clearly not in the right mind. 

“Yeah, it’s just a friend.” Jimin forces a smile, not wanting to dump his baggage on the new employee. “She almost got hit by a motorcycle the other day,” Jungkook masks a wince, remembering the horror he felt when he saw you, just lying there across the street. “Ever since then, she just hasn’t been herself. I’m just worried. It’s like she’s seen a ghost or something.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook steals a glance at Jimin’s phone again, hoping to see your picture light up again. He does feel a little guilty pushing you off him and running away, but then again it was you that started being weird. 

How did you know him, and why were you so concerned for his well-being? Would he get fired if he asked Jimin about you? That would be the quickest job he ever got contracted for. Instead, Jungkook forces a smile and offers a neutral, “Well, I’m sure things will work out.” 

“Thanks, I hope so too.” 

Jungkook’s palms are sweaty, as if it’s a dark premonition that something will happen. With Jimin around supervising him, he has a feeling that if things don’t work out, things will happen regardless. 

Maybe he’ll understand why you were so concerned for a stranger’s well-being, and why you looked at him like that. 

Like someone in love. 

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Angel From Ymir

Reiner Braun

word count: 1418

summary: Reiner comes across a kitty. kitty decides Reiner is his person. this is Reiner’s written experience.

tw: mentions of depression + ptsd. cute cuddliness and Reiner being adorable.

a/n: cats are cute and well-suited for many lifestyles! but please adopt responsibly and don’t take on a cat unless you’re ready and financially able to do so! please remember: 1) keeping your cat indoors is the ONLY way to prevent them from being hit by a car, stolen, attacked by other animals or exposed to diseases! 2) be careful and do your research and consult your cat’s vet before giving your cat a flea treatment! some brands cause seizures that can kill your cat or shorten their lifespan severely! protecting your cat from fleas and other sicknesses should NEVER cost a cat their life! 3) declawing a cat is NOT taking away their fingernails, it’s taking away their FINGERS! cats need their claws to climb and declawing them is inhibiting them from doing what they were born to do! 4) if a cat can reach it, they can wreck it, and that’s on you, not the cat, and that’s on PERIOD! if you have items that you want to keep safe 100% of the time then keep them AWAY!!! you can’t tell a cat to not be a cat, but you CAN tell YOURSELF to be a responsible cat owner!

Entry 1 - Monday

I’m not all that sure what I’m doing. Pieck gave me this, and suggested journaling to help me. She said there’s no wrong way to do this but I’ll probably fuck it up like everything else, so here goes. I uh... had a pretty average day today. Full of planning, saluting, groveling to Marleyans while they called me a devil, and pretending like I don’t hate myself and hate existing. I can tell Gabi is worried about me. Nothing out of the ordinary at this point. A cat followed me home, a yellow tabby. Cats are a rare sight nowadays. They were skinny.

Entry 2 - Tuesday

The cat was sitting outside my door when I left today. It rubbed up against my legs when I was locking my door, and made a noise that sounded like a tiny motorcycle. I think it’s called purring. It followed me to work, and it followed me back home again. I feel bad that it’s so skinny.

Entry 3 - Wednesday

I set out food and water for the cat today when I left. Just some sardines I had sitting in my cupboard. The food was finished and the cat was there waiting for me when I got home. It meowed at me until I pet its’ head.

Entry 4 - Saturday

I had a nightmare last night. Not uncommon for me. Today was my day off, and when I woke up in the morning I heard a scratching noise at the door. Turns out it was the cat, because when I opened the door it ran in and sat in my reading chair like it owned the place. I guess it’s here to stay now, because it runs every time I try to grab it, and it’s not really scratching anything up, so... I don’t know. I moved the food and water bowl inside.

Entry 5 - Sunday

Second day off. I spent the day reading. The cat came and napped in my lap. I fell asleep at one point, too. What? The cat was warm. And the sun was shining on us through the window.

Entry 6 - Thursday

I wish we could take afternoon naps at work. The cat followed me to work again. Pieck saw and asked me about it, so I told her what I told you. She said the cat picked me, whatever that means. I’m not really an animal person so I don’t get why. When I got home, there was a dead bird on my doorstep, and the cat was licking its’ chops. Kinda disgusting.

Entry 7 - Friday

Today I woke up to a crow on my doorstep. This cat is crazy. I asked Pieck about it, she said cats bring gifts to their masters. Some gift, if you ask me. Another observation: cats like boxes.

Entry 8 - Sunday

Something peculiar happened. I had a nightmare, but when I woke up, the cat was there kneading on my chest, licking my nose and rubbing their face against mine. They haven’t left my side yet. Literally. When I took a shower they just sat on the toilet seat lid next to it, and every time I’ve sat down today they’ve climbed in my lap and purred really loudly, rubbing their head against my hands when they could. It’s almost like they could sense my unease. It feels... calming. I usually write at the end of the day but the experience made me want to take note.

Entry 9 - Friday

I’ve missed a couple days, to sum them all up: I go to sleep with the cat under the blankets and wake up with them curled up under my armpit or in the crook of my neck. Today they brought me a squirrel. Their presents are getting to be terrifying, but also normal. They brought me a couple rats the past few days, too.

Entry 10 - Monday

I’m getting this heathen a collar. I woke up to them holding a goose twice their size in their mouth, and the poor creature wasn’t even dead. I had to put it out of its’ misery.

Entry 11 - Tuesday

I came home to find the cat napping in my untouched potatoes. I think I’m gonna call him Potato.

Entry 12 - Tuesday

I think the collar worked. Between the bell and his tags jingling, Potato must scare off every animal in sight because he hasn’t caught anything in a week. Or maybe I’m just not seeing it and he’s been eating his catches after my last reaction. He’s been getting a little fat. I’m worried I’m feeding him too much, I’ve been refilling his bowl every time I saw it empty, which is about twice a day. How much do cats normally eat?

Entry 13 - Saturday

Potato’s not acting normal. He’s been meowing a lot, which is cute, but he also hasn’t been moving as much. And he’s been eating even more than he usually does. I just hope he’ll be okay. Cats aren’t usually kept as pets anymore since they’re so scarce, so no veterinarian will take him. They all keep laughing at me when I tell them my problem. Why is it funny to them? They’re being rude and cruel. If anything happens to Potato I don’t know what I’ll do. Potato is my best friend. Even when he steals my dinner from time to time, I don’t get mad at him. I talk to him about my day like he can hear me, and I tell him about the things I’ve experienced and it really feels like he listens, because every time I get to a bad part and start panicking or crying he’s there, helping me calm down. I haven’t had nightmares even half as often anymore and when I do, he’s there on my chest when I wake up, making me feel better. I can’t call out of work to stay with him. I’m worried he might die. If he does, I’m just glad I have these last two days off. So I can say goodbye.

Entry 14 - Wednesday

He’s getting worse. He’s been laying in the same spot in my closet for awhile. I moved his food and water there and brought blankets and his favorite box to make it cozy for him, but I don’t feel like I can do anything.

Entry 15 - Friday

Well... it turns out Potato was a girl. I came home from work today to find her laying with two kittens - a brown tabby and a black one. I’m just glad she’s okay, and trying to not to think about the fact that I now have two more cats that I’ll have to start feeding myself in a couple weeks. Potato’s been back to her normal self, mostly, but she splits her time between me and running to check up on her babies.

Entry 16 - Saturday

A couple weeks have gone by and I’ve been too busy to write, but the kittens are up and running around now. The black one seems very sure footed and confident in her steps, but the brown tabby runs into walls when he gets excited. He’s... kinda stupid. I made sure to actually check their undersides this time instead of just assuming. I’m hoping to find someone who can get them all fixed at some point so I only have to pay to care for the three I have now.

Entry 17 - Sunday

I have never found myself so content. Or maybe just so distracted. I don’t know. The kittens are cute and so soft but they’re also little nuisances, racing around at night and scratching up the inside of the closet door. They’ve bitten through my lamp chord three times now. I didn’t realize damage control was more expensive than the actual care for them. Why can’t they be like their mom?

Entry 18 - Monday

Gabi wants the brown tabby. I’m kind of attached despite his idiocy, but I see the way her eyes light up when she comes over to play with the kittens. He picked her as his and always cuddles with her. He won’t even sit in my lap now. He just wants Gabi.

Entry 19 - Thursday

Gabi took Porkchop home today. She picked out his name and I paid for the collar and tags. Her mom was already cooing to him within the first five minutes of him being there. Letting him go was the right choice.

Entry 20 - Wednesday

Oh god. Potato’s getting fat again. Wish me luck.

[milo-my-beloved]

chapter four of stupid things!

Read on AO3 // Playlist // Buy me a coffee?

Sorry this chapter is so late! I've had a lot of difficulties... but I hope you enjoy it!

On Monday, Inej wakes up to over a hundred messages. Groaning, she turns over and considers suffocating herself in her pillow, before forcing herself to unlock her phone.

You have been added to a new group chat.

99+ new messages.

Jesper: Sup bitches

Wylan: Hello! :D

Jesper: I thought we could use this to organise date nights

Kaz: It’s my turn to choose.

Jesper: ik dumbass

Kaz: Meet outside the library at 6pm on Friday. I’ll organise transport.

Jesper: doesn’t sound sketchy at all

Wylan: Is there anything we need to bring???

Kaz: Wear fancy clothes.

Jesper: are we gonna rob a bank?

Kaz: If we were, I wouldn’t bring you.

Jesper: rude

Inej scrolls past the rest of the messages, ignoring the endless bickering. Her finger hovers over the mute chat button as she imagines the headache that her dear friends are about to cause her, but locks her phone instead, sitting up. Surely they can’t be that bad? Besides, she would hate to miss out on anything.

{o0o}

By Wednesday, Inej is massively regretting that decision. Even she didn’t think Jesper is capable of starting that many arguments, and his incessant flirting with Wylan is going to be the death of her.

On Thursday, she runs into Kaz on her way home from class and they grab a coffee together. They find a bench tucked out of the way of any foot traffic and chat for a while, but Kaz refuses to tell her what his plans are for this weekend.

“God,” Inej says, leaning back in the seat. “Is Jesper addicted to his phone? I swear, I’ve never seen anyone send that many messages.”

Kaz raises an eyebrow. “Are you surprised?”

She shrugs, tipping the last of her latte in her mouth. “I shouldn’t be, I suppose.”

“What have they even been talking about?” he asks, taking their empty cups and tossing them in the bin beside him. “I muted the chat about an hour after Jes made it.”

Inej blinks a few times, staring out into the fields coated in mist as she reevaluates her life choices. Why did the universe decide that these would be her friends?

She groans, dramatically flopping sideways onto Kaz. “I should have done that days ago.”

{o0o}

When Friday finally rolls around, their evening plans are still a mystery to everyone but Kaz. No matter what schemes they had come up with, Kaz had refused to tell. Wylan had asked him politely, claiming the not-knowing is bad for his anxiety (which is probably true, actually) and Inej had even offered him a bribe, to no avail.

(Jesper had just pestered him over text. Inej doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Kaz has blocked his number.)

The three of them look ridiculous, standing outside the library in their fanciest clothes. Wylan is wearing a plain black suit, his bow tie slightly askew, while Jesper is wearing a colourful suit jacket and black jeans. A few students give them weird looks, but most of them are too busy with their own lives to give more than a few seconds thought towards them.

When a limo pulls up instead of Kaz’s shady minivan, Jesper’s mouth falls open. Kaz pushes the door open, sticking his head out. “Are you coming, or what? And Jesper, shut your mouth.”

Jesper and Wylan clamber in first, Inej gracefully sliding in after them. She self-consciously runs a hand down her dress, the purple silk soft against her palms.

“You look beautiful,” Kaz whispers while Jesper and Wylan are distracted by a bottle of champagne waiting for them, and she blushes.

“So do you,” she replies, smiling at his entirely black suit. Apart from their day at the beach, she’s never seen him out of a suit, but she can see why he wears them.

“Hey, Kaz,” Jesper interrupts, pouring the champagne into four glasses. “Will you tell us where we’re going yet?”

“Nope,” he replies with a smug smile.

“How did you afford all this?” Wylan asks, looking around at the luxurious. “Did you actually rob that bank? Without us?”

Kaz rolls his eyes, and Inej stifles a laugh.

“You’re not far off, Mr Van Sunshine,” Jesper laughs, sticking his tongue out at Kaz. “He’s always been secretly rich, but no one knows where it comes from.”

“His terrifying glare?” Wylan suggests.

“His suits?” Inej offers.

“I think it’s his sparkling personality,” Jesper answers with a wink.

“Oh, shut up,” Kaz mutters, just as the car comes to a stop.

No one moves for a moment, until Kaz rolls his eyes and climbs out first, muttering something to himself. He extends a hand to help Inej out, but he leaves Jesper and Wylan to fend for themselves as he leans over and gives the driver some instructions.

“Just in here,” he says, ushering them all towards a shady looking door. Jesper and Inej share an incredulous look, and Wylan looks like he is itching to run in the opposite direction of whatever this is.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Kaz grumbles, opening the door to reveal a dark corridor. “It’s the back entrance. Someone owed me a favour.”

There’s another blank silence where no one moves.

“I swear no one is going to get murdered and no crimes are going to be committed. Good enough for you?”

Inej can’t help but smirk at how nervous Jesper looks. Usually, he’s up for anything, but he keeps shifting his weight and staring into the long, dark corridor. Wylan, beside him, looks close to passing out.

“Oh, come on guys,” Inej says, stepping (with only a split second of hesitation) towards the doorway, her voice filled with false confidence. “I’m not having you ruin my hot date.”

Kaz doesn’t smile, but his eyes sparkle with that mischief she has come to love. In return, she gives him a glare that roughly translates as ‘I better not get stabbed, I like this dress without the blood stains, thank you.”

Begrudgingly, they all follow her inside, the metal door clanging shut behind them and shrouding them in darkness.

Now her eyes are adjusting, Inej can see a small gleam of light coming from around the corner, so she follows that, praying that she won’t trip over something or walk into a wall.

“This has to be the third sketchiest thing you’ve ever made me do,” Jesper mutters at the back of the group, and Inej hears Kaz snort in response.

“What were the other two?” Wylan whispers nervously, but no one answers him.

Inej comes to an abrupt halt when she reaches the end of the hallway, her mouth dropping open. Kaz must have been telling the truth about the back entrance, because standing in front of them is the most glamorous restaurant she has ever laid eyes on. Inej doesn’t think she has seen so much luxury in one place before; it looks like something straight out of a fairytale or a magazine, the huge chandelier above them dazzling her.

A waiter arrives quickly, shaking hands with Kaz. “Right this way, my friends,” he says, ushering them over to a booth away from the bustle of the kitchen and the other diners. “Here are your menus,” he continues, handing them out, “and I will return in a few moments for your drinks orders.”

“Thanks, Rotty,” Kaz answers, oblivious to the three wide-eyed stares he is getting from around the table.

Somehow, it reminds Inej of the night where she first met Kaz. Hopefully this time they won’t have to worry about getting arrested.

“What’s everyone having?” Kaz asks, and Inej realises he’s ignoring them on purpose. “I hear their duck is excellent.”

“I’ve never been to a super fancy restaurant before!” Jesper exclaims in a whisper shout. “I don’t know what half this stuff says.”

“Uh,” Wylan says, looking at his menu like it personally offended him. “I’m not that hungry…”

Kaz rolls his eyes. “How about I order for everyone, hm? Unless you have any objections, Inej?”

She shakes her head, her mind still swimming as she tries to figure out how Kaz managed to book a table in such a lavish restaurant. Maybe Jesper is onto something with the whole bank robbing thing, she muses.

Sure enough, Kaz orders for them all with no hesitation. When Jesper starts awkwardly shuffling in his seat, he adds, “Dinner’s on me, by the way. It’s only fair, after all.”

Everyone stares at him for a minute, floundering for something to say. Suddenly, Inej starts laughing, leaning her head forward onto the table as she tries to stifle her giggles and ends up hiccupping instead. Wylan joins in with a nervous chuckle, but Kaz and Jesper just stare at her, amused.

“‘Nej, you okay?” Jesper asks eventually as Kaz pats her back in what he hopes is a soothing motion.

“Yeah,” she manages to gasp out, trying to take some deep breaths. “Sorry, it’s just-” She bursts out laughing again as another table looks away, distaste written all over their faces. “It’s just so surreal.”

Luckily, the food arrives before she can embarrass herself any further.

Kaz must secretly be some kind of psychic, because there is no way he somehow knows exactly what Inej’s taste in food is. Whatever he’s picked out for her - some kind of posh pasta, she thinks - is maybe the most delicious food she has ever eaten, and if she wasn’t in public, she would be making all sorts of inappropriate noises as she eats it.

“Mmm,” Jesper moans, clearly not having the same reservations. “I think I can die happy now.”

Kaz rolls his eyes again, but Inej can see the smile peeking out from behind his fork.

Clearly, his food magic is also working on Jesper and Wylan, because they look equally happy with their choices. She has never seen Jes inhale a plate of food so fast, and he usually eats quite quickly. Wylan looks like he’s considering making out with the sauce left on his plate, and Inej decides that if she dropped dead right now, she wouldn’t even be mad.

“I can’t take you people anywhere,” Kaz complains, his eyes twinkling with the light of the chandelier. Inej laughs as Jesper pouts, and the waiter reappears to take their plates away.

{o0o}

“So,” Jesper says in the limo on the way back to the library. “Who has the best taste?”

“Me, clearly,” Kaz answers without hesitation. “You all like what I ordered for you, didn’t you?”

“No, silly.” Jesper whacks him lightly on the arm. “Who organised the best double date?”

Wylan actually raises his hand before speaking. “I liked bowling.”

Inej crosses her arms. “Of course you did. Was it the actual activity, or the fact Jesper was practically grinding-”

“Woah, ‘Nej, let’s not scar the poor boy,” Jesper cuts in, blushing almost as much as his boyfriend. “My favourite was dinner, actually.”

“I liked the game night,” Kaz states, “But I’m sure you’ll all accuse me of being biased.”

“Beach was best,” Inej declares, leaning sideways into Kaz. “So, who wins? It’s just a four way tie, isn’t it?”

“Well,” Jesper exclaims, “We can’t have that.”

There’s no sound but the noise of the traffic outside for a minute or two, and then Jesper jumps like he’s been electrocuted. He smiles, but Inej sees the mischief in his smug grin and immediately senses danger.

“Rematch?” he offers, and she sighs.

tag list below! ask to be added or removed :D

@hrtbreakprincess / @tooindecisivetopickaurl / @kazcoded / @saltyfortunes

[asinnersalibi]

You know what my deepest fear is? The thought that my child won't hear "I'm proud of you" or "I love you" enough and subsequently feel like I don't love them. I recently learned that my love language is acts of service, so I will show you that I love you before I tell you, and I fear that, at some point, my child will feel like I don't love them, and you know what that's terrifying. A little backstory, I like writing, so my brain is constantly going, and I started thinking of a story idea in the dark of my room at the restless 5 am hour, and it went a little like this:

"What is your deepest fear?"

"Heights."

"Incorrect." and it just took me aback, like what the fuck do you mean incorrect? You're a figment of my imagination. Fuck off. But it made me think, what is my deepest fear? And it occurred to me that sometimes, I don't think my caregiver thinks I love them, and it reflected on current, then future relationships. Saying "I love you" on its own is a privilege because it's something people have to earn from me, but I can say I love you and it feel like a lie. I want to mean it, so I'll show it. Whether it is indulging in your favorite show because I know how much you love to talk about it and come up with your own headcanons but never having anyone to come up with headcanons with because talking to new people is hard and social anxiety is a bitch to making the ever-standing promise to buy you a car; I mean these things wholeheartedly. This probably developed from an environment of hypocrisy and emotional manipulation, and that's a post for another day. It took me this long to be able to trust people again and the last thing I ever want is for the few people I have let into my life and do hold very dear to my heart to think I don't love them.

Now that I've left my heart out in the godless lands of Tumblr, we're going over some ways to show you love someone.

Long-Distance Relationships

Indulge in their interests. Show them you're interested in what makes them happy, find your own joy in it. Don't force yourself to like something just because your partner does, find common interests, let them find you.

Respect boundaries, some people are camera shy, hate their voice, don't like talking. Telling them their beautiful, their voice is lovely, and soothing doesn't change the personal boundaries that have been set, it pushes them. You may not like texting 24/7, calling after 19:00 (7 pm), or turning your camera on, and it is the responsibility of your loved one to respect those boundaries as well.

Compromise. Instead of your 19:00, especially for different time zones, try their 19:00, which perhaps is an hour after yours. If you live 13 hours apart, set overlapping times where you can talk and you're both comfortable, even if it's not the times you specifically set for yourself.

Buy them food. Technology has advanced so far that you can order your loved one's favorite meal and have it delivered even if you're all the way across the world.

Make exceptions (that are to be reciprocated!!). Sometimes, your loved one is having a really shitty day and they just want to talk to you at midnight, it doesn't happen often and it's not an obligation but making exceptions is not the end of the world (when they are reciprocated!!) Reciprocated does not mean making your loved one uncomfortable by forcing them out of their comfort zone because you made an exception for them. You can say no, you can compromise. Love is a learning process and you must learn to love each other or learn to make peace on your own.

Family Dynamics

Paternal Figures

Now some of these may be some of your chores, but just for consideration.

Make dinner. As breadwinners, they work to (hopefully) put food on the table. Coming home stressed out and hungry because they got caught up in work because Justin decided to clock out at noon leaving them to cover and not having the time to properly eat lunch results in an often unhappy environment. You'd be surprised how relaxing it is to come home and dinner is already on the table. (Or ready to be consumed because if you're anything like my family, we don't eat at the table.)

Clean after yourself. Parents are a pain in the ass sometimes and they will bitch about anything dirty, misplaced, or miskept, so try to, at the very least keep yourself and your spaces clean. Then, if you can, fold the laundry, clean the fridge, make them lunch.

Compromise! Look, sometimes parents were raised in environments where the adults were adults and could do whatever they wanted while children had to just deal with it. Screaming at them for outdated parenting is unnecessary stress on the entirety of the situation. Talk to them. Tell them this is overwhelming, or you're having a hard time doing this and this, and maybe you could do this and that? Don't tell them they're wrong, you don't want to be told your wrong, don't yell at them. They're trying too. Compromise.

Remind them of things. Remind them of things they were supposed to remember, remember this sibling has orchersta practice on Thursday, buy lightbulbs, the check engine light came on a couple of days ago, don't forget to check that. You know your parents best and know what they have a hard time remembering, it is helpful.

Give them breaks, too. That doesn't always have to be doing anything but just leaving them alone. Keeping your siblings (if you have any) occupied while they take a nap, get some work done, or just relax. Parenting is hard and they might not be the best parents, but they are still your parents.

Siblings aren't much different, tell them you love them, do little things for them whether it be folding their laundry, completing a chore they forgot to do or helping them with homework. Most are appreciative, others will think you've mapped out their murder. Both are good.

Cordials (Neighbors, coworkers, workers)

Watching their house, child, or pet while they run to the store. This isn't for every neighbor but for the ones who you run into every day and you've built that trust.

"Can I borrow a cup of sugar", if you are in a well enough position to provide for yourself, try to provide for others.

Cover your coworkers, within reason. If that one coworker just always takes the busiest week off, don't feel obligated to torture yourself because someone asked. If a coworker's kid just threw up and they need to pick them up from school, that's different. It's all in perspective, to me, family takes priority, to you, it may be different. Know your boundaries, know when you push them, don't let people step all over them.

Let things slide. People make mistakes, waiters mess up orders, all yelling does is make people feel worthless. Reassure them that it's okay, mistakes happen, and they can be fixed.

Children are going to play in streets, oblivious to their surroundings, if you know they're there try to be cautious. That's love to a community.

Call your family members, tell them you love them. Remind them that you know they are there. Especially as you get older.

Tip your waiters, babysitters, and nurses.

Be honest.

Know how to love people. Learn.

Show kindness, don't wonder why your life is so shitty when you treat everyone like shit. Karma's a bitch.

Learn how to smile. You don't have to love yourself, but know when it's best to love yourself by loving others.

Love. Don't hate. There's enough hate.

Remember, people love in different ways, if you, like myself, love with acts of services and your partner is a verbal lover, coexist. Your words mean the world to them and acting upon them means the world for you. That's okay, love comes in many shapes, sizes, colors, and concepts, it's finding your love, and growing with it.

That is not to say love is one-sided, loving someone is a two-way street, and you, as a lover must understand when someone is figuring out how to love you, and when they don't love you at all. The rose-tinted glasses become so comfortable to wear you forget to see the red flags and that is a distinction that takes time, patience, and experience. Don't be taken advantage of, don't let people walk all over you or cross boundaries under the concept of love, that's not love, it's manipulation. Stay safe, people, stay humble and love each other.

[cicinicole-14]

it’s always the darkest before dawn

hey listen, the entire jolexgroupchat fucking bULLIED ME into writing a part two for ‘denial isn’t just a river in egypt’ and that was very rude, but y’know it yielded results somehow, so like ??? take that what you will… anyway here’s this. enjoy.

Relief floods her entire body as soon as her eyes land on him. The feelings of dread and worry that had been wracking her body at the thought of returning to an empty loft with a baby that she had nothing for, by herself, terrified her. But just the sight of him brought relief through her.

She couldn’t cross the loft fast enough, practically catapulting into his embrace, grateful he was on the couch, fearing she’d knock him over if not.

She melts into his arms, burying her head into the crook of his neck, holding him so close, so tight.

The feeling of his arms wrapped around her waist and back, holding her against him, just like he used to. She inhales his scent, letting it flood her senses and relishes in the fact that he’s real; he’s here, for her, for them.

She pulls back, with tears in her eyes, but still, a sad smile on her face. “Come meet our son.” She says, pulling him up as she stood, leading him over to the bed where his carrier lay.

Meredith gently unclips the straps from his chest and between his tiny legs, adjusting the hat from covering his eyes and carefully lifts him out, presenting him over to Jo. Jo cradles him gently against her chest, tucking her head down to look at him and then back up at Alex.

“This is Luca. Luca, meet your Daddy.” She says, passing off the baby to Alex.

Meredith takes the moment to excuse herself, wishing the two a congratulations on their baby before slipping out of the loft, leaving the new parents to themselves.

Alex takes the baby from Jo, supporting his tiny, jello-y body in his massive hands.

Jo takes a step back, taking in the sight of how tiny Luca looked in Alex’s arms, the sight of Alex holding his son, the sight of seeing her family together. It resonates through her and she lets out a breath she’d seemingly been holding in, letting the calm feeling course through her.

She was happy. She felt whole. Everything was right.

Until it wasn’t.

Until Alex mentioned he was leaving the following week, on Sunday morning. Because he had a job, and kids, and an Izzie, and a life, all back in Kansas, where he didn’t belong. A life that she didn’t fit into.

And the feelings of dread resume. The feelings of denial come back, except this time, she isn’t able to deny the fact that she has a child, not with the way that he’s waking her up in the middle of the night every few hours to nurse. His constant crying to be held or soothed, or changed. The need of just being a newborn, and she just doesn’t have the energy anymore. Her world is cracking and crumbling, threatening to fall apart, only three days left until her shred of happiness will disappear again.

The three days pass in a blur, and she deteriorates even further.

The knocking at the loft door is almost concealed by the sound of Luca’s cries, but she doesn’t care. Whoever’s on the other side will go away eventually, she hopes.

Her hopes are crushed when there’s a key in the lock and the door slides open, and she can hear Meredith talking to her, but she doesn’t listen to her. And then Luca’s cries grow quieter, into soft whimpers and then smooth sounds of suckling.

“Jo! When has he last eaten? How long has he been crying?”

She doesn't answer, only clutching the pillow closer to her chest, taking a deep breath and inhaling the lingering scent of Alex still left on the pillowcase where his head lay, just that morning, mere hours ago.

Meredith paces the loft, feeding the baby and quietly getting him to sleep before putting him back in the crib across the loft, Ellis’ old one.

Meredith stays, the day, the rest of the week, stays every night, sleeping right next to Jo in the bed and seemingly takes care of them both, watching Jo slip further. She watches as Jo’s routine of getting up with Luca to feed him, clothe him, bathe him, all falter. She sleeps longer, harder. Her appetite fades and her mood fluctuates between being alright and conversing with Meredith to downright anger with her.

Meredith watches the light drain from Jo’s eyes, further and further every day. She watches as Jo starts refusing to take Luca from her for feedings, thus resulting in her having to give him formula. She watches as the bond she knew Jo had with her son, slips right out from under them.

She calls in reinforcements, in the form of Link, who Jo just ends up yelling at them both and barring Link from even being in the loft entirely after stating he was worried about her and concerned for Luca’s well-being.

She yells at Meredith for having the audacity to call Link in the first place, but ultimately decides to let her stay, having no energy to continue fighting with her, or energy to deal with the screaming child in the crib due to the influx of loud voices in the tiny home.

Meredith steps out late that night, calling Alex to inform him on what’s been going on. To ask him for help, to see if he would know what to do.

They gave Jo until the end of the week, gave her room to improve on her actions before Alex returned, but she hadn’t.

She had still been withdrawn and distant. Her son had barely seemed to know her by the end of his almost first month of life. And it broke Meredith’s heart to see such a close friend of hers going through so much heartache.

Alex returned on a Thursday, late in the evening, with a suitcase in hand, to see for himself just how worse for wear Jo really was.

“You left, again.”

The sound of her voice makes them both freeze as Meredith looks up at Jo just as Alex settles himself into the loft, ready to take Luca from his friend.

They both turn and stare at her, not knowing what to say. She’s still lying in the bed, unmoving, not even looking in their direction, he’s surprised she even knew he was there due to the lack of acknowledgement.

She doesn’t say anything else after that, and he apologizes, but there’s really nothing else he could say other than sorry.

He leaves early Monday morning, and Jo’s slight rise in demeanor fades again, and she goes back to the detached shell of a human she’d been.

She doesn’t eat again, doesn’t speak, doesn’t even flinch when Luca cries anymore, and Meredith’s grasping at straws, looking for answers at this point.

“She’s got PPD, Mer. I’ve seen the signs in parents in the NICU. It’s hard, but she was a huge candidate for it. The history of depression, the abandonment issues and past trauma I forced upon her by leaving her,  pregnant and alone. The medical complications with his birth. Almost every risk factor I could name, she’s got.” He says into the phone.

“What do we do? I can’t keep doing this. I can’t watch her as she throws away her life like this, Alex. I can’t watch her become this shell of a person when I knew how happy having a family with you would make her. I know she loves Luca, but I can’t watch her do this to herself anymore.” She’s got the phone wedged between her ear and one shoulder while she props Luca up on the other, patting his back to burp him.

She knows Jo can hear her, and she feels bad, initially, but maybe hearing how this was affecting her too, maybe it would spark something in Jo, she hoped.

“I’m coming back on Friday, I’m taking them both here. I can’t keep missing work, or leaving the kids, but I’m worried about her. I know she does better when I’m around. I don’t know if it’ll help, but they’re both coming here to live with me.” He says, “She doesn’t have a choice. I can’t watch her go through this, knowing I’m the reason why.”

“What about the twins? Have you told them? Izzie?” Meredith questions.

“Iz knows. I told her everything once I came back from the last trip. She’s the one that suggested moving Jo out here, since she’d seemed to do better with me around. And we’d sat the twins down together the other night to tell them about Jo and their baby brother Luca coming to stay at Daddy’s house, and they’d get to see them both when it was my days with them.”  He sighs, and Meredith can only assume he’s rubbing his hand over his face, thinking about the upcoming adjustments for them all. “Izzie even pulled out boxes of old baby things she still kept from the twins. And the new crib will be here on Thursday before I leave. I just need her here, them here. I need her to be okay.”

“She will be, it’s always the darkest before dawn. It’s Jo. You know she’s going to be okay. She just needs a little help.”

Friday hadn’t come fast enough for any of them. And it left Alex in a whirlwind of emotions and things to accomplish and do before the very short weekend was over.

Meredith had helped him so very much. Even Schmidt and Link had too, helping get things from the lot packed quickly, all while Jo had yelled and protested about leaving her home. About how she didn’t need anyone’s help and that she hated each and every single one of them for doing this.

But the moment that Sunday afternoon had rolled around, and Alex stood at the loft door, baby carrier in one hand and suitcase in the other, all hell had broken loose.

Jo had screamed at him, yelling how he couldn’t just take her son away from her. How he was ruining their family and how she hated him.

But Alex had just calmly set the carrier down onto the ground, careful not to wake his sleeping son, and reached out for Jo. He was careful of his actions, making sure she knew he wasn’t going to grab at her making her think he’d hurt her, but instead, he reaches out his hand and rubs her upper arm before she stills, and he takes the moment to pull her fully into his embrace.

He holds her, firmly, yet gentle, as he begins to swipe wisps of hair from her face that had fallen from the tangled bun on the top of her head. “Jo. Jo, listen to me.” He says softly, trying to get her attention. “I’m not taking him from you, I told you this, I promised you this. You’re both coming with me. I can’t be in two places at once, but you need me with you, so I came back here for you, to get you. We’re going to Kansas. We’re going to be a family there, together, remember? Remember what we talked about last night? You’re going to get to meet Eli and Alexis, and they’re going to get to know you, and grow up with their baby brother. They can’t wait to meet you.” He promises.

Her shaking anger starts to dissipate, and his tight embrace loosens as he backs away from her, just enough to look into her eyes. “Can we go now? We don’t want to be late for our flight.” He says softly.

She only nods in response, wrapping both her arms into his, fearing to even let go. He struggles for a moment, wondering how to juggle the baby, Jo, and the suitcase at the top of the loft stairs before ultimately deciding to leave the bag to walk Jo and the baby down to the car before returning to put the suitcase in after.

They return to his house later that evening, and he welcomes her home, hoping that the change of scenery might help.

He settles her in, showing her around before leaving her suitcase in the guest room, watching as the first thing she did was crawl into the bed to sleep.

He lets her, knowing that just traveling alone could wear her out in this state.

He decides on making dinner, her favorite boxed macaroni and cheese, in hopes it would entice her to put something in her body besides the protein bars they’d all been forcing her to eat just to basically survive.

He walks up the stairs with a sleeping, full Luca in one arm and a bowl of the macaroni in his other hand, leaving the bowl on her nightstand before putting the baby in the new crib in his room.

He turns in for the night a few hours later, and just as he’s drifting off to sleep, he feels her slip in bed next to him. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close, inhaling her scent as he begins to drift off to sleep.

A cry startles him awake, and he turns to roll over and slip out of bed to sooth the baby, but she’s beating him to it, already halfway out of bed.

“I’ve got him.” A quiet whisper into the night.

And he watches as she shuffles across the room in the dark, lifting the baby out of his crib and reaching for the water bottle and container of formula on the changing table next to them, preparing a bottle like it was second nature to her. He watches her pace the room, feeding their son in the dead of night, as if nothing had been wrong.

The three simple words echoing in his ears that change his world. Three simple words that gave him the hope that everything would be okay again.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Life as a Teenage Psychic

Chapter 3: Life's a Fucking Rollercoaster

Chapters: 3/4

Rating: T

AN: Sorry this is late! I meant to post this on Thursday, but then I may or may not have played Stardew Valley for two days straight... Oops lol. Anyway, here's more psychic shenanigans!

------------------------------

“Simon,” Penny shouts from the kitchen, “are you going to want any of these leftovers? If not, I’m gonna eat them all!”

“It’s alright, go ahead!”

“You sure?”

“Don’t worry, Pen, go ahead. I’ll be with Baz all night. We’ll probably order pizza or something. There it is!”

I snatch up my notebook and stuff it in my knapsack. With that, my pencil case, and my laptop, I should be fine. Most of the stuff is online anyway. Baz has been helping me sort through the sources, and now he’s got them all in a fancy table. I think he’s one of those weirdos who enjoys making spreadsheets. Truly terrifying but I’m also not complaining.

Out in the hallway, Penny is leaning on the wall, a container of half finished fries in her hand. Her eyes are very narrow behind her glasses. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Baz lately.”

“Uh, yeah, we have a project together,” I chuckle.

“I know, but this is what, the third time you two are meeting up this week?”

“I guess. It’s not like I’m keeping track. I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Pen.”

Penny sighs, hand on her hip. “I’m not ‘getting’ at anything, Si. I’m just saying that you’ve been hanging out with him a lot, more than a school project normally demands.”

“And...?”

“And I’m wondering if a project isn’t the only reason you want to be around him?”

My face immediately flushes way too much. “Penny!”

She holds up her hands in seeming deference or surrender. “Hey, it’s just a question, Si. You spent weeks hating him and now you’re spending a lot of time with him.”

Is Penny trying to make my skin melt off? Because it’s about to. “Because we have a project , Pen! Once it’s over, we’ll stop hanging out alright?”

There’s a little twist in my gut for some reason. Not important, I’m going to be late. I start walking past Penny, but she follows behind. “I’m not saying that hanging out with Baz is bad! I”m just confused about what’s going on! I mean, is Baz actually nice?”

“No!” It’s my automatic response, but it only takes a few seconds to give the real answer. “I mean...kind of? He can be rude sometimes, and he’s a bit of a snob, but he’s not as much of a tosser as I thought he was. We work well together at least.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really! He listens to my dumb ideas and works with them. And he’s been really helpful with the research. I’ve got way more stuff to work with now because of him. Plus Baz makes sure my writing is coherent. I may actually do well in this class!”

I grin hard, trying to rid Penny of all her worries, but it doesn’t. Dammit. I just continue packing my stuff.

“Again,” Penny says, “I’m not saying that hanging out with Baz is a bad thing. I just want you to be cautious. Baz was a total prick to you before and he could be again. I know you saw you two together in a vision-”

“That’s not important,” I blurt out. My face is still too hot. “The vision was total bullocks, Pen. I don’t want to be with him anyway. He’s a good project partner, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to date him!”

Penny is still suspicious and worried, I can feel it as clear as day. But they’ve both gone down somwhat. I’ll take it. “Alright,” Penny sighs. “Whatever you say. Have fun with your tumblr blog.”

“It’s not a tumblr blog! And it’s a project, of course I’m not having fun!”

------------------

READ THE REST ON AO3!

[literaila]

hm. have you given me a specific show that’s one of your favorites? i’ll watch it right away. i do as well, i’ve been on a star wars movie for like months.. and ‘early man’ which was like, since summer. but.. what if you both die anyways? then that would be for nothing.

alsooo! have i asked for your favorite quote? or poem?

so. very hard to explain. me and my mother were at a store- then i saw these 2 guys that looked off. one pulled like a hood or beanie over him. so i was instantly like, “i have a bad feeling about this.” and i told my mother. she was like “???” but i dragged her over to the cashier and we just finished up before those guys pulled out guns. so the store was getting robbed and everything- i was right, obviously- and i just booked it. instantly ran out those doors, my mother following behind. we got into the car and drove away, then it cut off. i wonder if we got the bags and stuff that we bought. can’t remember. hope so.

right. so now i’m alone. in the streets or whatever. i think it was dark? i was just trying to get around, food and water, blah blah. i don’t know.

cut off again. now i’m at school. guess what? we’re held hostage. by the same two fucking idiots. it was so weird too. like we weren’t getting murdered or anything? just captive. we had class slowly, nothing really.. stopped completely. was a bit depressing. so it was lunch or we were outside, and i asked one of my teachers “you’re in on it, right?” because i thought it was a joke and all. there was no way that could be real, especially with how we were handling it. very weird. she just responded with, “no. this is real” and we were still switching classes and all. i didn’t really talk or anything, pretty silent.

it cut again. so in the middle of school, i kinda woke up then dozed off again. last dream. some of my classmates & i were.. outside. far away from school, i think. and it was dark outside. we touched something, and it was like a huge building. kinda like a castle. that’s all i can remember. sorry for the rant, my dreams are pretty weird. did i tell you about the one where i forgot my shoes at school?

yes i 100% agree. i think i’ve cried once in fourth grade and never after that. i can barely cry by myself, let alone in a school with teachers and kids. no way.

i left on page 434. so.. and my mother said she loved the twilight films, like, actually loved them. my mother spoiled it for me. haha. they got married??? and bella’s pregnant?? in the second one, or what? ugh. now i wanna know. yes obviously i did. who wouldn’t like chocolate? also, my brother bought donuts. i tasted one bite from the one my sister picked up- it was good. i’ll bring one with me to school.

no, i’m definitely the comedian. i have dark humor, but still classified as a comedian. i’m much more funnier >:)

noooo. i didn’t mean it like that. a late night walk, or an evening walk. outside. not in my house. i pace around a lot, since i daydream so much and. i just pace a lot. glad!! very glad. make sure to drink some water! that’s very important.

ahh, yeah. school is tomorrow. do you have any work on monday’s? that sounds horrible. i don’t write, but i know that feeling when you want to do something and just. don’t do it. tomorrow will be better! trust me, slug.

oh no no. let me guess, luke through or luke and see something. boringggg!

i think i’m going to sleep? well, obviously i’ll try to stay up to the best of my abilities. but goodnight verity. sleep well, slug :)

— 🐢

i just don’t know if you’ll like any of them. you might like “the haunting of hill house” if you aren’t afraid of ghosts— think you said you haven’t watched that. ha! i’ve learned that when i watch things for the first time i pay absolutely no attention. well then i tried— that’s worth it to me.

oh well. my favorite poem is one of my own— that’s a bit egotistical, but hey, i never said i was perfect. actually, yes i did. i am (get it?). as for quotes i’m just gonna…

“horror rips my eyelids open.”

“‘yes’ he says ‘this is okay’”

“‘because if i lower my voice i won’t be able to hear myself speak. and that’ he says ‘is my favorite part.”

okay last one. “his smile is wide, so wide. ‘god, i love that’

‘your name?’

‘only when you say it’”

(in case you couldn’t already tell, those are all from shatter me)

but! i also like “hell is empty and all the devils are here”

you remember a lot. im kind of amazed. that’s an insane amount of detail— and strange. i like dream theory, but i still couldn’t tell you what all that says about yourself. you.. forgot? your shoes at school? i know it didn’t actually happen— but how did you manage that? my dreams are all just blurs. had one about a criminal minds x greys anatomy… it was quite terrifying actually.

last time i cried at school was last week. but to be fair, i was crying cause of tv and not because of school. when i get really frustrated and can’t voice my thoughts out loud— all the time —i cry.

they don’t get married in the second one, and they also don’t have a baby. the second one is actually really sad so.. none of that. but the end is good. the end is great. lots of people don’t like chocolate. mmm donuts. yummy, glad you’re eating breakfast. i had soup this morning.

tell me one joke.

late night walks are dangerous >:( but yes, i understand what you mean. walks are nice, sometimes.

i like working on mondays but i don’t anymore. not working till tomorrow, and then on thursday. doing homework now so.

actually, no. luke how much snow there is. so funny, awe-inspiring, magnificent.

hope you slept well darling, enjoy today.

-v

[bangtanreadingcorner]

duet [2/2] • jeon jeongguk

WORDS – 3.6K

part one

“Just rehearsing now, right?” He checked, even though you both knew that was all that remained.

“And we’re done!” You announced, grinning at Jeongguk. He grinned back and warmth bloomed in your heart.

“Yes! No more early Saturdays and Sundays.” You were relieved because every weekend that Jeongguk was in town, you two worked on the choreography. And now that that was done, you would only rehearse at school until the assessment day.

Jeongguk looked at you, a little hesitant. “We’re still friends, right? I mean, after this is over, we’re not gonna go back to being strangers?”

You frowned at him, heart twisting violently at the thought. “No. Of course not, why would you think that?”

Jeongguk’s tense shoulders relaxed. “I don’t know, just being stupid, I guess.”

“You, my dear friend,” You started, walking closer to him and pointing your index finger at him. “are a overgrown puppy.”

Before he could come up with some ridiculous retort, you stepped even closer, right up in his personal space and wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him.

He froze, just for a second, before hugging you back.

“Our friendship doesn’t have a expiration date, Jeongguk-ah.” You told him softly, but meaning it all the same.

“Thank you.” His voice was just as soft as yours as he squeezed just a bit tighter.

You stood there, hugging. He didn’t let go, so you didn’t either. You realised that it was actually really nice hugging Jeongguk. His chest was warm and solid but also soft and comfortable. His arms around you were strong and secure and it made you feel content, just standing there in his arms.

Then it hit you, like a lightening bolt. Holy shit, you thought to yourself, I like him. I like Jeon Jeongguk. Fuck.

You pulled away from Jeongguk, startled by the revelation, but really, you should have seen it coming. You’ve never bothered too or wanted to get to know someone, and then in walks Jeongguk into your life and all you wanted, was more.

You want to spend more time with him, you want to talk to him, you want to know anything and everything about him, you want to tease him and you want to comfort him.

You want him. And not just physically.

Shit.

“You okay?” He asked, reaching out to you after you pulled out of the hug so abruptly.

You side stepped his hold and nodded slowly, still processing. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m gonna go get the ice cream.”

Jeongguk stared after her as walked in the direction of the kitchen, heartbeat speeding up even more. There was no way she knew right? It was just a hug, he was sure he didn’t let anything slip. She couldn’t possibly figure out from that, that he likes her.

* * *

“I’m going to be so bloated tomorrow.” Jeongguk groaned but still finished the last spoon full of banana ice cream.

You snorted, “Do I really need to remind you that this was your idea?”

And it really was. He was the one who called you and said that he was going to star gaze with his telescope on the roof of his dorm building and asked if you wanted to join him. Seeing as there wasn’t many opportunities to stargaze in the city, you said yes – although in hindsight it wasn’t the greatest idea in the world to stargaze with the guy you liked more than you’ve ever liked anyone before.

“You bought the ice cream.” He retorted, going to lay on his back, looking up at the stars. “Admit it, you brought it here for me to eat with you.”

“Of course, I brought it for you too, it was chocolate and banana ice cream so I thought I could eat the chocolate and you could eat the banana-” Here he let out a loud, triumphant 'hah!’ that made you roll your eyes just a bit. “-but I still didn’t tell you too eat it. It was your own choice, golden boy.” You smirked at him, watching as he pouted. You snickered, laying down next to him and looking up. You couldn’t really see the stars clearly without the help of the telescope that stood not to far from the two of you, even up this high.

“I hate that you’re always right.” He grumbled, no heat in it whatsoever as he nudged your arm with his. Your heartbeat kicked up a bit at the small touch and you felt half giddy, half annoyed with yourself. It was just a nudge, for crying out loud.

“My apologies, Sir Jeongguk.” You said, raising your voice in pitch and making it sound squeaky and fake. You both burst out laughing a second later, rolling on the ground, until the laughter turned into giggles that turned into silly grins as you two laid facing each other.

Jeongguk looked at you, dark eyes pinning you down. Even though it was the dead of night, the city lights made sure that your two could see each other. The air between you changed. Your stomach flip-flopped and you wanted to get away from this, because this position – Jeongguk laying face to face with you, within kissing reach – was dangerous for your heart and your self-control.

“Can I tell you something?” He whispered, seeming to realise that something about this moment was different and he didn’t want to accidentally break it.

“Don’t you always?” You tried to tease like your normally did, but your voice was different as nervousness stared spreading through your body.

“I want to kiss you. So badly.” Jeongguk admitted and all of the air in your lungs evaporated.

Your heart screamed yes, thundering against your ribcage, but your mind said no. You sat upright, moving away from Jeongguk, wishing that he had never said it. Fantasizing and daydreaming about him returning your feelings is one thing, but him actually returning your feelings? It’s terrifying. He is an Idol, part of a group who’s popularity and fame grows everyday.

If you act on whatever is between you two, give into each other, it could ruin everything that he’s worked so hard for. And you couldn’t do that to him.

So, you hardened yourself and looked at him, seeing that he had sit upright as well. “What?”

He immediately understood by your tone that you didn’t agree with his words. “I, uh, I’m sorry. I thought that you felt the same. I’m sorry.”

“There is a difference between friendship and a relationship. You and me? We’re just friends.” You words were slightly harsh and when he flinched, you felt like the worst person in the world.

He looked down at the cement you two were seated on, hands gripping his knees so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, like he did something terrible by admitting what he feels for you. Your heart ached and you needed to leave before you could give into him.

“I don’t think we should be friends anymore.” You said, and his head shot up, eyes visibly panicked. You ignored it, getting up.

Jeongguk scrambled to his feet, taking a hold of your hands, shaking his head fiercely, his eyes tearing up. “No, no, please, we- we can still be friends. I can get over this, I will get over it, I promise. Just don’t do this. Please.”

You pulled your hands out of his, gently because you’ve hurt him enough as it is. “It’s better this way, Jeongguk.”

You turned and walked away from him, you took deep, shaky breaths as you walked to the elevator, your eyes starting to tear up halfway there. Luckily, it was just you when the elevator dinged open. So, when the doors closed, you finally let the tears fall as you slumped against the wall. With each shake of your shoulders, it felt like your heart was breaking more.

* * *

After that, you started to avoid Jeongguk. You sent him a text saying that you didn’t need to practice the duet any more, because it was already perfect and there was only a week left before you needed to do the dance. Then you blocked his number. Petty, you knew, but you didn’t need the extra temptation.

At school it was a little easier because he wasn’t there for Monday or Tuesday and when he was back, you avoided him best you could. On Thursday, he caught up to you after a math period and you snapped because this was hard for you too.

“Just stay the fuck away from me!” You screamed at him, so loudly that every student in the hallway looked at you.

Jeongguk stepped back, looking like someone slapped him in the face.

You found the nearest bathroom and cried for the whole next period. Then you called your mom and asked her to come get you because you weren’t feeling well. She didn’t even question it, just said she’d be there within an half hour.

Jeongguk didn’t try to talk to you again the next day.

* * *

That next Monday was when you and Jeongguk had to perform the dance that would count for half your year mark. When you walked into the studio, you immediately noticed him. Jeongguk was standing and waiting for you in the middle, wearing white skinny jeans and a loose white button up – you had asked him if it would bother him, but he said that he could dance in pretty much anything. He looked breathtaking, but then again, you already knew that.

You were wearing white dress. It was tight fitting across your chest and to the middle of your stomach. Then it went down to your knees and when he twirled you, it would flair around you.

You tried to avoid his eyes, but couldn’t. It reflected exactly what you felt – hurt and longing. You nodded to the teacher, and when the song started, you suddenly hated it. You don’t speak English, but the song needed to be in English and you both wanted to know what the song meant and for it to mean something to both of you, so you googled the translation of the lyrics.

Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi was the song you both finally liked. Now you hated it because the lyrics hit to close to home right now.

You and Jeongguk finished your dance, and letting go of his hand was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. The teacher was full of compliments and some of your fellow students were too. Others watched you two with envy. You ignored both.

When you got the results the next day, full marks, you couldn’t even feel happy about it.

* * *

Two months later, Jeongguk releases a cover of 'Before You Go' on SoundCloud and you spent the whole night listening to it, crying and eating chocolate ice cream. (You couldn’t even look at the banana and chocolate ice cream.)

* * *

It was another two months later when you were woken up by your mom one night. You immediately sat up right, disoriented and full of sleep, eyes squinting from the hallway light.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Your voice was low and full of sleep.

“There is someone at the door for you.” She said, reading glasses on her face and dressed in her PJ’s but not sleepy, which means she was still up working.

You checked the time on your phone, “It’s the middle of the night. Tell whoever it is to go away.”

“I think you should come and see the person.” She said, giving you a pointed look that made it clear that it wasn’t a suggestion.

With a deep sigh you got out of bed and walked to the living room. You were shocked out of your wits when you recognized the figure sitting on your couch leaning back, eyes closed and singing something unintelligible. You looked around for your mom, who was nowhere to be found.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, sharper than you intended. Jeongguk's eyes flew open and searched for you. When he found you, the most endearing bunny smile lit up on his face.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed cheerily, a bit slurred. You frowned, a thought coming up in your mind, and you stepped closer to him.

“Jesus Christ,” You breathed when you put it together. Flushed cheeks, over cheery personality, and the smell – Jeongguk is drunk. “What the fuck, Jeongguk?”

He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest huffing. “We haven’t seen each other or spoken on four months and that’s the first thing you say? No ‘I missed you'?”

You looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Oh no, you don’t get to play that card with me. Not after you show up drunk at my house, in the middle of the night.”

“I missed you.” He said, like he didn’t hear a word you said, looking at you with frighteningly serious eyes.

“I-” You started, but you didn’t know what to say because those words melted away at all of the carefully constructed walls you built around your feelings for Jeongguk in an effort to keep them under control. The truth of the matter is simple – you are weak for Jeongguk.

“Do you hate me?” He asked, tilting his head at you curiously.

You frowned, kind of offended by the question. “No, I don’t hate you.”

“Oh.” He nodded to himself, looking relieved.

You sighed gently when something occurred to you. “Does your hyung’s where you are?”

“Uh,” He looked at you wearily. “No.” He admitted.

You gaped at him, “What? Why not? Are you insane? They must be so worried about you.”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot.” You echoed in disbelief and when he just nodded, you pulled deep for patience. “Okay, so call them.”

“I forgot my phone.” He winced at the glower you aimed at him.

“Fine, I’ll go get my phone.” You said, turning away from him and going back to your room. “You better have their numbers memorized.” You muttered to yourself.

When you returned, phone in hand, it was to an asleep Jeongguk and your mother throwing a blanket over him.

“Mom, no, what are you doing? He needs to go home.”

“He can go home in the morning. After you two actually talked to each other.”

“We don’t need to talk.”

Your mom gave you one of those looks again, “The boy showed up, in the middle of the night, drunk of his ass and asked for you. I think that he might have a few things to say.”

“Maybe I don’t want to listen.” You mumbled petulantly.

“You love him. No, don’t look at me like that. I know who he is, I know about the dance and I know you cry sometimes. It doesn’t take a genius to put it together, my dear.” Your mom said, looking very satisfied with herself.

“He’s not even supposed to be here.” You sighed. “I let him go.”

Your mom grinned, eyes twinkling, “Well, you know what they said: when you set a bird free and he returns, he’s yours to keep forever.”

“He’s not a bird, mom.”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“It’s ridiculous, is what it is.” You huffed.

“Go get some sleep.”

The next morning you seriously contemplated not getting out of bed. Then you remembered the look your mom gave you and decided to face Jeongguk rather than your mother’s wrath. You got dressed, having showered the previous evening before bed, brushed your teeth, and walked to the living room, where the Idol was still passed out.

You got a glass of water and two painkillers before going to wake him up. You gently shook him wake, watching as he blinked his eyes open with a wince, then bolted upright when he noticed you. “Y/N? What am I doing here?”

“Funny thing,” You started, handing over the water and painkillers. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He took hit gratefully, drinking the pills and downing the water. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, so we need to talk, but first, call your hyungs and then go brush your teeth. There is spares in the cupboard beneath the sink. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Without giving him a chance to respond, you walked away.

Fifteen minutes later, he passed into the kitchen on sock covered feet, face washed and teeth brushed, holding your phone out with a sheepish smile. “Thank you.”

“They must love you right now.” You smirked, taking the phone and pocketing it. “Coffee?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “My hyungs aren’t to happy with me right now, but they are relieved that I called.”

You hummed in agreement, not really sure what to say. When you were done, you handed the coffee to him. You leaned against the counter and watched him. “Why are you here?”

He looked at you, long enough that you started to feel until unnerved. When he spoke, there was no hesitation or doubt. “I want to be with you.”

You swallowed, “Jeongguk-”

“Just hear me out, before you say no, okay? Please.” He looked at you. “I’m begging here.”

You nodded hesitantly. What could it hurt?

“We only get one life, and I decided long ago that I wouldn’t live it with any regrets and I know that if I let you go now and never look back, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I’m not asking you to marry me, Y/N, just for a chance, because I think that we could be great.” He said, eyes unguarded and hopeful as he looked at you.

Tears was stinging your eyes, “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” He asked, because no, he didn’t get it.

“You’re an Idol, and being an Idol means sacrificing certain things. You and me-” You gestured between you two. “-we’re one of those things.”

“So, what? I don’t even get a say? You just make the choice for me?” He asked, getting a little angry.

“Why can’t you understand? This is for you own good. If we do this and it gets out, and you could loose everything.” You said, trying to make him see. “Before, when I said you could tell everyone I’m your girlfriend, that was different because it wasn’t true and you could have easily denied it. But this time it wouldn’t be and both of us deserve better than a life of secrets and lies.”

“Well, that’s my choice, too, isn’t it?” He retorted heatedly and it was only then when you noticed how close you two were standing, that while you were arguing, you moved closer to each other.

You went to step away from him when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him, wrapping his free arm around your waist. He gave you a slight glare that you found a lot more attractive than you probably should have. “Stop running away from me. It’s not going to solve anything.”

“I’m not running.” You protested even as you placed your hands on his shoulders, trying to put a bit of space between you but not really getting anywhere because his hold was solid and he is really strong. How easily he lifted you during your practices for the dance was more than enough proof.

“You are.” He scoffed, looking down at you. Your heartbeat spiked, heat rushing to your cheeks as he looked at you with those dark eyes of his. This close you could see they were really a warm brown colour and the mole underneath his bottom lip looked even cuter. You felt the urge to press a kiss to it. “Tell me you don’t have feelings for me.”

More than a little distracted by the close proximity to Jeongguk, you didn’t immediately understand what he said. “What?”

“Tell me you don’t have feelings for me. Tell me and I’ll walk out your front door and you never have you see me again.” He challenged. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Slowly, he started to smile, happiness seeping out of him. “I knew it.”

You looked down, looking at the stitches of his t-shirt collar. “What gave me away?”

“The look in your eyes that night on the roof – you were terrified. You once told me that only three things in this life terrify you – loosing your mom, snakes and love.” Jeongguk said and your eyes widened.

“You remember that?” You asked, a little amazed because that was more than five months ago.

“I remember everything.” He said, voice so soft and gentle, sparkling eyes looking at you like you were worth everything and more. He started to smile slowly. Your heart thumped wildly, cheeks heating up. “Can I tell you something?”

You snorted, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder, his words of all those months ago coming back to you. You decided to give in an play his game. “Don’t you always?”

“I want to kiss you. So badly.” He said again, but no less sincere than the first time.

You lifted your head and looked him in the eyes. You saw the hope, the nervousness and the fear. You realised that maybe, he was just was terrified of this as you were, but he was taking a chance – again – despite of his fear.

You knew that there was still a lot to be said. You owed him an apology, for all those mean and heart breaking things you said, but most of all for ending your friendship. You promised him that your friendship didn’t have an expiration date and then you shut him out after he opened his heart to you. You really don’t know where he got the courage to do it a second time.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Jeongguk, you smiled up at him and said, “Then what are you waiting for?”

Jeongguk went still for a moment, then smiled – something bright and brilliant – before leaning down to press his lips to yours. You decided right then and there that this must be what heaven on Earth feels like.

the end.

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fiancé: Chapter Seven

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

The Interview

THURSDAY

Your alarm going off for the third time is like Hell’s bells itself.

Groaning like you’ve just risen from the dead, you fling your arm out, trying to find your phone amongst the covers. Did you go to sleep holding it? Did you drop it somewhere? Did you put it on the beside tabl─ No, there it is.

Scooping it up, your thumb taps across it, trying to find the section on the screen that will get it to stop, eventually finding it.

Releasing a long, slightly steadying breath, your eyes remain closed as you take stock.

There’s a dull ache in your head, uncomfortable and constant, the champagne and cocktails betraying you. Your skin still feels strange from where you scrubbed it. And...

Today’s the fucking day.

You’ve been dreading it all week. Shoving it to the back of your mind, despite the seemingly constant reminders from everyone around you.

And you know you’re already irritable, a concoction of hungover irritable, barely any sleep irritable and just fucking plain I hate this shit irritable. You’d tossed and turned all night, going over and over and over in your mind what they could ask. You’d thought about Marise, too, about the car attack, about Steve.

Opening your eyes, you roll onto your back and look up at the ceiling.

Marise.

The paint.

The car attack.

Steve has stalkers.

Someone had tried to break in.

That’s a lot for one gal to take in.

Humour is a good coping mechanism... for now.

I wonder if SHIELD will cover my therapy fees.

You want to laugh, but you no longer find any of this ridiculous or dumb.

And today’s the fucking day.

If you don’t get up, Nat will probably just burst in and get you up.

I wonder how she’s doing with all of this.

You make a mental note to actually ask her, and shove the covers off, slowly pushing yourself up in case your head or stomach protests. Thankfully, neither do, but the ache lingers in your mind.

Padding into the bathroom, you turn the light on and inspect the remnants of the night before.

Your outfit, blue and piled on the floor, the blue-tinged cream towels in the sink, and the smell of the paint that lingers in the air. You kick the outfit aside, not wanting to deal with it right now, and take the towels out of the sink, dropping them down onto the floor, too.

That’s this evening’s problem.

You picture yourself getting in later, the interview over, the day done, and you hold onto it, hold onto that, after today, there’s just two days left. Two days and then it’s all over.

— 

After showering, and trying to get the last, lingering stains of blue off, you dress and step out of your room. You expect there to be a horde of agents again or a PR team or a stylist or someone like that but... it’s quiet.

All you can hear is the gentle sound of a spoon stirring in a mug.

Moving down the stairs, you glance into the kitchen and there’s Steve, dressed in black jeans, a light blue button up tucked into them, his hair perfect.

It’s always fucking perfect.

He meets your gaze as you reach the bottom step and smiles.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” you answer, a lot less brightly, and slide into one of the stools at the island, resting your chin in your hands.

  A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher as he folds his arms, leaning back against the counter. “How’re you feeling?”

You look up and meet his gaze.

He chuckles and nods. “All right, copy that. Can I get you anything?”

Do you really want to eat? You feel a little queasy, hungover-queasy and nervous-about-an-interview queasy, though you don’t want your stomach to rumble throughout the whole thing. Ugh... Maybe just a drink, then.

“I could do with a glass of water.”

“All right. Let’s get you hydrated again.”

You exhale a long breath as he turns and opens a cupboard, pulling a glass out.

“Where is everyone?” you ask after a moment as he fills it with water.

“I told them not to come until 11.”

You glance at the clock on the wall. That gives you about half an hour of peace, then. You smile your gratitude as he places the glass before you, and you take a long drink as he returns to his position, his arms folding across his broad chest once more.

Slightly breathless, you lower the glass and lick your lips, then look back up at him.

You both smile, his easy, yours a little tight.

There’s that awkwardness again... and that feeling that he’s trying to stay up beat and protect you, that you’re fragile and will shatter at a moments notice.

Well... After yesterday...

“How are you feeling?” you ask before he can have the chance to.

He nods, his tongue running behind his teeth. “Fine. Well...”

You pause, watching him.

He sighs and rests his hands against the edge of the counter behind him. “... Same as you’re feeling, I imagine.”

You give a small smile, playing with your hands in your lap. “Absolutely shit, then?”

He chuckles, raising his eyebrows. “Somethin’ along those lines.”

You nod a few times, looking down at your hands before glancing up at him, a wider smile pulling at your lips. “... We could just run away, you know. You’re an expert at being secretive, I’m dying to go on holiday.”

His smile matches yours. “You think we could make it to the airport before anyone notices?”

You pull a faux face of annoyance. “What, you don’t have a private jet?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, it’s the least SHIELD could give you.”

He chuckles, his gaze dropping to the ground as you tap your fingers against your glass, you’re smile lingering.

“Are you nervous?” you ask quietly.

He glances up at you, slightly surprised. “Me? Uh... Yeah, a little.”

“Why? You’ve done interviews before, you did those school videos, and you were part of that show in the 40s.”

“Yeah, but—”

“This isn’t any different.”

He blinks slightly, then shrugs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, I—”

“No,” you interrupt with a sigh, your heart sinking as you close your eyes for a moment before looking at him. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it into some kind of a competition or invalidate how you feel. Or snap. I know this is just as shitty for you.”

He looks at you, the smile returning to his lips. “It’s all right, I get it. At least we’re in this shittiness together, huh?”

You give a smile, wrapping your hands around the glass.

... Except we’re not. I’m the one finding things out last, I’m the one getting abuse and paint thrown at me, I’m the one who... well, all of that pales in comparison to someone wanting to kill him.

Unreasonable. That’s what you’re being.

God, I hate being irritable.

And you’re going to have to spend the next three hours acting like you’re the happiest person in the entire world.

It’s three hours. We’ll be fine.

—

You don’t fucking feel fine.

In yet another SUV, heading, speeding, more like as Nat’s driving, towards the America Today studio, your stomach is twisting and turning.

I should’ve said I felt sick. Should’ve said yesterday was too much and I can’t cope with today, everyone would have understood.

... Yeah, they would have, and it’s fucking true, you don’t think you can cope with today... but you wouldn’t have been able to forgive yourself. This is the last big chance to find any more suspects.

Suspects, hang on...

Licking your lips, you look at Nat.

“What happened with the person who rammed me and Sam? Where are they?”

“In SHIELDs custody.”

Your eyebrows raise as she doesn’t go on, and you glance at Sam sat beside her. “... So... What’s going on with them, who are they?”

Nat answers. “They’re being interrogated, but they’re not giving up much.”

Sounds like someone I know.

“Are they recognised on any databases, though? Or anything like that?”

Sam shifts in his seat slightly.

“No, they’re not. Not yet.”

You look at her, your stomach sinking. “So...”

It’s Steve who answers this time, your gaze darting to him. “So we might not find out who we’re dealing with and have to rely on guys like the one in custody to give their buddies up and work out the network from there.”

His expression is open and honest, but you wonder how his own words make him feel; that they don’t know the people who want to kill him, that this is a new threat and they might never be able to find them all.

Because it’s made your fucking heart race.

“Right.” Well, I did want honesty. “... Well, guess today’s pretty fucking important then, huh?” you smile, wanting, needing, to lighten the tone.

Steve matches your smile as Nat keeps her eyes on the road and Sam lets out a good-natured chuckle. You glance at Nat.

Yeah, I need to ask her how she’s doing.

The SUV starts to slow and, oh, fuck we’re here. In yet another underground parking lot, I’m sick of these things.

As the guard at the barrier checks Nat’s ID and registers you all, you stare at the back of Sam’s seat. It’s terrifying that they might not know who they’re dealing with, but it’s also the motivation you need to make today go well and smooth and without anyone suspecting anything.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this...

After you’re waved through, Nat parks on the next level down in a designated space of the quiet, filled lot. As you all get out of the car, Sam the only one staying, there’s the quiet sound of an elevator arriving at the level and the doors sliding open. Heels on concrete echo across the lot and as you round the SUV you’re greeted by the sight of two burly security guards and a beaming woman with brown hair in a tight bun wearing a mint-green pant-suit.

“Good afternoon!” she announces, striding towards you all. “On behalf of America Today, I’d like to welcome you and thank you for choosing us to tell your story!”

You smile automatically as Nat says, “Thanks. Shall we go up?”

She’s already heading towards the elevator and the woman appears briefly flustered before she beams again and gestures for you to follow her. “Of course, everyone’s ready and waiting for you!”

Oh, fuck...

You swallow and your heart pounds against your rib-cage as you all move to the elevator. Then you feel Steve’s hand taking yours, lacing your fingers together. You glance up at him and a corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile which you manage to return.

Right, happy couple.

Or did he do that to comfort me.

I don’t know anymore.

There’s space for you all in the large elevator, you and Steve standing in the middle, your hands still linked, and the woman, Maeve, she introduces herself as, rattles on about there being a small buffet set up if you’re hungry with any kind of drink that you want, to let her know if you need anything, they can run out and get anything, anything at all, everyone’s so happy and excited, this is going to be such a big and historic day and...

As she goes on and on, you stare at the back of one of the security guards, trying to keep your breathing under control. You wouldn’t be surprised if they could all hear your heart. You feel like you can, it pounding in your ears.

You don’t realise that if Steve was an average man, your grip would be considered uncomfortably tight. Instead, he just keeps ahold of your hand, glancing at you, his jaw moving.

He hates that he can’t say anything to comfort you. Then he thinks, hang on...

The elevator slows to a halt, and the doors open. People walk about, talking on phones, talking to each other, you can hear other people calling to each other, the sound of equipment moving. Stepping out of the elevator behind the security guard, you realise you’re on a set, a horde of cameras to the right, obscuring what must be where the interview will be, to the left is a small foyer area and four doors leading into other rooms.

“Righty...” Maeve says as she turns to you all, still beaming. “Steve, if you could follow me, Y/N, Emma here will help you get ready.”

Hang on, what...

Steve’s hand leaves yours as Maeve gestures for him to follow and a woman with a warm smile and short, black, coiled hair approaches. You turn to Steve to give a small smile and maybe crack a joke about never seeing him again, when his hand lifts and settles on the back of your neck. Blinking, you don’t move as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“See you in a minute, sweetheart,” he says as he draws back with an easy smile, his hand dropping and his eyes twinkling, and all you can do is stare at those fucking broad shoulders as he follows after Maeve because, what.

...

...

... uh...

Your brain might have actually disappeared. 

Happy couple.

Or did he do that to comfort me.

I. Don’t. Know. Any. More.

Emma clears her throat quietly and your gaze darts to her as Nat says, “Y/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Your gaze now darts to Nat, who stands with her arms folded, an eyebrow raised and... oh, no. A faint smirk on her lips.

“Go with Emma.”

Your face warm, you nod and look to her, smiling widely as she does the same. “Sorry, yes, lead the way.”

Hoping she’ll just chalk your moment there down to love-sickness, you follow after her as she takes you to one of the doors.

“How are you doing?” she says as she opens the door for you, letting you go in first, and you raise your eyebrows slightly as you consider the question.

I can be nervous. I can show that I’m nervous. Real fiancée or not, I can be nervous.

“I’m pretty nervous, actually.”

You take a seat in the closest comfortable-looking chair facing a large mirror as she closes the door, and it muffles the sounds of the set.

Thank God.

She smiles empathetically as she opens one of the many bags on the table under the mirror and searches through it, meeting your gaze in the reflection. “I can imagine it is. That’s perfectly normal, though, and everyone here just wants you to be comfortable.”

Everyone but my own brain.

You just return her smile, though, clasping your hands together on your lap. “That’s comforting. How are you?”

Her smile brightens. “I’m fine, thank you, I’m excited. I’ve always been a Cap’ fan, and it’s nice to meet you, too.” Emma’s smile falters a little as her features soften. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened yesterday.”

As she starts to apply foundation to your face, your gaze shifts to the mirror, looking at yourself. Even you can tell your demeanour changes slightly at the memory. “Thank you.”

The brush on your skin is gentle and light as she blends the foundation in. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you feel that everyone hates you, but I can tell you that’s not true.”

You glance at her in the reflection, quiet.

She sighs softly, leaning back and meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Oh, girl... The world doesn’t hate you, all right? My friends and I were talking about it this morning, hoping you’d be okay and know that that was just one person’s feelings... and from what I’ve read, she’s not exactly... stable.”

As she resumes brushing the foundation on, moving down to blend it into your neck where you know there’s still some patches of faint blue, you swallow hard because 1) you’re hungover and therefore more sensitive than usual, and 2) you forgot how kind people can be.

One negative, albeit horrible, experience has made you forget that.

“Yeah, but, you know... It’s the classic thing of you can hear nice things but you focus on the bad,” you murmur, your hands twisting together in your lap.

“I know. I’m not gonna name-drop but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had people, people who would surprise you, sit in this very chair and think that the whole world hates them after hearing just a couple of bad things.”

You look at her as she straightens and roots through another bag. Part of you thinks you shouldn’t trust her, shouldn’t be telling her these things because she works for the studio and could tell someone and then it’d be a whole news story that you wouldn’t be able to escape and... But, no. Your feelings are right on this one, and you trust her.

She pulls out a small box of powder and takes another brush, starting to swipe it onto your skin. “My friends and I are huge fans of yours, anyway.”

You exhale a faint laugh as your eyebrows raise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she beams, brushing at your jaw. “I know we don’t know you, but, I don’t know, we just like you.”

“Well, thanks,” you say with a smile, even though that makes you feel a little strange.

“You’ve got some people in your corner, don’t worry,” Emma nods, straightening up. “Now...” Placing the powder and brush down, she places her hands on her hips. “... Can I do a little eyeshadow?”

“Sure, why not.”

At this moment in time, you’d let her do anything because she’s just so bloody nice.

And maybe it’ll make me look more alive.

You close your eyes as Emma chats away about a TV show she’s been watching, and it’s a nice distraction. For a little while you can pretend you’re having your make-up done and that’s all. She even gives you a head massage, files your nails and paints a clear polish over them, and brushes your outfit down with a lint-roller.

Of course, it doesn’t last long, though.

“... and there we go,” she announces as she stands back, and you open your eyes and look at yourself in the mirror.

Your skin looks smooth, there’s a little blush on your cheeks, she’s swept some eyeshadow over your lids that compliments your eye colour, added a little mascara and eye-liner, and, most importantly, there’s absolutely no blue paint to be seen.

I definitely look more alive.

Looking up at her, the corners of your mouth lift in gratitude. “Thank you, Emma, I look great.”

“Ah, you looked great before, I just added to it.”

As you rise out of the seat, she returns to the door and opens it, holding it for you. “I want you to remember what I said, all right? There are people in your corner.”

Your smile widens as you nod, crossing the room. “I’ll remember it. Thank you so much.”

She inclines her head with a beam. “Don’t worry about it, you’re gonna do great.”

Fuck, I hope so.

The noise of the set returns as you pass through the door, and all your anxieties come flooding back.

Don’t. There are people in your corner.

Nat stands outside the room, her hands clasped together. Turning to you as she hears you and Emma, her lips lift. “Hey, you look good. You want something to eat?”

You had in fact had a little something to eat back at the penthouse, Sam and Nat having arrived at 11 on the dot with a huge box of pastries, and the four of you had sat tearing into them for about half an hour as Sam had gone on about how Christmas shopping got more and more difficult every year, and then you’d gone over potential interview questions.

The thought of eating now, though, just makes you feel queasy. Shaking your head, you join her at her side, folding your arms, almost hugging yourself.

“No, thanks.”

“You want a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“You wanna get out of here?”

You glance at her, a faint smile on her lips, and you exhale a breath, your own lips twitching a little. “Nah. Steve and I talked about running away this morning already, but we reasoned it’d just be too much of a hassle.”

“Ah, that’s sensible.”

“Yeah, annoyingly.” 

Nodding at the nearby couch, she moves to it. “Come on, let’s sit down. Gotta rest my legs while I can.”

Sitting beside her, you finally seize your chance. “So, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, thanks, how are you?”

“No, I mean, how are you really?”

Nat side-eyes you, an eyebrow arching a fraction. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but really—”

“Y/N!”

Fucking hell.

Jolting, you look up to find Maeve beaming down at you.

“Wow! Look at you! Emma’s great, isn’t she? Would you like something to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, she is. And, no, thank you.”

“All right, can I get you anything at all?”

She’s just doing her job, she’s just doing her job, she’s just doing her job...

“No, thank you.”

“Oke doke, let me know if you do, I’m just gonna see how Megan’s doing.” With another wide beam, she’s then trotting off to the set.

“Who’s Megan?” you murmur to Nat.

Nat inspects the nails on one hand idly. “The interviewer.”

“Oh.”

Because I’m here to do an interview, that’s right.

“You’re gonna be fine.” It’s like she can read your mind.

Glancing at her, you blow out a breath, looking down at your hands. “I just can’t wait for today to be over.”

“I know. It’s just a twenty minute interview, it’ll be over before you know it.”

Your gaze darts back to her. “What? I thought it was an hour?”

A corner of her mouth twitches. “It was. But then they wouldn’t tell me what they were gonna ask so I cut it down. It means essential questions only.”

I love you.

Your smile widening a little, you nod. “All right, I think I can handle that.”

“Good.” Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she taps on a message, answering swiftly.

Looking down at her phone before quickly looking away before you see anything you’re not meant to, you lick your lips. “... So how’s it going outside?”

“Fine.”

“Is there a big crowd?”

“Yeah.”

“The biggest this week?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” She puts her phone away, her arms folding across her chest. “Means there’ll be better cover for anyone wanting to blend in. We’ve got plenty of agents on site, too.”

“Well... That is good.”

She’s about to reply when she looks beyond you and raises her eyebrows. “God, you took your time.”

Turning your head, you pause as you see Steve approaching.

“Sorry, I was signing a few things, filming a few birthday messages, you know...” He looks sheepish and you smile quickly to console him, even as your stomach flutters.

You kissed me.

Technically.

Looking between you both, he returns your smile. “You look nice.”

“Thank you, so do you,” you answer automatically, even though he looks exactly the same because his skin is always smooth anyway and his hair’s always perfect and he’s always fucking gorgeous—

Slow down, stop it.

He opens his mouth when Maeve suddenly appears, again.

“Look at you both! Wonderful! Now, there’s about five minutes to go, so if you’d like to follow me, Megan’s ready, too.”

Five minutes.

You take a breath as you push yourself up, meeting Steve’s gaze. He smiles lightly, almost secretively, then holds out his hand to you.

A fucking life-line.

Sliding your hand into his, you return his smile as he squeezes it gently. Then, you both turn and follow after Maeve.

Nearing the set, your heart is pounding again, your eyes darting about, watching the crew set up and laugh and chat together.

It’s live.

It’s gonna be fucking live.

And I have to convince these people and the world that I’m happily engaged.

“Megan?” Maeve steps away a little as you round one of the cameras, and there the set is.

There’s a large Persian carpet in the centre with a small glass table on it, with three bottles of Fiji water, and three grey, fabric armchairs, one on the left side of the table, two on the other, and a few potted plants. The large window behind it provides the back drop and lighting, though there’s plenty of lights beside the cameras, too, and you can already feel the warmth of them. You suspect this isn’t where they’d usually conduct interviews like this; Nat had probably requested they do it here and this has been thrown together.

The interviewer, Megan Owens, smiles gracefully as she rises from her seat at Maeve’s voice. She’s dressed in a light blue, sleeveless dress with a red belt, coiffed, chestnut hair, and a radiant white smile, and you steel yourself.

 Steve’s hand leaves yours as she extends her hand to him, and he takes it. 

“Captain Rogers, it’s an honour to meet you,” she enthuses, her voice honey-warm.

“Just Steve is fine,” he insists as he shakes her hand with a smile, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Megan.”

If her perfect beam could have gotten any wider it would have as she simpers, “The pleasure is all mine.” Dropping his hand, her gaze then turns to you, her beam fixed in place. “Oh, and you must be Y/N.”

Duh.

“Hello,” you say brightly as you shake her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Who am I.

“And lovely to meet you, too.” She shakes your hand lightly before pulling her hand back and raising it, gesturing at the studio. “What an honour it is to have you both here, thank you so much for choosing America Today for the interview, we’re so honoured, really.”

“It’s nothing,” Steve answers, surprising you by his hand returning to yours, lacing your fingers together.

Oh.

Megan gestures at the two grey chairs that are side-by-side. “Please, take a seat, you there, Y/N, and you there, Steve. Get comfortable.”

Hilarious.

As you sit, you in the one closest the window, Steve the one closest to the camera, you clasp your hands together in your lap without thinking.

Megan smiles at you as she crosses her legs. “I take it this is your first ever interview, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows rise as you manage a smile. “What gave it away?”

She laughs lightly as a man appears to smooth down her already perfect hair. “Oh, nothing, we just didn’t find any interviews in our research.”

You feel strange again, and try not to think about strangers searching you on the internet. Two women appear to mic you all up, and Megan continues as if they’re not there. “You’ll be fine. I suppose you can imagine what I’ll ask and the answers will just be about you or Steve so it’ll be nice and easy.”

Oh, I wish.

The woman finishes adjusting your mic and moves away, and you watch the other woman fit a device to Megan’s ear. So the producers can communicate with her, probably. They’ll be sat in a room somewhere, watching, excited. You’re surprised you haven’t met them, then again maybe it’s Nat’s doing. Maybe she’s tried to keep it as underwhelming as possible.

Nice try, but I’m still overwhelmed.

Another woman’s voice suddenly sounds from behind one of the many cameras as the mic woman moves off the set, and your gaze darts over automatically to find the source. “All right, everyone, quiet on set! Megan, you’re on in 5, 4—”

Silence descends. Your eyes dart back to Megan as your mouth dries and your stomach flips and you feel hot.

“ — 3—”

Suddenly, Steve’s hand finds yours in your lap and you grip his tightly, not caring if it’s for comfort or for show.

“— 2...”

Megan tilts her head as she looks into a camera, her hands folded on her lap. “Thank you, Andy and Jean, and good afternoon to you, America, and the world. Here with me today is a couple that needs no introduction. All week, right around the world, we’ve all been discussing them and their upcoming wedding, and now, in an exclusive interview, they’re here with us today to tell us the truth and details in all the speculation.” She looks to you both, her smile widening. “Steve and Y/N, thank you so much for joining us.”

“Thank you for having us,” Steve says as you just smile, hoping to whoever’s listening that you look relaxed.

“I’ll start with what we’ve all been dying to know, how did you two meet?”

Oh, fuck, I’m gonna have to take the lead on this one—

“Well,” Steve begins and God, thank you, “after I finished my rehabilitation with SHIELD, I wanted to find a place of my own for some sense of normality, and I wanted to be closer to the Triskelion, so I moved here and I ended up moving into the same building that Y/N would happen to.”

He’s told this story before, it’s nothing new, so you feel yourself relaxing a little... Except he glances at you, and you know in that split-second he’s judging whether you want him to carry on or whether you want to talk.

Well, I can’t just sit here like a lemon.

This is easy, you know this.

“I moved here after accepting a job offer and just took the first apartment I could,” you say, your voice mercifully steady, looking to Megan with a smile. “The landlord just happened to leave out that Captain America would be my neighbour.” 

You’re bolstered suddenly by the surprising sound of quiet laughter from some of the crew.

Megan laughs, too, though hers seems to be more out of politeness. “So no pressure, huh?”

It’s your turn to laugh politely. “No, not at all. But I still didn’t know that when the evening I moved in I did what any good neighbour would do and I knocked on his door to introduce myself.” There’s more quiet laughter again, okay, I’m doing okay. “And he was very polite and kind as I just stared at him for about a minute thinking I’d lost my mind.”

That’s true... Except you leave out the part where you’d babbled in introducing yourself and had practically given him your whole life story out of nerves and embarrassment and just plain not being able to be quiet. He’d listened attentively the whole time and had even asked you, having gently cut off one of your ramblings, if you wanted to come in and sit down.

You’d said no, in horror, before quickly back-pedalling your tone and saying that you just didn’t want to disturb him.

He’d given you that smile and said you weren’t disturbing him at all.

The memory makes your stomach flutter.

“So, you two became friends after that, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers, “We just kept bumping into each other and then during one conversation we realised we were both classic film fans so we decided to watch one that was on TV that night together and then it became a weekly thing, and then we were going out for walks, having dinner together and just enjoying each others company.”

... Well, that’s not wrong.

“When did you two realise you were in love?”

You’re prepared for this but it still makes your stomach flip as you take the lead. “I think we just knew, you know? We spent a lot of time together and felt something change and now... here we are.”

You’d all agreed you couldn’t make every answer detailed, so you’re very pleased that you’d decided to make this one vague.

Megan smiles and hums in agreement before her gaze shifts to Steve as her smile widens. “Now, go on, Steve, what is it about Y/N that made you fall in love with her?”

Your breath catches in your throat slightly and Steve releases a polite laugh.

Oh my God, we didn’t prepare for this.

Remembering you’re on camera, your fixed smile widens a little more as you make yourself look at Steve. He glances at you, his eyebrows raising with a smile, before he looks to Megan.

“Well, as Y/N said, sometimes you just know, and who can explain love, right?” Megan hums in agreement. “... But,” Steve continues, his gaze returning to you, “... I think it was her empathy and kindness, her sense of humour, the fact we can talk about absolutely anything until about 2AM, and... just how easy it is to be with her, really.”

You can’t look away from him, your lips slightly parted, your face warm, and he’s not looking away either.

“And what about you, Y/N?”

You blink and look at her, before back to Steve. “Well, I, I would say it’s how comfortable he makes me feel. I can always be myself around him and I don’t feel judged, and he makes me feel valued.” Your smile softens as you look at him. “It’s so easy to be with him, too, there’s honestly no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.”

Oh. Oh, no.

That last part just slips out, but that’s fine, that’s absolutely fine because you’re meant to be in love, that’s fine.

Looking away, your face so fucking hot, you smile at Megan, who looks suitably charmed. 

“That’s so lovely. What do you do for work, Y/N?”

Right, this is an easy one, that’s good.

“I work at June & Mayflower Publishing, I’m the Head of Marketing for the branch here in D.C.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh, I love it. I’m very lucky to have such great colleagues, too.”

And they’re probably screaming, ‘you’re damn right’, at the TV in the staff-room right now.

“And how do you feel when Steve has to go away for work, Y/N?”

Oh, fuck.

This was something you’d never, ever spoken about, either of you. You’d never told him that it’s always there in the back of your mind when he’s away that he could be hurt, could be captured, could die. How can you say that now, though? On live television and in front of him?

Keep it light, Nat had said when you’d discussed the probability of any difficult questions.

Smiling, my God, my cheeks hurt, you shrug slightly. “I know what I signed up for. His sense of duty and honour is one of the things I love about him, too. Yes, it can be hard being away from each other, sometimes for several weeks, but Dolly always says—”

“Dolly?” Megan interrupts gently.

Your smile is easy now as you nod. “Oh, sorry, my friend Dolly.”

“That’s a lovely name.“

“Yeah, her parents are huge Dolly Parton fans, which, who isn’t, she’s an icon, so they named her after her.”

Megan laughs, and it feels real. “Yes, she is an icon. But do excuse me, please continue.”

“Well, Dolly always says that if it’s right for you and something you really want, then it’ll work out, and Steve and I have and do make it work.”

You feel him squeeze your hand gently as you nod, and you assume it’s to tell you you gave a great answer.

Megan nods. “Well, absolutely, Dolly’s right.”

You all laugh politely, and then Megan’s smile is replaced by a gently sympathetic expression. 

“Now, there was an incident last night at the The Venue, wasn’t there. what happened?”

You have to suppress a sigh. “Oh, I was there having a few drinks with two friends, one of them Dolly, the other Bridget, and someone threw paint on me.”

“Paint?” Megan responds with a tone of quiet shock, though you all know she already knew that.

“Yeah, blue paint.”

... For some reason, you’re smiling... maybe because fuck this, you can’t be bothered to spin a sob story.

There are people in your corner.

“I looked like a member of the Blue Man Group.”

Megan laughs, as do some of the crew, and Steve chuckles, and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders.

If I laugh, they haven’t won. In fact...

Waiting for Megan’s laugh to finish, you start to speak before she can. 

“In all seriousness, though, I think what happened last night displays an issue we have in our society about how we treat people that we put on a pedestal, the people we consider celebrities. The way we’ve been hounded this week, it’s not healthy for anyone. I’ve had things shouted at me, and thrown at me, from people who don’t even know me but feel entitled to expressing an opinion that they believe is fact, formed from what strangers have written in papers and online and their own assumptions. They don’t know me or Steve, they’re assuming, and as last night showed that can be so dangerous, in fact history has shown it does get dangerous. There’s an obsession that people develop with celebrities that we have to ask ourselves how and why it gets to that point and who’s enabling them, because people have this sense of ownership over people they don’t even know and it’s not right.”

You kept your eyes on Megan as you spoke, so you don’t see the way Steve’s been looking at you.

With pride.

Megan looks quietly impressed, her eyebrows raising a little as she nods. “Wow, there certainly is a discussion to be had there. We’ll have to get you back for that one another time.”

“I’d love to.” You smile and incline your head, finding that you actually would.

“For now, though, you’re both going to be attending the Stark Christmas Party tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Steve takes over, and his hand is still held in both of yours, “We’re both really looking forward to it, it’s been a while since I’ve been to New York.”

“Will it be your first time at the Tower and meeting the Avengers, Y/N?���

“Uh, yes, it’ll be my first time there, and, yes, I suppose so, with all of them together.”

Oh my God, I haven’t even thought about that.

“What a sight that’ll be,” Megan gushes, “Will you be considering the Tower as a venue?”

You glance at Steve, watching his lips twitch. “Ah, no, no, we will not.”

You recall Nat having told you Steve had called it ‘ugly’ right in front of Tony.

“Are you looking for somewhere in Washington, then?”

“Yeah, we both like it here, and it means a lot to us ‘cause it’s where we met, so.” His hand squeezes yours and you look up at him, matching his soft smile.

We’re both acing this looking in love thing.

“Of course. And as for the dress, Y/N...?” She trails off with an expectant smile, and you feign a coy one as you look at her. 

“Oh, I can’t speak too much about that, we all like a surprise.”

Don’t we bloody just.

“Oh, how unfair, I guess we’ll all just have to wait for the big day, then,” she laughs. “You were spotted at The Pearl, though...?”

“Yeah, I have been trying some dresses from there, and it’s such a lovely place, the staff are absolutely wonderful, I can’t praise them highly enough.” You smile widely, delighted you could give Sally and the assistants a shout-out. “Oh, and they have just as many dresses and suits in-store for those who are considered ‘plus-sized’ so I can’t recommend them highly enough.”

“Ah, yes, a story got out yesterday about you having to leave a store that didn’t cater, is that true?”

Your lips twitch at the memory. “Yes, it is, which is such a shame because from a business point of view they’re really missing out, and it just makes them look like idiots, to be honest.”

If Megan’s shocked at that she hides it well, and just nods. “Quite right. Well, The Pearl had better be ready for plenty of clients now,” she smiles, raising her eyebrows. 

Then, she tilts her head and clasps her hands together on her lap. “Now, and I suppose this follows on from what you were saying about, as you say, people making assumptions, earlier today we did an interview with a co-worker and an old flame of yours.”

You freeze.

“Really?”

Megan nods and points towards where the cameras are. “For our audience, it’ll be airing later today, although it’s up on our website now, but if you could just both watch that screen, I’d be interested to hear what you have to say.”

You feel cold all of a sudden as you look at a TV screen, knowing the world is going to watch you watch your ex-boyfriend and whatever the fuck he has to say.

The screen goes from black to a clip of Joe, in a white button-up and navy tie, hands clasped together on his crossed legs, loose, relaxed, in his element, sitting across from Megan in what looks like a nicer room than this one.

He’s obviously just been asked a question because Joe takes in a breath as he looks up, considering his answer. Smiling almost sympathetically, he looks back to Megan.

“Y/N’s great, she really is. She’s really smart and a lot of fun, she was an absolute sweetheart... but she was quite insecure when we were together. She was quite quiet, and didn’t have much confidence, you know? She was always doubting herself and her work, and I tried to be there for her as much as I could, but there’s only so much you can do. She liked to be with her friends a lot and I just... I got a great job opportunity and had to do what was best for both of us, so I ended it.”

The clip pauses, but you remain staring at the screen, a surge of rage coiling within you.

“That’s classy,” you mutter.

Except you don’t mutter it, because it’s picked up by the microphone and everyone on the planet and universe will have heard it along with everything your ex has just said.

Megan’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “Classy?”

You look at her.

Fuck you, Joe.

Licking your lips, you shrug. “If I was all those things or came across that way it’s because that’s how Joe made me feel. He certainly didn’t make me feel happy, or satisfied.” You hear some quiet gasps and laughter. “It’s nice to now be with someone who makes me feel good about myself, despite and because of who I am.” Looking at him, your other hand now covers Steve’s. “He sees all of me and he still loves me.”

“Yes, I do,” he answers without missing a beat, without pausing.

Your breath catches in your throat as your stomach flutters. You hold each others gaze as Megan hums, and it’s only when she speaks that you both finally look away.

“That’s wonderful, that really is. So, I take it you disagree with everything Joe said?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“He went on to suggest, as some people have, that you might be using Steve to further your career, what do you say to that?”

You feel Steve stiffen beside you but you just laugh. “Further my career? In publishing?” You look at him with a grin. “I didn’t know you had any pull in the publishing world.”

A smile blossoms across his features as he chuckles. “What can I say, you gotta have some secrets in a relationship.”

You laugh, the tightness in you chest gone, and as it fades you look back to Megan. “Look, I’m very happy where I am, for now I don’t want to progress any higher. I think it’s Joe who wants to further his career here.”

Despite your laughter, she seems to sense the rage that’s gently simmering in you and nods and smiles brightly. “Well, just one more question, then... When’s the big day?”

Steve answers this time. “We’ll be announcing that very shortly, not much longer to wait, I promise.”

Yeah, two days and then you’ll all find out.

Megan tuts good-naturedly, her smile still fixed in place. “I guess we’ll just have to trust you! And, unfortunately, that’s all we have time for.” Tilting her head, she raises her hands slightly. “Thank you once again for joining us, it’s been an absolute pleasure, and on behalf of everyone at America Today we wish you the warmest of congratulations.”

“Thank you very much,” Steve says as you force a smile, and Megan looks into a camera.

You stare at Megan because she doesn’t say anything else, and then the woman from earlier calls out, “And cut! Thank you, everyone!”

Voices erupt as people call out to one another and some people even clap. Looking up to try and find them, you just smile slightly, and then Megan’s rising out of her seat.

“You both did great,” she says as a woman rushes over to remove her earpiece and her mic. “And, Y/N...” You raise your eyebrows slightly, and she gives a light smile. “... Not bad for your first time.”

You feel yourself relax a little as someone else removes your mic and then Steve’s.

Steve.

Looking to him, he’s looking at the woman removing the mic, smiling and nodding his thanks before she moves away. Then he’s looking at you

His hand is still in yours.

He smiles softly, and you return it.

“Steve! Y/N!”

Oh, Maeve, you’re so good at your job but please leave us alone.

You both look up at her, beaming at you as always.

“That was fantastic! Can we just get a photo of you both and Megan?”

Nodding, slightly dazed because it’s over, it’s over, it’s over, you stand and Steve’s hand slips out of yours. Clearing your throat, you move down the set where Megan’s talking to who you assume is the woman who called out, possibly the director. 

Her beam is back in place as she turns to you and stands between you and Steve. You just stare at Maeve’s phone and smile whenever she takes a photo of you three, and she takes several. Three people, two women and a man, come out of another room, and they’re introduced as the producers, and you shake their hands and say hello and receive their thanks and congratulations, and then you take a few photos with them as they thank you over and over again and say how great it was.

Then, thankfully, Nat’s there, talking over Maeve and thanking her and everyone and ushering you and Steve towards the elevator.

Oh my God, we get to go home now.

That was it.

The hardest thing is done.

You’ve done it.

You’ve done it.

Getting into the elevator, you feel lighter than you have in days, a breath leaving you. The doors slide shut, Maeve and the two security guards in there with you again as Maeve has insisted on seeing you down.

Looking at the doors, you don’t realise there’s a small smile on your lips.

Steve glances at you, and give a small smile of his own.

Then, you feel his hand on your back, rubbing gently. Looking up at him, you share your small, relieved, secretive smile, and you can’t stop your cheeks from warming. Looking away, your teeth grazing over your lower lip, you don’t notice him watching the movement.

The elevator slows to a halt, it chimes, and the doors slide open. As you step out, you spot Sam leaning against the SUV and give him a beam and a wave. He grins and gives you a thumbs up.

Turning to Maeve and the security guards, you, Nat and Steve take turns shaking her hand.

“Thank you so much, really,” she gushes, and, all right, she’s won you over and you’re beaming now. “This was such an incredible day for me, I’m so happy I could look after you and I hope you’ve had a good time.”

Why not.

“We did, Maeve,” you say before either Nat or Steve can answer, and you tilt your head. “Would you like a photo with us?”

Her mouth opens but nothing comes out, and then she’s scrabbling for her phone in her pocket. “Well, I, I wasn’t going to ask, it’s not professional and I’m not really allowed, but seeing as you offered I would absolutely love to.”

Catching Steve’s eye, grinning, you stand by Maeve’s side as Nat takes her phone and lifts it, her lips pressed together.

“All right, ready...”

Maeve’s arms go around you and Steve and she beams at the camera.

Nat taps the screen a few times before lowering the phone and stepping forward, handing it back to her. “There you go.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” she says, almost hugging her phone to her chest. “That’s so kind, thank you.”

As you go to say your goodbyes, you hear the elevator chime again, signalling it’s arrived, and out of instinct you glance over her shoulder to see who it is. The doors slide open and Joe—

Joe steps out with a man in a suit, laughing at something he just said.

You stare at him.

Why is he still here.

Oh... He must be doing other interviews.

... Pure rage surges within you once more.

You don’t hear Steve saying your name as you stride past Maeve towards him. Upon hearing your name, Joe lifts his head, his eyes land on you, and they widen.

“Oh, hey—”

Your hands slam against his chest, gripping the front of his jacket, and you shove him back, pushing him against the wall beside the elevator.

“Why the fuck did you do that, Joe?!” you hiss, “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

You don’t see it, but Steve, having stepped forward, puts an arm out, halting the security guards and the man with Joe from going to his aid.

Joe stammers as he looks behind you for help, then back to you. “L-Look, I’m, I’m sorry, okay, but I don’t think I said anything that wasn’t truthful—”

“Really?!” You don’t realise you’re practically yelling. “You humiliated me, you told the whole world my insecurities like it was nothing, like you had the right to.  You’re a fucking asshole, you always have been, and you didn’t deserve me.”

Releasing him, you step back, your breaths coming quickly, your jaw tight. You go to turn away when he quickly says, “I needed the money, Y/N.”

You scoff as you turn back to him, watching him straighten his jacket. “No, you don’t, Joe, you’re a manager—”

“I lost my job.”

You stare at him, your brow dipping. “What?”

He swallows, one hand going into his pocket, the other playing with his tie. “I was fired. A month ago. I moved back here to stay with a friend and find a new job. Yvette wouldn’t give me my old one back, so...”

You shake your head, your eyebrows raising in incredulity. “So, instead of finding another job, you went on television and humiliated your ex-girlfriend?”

“No, I, well, I didn’t mean to...” He trails off, looking at you helplessly, wanting you to give him an out, the benefit of the doubt, throw him a life-line, like you used to.

Your tongue running over your teeth, you shake your head. “You’re a fucking asshole, Joe.”

Turning away, you smile tightly at Maeve, and say as you pass, “Thank you so much, really, you’ve been great.”

You don’t hear her reply as you carry on striding across the lot, Steve right behind you. Sam gives you a gentle smile and opens the door for you so you can climb straight in. Sitting back, you secure your seat-belt as Nat, Sam and Steve slide into their own seats.

No one speaks as Nat drives to the barrier, and then you’re waved out and onto the main roads.

You’re glad you said that to Joe. So relieved. It’s like a weight off your fucking shoulders, everything you should have said when he dumped you.

But you’re so fucking mad. Fucking livid... at everything. Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the fucking week. All three is a deadly combination. You don’t care about peoples opinions, you don’t, you try very hard to not pay attention to them or let them get to you and you succeed most times, but Joe has presented an image of you to the world that isn’t you, that you can’t control, and... It’s like the last straw on top of a lot of last straws.

You realise, then.

Even when this is supposedly over, it won’t be. People will still know who you are. You’ll still be Steve’s friend, his neighbour. People will still have an opinion of you. People will still be able to make an assumption about you, scream things at you, throw things at you.

And you thought you’d done well in the interview, but depending on what people want to believe, Joe could have undone all of that.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Nat says suddenly, “I didn’t know they had interviewed Joe, they fucked us over.”

“It’s not your fault, Nat. You’re the one keeping this fucking thing together, you’re doing your best, you all are.”

"You are, too.”

You lift your gaze to Steve. You make yourself take a breath and exhale it as he smiles, and you return it but it’s an effort.

What will we be like after this.

Stop it.

God, I hate hungover, irritable me.

You’d said the night before that you would take all of this if it meant you got to be his friend. And you still would.

So you widen your smile and exhale another breath.

His own features relax as he nods slightly, maybe understanding a little.

“... Man, I was really hopin’ you were gonna knock that guy out,” Sam says, and you glance over at him.

Then, you burst out laughing.

Steve chuckles as Sam looks back at you, his eyes wide. “I’m being serious, I was just waitin’ for it, we can turn around if you like? Finish the little rat off?”

“No,” you insist through your laughter, “As tempting as that is, I just want to get back and nap this hangover off.”

“You sure? I’ll be your second?” Steve chimes in.

“No.” You’re grinning, even as you narrow your eyes at him. “Yelling let me get it all out.”

“All right, all right...” Sam grumbles good-naturedly, then reaches into his jacket. “Here’s your phone, by the way.”

Sam had offered to keep it in the car for you so it’d be one less thing for you to worry and you accept it with a nod.

“Thank you very much.”

Unlocking it, there’s messages from Bridget, Dolly and Aaron, all having responded to things while watching it, and all ended by saying what an asshole Joe is. You spend the rest of the drive replying to them, telling them you’re okay and just looking to have a quiet night in. 

You pause before locking it, then you message Yvette, asking if she knew Joe had been fired.

She replies within seconds.

I did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, didn’t want to upset you, he was fired on the grounds of incompetence basically. At least the whole world knows he’s an idiot now. You were fantastic.

Incompetence. Ha, sounds right.

You tell her not to worry, that you miss her, and thank her.

You’re welcome. And I suppose I miss you, too.

Smiling, you lock your phone just as you arrive back at the penthouse. Leaning over his seat, you hug Sam goodbye, then get out with Steve and Nat, the latter only wanting to go with you up to your door. In the elevator, she leans against the back of it and folds her arms. 

“So, how do we feel?”

You and Steve nod in unison, and both say;

“Yeah, good.”

“Fine.”

She nods, her lips twitching slightly. “Good. I think we’re all relieved that’s over. And I’m sorry again about what happened, Y/N, I’m gonna call them later and yell at them.”

“It’s fine, really,” you answer with a slight shrug. “I get they needed to make a story and make it exciting. I’m okay, really. I’m glad I got to do some yelling myself.”

Nat’s lips lift. “Yeah, that must have been very cathartic.”

You can’t stop a smile. “It was.”

The elevator slows to a halt and the doors slide open. She waits until Steve opens the door and she knows everything’s okay inside before she leaves, waving you off and saying she’ll message you later.

You close the door, kick your shoes off, and head down the short hallway, and pause, looking at Steve stood in the living room, his hands in his pockets, a gentle smile on his lips.

“So.”

“So...” you answer, your own smile widening.

He inhales a breath, his eyebrows raising a little. “Thank God that’s over.”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms as you move closer. “It was okay, though, wasn’t it? We did okay, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, I’d say we did. More than okay, actually.” He lifts a hand out of his pocket and gestures at you. “You were great.”

You scoff, shaking your head slightly, only a step or so away now. “Me? What about you, when she hit us with the ‘what made you fall in love’ curveball you were great, you said some really good stuff.”

He shrugs slightly. “Well, they are the things I do like about you, so.”

You look at him, your stomach fluttering and your breath catching in your throat and your lips parting and your heart beating faster and, oh.

His gaze is lingering on you, and he watches your tongue wet your lips.

“Oh.... Well... What I said is what I like about you, too,” you say quietly, watching him.

There’s a pause. Then, he takes a step closer, opens his mouth and—

The sound of his phone ringing makes you jerk and his lips press together, his jaw tight. Clearing your throat as he slides his phone out of his pocket, and he glances from it to you.

“I’m sorry, it’s Buck, I gotta take this—”

“No, no, that’s absolutely fine, take it—”

“You sure? I can—”

“No, take it, it’s fine.” You’re smiling far too widely as you head for the stairs. “I’m gonna take a nap, anyway. Say hello from me!”

“Yeah, I will do.”

You fix your gaze ahead, moving swiftly up the stairs, and he keeps his eyes on you as he accepts the call and raises his phone to his ear.

“You have impeccable fuckin’ timing...” he mutters into it as you disappear into your room and close the door, his gaze finally dropping.

—

After washing your face and changing into more comfortable clothes, you’d closed the curtains and climbed into bed, groaning with relief.

You’d fallen asleep almost instantly, your body and mind delighted to now be able to rest undisturbed. You hadn’t set an alarm so you sleep for a few hours, and by the time you awaken, it’s already getting dark. Hungry and thirsty, you roll out of bed and rub at your face, pulling the door open.

You hear the sounds of the TV, and as you move down the stairs you see Steve sat on one of the couches, his long legs stretched out. Lifting his head, he smiles at the sight of you.

“Hey. Feelin’ any better?”

You yawn even as you nod. “Mhm. Or maybe I’m more tired now, I don’t know. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks.” He watches you as you move into the kitchen, finding something to eat and drink. “Buck’s comin’ over in about half an hour, by the way. He’s bringing alcohol.”

He chuckles as you look up at him and pull a face.

“Hmm, don’t think I could handle any alcohol for a little while. I think I’ll leave you two to it. Just have a bath and then maybe watch a little of something.”

He nods as he rubs at his jaw, watching you lift your glass to your lips and take a sip. “That sounds nice. What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

You swallow, his eyes drifting to your throat, before rising swiftly to meet your gaze. “Uhm, shopping for a wedding dress, and a dress for Saturday. Turns out my glad-rags aren’t so glad.”

A corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other. “Okay. How about I cook us dinner tomorrow, we have a quiet night in. Change Thursday Night Classic Movie Night to Friday Night Classic Movie Night just this once?”

Oh... a taste of the past, of normality.

Your lips lift high as you hum. “Mhm, yes, please, that sounds so great.”

His smile widens. “All right. It’s a date.”

You hum a slight laugh as you move to go to the stairs, then your gaze darts back to him.

What.

He’s back to facing the TV, his eyes on it, and you stare at him.

...

Was that just a figure of speech.

It had to be.

We’ve said it before... right?

We must have.

I can’t ask him to confirm what he meant, I’ll look insane.

You carry on moving to the stairs.

Once in your room, you close the door and pause.

It was just a figure of speech.

That’s it.

Moving into the bathroom, you shake it from your mind and turn the taps on on the bath. You find some bubble-bath in the cupboard under the sink and pour some in.

Undressing and getting in, you lie back with a gentle sigh, closing your eyes as the warm water soothes you. It’s nice and quiet, the only sound the gentle sloshing of the water whenever you move slightly.

Date.

Date.

Date.

Stop it, it’s just a figure of speech. How many times do you say it to Bridge’ and Dolly?

Except today he kissed you on the forehead and said that all the reasons he listed for pretending to be in love with you are actually all the reasons why he likes you.

Stop it. The kiss was just for show, as was the hand holding, or to comfort me, either way, whatever, and the reasons he listed... well... 

...

Stop thinking about it.

You spend the next ten minutes in the bath just thinking about anything but today; wondering what dresses you’ll try on tomorrow, what dresses you liked from before, how fun it’s going to be, what you can watch later.

After getting out and draining the tub, you pat yourself dry, moisturise, and change back into comfy clothes. You want to get another drink and more food so you head out again, this time to the sound of masculine laughter.

You’re already smiling by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, finding Steve and Bucky stood in the kitchen, opening bottles of beer.

“Well, hello there.”

Lifting his head, Bucky smiles as you approach and start rooting through cupboards.

“Hey, kid. How’re you doin’?”

You and he aren’t huggers, but the gentle affection in his smile, tone and his nickname for you is enough.

You turn to him as you close the cupboard, a bag of cookies under your arm. “Oh, you know, living my engaged dream.”

Steve chuckles as Bucky’s smile widens and he leans against the counter. “So I’ve heard. I thought you did really well at the interview, though.”

You snort, setting the cookies on the counter and making yourself a drink.

“No, seriously.” You look up at him as his insistence, and, oh, he is lovely. “You were yourself. Very warm and friendly. Loved what you said about fame and Joe, too.”

You incline your head, giving a slight curtsy that has him smiling again. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Could’ve cracked a few more jokes, though.”

You side-eye him as your lips twitch and you grab your drink, heading for the stairs. “I’ll bear that in mind for next time. I’ll leave you two to it for a while. Have fun.”

“Yep, see ya.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Steve says a second later.

“Oh, I will,” you say with raised brows as you climb the stairs, “Got plenty of episodes to catch up on that duty has kept me from.”

Steve’s smile lingers on his lips as he watches you disappear out of sight. Taking a breath, he then starts to turn back to Bucky.

“So, how’s the—”

“What’s goin’ on.”

His gaze meets Bucky’s as he pauses at his quiet question, his friend’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“... What d’you mean?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise higher. “With you and her, what’s goin’ on.”

Steve blinks, then lets out a slight scoff, a hand going to his hip as his other settles on the counter. “Nothing.”

“God, you’re still such an awful liar—”

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that shit—”

“You’re tellin’ me the truth, then?”

He presses his lips together. “... It’s complicated it.”

“Is it?” Bucky says, raising his bottle to his lips.

Steve’s jaw moves slightly, and he shakes his head a moment later. “Buck, I... After that letter threatening Y/N, I just—”

“What letter?”

Two sets of eyes dart to you at the top of the stairs, your own staring at them.

You’d forgotten the cookies.

If you’d been a second earlier you’d be having an entirely different conversation.

Bucky straightens, a quiet breath leaving him as Steve’s eyes remain on you, watching you move down the stairs.

“Y/N—”

“What letter, Steve?” you cut in, reaching the bottom step and moving closer, your arms folded, features expressionless.

His jaw moves minutely but he doesn’t look away. “... Six months ago I received a letter about you, threatening you because of our friendship. We had good reason to take it seriously so, don’t worry, we’ve had someone watching you to keep you safe—”

You scoff slightly, as your gaze darts between them, a coldness sweeping over you, not knowing what to process first. “Wait, wait, wait, hang on... I... You’ve had some stranger watching me for six months?”

There’s a beat of silence... then Bucky raises his hand. “Not a stranger, kid.”

You stare at him, your mouth moving slightly. “Every day?”

He shrugs a shoulder as he lowers his hand. “Nat and I take it in turns. As fascinating as you are, I need a day off sometimes.”

You let out an incredulous, slightly dazed laugh, because what the fuck. “Wow, okay... Wow, right, Fury must hate you both, giving you this kind of job when there are more important things out there.”

Silence. They shift slightly.

You look between them again, your smile fading. “... What?”

Steve runs a hand down his mouth with a small sigh before it goes to his hip, his gaze gentle on you. “There were a couple more letters after the first one. With pictures of you going to and from work, out with friends. and, uh... well, some not particularly nice things written with them.”

“Oh.”

Part of you wants to ask what. Part of you wishes you’d never forgotten the damn cookies and come out of your room.

Steve’s features soften as he moves around the counter, taking a step towards you. “Look, you—”

“Uhm...” You look at the ground, feeling slightly sick.

Someone had threatened you. More than once. Because you’re Steve’s friend. And that would hurt him.

So many different emotions are swirling and roiling inside of you, and somene had threatened you and you’d had no idea.

Are you comfortable with that? With that being kept from you?

You don’t know anymore.

“... I think i’m just gonna go to bed,” you say, looking up at them, because you don’t know what else to say. “Have a nice night. It was nice to see you, Buck.”

“You, too,” he answers gently as you retreat back upstairs.

As you climb, you glance at them, and see Steve bow his head, his eyes closed.

—

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[sserpente]

24 little kinks | Doors 18, 19 🎄

“You remember that chocolate advent calendar I got you for December?”

“I do,” he chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “You made me display it in the kitchen so I would not eat it all at once.”

Your smile widened. “How about we get another one?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, only now paying proper attention to the sex toy ad. Then, he frowned. It was an odd mixture of disgust, genuine curiosity and even a hint of arousal flashing in his blue eyes.

A/N: I enjoyed writing this door a lot more than I thought I would. I’m gonna go take a shower now, okay?

NSFW warnings: medical play

-

“I’m actually surprised you didn’t figure it out yourself.” You giggled, examining the toy in your hands. “You couldn’t have used it on me, it’s for you.” Loki frowned.

“For me?”

“It’s a masturbator.”

“Yes, that’s what it said on the package.”

“It’s some kind of… vagina… simulator. You stick your hard penis inside and… masturbate.” Loki’s frown deepened. “I sincerely doubt this toy would feel nearly as good as your warm quim, my sweet.”

You giggled once again. “I’m flattered you think so, Trickster.”

-

Christmas drew nearer and nearer. On Thursday, you turned your living room into a gift wrapping factory. While drinking coffee on the sofa, Loki watched you in an interested manner, observing how you tied the bows on every package with skilled fingers and decorated them with chocolate, candy canes and tiny little baubles and at the very same time, desperately tried to find out what you had gotten him to put under the tree but you had told him that you wouldn’t be so stupid as to wrap his Christmas present right before his eyes.

He had even offered to help you but realised quickly he did not have the patience to wrap gifts that were not for you, even though he had quite the talent to make all those packages look rather pretty and presentable.

“Perhaps I should use that feather on you again…” He mused, crossing his arms before his chest.

You suddenly laughed.

“What?”

“I am for some reason imagining you wearing nothing but a red bow… neatly tied around your crown jewels.”

Loki smirked at you, shaking his head in the process.

“I’m almost done, Trickster. Why don’t you go ahead and open our advent calendar in the meantime?” Yesterday’s door revealed a penis sheath with knobs to enhance the female pleasure during sex. You hadn’t gotten around to using it yet though—Loki had buried himself inside you before you could even bring it up again yesterday and you intended to change that tonight.

He returned to you with a medium-sized box moments later, its content rattling when he opened the lid. Your eyes widened. You recognised the metal device immediately. It was vaginal speculum.

An arousing image of Loki, in a white coat, examining your pussy while you spread your legs for him on the sofa flashed before your eyes…

But at first, you’d have to explain to Loki what a gynaecologist was.

“That’s a vaginal speculum.” You stated, both terrified and excited.

“I beg your pardon, a what?”

“My gynaecologist uses it on me to examine my cervix. It’s an annual routine examination, along with a general pelvic exam.”

Loki looked up immediately, seemingly shocked by your explanation. “You let a strange man examine your quim every year?!”

“No, no, no, no, that’s not at all what this is. I mean… technically, yes. But she’s a woman. That examination is important, Loki, it’s to prevent any serious illnesses from developing. Things like cervical bleeding, cystitis or breast cancer…”

“She examines your breasts too?”

“Loki.” You smiled at him. “Are you aware what that toy is for?”

“Very well aware…” He replied, fingering the speculum in his hands. A faint smirk tugged on his thin lips.

-

Loki had done his research and when you came home from doing some groceries for the upcoming Christmas week (including loads of sweets and food he had asked for), your living room had transformed into… into a… it looked like a surgery. Everything was white, your windows covered with white curtains, the carpet to your feet white and cold tiles and the sofa… your sofa had turned into a gyno-chair.

It must have been an illusion—and a realistic one at that. You swallowed thickly. Suspiciously, you took off your shoes and leaned the shopping bags against the threshold. It was then Loki appeared in the living room, his arms crossed before his chest.

But that was not all. He was wearing a white coat.

“You are late for your appointment, Miss (Y/L/N).” Loki said, staring you down in a reproachful manner. “I do expect my patients to be punctual. My time is very limited.”

“How… how did you… and what…”

“I… what did you call it, ‘googled’ it?”

“You used my computer? You used Google?”

“Yes. The picture search, along with some very explicit pornography.” Which must have given him this idea, you concluded.

“Now… are you ready for your annual pelvic exam, Miss (Y/L/N).”

You opened your mouth but no more words would come out. You were paralysed, frozen to the spot—but most importantly, you were growing hornier with every passing second.

“Now, would you mind removing your clothes for me so we can get this examination started…” He pointed to the chair. Damn… Loki was a good actor. Nodding obediently, you still said nothing when you undressed until you were fully naked and then hesitantly approached the chair.

“There is no need to be afraid, Miss (Y/L/N). This is a routine examination.” Loki had meddled with the chair, perhaps even taken some inspiration from the porn he had found. As soon as you sat down on the gyno-chair and put your calves on the leg rests, his seidr took care of restraining you.

Exposed, you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Now, let us see what we have here.” Loki had coated the speculum with the lube from the calendar even though you were sure you didn’t need any. Carefully, he pushed it inside to spread you and moved between your legs to take a proper look at your already swollen pussy.

His fingers probed your lips while you were getting used to the feeling of the speculum inside you. It felt so much different from when your actual gynaecologist did it. Well—now, you were aroused and it was Loki who was performing an… exam on you.

He hummed. He was tremendously good at hiding his own arousal, or his heavy breathing which would have given him away immediately. Oh no, he wanted this experience to be as real as possible for you. That was the point of this toy, was it not?

“Everything looks good so far… however, I do detect a little dryness around the cervical area. Does this feel uncomfortable?” Well, he had made this up. Loki sank two fingers inside you, curling them right at your g-spot. A moan escaped your lips.

“N-no…” You whimpered. “It… it feels good.”

Loki smirked. “Does it now? Does this feel good too?” His thumb found your clit, toying with it teasingly. You squirmed in your restraints.

“I-it does…”

Loki hummed once more as if he were a scientist examining a particularly interesting discovery. “I would recommend at least three orgasms per day, Miss (Y/LN). Consider it a prescription. We have to keep that lovely quim nice and wet so you can keep enjoying sex, no?”

“Of course…” You squeaked out. Doctor’s orders…

“Now I would like to screen your heart rate during arousal. Try to stay relaxed. You will have to experience an orgasm for me for an accurate reading.”

Fuck… you moaned again, eyes widening when he produced a stethoscope, bringing the cold metal to your chest and then began to massage your sensitive bundle of nerves for his purposes. He had you on the verge of orgasm within mere minutes.

Soon, you were gushing all over that speculum, if anything not only because of the bliss he made you feel but also because of his scrutinising blue gaze which never seemed to leave your clenching pussy. You were sure he could see it contract when you came, your whole body spasming with pleasure.

Loki took a deep, almost shaky breath. For the first time, he fought for his composure and indifference as your ‘doctor’. He hummed in approval.

“Yes, that looks good…” He said it as if he had just tried a delicious meal. “But I would prefer to run one last test on you to make sure your vaginal muscles are strong and healthy. To do this, I will have to penetrate you, yes?”

You nodded enthusiastically. Yes. Fuck me, doctor, please. If he could hear your thoughts, he did not show.

Your eyes widened. Only now did you notice that Loki was wearing the penis sheath. “Surely, you understand that, Miss (Y/L/N).” A shiver ran down your spine. You nodded again, moaning when he removed the speculum which was now slick with your juices and instead pushed his cock inside you. The knobs felt wonderful. Loki slid right in, sheathing himself to the hilt and started to thrust into you repeatedly, hard and fast.

You threw your head back as you felt another orgasm building, forming that tight knot right below your stomach to let you experience that pleasurable explosion only Loki could make you feel this intensely. His thumb kept playing your clit like an instrument, every stroke, due to the penis sheath, even more breath-taking than the last and when you screamed his name, coming undone before his eyes, Loki grunted, your once again contracting muscles triggering his own release. He emptied himself into the sheath, making you whimper quietly.

“I expect you to return to my surgery next week, Miss (Y/L/N).” He panted. “You might need a few more treatments before I can be sure your body is well-trained for future sexual activities…”

Your heart skipped a beat. Who were you to object if that was what the doctor ordered?

-

A/N: Doors 20 and 21 will be opened on December 21st!

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente